Thankless in Death (In Death 37)

“Yeah.” She curled against him in the dark, and hoped it would be enough.

When her ’link woke her just after five A.M., she groped for it. “Block video,” she ordered even as Roarke ordered lights on to twenty percent. “Dallas.”

“Lieutenant, man, I’m really sorry for the early tag.”

“Mal.” Instantly awake, she shoved up to sit. “What is it?”

“It’s just—we can’t find Joe. It’s probably nothing, but I’m a little freaked, and Ma said you should know.”

“Okay.” She flipped through the notes in her head. “He had a date last night, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He was a no-show, and Priss tracked me down at like midnight, bitching me out because she figured Joe’d ditched her to hang with me or Dave. But I hadn’t seen him or talked to him. Dave either. And she said how he’d texted her he might be a little late; he was working on some deal. But he never showed, and didn’

t answer her texts and tags. Me and Dave, we even went over there, to Joe’s place. He doesn’t answer the door.”

“Okay, Mal.” She didn’t need a gut-check to assess a bad feeling. It shoved straight through her. “Give me the name and contact of the woman he was supposed to go out with.”

“Sure, sure.” He reeled it off. “The thing is, well, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he maybe hooked up with somebody else, maybe got lucky, and he’s at her place, wherever. And maybe he’s not answering his texts and tags because he doesn’t want any shit, you know. But, it’s scary.”

“It’s good you let me know. Any idea, if he hooked up otherwise, with who?”

“Not so much. I tried some girls I know he’s hooked with, but hit zero there. But he’s not above taking a spin with strange if he had the chance. So …”

“Got it. Let me see what I can do. I’ll get back to you.”

She clicked off, shoved at her hair, in pure frustration. “Asshole Joe.”

“I got that.” Knowing her, and understanding, Roarke handed her coffee he’d programmed while she’d talked to Mal.

“Maybe he is with some strange, but that’s not what it feels like. Going to be late, working on a deal. Money and status and sex—those are his pulls. And Reinhold knows his pulls. Lure him with a business opportunity maybe. I need to go check out Joe’s place.”

“I know it. I’ll go with you.”

“I can use you better right here. If I find him, or if I don’t—either way, whatever you pull out of those computers is going to help the most.”

He’d have argued if he hadn’t agreed with her. “I’ll concede to that if you agree not to go alone.”

And she’d have argued if she hadn’t seen the solid sense in the deal. No time for bullshit, she reminded herself.

“I’ll take a couple uniforms along, and I’m going to wake up our APA, have Reo get me a warrant. I need to be able to go in. If he’s not there, I’ll be back inside an hour. If he’s there and humping some strange, less. If he’s there and dead, I’ll be longer.”

“And if Reinhold’s with him?”

“I’ll be grateful.”

It took under an hour because traffic was nonexistent and she went in hot. And, what the hell, came back the same way.

She managed to avoid the relatives when she dashed into the house and up, but she heard them—hushed adult voices, babies crying, kids chattering.

And found Roarke already at work in his comp lab.

“He’s not there,” she announced. “And there’s no sign of duress or violence. I had a quick conversation with the woman he stood up. She’s worried now instead of pissed. And I woke McNab, had him run a trace on Asshole Joe’s ’link. Can’t trace it, because it’s turned off. If and when it’s turned back on, we’ll see. And why are your relatives up and swarming around at barely six in the morning?”

“Middle of the morning in Ireland,” he reminded her. “And that doesn’t address the fact many of them are farmers who’d be up at six in any case. I’m getting somewhere here, and might have better luck if you stopped talking.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but stopped talking long enough to program more coffee.

“Reinhold’s got him.”