Authors: J. D. Robb
“Huh.”
“She’s coming up on her first birthday. Have you given that any thought?”
“No.” Panic wanted to rise. “I don’t know how to buy a birthday thing for a one-year-old. You do it.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
She shifted her attention from the street to him for a heartbeat. He knew much about most, but she wasn’t sure even Roarke knew what you were supposed to get for a first birthday.
“I’ll ask Peabody.”
“Excellent idea.”
“There’s going to be a party, isn’t there? Some big, insane Mavis party. Possibly with costumes.”
“I imagine so.”
“I’m not wearing a costume, not even for Mavis. Or one of those hats. Those pointy hats.”
“There’s bound to be cake.”
“I like cake. They were getting bored.”
Not Bella, Roarke thought, or her parents. The killers.
“So they wanted to mix it up.”
“I think so.” She knew them now, knew them, and it… “It
feels
so. All the way here, they were on the move, had this goal – her dream of New York, and his romantic ideal to fulfill her dream. Then they got here. We assumed Kuper was their first in New York, but I’m not even close to assuming that now.”
“The tenant or owner of wherever they’re –
nesting
is how you put it.”
“Yeah. They could have gone the straight rental route, but it’s not pattern. Skipping out on the rent, stealing from wherever they work. I’ll bet you a night in costumes when we track them back, they’ll have skipped out on motels and flops, or used vacants, killed owners and tenants along their route.”
“I’m sorry, I’m still considering the bet for costumes as I don’t see how I can lose.”
“Eye on the prize, pal.”
He looked at her, straight at her. “It always is.”
“Sap.” But she laid her hand over his a moment. “I’m going to put the map up, dash screen. Highlighting the parking areas I already earmarked. Peabody can feed us anything she gets.”
It took her some time, but since they had it, Roarke let her fight with the in-dash comp.
“Fuck me. Why can’t you just say put up the damn map, and it puts up the damn map?”
As, essentially, you could, Roarke kept his thoughts to himself.
He headed down Seventh Avenue, and once south of the West Village, began to hunt with her.
“I’m not going to let them take another. It may be too late for Campbell. Her chances are razor-thin, and that goes for Mulligan because I think they might go for the double-kill.”
“A bigger thrill.”
“And that’s all it’s about now. All it was ever about. Let’s try that lot.”
They wound through a parking garage, level by level, drove out again, cut east.
She studied every vehicle, every pedestrian.
“It’s the perfect cover for them,” she said as they tried another lot. “Everyone’s bundled up, less people on the street. Even the chemi-heads and dealers take it inside or underground in weather like this.”
They gave it an hour, covering every section of every block, driving through parking structures, into and out of lots.
“Try this one.” She gestured to a private multilevel for a run of buildings. “We’ll park, and I’ll do a quick canvass on foot. You can wait for me.”
“Really?”
His
really
was another man’s
fat chance
, she thought.
“You could. You won’t, but you could. We’ll take this last one tonight, do the foot patrol, and count on Feeney’s drones in the morning.”
He doubted she knew it was going onto midnight. She had the scent, couldn’t quite give it up and settle down to hunt fresh the next day.
So they’d scan another three levels of vehicles, he thought as he circumvented the permit requirement, drove smoothly in. Then they’d take a very unlovely winter’s walk.
On the second level, she grabbed his arm. “Stop! There. That van. New York plates, but the rest fits. Navy-blue, tinted windows, the right make and model. Change the plates, just an extra cover.”
She yanked out her PPC, more comfortable with that than the in-dash, ran the registered plates.
“Registered to Anthony Charles Lappans, age seven-three, East Broadway address, and that’s not only not here, it’s near Kuper’s dump site. Keep an eye out.”
She jumped out of the all-terrain, shoved her coat back for easy access to her weapon, and approached the van.
She gestured to the sticker on the back window, circled the van, then walked back. “I’m going to get a warrant, but you’re right here, right now.”
Understanding, he got out, took out his pocket tools. After a quick glance at the lock, he selected what he wanted. He had the rear doors open in seconds.
Inside Eve studied a bulky armchair, a tool bag, a balled-up blanket, and spots and stains she’d bet her badge were dried blood.
