“Today’s best, tomorrow latest.” She scrubbed her hand over her face. “With everything else on the plate, it’ll probably be tomorrow. Morning. Early. His son and daughter would cooperate. They may even help. I’d tap that if you get me the warrant. I want to confiscate his electronics. I want a search and seizure.”
Now Reo took out her PPC, made some notes. “Do you think she knew? If this is what you think, and he was part of it, do you think she knew?”
“I think she’s the type who can know and tell herself she doesn’t. I think she’s the type, when it comes out, who’d say they all asked for it, they all were willing.”
“I know the type. We see it on our end as much as you do. What about Easterday’s wife?”
“She doesn’t know. She doesn’t strike me as someone who wears blinders or doesn’t give a rat’s ass as long as it doesn’t interfere with her social schedule. And that’s a lever I’ll use when I have him in the box. However I get him there.”
“Do you always drive this way?”
“What way?”
“As if we’re trying to outrun an earthquake.”
“Time’s running out. In fact.” She hit the sirens, hit vertical, and punched it. “FYI? This is how you outrun an earthquake.”
She made it from downtown Manhattan to the Bronx in record time, and gave Reo points for only squealing once.
But that damn Rapid Cab shouldn’
t have ignored the siren.
Eve squeezed into a No Parking area, flipped on her On Duty light.
Reo flipped down the vanity mirror, checked her face. “Just making sure my eyes aren’t bugging out.” But she fished some hot-red lip dye out of her purse. “It’s power,” she told Eve. “You’ve got the badge and the bad attitude, I’ve got the legal heft and Rock ’Em Red lip dye.”
Reo dropped the lip dye back in her bag, curved the Rock ’Em Red lips in a feral smile. “We’ve got this.”
Uniformed security stopped them at the door.
“Ma’am, you’re under surveillance. Please surrender your weapon immediately.”
“Lieutenant. NYPSD. Badge,” she said, and two fingered it out.
He scanned it, gave her the hard eye. “Bank policy requires you to secure your weapon before entering to do business.”
“I’m here on police business, and my weapon’s secure. On me. Reo?”
“Of course. Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Cher Reo.” Reo flashed a smile, opened her briefcase. “Warrant,” she said, offering it. “We’re duly authorized to enter the premises—and as we’re conducting police business, the lieutenant is under no obligation to remove her weapon—and access the safe-deposit box clearly listed on the warrant.”
“You need to wait here for the manager. Bank policy.”
“While this warrant trumps your bank policy, we’re happy to wait for precisely one minute.” Reo checked her wrist unit. “Beginning now.”
He gave her the hard eye, but hurried off.
“Nice,” Eve said. “The one-minute deal. Will that hold up?”
“If we don’t mind causing a scene.”
The bank was quiet as a church and ornate as a museum with fake marble columns pretending to hold up the sky-view ceiling. Tellers sat on stools behind blast shields and conducted business with patrons in hushed tones.
Eve decided she wouldn’t mind causing a scene.
A woman, long strides in skinny black heels, crossed the wide lobby. She had dark hair in a precise wedge and a stern expression on her face.
“What seems to be the problem, Officer?”