“We need to see the second floor. You’re just taking your friends upstairs, showing them the work. Okay?”
“Jan?”
“We’re going to be okay, Phil.”
“I’m not letting anything happen to you, so yeah, we’re going to be okay. So let’s get married.”
“You said—what?”
“I love you, you love me. We adopted a dog together. We’re building a home together, and I’m taking this as a sign. Let’s get married.”
“I . . . yeah.” On a half laugh, Jan threw her arm around Philippe’s neck, pressed with the little dog held between them. “Let’s get married.”
“Congratulations, but maybe we could hold
off on the wine and applause until after we’ve taken the killer next door into police custody.”
“Sorry. This is the strangest, scariest night of my life.” Philippe dropped his brow to Jan’s. “And it made me realize I want to spend all the rest of them with you.”
“Sweet. Kudos. Let’s move.”
As Eve strode out, Roarke dropped a hand on Philippe’s shoulder. “Love changes everything. I proposed to my wife after we limped away from a physical altercation with another serial killer. Good times.”
“Feels surreal, but I guess not so much when you’re a cop.”
“She is. I’m not.”
Eyes widened, Philippe pointed at Eve, then at Roarke, got a nod.
“And trust me, you and your fiancée couldn’t be in better hands.”
Eve walked straight back—rooms without doors, rooms full of building supplies—to the master suite in progress.
“This is directly under him,” she said quietly. “Anything that’s not inane chatter about decor and marriage, keep it down.”
“This room’s soundproofed,” Jan told her.
“All the better.” Eve looked up, imagined Mackie, then studied the communal wall.
It didn’t matter to her it was smooth, clean, and the color of Irish moss. It mattered that the wall led to Reginald Mackie.
“I just finished the second coat—or nearly finished.” Jan sighed. “Does it really have to be this wall?”
“Quickest, safest. The department will have it fully repaired, and in a timely fashion. I’ll make sure of it. Feeney?”
“Got you. He’s maintaining position. I read four people in your location, and the dog, directly under his.”
“We’re going in from here. The two civilians and the dog will return to the main level, rear—get your outdoor gear,” she told them. “And be ready to be removed to safety if necessary.”
“Copy that,” Feeney responded. “Two civilians and, ah, a dog, to be taken out when needed. How about a little distraction on the street—draw his attention while you’re cutting through.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
Eve pulled the laser cutter out of the satchel. “We’re ready.”
“Jenkinson, Reineke, you’re on,” Feeney announced.