"You're handy." "We do what we can." He pressed the button for Fort in 3A.
While they waited, Eve turned, judged the distance between the door and the point of attack. A male voice came through the intercom. "Yeah?" "Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. We'd like to speak with Ms Fort." "I want to see your… oh, there it is," the voice said when she held her badge up to the security cam. "Come on up." He buzzed them in. And was waiting at the door when they got off on three. "Essie's inside. I'm Mike. Mike Jacobs." "You also witnessed the incident, Mr Jacobs?" "I'll say. Essie, Jib, and I were just coming out, going to head over and pick up Jib's date. And we… come on in.
Sorry." He opened the door wider.
"I stayed here last night. Didn't want to leave Essie alone.
She was pretty shook up. She's getting dressed." He glanced toward a closed door. "The woman who got beat up was a cop, right? Did she make it?" "She's holding her own." "Glad to hear it. Man, that guy was whaling on her." Mike pushed at his curly mop of blond hair. "Look, I was hunting up some coffee. You want?"
"No, thanks. Mr Jacobs, I'd like to get statements from both you and Ms Fort, and ask some questions." "No problem. We talked to some cops last night, but everything was messed up. Look, let me get this coffee, okay? We didn't get much sleep last night, and I need the jolt. Sit down or something. I'll try to move Essie along." She didn't want to sit, but she perched on the edge of a chair in bold red. Gave herself a moment to settle by glancing around the room. Lots of strong colors, weird, geometric art on the walls. A bottle of wine and a couple glasses left over from the night before.
Mike Jacobs was wearing jeans and a shirt he hadn't buttoned. Probably what he'd had on the night before.
Probably hadn't planned on staying the night.
New relationship maybe, without the understanding sex would follow an evening out.
But he'd stayed. And he had, according to McNab, come to Peabody's aid. Maybe he didn't think cops sucked.
The bedroom door opened. The woman who came out looked fragile and slight. Her hair was a short wedge of glossy, raven-wing black, and her eyes a blue strong enough to fit her decor, though they looked exhausted.
"I'm sorry. Mike said the police were coming up. I was getting dressed." "I'm Lieutenant Dallas." "Do you know her? The woman who was hurt. I know she's a police officer. I've seen her walking across the street.
She used to wear a uniform, but now she doesn't." "She's a detective now. She's my partner." "Oh." Those blue eyes filled sympathy, distress, fatigue, Eve didn't know. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Is she going to be all right?" "I…" Eve felt her throat close again. It was harder, somehow harder, to take concern from strangers. "I don't know. I need you to tell me exactly what you saw." "I we were going out." She looked over as Mike brought out two thick red mugs. "Thanks. Mike, would you tell it?" "Sure. Come on, let's sit down." He led her to a chair, and sat on the arm of it beside her. "We were coming out, like I said. We heard the noise as soon as we walked out the door.
Shouts, and well, the sounds you hear from a fight. He was a big guy. Seriously big. He was kicking her and shouting.
Kicking her when she was down. She pumped up her legs, knocked him back a little. It all happened really fast, and I think we all froze for a second or two." "It was just…" Essie shook her head. "We were all laughing and joking around, then we heard, and looked over.
It was just bam.
"He jerked her up, off the ground, just hauled her up." "And I screamed." "It got us moving," Mike continued. "Like holy shit, don't just stand here. We yelled, I guess, and Jib and I started running for them. He looked around, and he just threw her.
Like heaved her, you know?" "She went down so hard." Essie shuddered. "I could hear her hit the sidewalk." "But while she was airborne, there was this flash. I think she fired at him as she was flying." Mike looked at Essie and got a nod. "Maybe she hit him, I don't know. She went down hard, sort of rolled, like she was going to try to fire again, or get up or…" "She couldn't," Essie murmured.
"He jumped into the van. Moved like lightning, but Jib said he thought the guy was holding his arm. Like it was hurt? Anyway, he jetted. Jib chased the van for a few yards. Don't know what he'd've done if he'd caught it. But she was hurt really bad, and we figured that was more important. We were afraid to move her, so I was calling for an ambulance when the guy the other guy the cop comes running out." Fired at him, Eve thought. Flying through the goddamn air, but she'd fired at him. And had held onto her weapon. "Tell me about the van." "Black or dark blue. Almost sure it was black. It was new, or really well kept. Lieutenant… I'm sorry." "Dallas." "It happened really fast. Like-" He snapped his fingers.
"And we were all yelling and running, so it's pretty jumbled up. I tried to catch the plate, but it was dark, and I couldn't make it out. It had windows on the side, and in the cargo doors. They might've been blacked out or covered, I couldn't tell, but there were windows." "You may think it's jumbled, Mr Jacobs, but every detail you're giving me matters. Tell me about the assailant. Did you see his face?" "We got a look. When he heard us yelling and turned our way, we got a decent look, I think. Essie and I spent some time last night trying to put it together. Hold on a minute." "He was like something out of a nightmare," Essie added when Mike went into the bedroom. "I couldn't sleep last night because I kept seeing him, and hearing the way it sounded when he threw her down." "I think this is the best that we've got." Mike came back in with a sheet of paper, handed it to Eve.
She felt her heart thud when she looked at the sketch. "You drew this?" "Art teacher." He smiled a little. "We only saw his face for a second or two, but I think that's close." "Mr Jacobs, I'm going to ask you to come into Central, work with an Ident artist." "Sure. I've got a class at nine, but I can call in. You want me to go in now?"
"It would be a great help if both of you, and Mr Jibson could go in. This sketch can be used in an ID program. And the three of you can help the police artist create the closest possible likeness." "I'll get a hold of Jib now, tell him to meet us there. Where do we go?" "I'll take you. Tell your friend to go to Level Three, Section B. Identification Procedure. I'll have him cleared and escorted." "Give me ten minutes." Eve got to her feet. "Mr Jacobs, Ms Fort, I want to tell you how much the department, how much I personally appreciate what you did last night, what you're doing now." Mike moved a shoulder. "Anybody'd do the same." "No. Not everybody."
Her luck was turning, Eve decided when she was able to collar Yancy as her Ident artist. There were others who were as good with a sketch or a comp-generated image, but Yancy had a way of helping a witness remember details, of talking them through the process.
"What's the latest with Peabody?" he asked Eve.
She couldn't count the number of times she'd been stopped with a variation of the question on her way through Central.
"No change." He looked down at the sketch she'd handed him. "We'll get this fucker." Her brows lifted. Yancy wasn't just known for his skill with imaging, but for his mild manner. "Count on it. I need you to run me a copy of that, for now." "Get that right for you." He moved to his imaging comp, slid the sketch in.
"He's got layers of sealant on his face and it distorts it some. You need to factor that. I know I shouldn't ask how long, but I have to." "I wish I could tell you." He handed her the copy. "How cooperative are they?" He nodded to the anteroom where the witnesses waited.
"Unbelievably. Almost make me want to hang up my cynic's cap and wear the badge of the optimist." "Then it'll be quicker." He studied the sketch again. "Artist is good. That'll help considerably. I'm pushing everything else aside till we have him for you, Lieutenant." "Thanks." She wanted to stay, watch the process, somehow hurry it along. She wanted to be at the hospital with Peabody, somehow bring her back. She wanted to yank and draw on every line and thread at once.