Eve saw the slight movement in the bed, and knew Peabody had her stunner in her hand. “Feeney, you and the civilian stay behind those doors until I clear it. I want him all the way in. McNab, I want that elevator shut down the minute he’s through the door, and your team out and blocking the hall a second after that. Copy?”
“You’ve got it. How’s my sex queen?”
“I beg your pardon, Detective?”
“Um . . . Question directed at Officer Peabody, Lieutenant.”
“No personal communications or stupid-ass remarks, for sweet Christ’s sake. Give me a twenty on the suspect.”
“He’s using the stairs, sir. Moving between second and third floor. I’ve got a good clear view of his face, Dallas. Positive ID for Niles Renquist. Moving to your door now. Taking out a keycode. He’s through, and in.”
“Move now,” Eve said in a whisper. “All units close in now, and hold.”
She couldn’t hear him. Not yet. So she brought him into her head. Marsonini always removed his shoes before entering the bedroom. Shoes and socks. He would leave them neatly beside the entrance door, then take off the shades, put on the night-vision goggles. With them, he could move through the dark like a cat. Then he could stand over the victim, watching her sleep before he pounced.
Eve drew her weapon. Waited.
She heard the faintest creak of the floorboard, and willed him to come on, come on, you son of a bitch.
Then with her eyes long adjusted to the dark, she saw the shape of him, saw him stroke a hand gently over Peabody’s back.
She kicked the door open. “Lights!” She shouted.
He whirled, with the goggles blinding him now. The bat was in his hand, and he swung out with it, toward the sound of her voice even as he ripped the goggles away.
“Police. Drop the weapon! Drop your weapon and freeze or I will drop you.”
His eyes were huge, blinking madly. But she saw the instant he recognized her and understood. She saw all his plans, his victories, drain out of his head. “Filthy cunt.”
“Come on then.” She lowered her weapon, then stabbed a warning finger toward the doorway when Roarke shoved in with Feeney behind him. “Don’t do it,” she snapped at them.
Renquist howled, threw the bat at her, then leaped.
She shifted, let the metal glance off her shoulder. Because it was more satisfying than a stun, she used her body, tucking to drive that same shoulder into his gut, her knee to his groin. And when he started to fold, her fist found its way to the underside of his jaw.
“That last one was for Marlene Cox,” Eve muttered.
She planted her foot on the small of his back as she pulled out her restraints. “Hands behind you, you bucket of puke.”
“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you.” Blood trickled out of his mouth as he struggled. His eyes went wide and wild when Eve yanked the wig away.
“Keep your hands off me, you revolting bitch. Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah, I know just who you are.” She flipped him over because she wanted him to see her. She wanted him to look at her face. The hate was there, the sort she’d seen before. The kind of bone-deep loathing she’d seen in the eyes of her own mother.
But seeing it now brought her only satisfaction.
“Do you know who I am, Niles? I’m the woman, the revolting bitch, the filthy cunt who’s kicked your sorry ass. I’m the one who’s going to lock the cage on you.”
“You’ll never put me away.” Tears began to shimmer in his eyes. “You won’t lock me in the dark again.”
“You’re already gone. And when Breen writes about this one, he’ll make careful note that it was a woman who beat you.”
He began to wail and to weep. She would’ve said like a woman, but it would’ve been an insult to her entire sex.
“Read him his rights,” she told Peabody, who’d emerged from the bed in full uniform. “Have him transported to Central and booked. You know the drill.”
“Yes, sir. Do you wish to accompany the prisoner?”