“Close it back up, will you, and open the passenger door.”
“Dog gets the bone,” he murmured as he did as she asked.
“What?”
“You don’t give up. Just keep on digging until you have the bone. Your killers are also very untidy.”
“Yeah, isn’t that handy?” Her lips spread in a feral smile as she studied the litter of fast-food bags, disposable go-cups and receipts. “I don’t suppose there’s a field kit in that new ride of yours?”
“There is, of course, but I think all you’ll want at this point is…” He took tweezers out of his kit.
Nodding, she used them to lift one of the receipts. “From a Stop ’N Go in New Jersey. Another from a café here, on West Broad.
“Lock it back up. We’ve got them now. One way or the other, we’ve got them.”
She tagged Reo first, interrupting the APA’s beauty sleep. Cher Reo would order the search warrant, save time.
The chain of command meant she should contact Whitney next, but her team had earned it. And briefing them first would add to the movement.
“Hey,” Peabody said when she came on screen. She blinked blurry, sleep-deprived eyes.
“I’ve got the van.”
“You –
what
? Holy crap, Dallas, are you kidding me?”
“They changed the plates. Do a quick run on Lappans, Anthony Charles, on East Broadway just to tie it up. Reo’s getting us a warrant to search it.”
“Where are you?”
“Second level of a permit garage.” She rattled off the address. “Get that to McNab. I want the security feed for the past five days. Have Banner start a search on the three buildings that use this garage. Vacants, missings, DBs. I’m ordering a dozen uniforms to knock on doors in these buildings.”
“Do you want us down there?”
“I want you where you are. Get the data, all of it. I’ll pull you in, if we locate them, for the bust.”
“It’s not about the bust – I mean being there. Me being there.”
“I know it, but I’ll pull you in if and when. Work fast.”
She cut Peabody off, and woke up her commander.
She considered Mira, but she’d need the shrink after the bust. She’d want Mira once she had James and Parsens in the box.
Pacing, she ordered the uniforms, giving her own Uniform Carmichael the lead, with specific instructions. Two uniforms per door, with a story about a lead on a missing child reported seen in the building.
“They can’t and won’t open the door,” Roarke commented. “Or it’s highly unlikely.”
“I know it. So we can cross off any doors that open. Hostages are a possibility – other than Campbell and Mulligan – but I think that’s low. They’d be compelled to hurt and use anyone they have.”
“Another possibility,” he began.
“The van’s here – they’re not.” If that turned out to be the case, she’d deal with the frustration of it later. “We still have to do the door-to-doors.”
She used her comm again, ordered up sweepers for the van.
“Can you find a slot for that machine of yours, leave me the field kit? If Reo comes through before the sweepers get here, I can start processing the van. But I want that thing out of the way. Maybe they’ll decide it’s a good night to pick up fresh meat, and I don’t want to warn them off.”
He took a slow study of their ground, assessed it.
“Why don’t I take out the elevators while I’m at it? That would limit them, if they’re in the building, to the stairs. If they do come in, and from the outside, you’d hear them before they made it up on foot.”
“Good thinking.”
She’d put a couple of uniforms on the garage entrance while she and the sweepers worked. She checked the time, saw it was after midnight.
“Still time for them to hunt, but it’s getting past the time frame they hit the three New York vics. The later it gets, the less chance they’ll be on the move tonight. I want to get the van processed, then put under surveillance. We leave it just where it is.”
She took the field kit, circled the van again, her fingers itching to try for prints. Hearing the echo of an engine, she slipped two vehicles over, used one for cover.
From there she watched a sleet-covered sedan, an exhausted-looking woman behind the wheel, circle up as Roarke had done.
She hoped he hadn’t copped the sedan’s slot, but if he had, he’d handle it.
She yanked out her ’link when it signaled.
Reo, blond hair springing in all directions, baby blues shadowed, gave Eve a smirk.
“I caught Judge Hayden watching
Any-Time Sports
on screen. He was awake and amenable. Warrant’s coming through.”
“Good, quick work. Go back to bed.”
“I never got out.”
