She clicked off, dragged a hand through her hair.
Swing shift, she thought. Dickhead was putting in overtime, too. She made a mental note to cut him at least a sliver of a break the next time he exhibited Dickheaded behavior.
“Working on possibles on Second,” Feeney announced.
“Still eliminating on Lex,” McNab bounced back.
“Feed me the data.” Roarke worked a keyboard with one hand, a swipe screen with another. “I’ll fold it into financials and ID.”
When her ’link signaled again, Eve stepped back from their chatter.
“Jacoby’s secured, and being transported to a safe house. Officers are with her son now,” Peabody announced. “Nobody’s hit on the nest, as yet.”
“Get me a consult with Mira.”
“If you mean now, Dallas, it’s nearly twenty-hundred hours. She’s not in her office. Do you want me to contact her at home?”
“It can wait.” She already had a good picture of the Mackie dynamics. “Anybody who hasn’t had a dinner break takes one—thirty minutes. We pull the search for the nest at twenty-two-hundred. All officers and detectives report for full briefing at oh-seven-thirty. Until that time, everyone’s on standby.”
“I’ll make the contacts. You’re in EDD? Can you use me up there?”
“I can always use the She-Body,” McNab said.
“Awww.”
“Knock it off.” Eve paced the lab. “We have a target outstanding.”
“I’m running the initials—actually eliminated some lawyers with them. There are so damn many lawyers,” Peabody added. “And paralegals, and ambulance chasers, and disbarred lawyers, and just passed the bar—”
“Keep at it. Take a damn dinner break, but keep at it.”
She paced some more.
“Five strong possibles. Three ranging Twenty-First and Fifteenth, between Second and Third. Two on Third at Eighteenth.”
She turned to Feeney, began to scan the data.
“Two on Lex, between Nineteeth and Fourteenth,” McNab added. “Another two between Lex and Third, one on Twentieth, one on Sixteenth.”
“Two apartments, two townhouses, one loft above retail space.”
“I’ve got two apartments, two townhouses,” McNab said.
Eve scanned the data. “Let’s see the houses first. More privacy, and you’re in control of security. ID on tenants.”
“On screen.” Eve frowned at the first ID shot when Feeney put it up, then at McNab’s. “Not Mackie. Let’s see the others.”
“Zip.” McNab grabbed his fizzy, slurped some. “We’ll move farther south, and east to Second.”
“Wait a minute. The townhouse on Third. Pull that back up, Feeney. Gabe Willowby,” Eve murmured. “Willow, Willowby. Younger said he and the second wife picked Gabriel as a boy’s name.”
Feeney’s droopy eyes lit. “Too fucking tidy.”
“Way too. It’s not Mackie in the ID shot, but look at the data. His height. His age bracket, his eye color.”
“Easy enough to create a dupe ID, one that pops on a search,” Roarke began. “And have another using the same name, that matches your face.” He smiled. “Or so I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, I bet. McNab, full level-three run on Willowby.” She pulled out her ’link again. “Cancel dinner breaks. Everyone report back to Central for full briefing. We just caught a break. Send me everything you get,” she said as she turned toward the door. “Conference Room A, as soon as you can.”