the dead brother, and the sister. And we’ll give a hard look to anybody who worked at The Sanctuary, even the occasional repair people.”
“Her reaction especially came off as genuine. Real shock and horror.”
“Yeah, but if I worked with teenagers every single day for years, I’d have developed exceptional acting skills just so nobody knew I often wanted to nail them to a wall and light fire to them.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m just saying.” Eve turned as Shivitz stepped into the doorway.
“Mr. Jones said . . . He said you wanted to talk to me. He said—” She stopped there, her already streaming eyes flooding more tears.
Knowing her job meant taking point with emotional witnesses, Peabody walked over, put an arm around the woman’s shoulder, led her to a chair.
“I know this is a terrible shock.”
“It’s—it’s
unspeakable!
Someone killed twelve girls? And they might have been
our
girls? And then just left them alone in that terrible place? Who could do that?” Shivitz pounded her fist on her thigh. “What kind of godless monster did that? You find him. You
must
. God will punish him, I believe that. But the law of man must punish him first. You’re the law.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Since fiery anger burned off the tears, Eve moved closer. “Think back. Is there anyone you remember who concerned you, who maybe paid the wrong type of attention to the girls at The Sanctuary—or even here, especially in the early days?”
“It wouldn’t have been allowed. We’re responsible for the safety of the children who come to our home. We’d never allow anyone near them who would cause them harm.”
Peabody sat in the chair beside Shivitz, leaned over conversationally. “Sometimes people do good work, appear to live good lives, but something about them gives you a little feeling. Just a feeling something may be off, somewhere.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Nodding briskly, Shivitz poked a finger in the air. “I used to shop at this market, but the man who ran it gave me a bad feeling, so I switched to another. Then I heard the man who ran the first market was arrested. For”—she lowered her voice—“bookmaking! I knew there was something wrong with him. I had that feeling you mean.”
“Okay then.” Eve wondered just how high on the sin list bookmaking ranked in Shivitz’s world. “So anyone from The Sanctuary give you that feeling?”
“Not really. I’m sorry, but—oh, wait.” Her lips pouted and pooched as she concentrated. “Brodie Fine, our handyman. Oh, I don’t mean Brodie himself. He’s a lovely man, a good family man, and very reliable. He’s even hired a couple of our kids after they graduated. But he did have an assistant—a helper, I think he called him, for a little while back when we were in the other building. And that one gave me a bit of that feeling. Twice I heard that man use coarse language, and there’s no place for coarse language, most particularly around children. And I’m
sure
I smelled alcohol on his breath a time or two. He only came a few times, but I didn’t like the feel of him, to tell the truth.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Oh goodness, I don’t remember. But he was a strong-looking young man, and, yes, when I think about it, there was a look in his eye. What I’d call feral.”
“All right. We’ll check it out. Anyone else?”
“We’re so careful, and it was so long ago. Oh, those poor girls!”
The tears brimmed back, so Eve rushed through another question before the flood.
“What about visitors? Parents, guardians?”
“Back then, it was a rare thing to see hide or hair of a parent. The sad thing is most of the children had run away from home either because it was a bad place, or because they themselves had made bad choices. Now and again parents would come to take a child back home, and if the courts hadn’t said otherwise, we couldn’t stop them. And in truth there were some who were doing their very