Thankless in Death (In Death 37)

Reinhold would want her, Eve thought again, but had to know she wouldn’t be an easy get.

She’d take more study, wouldn’t she? More of a plan. Lure her out, take her off the street. Possible. Possible he’d try. But wouldn’t he need somewhere to take her?

“Is he going to start soiling his own nest, wherever the hell that is? More control in your own place. Would that offset the thrill of messing around in someone else’s safe zone?”

Also possible, she thought.

But he was hurt. The foot had to be giving him some trouble, should make him reconsider any sort of physical altercation.

He liked taking his victims from behind, by surprise.

The shopkeepers were a better bet to her thinking. Older couple, right in his neighborhood. If he could get to one of them, he could use that to entrap the other.

He had money now—a nice pile of it, and more than enough to invest in a black-market stunner, a fake badge, a uniform. With the holes in the Schumakers’ building security, and again not knowing about the police protection, he could access their apartment easily enough. Just slide in behind another resident, or pose as a delivery or maintenance guy. Or a cop.

“I’d wait. Bide my time, watch the building, the routine. Go in at night. Cop uniform’s the most direct.”

She glanced over at the cat, but apparently the washing had exhausted him so he lay on his back, all four legs splayed in utter relaxation.

“You’d think you’d had sex instead of kibble. Anyway, then you just knock, ID yourself as NYPSD. Law-abiding citizens are going to open the door. Use the stunner, keep it quiet.

“Soundproofing’s not good on those older buildings. Lock it up, gag and restrain, then you can do what you want to them. Hours of doing what you want to them.”

“Lucky for the populace you’re also law-abiding.”

She frowned over her shoulder at Roarke. “I thought you were busy with empire stuff.”

“I was, now I’m not. And as I’m about to shift my efforts into find-the-stolen-money stuff, I wanted to see you before you left for Central.”

“Going in a few minutes. This is the best way in, right?” She gestured to the building on screen. “A minor investment in costuming, hit them late, stun, lock up, restrain.”

“These two as targets?” he asked, stepping closer to look at the photos of the Schumakers.

“Yeah. They live over their market. See, the building has security cams on the main entrance, card swipes for residents, and buzzers for lock release—visitors, deliveries.”

“And potential thieves and murderers. What floor are they?”

“Third. Northwest corner unit.”

“Fire escape?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t bother with the costume. I’d invest in a good jammer, a good scanner. He grew up in the neighborhood, and has probably accessed fire escapes before. I’d go that way, scan the windows for alarms, jam if any. If they’ve locked the windows, which a great many people comfortable in their third-floor unit don’t, a simple glass cutter can be used to lift a window lock. A child could do it.”

“Which you did.”

“Oh, as often as possible. Then he’s in, and unless he’s drawn any attention getting in, he doesn’t have building security picking him up.”

“He’s got a bum foot.”

“That’s what blockers are for.”

“Yeah.” She jammed her hands in her pockets. “The comp likes the model.” Eve tapped the photo.

“She’s lovely.”

“And she’s got a male cohab. He’s lovely, too—and bigger and fitter than Reinhold. Plus her security’s out of his reach. This would be his first break-in, if he goes that route. He was already in his parents’ apartment, had the key for the ex’s, and bashed the teacher as she came back in with her dog. He’s never had to deal with locks, security, or an actual break-in. Logically, he should aim for the target with the easiest access.”