"She had potential targets selected before she went down, and may have continued to select and research from inside."
"Did some electronic surveillance and research on Pettibone and Mouton from the prison office units," Feeney confirmed. "We dug out bits and pieces of it. Nothing on this guy or any others at this point. Nothing on personal business—financials, real estate, travel inquiries."
"She used her personal for that." Supervisor Miller, she thought in disgust, would have a lot to answer for before she was done with him. "Most likely diddled on the office machines early on, but made sure she had a personal for data she couldn't risk having traced."
She took a pass around the room. "She's got grease, and plenty of it. My personal grease expert states that it's most likely she stashes it in various numbered accounts in various locations. We've got no line to tug to the money. Loopy claims Julianna told her she had her own place here in New York. She's stuck to that during Interview with the Chicago cops, but can't or won't expand. My guess is she doesn't know the location. Julianna might have passed the time chatting with her, but wouldn't give her anything traceable."
"We're running private residences through EDD." Feeney dug out a handful of nuts. "But with no time frame of purchase or lease, no area, no name or names to feed in, we're mostly jerking off there."
"She'll spend money on herself." Eve thought how polished and fit Julianna had looked in person, in the vid. "But she'd be smart enough to use cash. We run high-end stores, salons, restaurants. But as this is goddamn New York, endless shopping nirvana, we're jammed there, too."
She tried to clear her head. "We keep at that. Put some drones on the 'links to shops. Maybe we can hook that red skin suit she had on. We've got her height and weight from Dockport, translate that to size, push purchases of the suit in that size."
"She may have purchased that in Chicago, or anywhere," Peabody pointed out. "And red skin suits are legion."
"Yeah, so it's a long shot. We keep blasting away, every detail, we're going to hit something eventually. Meanwhile, we'll check all the public and private transpos in and out of Denver. We'll find what she used, and by the time we do, she's in the wind again. But we have data."
"She's taking more chances," Peabody said. "Telling you about Campbell when she couldn't be sure of the timing. If she'd left it alone, it would've been hours before he was found."
"Risk makes winning the war more satisfying. This is a grudge match, and it's no good unless the enemy bleeds. And she wants to shake me. She doesn't want to kill me, but she wants me to think that I'm a target. She wants me to live, with loss. She wants Roarke. And that's our advantage. She doesn't know I'm on that."
* * *
In midtown, Roarke ended one meeting and prepared for another. The morning's activities had put him a bit behind schedule. He'd have to put in extra time that evening, but would find a way to do it from home. He intended to stay as close to Eve as their respective work schedules allowed.
"Caro." He tagged his admin on his interoffice 'link. "Shift the Realto meeting to holographic, out of my home office. Seven-thirty, and we'll move the lunch with Finn and Bowler to the executive dining room here. See that Lieutenant Dallas is copied on these changes."
"Yes, sir. There's a Dr. Mira here to see you. You have ten minutes before your next meeting if you'd like me to bring her back. Or I'll schedule an appointment."
"No." He frowned, shuffled time in his head. "I'll see her now. If the Brinkstone reps arrive before I'm done, have them wait."
He clicked off, then rose to pace his office. Mira wasn't the type to drop in unannounced, nor to pay social calls in the middle of a work day. Which meant she had business she felt was important enough to add a burden to both their schedules.
Absently, he crossed to the AutoChef and programmed in the tea she preferred.
When Caro knocked, he opened the door himself, extended a hand to Mira. "It's nice to see you."
"I'm sure it's not." She squeezed his hand. "But thank you for making the time. I'm overwhelmed just from the walk from reception. Your glass breezeway is amazing."
"Gives competitors a chance to think about a long plunge before they reach here. Thank you, Caro." He drew Mira in as his admin closed the door quietly behind them.
"And this ..." Mira glanced around the office with its lush furnishings, stunning art, sleek equipment. "It certainly suits you. It manages to be both sumptuous and efficient all at once. I know you're busy."
"Not too busy for you. It's tea, isn't it? Jasmine, most usually?"
"Yes." It didn't surprise her that he'd remember such a minor detail. He had a mind like a computer. She took the seat he offered on a deeply cushioned sofa, waited for him to sit beside her. "I don't want to waste your time with small talk."
"I appreciate it. Did Eve send you?"
"No, but she knows I intended to talk with you. I haven't seen her yet today, though I intend to do that as well. I know she was injured last evening."
"She's resilient. Not quite as much as she likes to think, but she springs back somehow or other. Bruised damn near top to toe. All but cracked her head open like an egg. Would have, if it wasn't made of rock."
"Which is one of the reasons you love her."
"True enough."
"And still you worry. Being married to a cop is an enormous commitment of restraint. She understands that, which is one of the reasons she tried to resist, or deny what she felt for you. One of them." Mira reached out to cover his hand. "And another reason was her father. She told me you've been to Dallas."