Eve set her hands on the battered desk, leaned in. “But these women will kill again, and again. Now that they’ve gotten a taste for retribution, what’s to stop them from targeting other men? This one raped, this one tuned up his girlfriend, this one
“No, that’s not what we serve here. But I believe in violence.”
“Hey. Me, too.”
For the first time the faintest smile cracked the stern, thin face. “Despite what we do, you and I, seeing, dealing with, living with violence every day of our lives, we believe in using it to protect and defend.”
“This isn’t for protection. This isn’t for defense.”
“If these men raped the women who killed them, their deaths protect women they would have raped.”
“Are we condemning people for crimes not yet committed? I’m not here to debate with you over what rape does to the body, to the mind, to the spirit. I’m here about murder.
“Charity Downing, Lydia Su, Carlee MacKensie, Allyson Byson, Asha Coppola, Lauren Canford. Do you know any of these women?”
Lipski’s chin jutted up while her arms folded over her bony chest. “I can’t and won’t disclose any confidential information about any woman who has come into this center.”
“The support groups. Cecily Anson and Anne Vine volunteer in some of the groups you’re associated with. Ms. Anson’s name was used to lure this man.” Eve jabbed a finger on the crime scene photo of Wymann.
“Her time, her compassion, her generosity have been twisted into a tool for someone’s revenge.”
“And I’m appalled.” Lipski pressed her thin lips together, and genuine anger flared in her eyes. “I’m talking to you now because using them pisses me off. CeCe and Annie are two of the kindest people I know. And still, if one of these women attended one of their groups, they’re under no obligation to give their name, and even when names are used, we only use the first name. Anonymity is an essential brick in the wall, Lieutenant. Added to it, I simply don’t know everyone who attends the groups. There aren’t enough hours in the day to tend to all.”
Eve glanced at Peabody.
“Maybe you’d recognize a face,” Peabody began, and took out photos. “Um. I’m a Free-Ager.”
Lipski lifted her brows, smiled more fully. “A Free-Ager cop. Rare.”
“I walk a line, I guess. But one thing I know from how I was raised, and from the job. Cold-blooded revenge? It doesn’t heal, Ms. Lipski. It only deepens the wound. The women who are doing this aren’t going to find peace. They aren’t going to erase the pain they may have endured by ending lives. If they’re not stopped, they’re never going to get over what was done to them. So . . .”
She held up Lauren Canford’s photo, then Asha Coppola’s.
Eve saw a kind of relief settle into Lipski’s face, which remained when Peabody offered Allyson Byson.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen any of those women before.”
“I have a few more.”
Peabody held up Lydia Su’s ID shot.
Eve figured Lipski probably played a solid game of poker. But her skills weren’t good enough to completely mask the quick awareness. She waited, saw something similar come with Charity Downing.
She started to speak, then saw something else when Peabody offered Carlee MacKensie. That was both an instant of puzzlement, and, Eve thought, deep sorrow.
“You recognized the last three,” Eve said.
“I can’t discuss this with you.” But that acknowledgment remained in the dark eyes as she spoke. “Even if you get a warrant.”
“I’m not going to get a warrant. I could threaten to arrest you for obstruction. I could threaten to charge you with accessory after the fact if you contact any of these women. I’m not going to do that, either. But I’m going to tell you, again, if you do contact them, they’ll kill the man they have immediately, and very likely flee. You’ll live with that death on your hands. What I intend to do is to bring them in, to prevent them from killing again, and to listen to their story.”
“I don’t and won’t condone murder.” Lipski stared down at the dead. “I don’t and won’t condone this level of retribution. But the crimes committed will carry a hard, long punishment. Victims victimized—by their own actions—yes, by their own. But also by the law.”
“The law may be hard and cold—and I can be the same. It may be blind. I’m not. I need to hear them out. You know, and I know, my Free-Ager partner’s right. What they’re doing will only spread the wound until the wound is all they have. Let me do my job.”
“I’ll contact no one, my word on that—because I do know what’s right. This, what was done, this isn’t right. But when and if you arrest anyone, I want you to contact me. I want to be there for them. To do whatever I can for them.”
“My word on that.”
—
Eve moved fast, pulling out her ’link as they wound through the crowded space and out to the hall, down the stairwell. “Baxter, I’ve got three names verified. Downing, MacKensie, Su—be on the lookout for any or all of them.”
“Three of them.”