Even as the screen went blank, Eve heard the new incoming. She read the warrant – best to cross every T on this one. Satisfied, she opened her kit as Roarke strolled down to her.
“Elevator’s blocked.”
“There was a four-door sedan.”
“I waited for her. The warrant?”
“We’ve got it.”
After switching on her recorder, she went to work on the driver’s-side door first, pulled two clear prints. When she ran them for a match, got James, her lips spread in that feral smile again.
“Gotcha. Open her up, will you?”
“My pleasure.”
When she tapped her recorder, handed him her master, he waited until she’d skirted around, started on the passenger side before he took out his tools.
“Got her, too,” she told him. “Handprint.”
She came around back, sealed up, climbed in the doors he’d opened.
“Bag’s got cord, rope, duct tape, crowbar, wrenches, a hammer.”
She took out more of her own tools, tested the wrench. “Blood on the big wrench. And the crowbar, and for the triple, the hammer.”
She tested the interior floor. “And the carpet. We’ll have the sweepers get samples, take them into the lab. They’re going to match the vics. At least some of them are going to match.”
She opened the glove box. “Flashlight, owner’s manual disc, first aid kit, and this.”
With her sealed hands she held up a large knife.
“That would be a bowie knife. I’m acquainted from my own weapon collection.”
“James’s former employer. The mother’s boyfriend’s knife.”
Processing it, she found blood, and a partial print from James, another from Parsens.
“They didn’t even try to clean it. Why bother?” she supposed, “When they’re only going to use it again. Once we get them, they’re never getting out.”
She put the knife back where she’d found it, took a tag from Uniform Carmichael.
“Quick, quiet, thorough,” she told him. “Anything, anyone feels off, I get a signal. Record any door that doesn’t open.”
By the time the sweepers arrived, she’d done all she could do on the van. She crossed over to Dawson, the head sweeper and, with what had gone down on New Year’s Eve in mind, took a good look at his team of two.
“How’s it going?” she asked him.
“Oh, well, hit some rough spots now and then, but what can you do? How about you?”
“Tonight? Good, because when we bag these bastards, we’ve got enough evidence to lock them in a cage for several lifetimes. I need everything processed, and everything left exactly where you found it. If we miss them tonight, they may come back for the van. We’ll have it watched, but we’ll want them to lead us to the vics. I don’t want them spooked.”
“Full record before we touch anything.”
“I got prints, I got blood. I’ll leave you to take blood samples, get them in, wrangle expedited. I didn’t go as far as hair and fiber. You’ll be faster there. I’d want Harvo on that end.”
He smiled a little. “Everybody wants Harvo, but I’ll make it happen.”
“Did you bring the tracker?”
He patted his own kit. “As requested.”
“The guy’s a mechanic. A good one. Make sure it doesn’t show if he does a look-see. And he knows something about electronics, so —”
“We’ve got it, Dallas.”
“In and out, fast as you can. We’re doing the door-to-doors, and I’ve got a couple of cops coming in in an unmarked to keep an eye on it from the first level. It’s probably too late for them to come in and take a ride tonight, but there are uniforms scattered around. You’re covered.”
“How many vics?”
“Twenty-four and counting – that we know of. Two more still alive, that we know of.”
“We’ll sew this end up.”
Nodding, she moved off again, joined Roarke. “I want to do some knock-on-doors. It’ll go faster.”
“Then I’m with you.” But he caught her chin in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the shallow dent as he studied her face. “You get so bloody pale when you push past your limit. We’ll cover as many doors as you like, but if you don’t have them by the end of it, or a Herculean lead, we’re home after, and you’ll get some sleep.”
And after that he was determined she’d take a booster – however much she disliked them – whatever it took to see her through it.
Together they covered four floors of the second building. Hit one no-answer.
But the across-the-hall stepped back out. “I should’ve told you, that’s the Delwickies. Nice young couple. They’re away for a few days.”
Eve turned back, studied the door as if she could see through it if she concentrated enough.
“Took a winter break with some friends, down to the Florida Keys. I’m watering her plants while they’re away.”
Eve let her concentration throttle back. “You’ve been in their apartment in the last few days?”