Apprentice in Death (In Death 43)

“Roll it. Baxter, Trueheart, start compiling data, and check with Uniform Carmichael. Start the interview process as soon as we’ve got some of these people in the house. See if you can get the name of the lawyer Mackie talked to. We need to bring him in. He may be a target.”

“Protecting a lawyer.” Baxter shook his head. “What the hell. Come on, partner, let’s get this started.”

With only her takedown team in the room, Eve turned to the screen. “Okay, here’s how I see it going.”

Within thirty minutes, as data continued to stream in, Eve had her team in a police van, outfitted not only with body armor, but helmets. Which meant she had to do the same. While the coat took care of the body armor, the helmet bugged the crap out of her.

But a head shot would do worse.

Inside the van, on screen, she watched the feed Feeney sent her. She watched McNab and Callendar, looking every bit like a happy couple moving into a new place, haul boxes into Roarke’s building.

“No heat source in suspect’s apartment,” Feeney told her. “We’re running that from the van for now. They’re not in there.”

“When you’re ready, McNab and Callendar can run that from inside, and you move off.”

“Your man has a garage about a block away. We’ll go in there, sit awhile. Lowenbaum’s team is moving into position. One of them will use the apartment, two on the roof, and another two in another empty apartment in Roarke’s building. See the window of the suspect’s apartment?”

“Yeah, yeah. Privacy screened. I’m going to hit the mother’s place now. Jenkinson, you’re in charge here till I get back—sit tight. Peabody, I want constant reports. Roarke, you’re with me. I’ll be heading east, then south, on foot. I can be back here inside five minutes, so I need to know the first sighting on either suspect.”

She stepped out of the van, moved fast. The suspects could be back any minute—or not for hours. Any data she could dig up might pinpoint their next target. Even now they might be holed up in some hotel room, some flop, some empty office space, preparing to strike again.

Nothing fell out of the sky now as the ugly day headed toward a bitter evening. Streetlights shimmered on, cutting the gloom with chilly white pools of light. As she walked, she studied faces. Pedestrians hurrying home, or to meet up for drinks, to get in more shopping. Others huddled at a cart that smelled of soy dogs and really terrible coffee.

They could walk here, she thought, father and daughter, back to the apartment, out to grab a slice. They would have walked here at some point, from the townhouse to the apartment.

Had they plotted along the way? Who to kill and when?

A block and a half from Zoe Younger’s townhouse, Roarke stepped up beside her. “Lieutenant.”

“I want to hit the kid’s room. Whitney got the warrant for the whole place, but we’re going to focus on the girl’s room. It’s unlikely the rest of this family are involved, or she’d leave handy clues in the living area.”

“Understood.”

When he took her hand, she linked her fingers with his. On duty, yeah, but no cops around to see.

“We will take a pass at any and all electronics—and flag them for EDD.”

“I expect I’ll be entirely more useful there than tossing a teenage girl’s room.”

She frowned up at him as they swam across the crosswalk with the tide of people. “You were a teenage boy—there can’t be that much difference between male and female at that age.”

“Oh, only worlds, I imagine.” With her, he made the turn, walked up the five steps to the front right door of the pretty duplex. As he spoke, he took out his tools—quicker than her master, she thought, eyeing the security.

“You were a teenage girl.”

“Not so much, or only sort of.”

“As I was not so much, or only sort of a teenage boy, how well we suit. They have excellent security,” he added, sliding through it like a knife through warmed butter.

“We clear it first.” Eve drew her weapon. “Just in case.”

After his nod, they went through the door together.

“NYPSD,” she called out, sweeping left. “We’ve entered the premises duly warranted.”

“No one’s here—you can feel an empty house,” Roarke said. “Ah, there was a day when a B and E into an empty house was my favorite thing.”

“Now you get to do it legally.”