"Maybe I'm off, but I want to turn all the stones." "Whether you're on or off," Roarke replied, "we'll turn the stones and see what's under them. You're going to eat." "We can chomp a couple nutribars on the way." "No. Foot firmly down on this one. Fuel. You'll shovel in some fuel. It's barely six in the sodding morning," he reminded her as he programmed the AutoChef. "You want to interview the witnesses, you'll do better when they're awake." He had a point, and arguing would only slow things down.
So she sat, shoveled in what he put in front of her.
"You said something to McNab, about how it feels when somebody when somebody you love gets hurt. I've put you through that a few times. Maybe not as bad as this, but-" "Close enough," Roarke replied.
"Yeah. I… How do you stand it?" Hints of the fear and the worry of the night eked through. "How do you get through it?" He said nothing, only took her hand, and, watching her over it, brought it to his lips. It made her eyes sting again, and her throat constrict and burn. So she looked away.
"I can't let go, even a little. It feels like if I let go at all, I'll just break to pieces. And I can't stop. I've got to keep moving, keep going forward, and I have to keep telling myself there's going to be payment. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs, there's going to be payment." She shoved her plate away and stood. "I'm supposed to say justice. There'll be justice, and I'm supposed to mean it. But I don't know if it's going to be enough. I should step back from it. If I don't know if that's enough, I should step back, but I won't. I can't."
"And will you continue to ask more of yourself than is human?" She reached down, picked up her badge. She studied it for a long moment before she slid it into her pocket. "Yeah. Let's get started." She briefed Summerset, kept it short, to the point, then headed out to her car. "I can't believe I'm asking him to commit an illegal act." "It would hardly be the first of his life." "And that I'm asking him to assist in a police investigation." "That may very well be a first." "Ha. No, I'm driving. I'm all buzzed from the chemicals." "Well now, that inspires confidence in your passenger." "I gotta do stuff or I'll just rev. You take anything?" "Not yet." She got behind the wheel. "Talk about more than human." "Just metabolism, darling. I'll likely need something by midday if we're still at it." "You can count on that. Witness lives same block as Peabody. Get me the exact address." Then she looked over at him as he called up the data. "Thanks." "You're welcome. But this isn't just for you." "No. I know." Needing the contact, she reached over, gripped his hand as she drove through the gates. "But thanks."
CHAPTER 20
She didn't bother to hunt up a parking space, but doubled beside a clunky solar mini that looked as if it hadn't moved in six months.
Flipping the on duty light, she stepped out and ignored the shouted "Cops suck!" from the driver of a rusted compact stuck behind her. If she'd been feeling more chirpy, she'd have taken the time to stroll over and have a little chat with him.
Instead, because she couldn't help herself, she walked across the street and studied the bloodstains on the pavement.
"Laid in wait. That's his style. Maybe he followed her sometime, tracked her home sometime, and she didn't make the tail." But she shook her head even as she said it. "You can't just pop a cop's address out. You work at it, maybe you can finesse it, but there are blocks on cops" personal data. Had to tail her, or do some heavy hacking." She thought about the interview for Nadine, and the media conference. Both times she'd pushed Peabody forward.
"How long would it take a decent hacker to pop a blocked address?" "Depending on talent and equipment…" Roarke was studying the bloodstains as well, and thinking of Peabody.
Her steadiness, her sweetness. "Anywhere from an hour to a few days." "An hour? Jesus, why do we bother?" "It's a shield against the general populace. Tapping into a cop's data is an automatic flag for CompuGuard. It's a heavy risk unless you don't give a bloody damn, or you know how to get around the blocks and guards. You have any reason to think he's got above-average hacking skills?" "Just thinking. He knew his victims" schedules, their routes, their habits. Where they lived. And all but one lived without a partner." "Elisa Maplewood lived in a family unit." "Yeah, a family unit with the male portion of that unit out of the country. Maybe he factors that element in. He tailed them, yeah. Had to do some of that. And we've got Merriweather's comment about the big, bald guy on her subway. But he could've done some comp research. Gather as much data as possible. He takes risks, sure big ones.
But they're calculated. And the guy we're projecting doesn't blend. Merriweather spotted him. So I'm thinking he doesn't do extensive fieldwork." "Preps as much as possible by remote." "It's possible. Probable. He moved fast with Peabody.
Faster, I think, than the others. That's because she wasn't the standard for him. She's an add-on prove a point because he was pissed. Or threatened." She stayed as she was, tilted her head to look up at the apartment windows. "And you know what else?" "He didn't know enough about her to know there was another cop up there. Waiting for her. Or enough about the neighborhood to consider someone might spot him and try to help." "Didn't do as much research. Too mad, too threatened, in too much of a hurry."
Eve angled back to look down the street. "She takes the subway most times, and she wouldn't be looking for a shadow. He could've stalked her, like he stalked the others.
But I don't think it worked that way because she'd have made him. She'd have made a tail. She's got good eyes, good instincts." "Hacking her address would cut back on the time, and the risk of being seen." "Yeah. And she was putting in overtime. You have to log any assigned OF. If he could get her address, he could get her schedule, because when I hooked her with Feeney and brought you in, I plugged it into the system." He took her chin, turning her head so their eyes met. "Eve." "I'm not blaming myself." Or was trying not to. "I'm blaming him. I'm just trying to see how it went down, that's all. He nails her home location, knows she'll be late. If he knows all that, he knows she doesn't have a personal vehicle registered in her name, and that she'll most likely be on foot.
So he comes here, parks, and just waits. Patient bastard. He just waits until she comes along." "Still risky. This street's well-lighted, and she's less than a half a block from her door. And she's a cop, armed and able. It wasn't smart," Roarke said. "It wasn't like the others." "No, with her me he was pissed. Prove a point, like I said. But at the base of it, he doesn't figure she'll give him trouble. Not like she did. She's just a woman, and he's a big, strong man. Take her down, take her down, toss her in the back of the van, and poof." She crouched down, laid her hand on the stain of her partner's blood. "Where was he going to take her? Same place, same place he took the others, the ones before? The missings and presumeds." "She'll have gotten a good look at him. She'll be able to describe him more thoroughly, even more than Celina."
Eve glanced up. "If she remembers. Head trauma, she might not remember. But if she does, she'll make him. She's sharp and she notes the details. She'll be the one who takes him down. When she wakes up. If she remembers." Eve pushed to her feet. "Let's see what the witnesses saw.
We'll take the female first." "Essie Fort. Single, age twenty-seven. Paralegal at Driscoll, Manning, and Fort. Tax lawyers." Eve worked up a smile as they approached the building.