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him.
    “Yes.”
    “And?”
    “As Arianna can tell you, they were making excellent, even exceptional, progress.”
    “When’s the last time you had contact with them—each of them?”
    “I’d have to check my book. I can hardly remember off the top of my head.”
    “Do that. Did you ever visit the building where they were living?”
    His lips thinned. “No. Why would I? Instead of wasting time here, you should be out on the street, looking for the maniacs who did this. It’s obviously the result of violent addicts, people they associated with before they began the program.”
    “Nothing’s obvious at this point. You’ve been very helpful,” she said to Arianna.
    “Can you let us know when . . . Justin and I would like to arrange a memorial. We’d like to arrange for their remains.”
    “Arianna,” Billingsly began.
    “Eton, please. It’s little enough.”
    “I’m required to inform the next of kin,” Eve told her. “I’ll be in touch once I have. You have transcripts of your sessions with them. They could help me. Doctor-patient privilege doesn’t apply when the patients are dead.”
    “I’ll have them sent to you this afternoon. I’ll show you the way out.”
    “We’ve got it, thanks.”
    As they walked away, Eve glanced back. Eton had her hands again, his head bent toward hers as he talked rapidly.
    “Asshole,” was Peabody’s opinion.
    “Big, flaming asshole with a big, flaming temper. Looks like he keeps in good shape. Bet he puts in plenty of gym time. And he wants Arianna Whitwood for his own.”
    “Oh yeah, and she doesn’t want him for hers.”
    “That’s a pisser for him. I bet she gave the vics a lot more of her time, attention, and affection than she gives Billingsly, which is another pisser for him.”
    “Killing the hell out of them doesn’t change that. Would be a pretty murky motive.”
    “Maybe, but I really hate him already. Plus, hypnotherapy. Who knows what he’s up to with that?”
    “Why didn’t you ask for his transcripts?”
    “Because he wouldn’t give them up, not without a warrant, which you’re going to put in the works while we head over to Get Straight.”
    “Oooh, that’s going to be another pisser for Billingsly.”
    “I can only hope it’s not the last.”

FOUR

    They got little more from Get Straight but confirmation of everything they’d heard before, and more grief. Even as they stepped out into the air holding the first faint hint of fall, Eve’s com signaled. She recognized the first on scene on her screen.
    “Officer Slovic.”
    “Sir, we dug up a wit claims she saw someone near the rear of the crime scene, and observed him stuffing something in the recycler where we found the bloody protective gear.”
    “That’s a break. How good a look?”
    “She claims a good, solid one. There’s a streetlight, and she states she saw him clearly, and he was dancing.”
    “Sorry?”
    “That’s her statement, Lieutenant.” Eve heard the shrug in his voice. “Her description’s pretty strange, but she’s sticking to it, and doesn’t strike me as a whack job. Her apartment’s got a good view of the area, and she was up walking her kid—kid’s teething. She’s a short-order cook on parental leave. We got her on the canvass.”
    “What did she see?”
    He cleared his throat. “A monster. Possibly a demon.”
    “Officer Slovic, are you actually wasting my time on this?”
    “Sir, I wouldn’t, but she gave details, she had the time down, and she admits it sounds crazy.”
    “Give me the details.”
    “Male, medium build—she thinks—dark hair, wild and stringy.” He made the throat-clearing sound again. “Greenish skin, red, bulging eyes, contorted features, and prominent teeth, wearing a black cape and carrying a black satchel.”
    “And this green, red-eyed monster was dancing in the streetlight.”
    “And laughing, sir, in what the wit describes as a wild, guttural laugh. I believe her, Lieutenant, I mean about what she