Visions in Death by J. D. Robb Page B

liked the space, not just the amount of it, but the use of it. She admired the way Celina had held out her hand for the murder weapon.
    "Is it the civilian or the psychic aspect you don't like?"
    Eve flicked a glance over her shoulder at Peabody's question. "Little of both. I don't like attaching civilians to an investigation, and don't bother reminding me how often Roarke ends up that way. It's bad enough he does, bad enough I'm getting used to it. And the psychic thing. How much good is that really going to do?"
    She turned back to Peabody. "What did she tell us? He's big and strong and out of his fucking mind. That's no bulletin."
    "Dallas, it's not like she's going to give us a name and address. This stuff doesn't work that way."
    "Why the hell not?" Irritated, she jammed her hands in her pockets. "If you can see stuff, why can't you see salient details? The killer is Murdering Bastard who resides at 13 Homicide Drive. That would be useful."
    "Frosty. Just think of how quick we'd close a case. Then the department would hire a whole team of psychics—the, ah, the SDD—Sensitive Detective Division—and... You know what, I don't like it after all. We'd be out of a job."
    Eve shot a dark glance toward the stairs. "And I don't like the idea that she could start poking around in my head."
    "She wouldn't do that, Dallas. Legitimate sensitives respect privacy. They don't intrude."
    Peabody's father had, Eve remembered. Inadvertently, but all the same. And there, she admitted, was the core of her bias.
    "I like her," Peabody added.
    "Yeah. She's okay. We'll take this little field trip, see what comes of it. Then you and me? We're going back to straight cop work."
    ———«»——————«»——————«»———
    Celina changed into a pair of black pants and a blue, scooped-necked blouse. She wore several crystal drops on a chain around her neck.
    "For protection, intuition, the opening of the third eye." She held them up as they stood at the edge of Central Park. "Not everyone ascribes to their benefits, but under the present circumstances, I'm willing to try anything."
    She adjusted the enormous sunshades that hid half her face. "Pretty day," she said. "Warm and sunny. The sort of day that brings people outside. I love New York this time of year. And I'm stalling."
    "The applicable areas have been searched, swept, recorded," Eve began. "From what we've learned, the victim walked the dog in this direction, and entered the park approximately at this point."
    Eve started into the park.
    "So many people have been through here, I don't know what I'm going to get. Truthfully, my gift is more direct, contact with someone or something. Usually."
    About ten yards into the trees, Eve stopped. There was no one around, she noted after a sweep. People were at work, in school, at the shops, in restaurants.
    It was too close to the street, this tony street, for chemi -head gatherings or illegals transactions.
    "It was here, wasn't it?" Celina took off her shades, pocketed them, stared at the ground. "Where he grabbed her, dragged her deeper into the woods."
    Her breathing was slow and even as she walked. A very deliberate sound.
    "Struck her, in the face, knocked her down, dazed her. I can see the ground's torn up, so this must be where he..."
    She took another breath, then squatted down and ran her hands over the grass and dirt. Yanked them back again. "God!"
    Eve could see her clench her jaw as she touched the ground again. "He raped her here. Control, humiliate, and punish. There's a name in his mind—not hers. I can't see it, can't quite... but it's not her name, it's not Elisa he's punishing."
    She drew her hands back again, tucked them under her arms as if to warm them. "It's difficult for me to get past her, and what was done to her. She's my connection, and she doesn't know him. She doesn't know why this is happening. He's just..."
    She lifted her head, looked at Eve. "I can see you."
    Eve felt a chill in her