New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

A woman Eve pegged as late twenties came out.

“There were other police here. They just left a little while ago. They said Sylvia was arrested.”

“That’s right.”

“I just don’t understand it. Bill up the street said there were cops all over, and little Kirk almost got run over. I was at work, and when I came home it was just crazy.”

“Have you lived here long?”

“Four years. My sister and I. What about Sandra?”

“Sorry?”

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“Sylvia’s sister. Sandra Millford. Is she in trouble, too?”

“You could say that. Were you friendly?”

“We try to be, Candace and I. And I guess we thought, when they moved in, being sisters like us, we’d get together a lot. Hang.” She shrugged it off with a glance toward the neighboring unit. “But they were always too busy. We stopped asking them over. They didn’t spend a lot of time at home anyway, not really.”

“Ever have any visitors?”

“I can’t say I ever saw anybody come by and pay a call. But Sylvia was involved with someone.”

“Oh?”

“A woman doesn’t dress like that unless it’s for a lover. And I overheard her talking on the ’link just yesterday, now that I think about it. Sitting outside, and I was, too, having some coffee. The way she laughed, the tone of her voice. There was somebody. What did she do?”

“She aided and abetted in the escape from prison of a dangerous felon. She aided and abetted in the abduction of two people, one a minor female for this dangerous felon who is a violent pedophile.”

Eyes wide, mouth open, the woman rubbed at her throat. “Well, oh my God.”

Eve took out her PPC, brought up McQueen’s photo. “I don’t think he’ll come around here, but if he does, stay inside and contact the police.”

“I saw him on the media reports! Oh my God. Sylvia’s involved with him?”

“She was. He killed her a couple hours ago.”

“Oh. Oh.” She backed up a pace, slapping both hands to her heart. “Sandra? Her sister?”

“There was no sister. Just one woman, two different identities. Tell your neighbors. If they see this man, contact the police immediately.”

“I will. I will.” She turned, bolted for her own door. “Candy! Candy!”

“You scared the hell out of her.”

“I meant to,” Eve said as the door slammed, as locks snicked into play. “Because he could come back here. He might start to wonder if she had anything that might point the way to where he’s dug in now. And that one’s just the type who’d come out, talk to him like she did with me. I flashed a badge, a New York badge from ten feet away, and she just accepted and came right out. I don’t want to find out she’s had her throat cut.”

She stepped to the door, used her master.

The sweepers had been through, she noted, leaving their fine layer of print dust.

“No need to seal up again,” she told Roarke.

“Small blessing.”

“Decent furniture, on the gaudy side,” she began as she walked through the living area. “Not a lot of it, and no fussy stuff sitting around. Not home, not for her.”