Apprentice in Death (In Death 43)

“If she’s at the apartment—” Peabody began.

“That’s not home. That’s HQ, her father’s HQ, and that mission is done, at least for now. The townhouse. Her mother’s house.” She turned around, and Roarke saw it in her eyes. Instinct became knowledge.

“It’s comfortable, it’s hers. Clothes, food, entertainment. Again an area she knows—and right now, an empty house. And better, more important, fucking vital? They’ll come back. A few days, a week, but they’ll come back, the three people who top her list. That’s something she’ll wait for.”

“We sealed it.”

“She’ll get in. Her father would’ve taught her how to get around and through a seal. She can have the place to herself—privacy screens down. She can watch the screen, judge when the media play eases off. Tuck up somewhere and wait. They come in, they feel safe, or safer. She just has to hole up, just wait until the house is locked up tight, until it’s all quiet. Take the stepfather first, then the mother, then the kid. Then take what you want, whatever you want, and walk away. Find somewhere else to kill.”

“Should I pull the op?” Peabody asked.

“No.” As she weighed percentages against instinct, Eve dragged her fingers through her hair, pulled at it. “I could be wrong. I’m not, but I could be. Let it play.”

“The three of us then.”

Eve nodded at Roarke. “If you’re up for it.”

“Personally or professionally?”

“Funny. Peabody, bring that location on screen.” She pulled out her comm. “Reineke, I’m peeling off.”

It was a risk, Eve thought after she’d checked out her weapons, after they’d gone down to the garage. She loaded a laser rifle, a scope, the equipment Roarke would use in her deceptively ordinary DLE. The earbud kept her in constant communication with the others teams.

If the percentages proved true, she could be with the main team in minutes. If her instincts were on target, she could pull in the main team fast.

EDD reported no heat source in the basement, none in the apartment. They continued to identify sources in the flop.

Carmichael would pose as an LC, Santiago as her mark. They’d enter the building, and deal with the droid.

“I can send backup,” Lowenbaum told her. “I can send you a couple of guys.”

“We’ve got it for now. One of us is going to be in the right place. When we know, the other gets their ass there fast.”

“I hear that.”

“Try not to kill her, Lowenbaum.”

“Same to you.”

Eve handed Peabody a visored helmet. “She’ll aim for your head.”

“That’s comforting.” Peabody slid into the backseat.

“I’ll drive,” Eve told Roarke. “You work the portable. She can’t keep watch out the windows 24/7, but she may have cams set up to give her a view of the street, the sidewalks.” She glanced at Roarke as she pulled out. “How close do you want me?”

“The boys in the van snagged the best toys, but I can make do with this. Try for within fifty feet of the building.”

Eve drove, considered. Contacted Nadine on her wrist unit. “Get ready to go on with a bulletin.”

“What?” Nadine shoved a hand at her hair—tied back in a short tail and far from camera ready. “How hot? I got home an hour ago after doing spots on last night, on Mackie’s arrest, on the manhunt for his daughter. Have you got her?”

“Just be ready when I tag you back.” She cut Nadine off, whipped around a Rapid Cab. “She’ll be ready.”

“For what?” Peabody wondered.

“To go on with a bulletin that will pull our suspect’s attention away from the street, the sidewalk.”

“You’re going to blow the other op,” Roarke concluded.