Devoted in Death (In Death 41)

and double-parked.

“Basement unit, this building.” She flipped up her On Duty light as blasting horns serenaded.

Ignoring them, Eve eased out, skirted the hood. “You carrying, Banner?”

“My service weapon. I had to check it when I came into Central, but Detective Peabody arranged for me to get it back.”

“Be ready,” she advised as she approached the building. “But don’t get twitchy.”

“I’ve only had to pull it four times since I’ve been on the job, and never once had to fire it.”

It was hard for Eve to imagine, but she nodded. “That’s a good record to hold on to.”

She flipped back her coat, rested one hand on her weapon, took out her badge with the other.

Minimal security on the door, she noted, bars on the windows.

“Hit the buzzer.”

It didn’t take long, and only an instant more for Eve to drop her weapon hand, adjust her coat back over it.

She looked down into the round freckled face of a boy she judged at around ten.

“You’re not Sarri,” he accused.

“I’m not. Got a parent at home?”

“MOM!”

The shout had another kid – a girl, Eve deduced, as it wore a bright pink dress with brighter blue tights. And eyed her as suspiciously as the boy.

“You can’t come in ’cause you’re a stranger.” She shouted, a higher decibel than her brother, for her mother.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. For God’s sake, let me – Nathan Michael Fitzsimmons, what have I told you about opening the door?”

“It’s supposed to be Sarri.”

“It’s not.” The woman, obviously harried, dark hair clipped messily up, fuzzy slippers covering her feet, scooped both kids behind her.

“NYPSD.” Eve held her badge up again. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“What’s the matter? Is Sarri —”

“No problem,” Eve said quickly. “We’re looking into a missing-persons matter. Do you know a Wayne Potter?”

“No, I’m sorry, I— Oh, wait. Sorry, step in for a second. It’s freezing out there, and I’m letting the heat out.”

She shut the door behind them. “I think that’s the person who used to live here. One of the neighbors upstairs mentioned the name. We moved in last October. Mrs. Harbor – upstairs – she told me he’d left one day and never came back. Left his things, his family. I was a little nervous for a while once she told me, wondering if he’d come back and try to get in. But he hasn’t.”

The buzzer sounded again, and both kids shouted: Sarri!

“Thanks for your time.”

Eve edged back, let the woman open the door.

Sarri, bundled in a coat, hat, scarf, boots, gloves, all hitting every color of the spectrum was immediately covered in kids.

“That’s my sister in there,” the woman said with a laugh. “The world’s favorite aunt. Sorry I couldn’t help.”