“First, I’m telling you Daphne’s all right. She’s in the hospital, but—”
“Was there an accident? It’s snowing something fierce out east, right? I saw the reports.”
“No, she wasn’t in an accident.”
“Then what— Did he—” She broke off again, held up a hand studded with rings. “Wait, just give me a second to settle down. I won’t interrupt again.”
“Late Saturday night Daphne and Anthony Strazza were assaulted in their home.”
“Both of them?” Tish’s eyes narrowed. “Both of them were hurt? Sorry, I said I wouldn’t interrupt again.”
“Daphne was seriously injured but her condition has been upgraded, and, in fact, she could be released tomorrow or the day after. Anthony Strazza was killed during the attack.”
Tish DeSilva didn’t so much as blink at the death notification. “He’s dead? You’re sure he’s dead?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Tish nodded, slowly, then let out a long breath. “But Daphne’s okay? She’s all right?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she, please? What hospital?”
“She’s currently in St. Andrew’s.”
“You said they were both attacked. Who did it? Why?”
“That investigation is ongoing.”
“You don’t know yet? But didn’t Daphne tell you? You said she was okay, so why hasn’t she told you? Look, you can be straight with me. I’m not the hysterical type—this just—it’s upsetting and it’s terrible to know she’s hurt and we’re not there. I’m going to contact our parents as soon as I get off with you. I want to be able to give them the truth, the facts.”
Eve considered. “You say ‘our’ parents.”
“Daphne’s mom and dad died when she was only nine, and she came to us. That’s what her mom and dad wanted. It’s not just blood that makes family. We’re her family. She’s my sister. Do you have a sister?”
“Not through the blood.”
“But you have a sister,” Tish said, eyes keen. “So you know. Please, tell me what happened to my sister.”
“She and her husband were assaulted physically. Daphne was assaulted sexually.”
“She was beaten and she was raped.” Tish’s eyes filled, a few tears spilled over, but she stayed steady.
“Yes.”
“She’s in St. Andrew’s Hospital, in New York, in good condition?”
“Yes.”
“Is she able to speak, to talk?”
“Yes.”
“And she asked you to contact us?”
“No, she didn’t.”
Tish closed her eyes, nodded, swiped at tears. “Okay, got it. I’ll give you my parents’ contact information, but I’d like to talk to them first. It’s going to— They love her, so much. Let me talk to them first, so they don’t hear this from a stranger. From the police.”
“Why do you think she didn’t ask me to contact you?”
“He poisoned her. It’s like he infected her, God knows he controlled her. There wasn’t anything we could do, or … we couldn’t figure out the right thing to do. Hang a second, will you?”
The screen bobbled, then settled on a tilted image of a ceiling, a corner of a wall. Eve clearly heard the sound of a nose being thoroughly blown, then two, quick, hitching breaths, a longer, smoother one.
The screen shifted again. Tish’s face, eyes fierce, glittering wet, came back.
“I’m glad he’s dead. If I knew how, I’d be doing fucking cartwheels. I’m glad because now we can do something, do something, to bring her back. He killed my sister, he turned her into a droid. I have to tell my parents. I have to get to New York.”
Eve wrote down the contact info as Tish rattled it off.
“She’s under police protection and medical care, Miss DeSilva. I can’t say if she’ll agree to see you. And we’re in the middle of a blizzard.”
“You don’t know from blizzards,” she said with frank and amused derision. “I’ll get there, and she’ll see me.”
Eve simply raised her eyebrows as the screen went blank.
She weighed the idea of contacting the parents immediately, decided to let their daughter relay the situation first. Thinking through the conversation, the reactions, she rose to update her board.
She added all three DeSilvas, connecting them to Daphne.
She wrote up the conversation, added it to her case notes. She sent a copy to Mira as she wanted a shrink’s take on the sister’s reaction and statements.
Poisoned, infected, controlled.
Clearly, the foster family had been cut loose, cut off. And, yeah, she could believe Strazza had manipulated that. Why? Likely for the same pathology as the killer. For control and power over another.
Though she’d set Peabody on the task, Eve took a good look at the bartender/actor. No violent incidents on record didn’t mean he didn’t have violence under the mask.
When Roarke came in, she was adding him to the board.
“You have a suspect?”
“I have a person to look at harder. Actor—that’s what he lists as his profession, though he makes his living tending bar at Jacko’s. He hits a couple notes.”