“Okay. But if you need me—”
“I know where you are. Now I’ve got to go. He only gave me eight hours and it’s ticking away fast. Send me whatever you get out of Stibble, whatever you get on the partner.”
“I’ll stay in regular contact.” With some reluctance Peabody moved away from the door, followed Eve out. “How do you want me to play Stibble? Should I—”
“You know what to do. Do it. Now brief the men.” Without another word she left.
She pulled out her ’link, tagged Baxter as she worked down the levels to the garage.
“Yo,” Baxter said.
“I’m headed out of town, following a lead on McQueen. Peabody’s taking over here. I want you and Trueheart working with her. She’s primary.”
“Copy that.”
“Don’t give her too much grief, Baxter, but don’t baby her.”
“How much is too much? Don’t worry about it. Trueheart’ll keep me honest. Just go get that fucker, LT.”
“That’s the plan.” She clicked off, contacted Roarke’s office.
His admin, Caro, smiled at her. “Hello, Lieutenant. Roarke’s just finishing up a holo-conference. If it’s important, I’ll cut in.”
“I’m on my way there. I need to talk to him as soon as possible. It’s urgent.”
Caro’s smile shifted to alert. “I’ll clear the time.”
“Thanks.”
And here we go, Eve thought, as she jumped into her vehicle and pushed the DLE Urban Roarke had designed for her to full speed. As she drove, dodging, weaving, hitting vertical to leapfrog, she plugged the disc Whitney had given her into the onboard comp, and began to familiarize herself with Lieutenant Ricchio and his unit.
When she stepped into the expansive black-and-white lobby of Roarke’s headquarters, one of his security met her. “We cleared an elevator for you. Straight up, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks.” She strode quickly past the moving maps, the banks and rivers of flowers, the crisscross of people bustling in and out of the shops and eateries.
Security escorted her to the elevator, then stepped back. “It’s programmed,” he told her before the doors closed.
She spent the time on the fast ride up, up, up, pacing the ca
r, aligning her thoughts, working out what needed to be done and how to do it.
The doors opened again, directly into Roarke’s office, and he stood waiting.
“What’s happened?”
“McQueen’s taken a hostage.” When he gripped her hand, she saw her mistake. He thought it was someone in New York, someone they loved.
“Who?”
“Melinda Jones. She’s one of the twins, the last he abducted.”
“I remember.” But relief didn’t register on his face. He remembered, she thought, everything. “She’s in Dallas.”
“He grabbed her late last night. I can fill you in on it later. He’s given me a deadline to get down there, or he’ll start cutting pieces off of her.”
“He wants you in Dallas?” Those beautiful blue eyes narrowed and sharpened. “He specifically demanded this?”
“Yeah, in eight hours from the time the sister picked up the message. “That was at ten forty-three, their time. It’s twelve-forty now. So I’ve got six hours to get there. Or . . . it’s earlier there, so I lose an hour. Or gain it. Shit, I can’t ever figure that crap out.”