She had long, emerald-colored nails, and when she went to manual they clicked against the keys like mad castanets.
She, like McNab, appeared to be tireless—brightly wrapped bundles of energy barely contained so that something on them constantly jiggled or bounced. A foot, a head, shoulders, ass.
Fascinating.
“Yo, Blondie-Boy,” she called out and McNab glanced over his shoulder.
“You talking to me, D-Cup?”
“You’re up. Liquid.”
“Can do. You want?” he said to Roarke. “Something to drink.”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Buzz or no buzz?”
It took Roarke a moment to translate, and in that moment he felt very old. “Could use the buzz.”
“On it.” As McNab bounced out of the room, Callendar sent Roarke a quick and pretty smile.
“So, you’re like absolutely packed, right? D
oing the backstroke in the megawealth. What’s that like?”
“Satisfying,” he decided.
“Betcha.” With a push of her feet, she sent her chair skidding over so she could see his screen. “Wow. Multitudinous data with simo searches and cross. You got secondary recog going, too?”
This, he could easily translate. “I do. Checking like names, anagrams, cross dates. Lay it down for a spread, go deep for ancestry and other potential connects.”
“Smart. McNab said you were frosty in there. Serious mining.” She looked back at her own station. “All around.”
She slid back to her work, and jiggling her shoulders to some internal tune, went back to the task at hand.
Amused, he turned back to his own work, then stopped when Eve and Feeney came in.
Gia Rossi, he thought, as the name, the idea of her that he’d made himself set aside, pushed once again into the forefront of his mind.
His eyes met Eve’s, so he pushed back from the work to walk to her.
“We need to update the team regarding Rossi,” Eve said. “Those in the field will be briefed via ’link. We need to factor your connection in.”
“Understood.”
“Okay, then.”
Peabody came in, sent Roarke a quiet, sympathetic look. She crossed over to insert a new data disc.
“We have an update,” Eve announced, and the clacking, the bouncing, the voices, and shuffling ceased. “We have reason to believe a woman reported as missing since Thursday night was abducted by our unsub. Rossi, Gia.”
Peabody ordered the image and data on screen. “Age thirty-one, brown and brown, height five feet, five inches, one hundred and twenty-two pounds. She was last seen leaving her place of employment, a fitness center called BodyWorks on West Forty-sixth. Captain Feeney.”
“Rossi’s ex-husband,” Feeney began, “one Riley, Jaymes, notified the police at oh-eight-hundred Friday morning. Per procedure, she wasn’t formally listed as missing until the twenty-four-hour time limit had passed. The subject did not return home as expected on Thursday night where she was scheduled to meet her ex who, according to his statement, was there to drop off the dog they had joint custody of.”
There were a few of the expected smirks at this, and Feeney just eyeballed the smirkers until they faded away.
“Neighbors confirm the arrangement. Nor was Riley able to reach her via her pocket ’link. We’ve confirmed that he did, in fact, attempt to ascertain her whereabouts by contacting her coworkers, her friends. The statements given to the responding officer and to me have been corroborated. He is not considered involved in her disappearance.