by J. D. Robb
It was rare to see Eve discouraged. Angry, yes, Peabody thought with some concern. And driven. But she couldn’t recall ever hearing that quiet resignation in her lieutenant’s voice before. “You covered all the angles. You took all the steps.”
“That’s not going to mean much to Carl. And if I’d covered all the angles, I’d have the son of a bitch. So I’m missing one. He’s slipping through because I can’t pin it.”
“You’ve only had the case for three days.”
“No. I’ve had it for three years.” As she pulled up at a light, her ’link beeped. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant, this is Detective Dalrymple, assigned to observation on the Polinsky residence. We’ve got a mixed-race male, mid-twenties, average height and build. Subject is on foot and carrying a small sack. He used what appeared to be a key code to gain access to premises. He’s inside now.”
“I’m three blocks east of your location and on my way.” She’d already whipped around the corner. “Secure all exists, call for backup. Doesn’t make sense,” she muttered to Peabody as they barreled across Madison. “Right out in the open? Falls right into our laps? Doesn’t fucking make sense.”
She squealed to a stop a half a block from the address. Her weapon was in her hand before she hit the sidewalk. “Peabody, the Polinsky unit is on four, south side. Go around, take the fire escape. He comes out that way, take him down quick.”
Eve charged in at the front of the building and, too impatient for the elevator, raced up the stairs. She found Dalrymple on four, weapon drawn as he waited beside the door.
“Lieutenant.” He gave her a brief nod. “My partner’s around the back. Subject’s been inside less than five minutes. Backup’s on the way.”
“Good.” She studied Dalrymple’s face, found his eyes steady. “We won’t wait for them. I go in low,” she added, taking out her master and bypassing the locks.
“Fine with me.” He was ready beside her.
“On three. One, two.” They hit the door, went through high and low, back to back, sweeping with their weapons. Music was playing, a primitive backbeat of drums behind screaming guitars. In the tidy living area, the mood screen had been set on deep reds and swimming blues melting into each other.
She signaled Dalrymple to the left, had taken two steps to the right herself when a naked man came out of the kitchen area carrying a bottle of wine and a single red rose.
He screamed and dropped the bottle. Wine glugged out onto the rug. Holding the rose to his balls, he crouched. “Don’t shoot! Jesus, don’t shoot. Take anything you want. Anything. It’s not even mine.”
“NYPSD,” Eve snapped at him. “On the floor, face-down, hands behind your head. Now!”
“Yes, ma’am, yes, ma’am.” He all but dove to the rug. “I didn’t do anything.” He flinched when Eve dragged his hands down and cuffed them. “I was just going to meet Sunny. She said it would be okay.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Jimmy. Jimmy Ripsky. I go to college with Sunny. We’re on winter break. She said her parents were out of town for a few days and we could use the place.”
Eve holstered her weapon in disgust. The boy was shaking like a leaf. “Get him a blanket or something, Dalrymple. This isn’t our man.” She dragged him to his feet and had enough pity in her to uncuff him before gesturing to a chair. “Let’s here the whole story, Jimmy.”
“That’s it. Um”—cringing with embarrassment, he folded his arms over his crotch—“Sunny and I are, like, an item.”
“And who’s Sunny?”
“Sunny Polinsky. Sheila, I guess. Everybody calls her Sunny. This is her parents’ place. Man, her father’s going to kill me if he finds out.”
“She called you?”
“Yeah. Well, no.” He looked up with desperate gratitude when Dalrymple came in with a chenille throw. “I got an E-mail from her this morning and a package. She said her parents were going south for the week and how I should come over tonight. About midnight, let myself in with the key she’d sent me. And I should, um, you know, get comfortable.” He tucked the throw more securely around his legs. “She said she’d be here by twelve-thirty and I should, well, ah, be waiting in bed.” He moistened his lips. “It was pretty, sort of, explicit for Sunny.”
“Do you still have the E-mail? The package the key came in?”
“I dumped the package in the recycler, but I’ve got the E-mail. I printed it out. It’s…it’s a keeper, you know?”
“Right. Detective, call in your partner and my aide.”
“Um, ma’am?” Jimmy began when Dalrymple turned away with his communicator.
“Dallas. Lieutenant.”
“Yes, ma’am, Lieutenant. What’s going on? Is Sunny okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s with her parents.”
“But—she said she’d be here.”
“I think someone else sent you that keeper E-mail. Somebody who wanted me to have a little something extra to do tonight.” But she sat, pulled out her palm-link. “I’m going to check out your story, Jimmy. If it all fits, Detective Dalrymple’s going to arrange for a uniform to take you home. You can give him the printout of the E-mail—and your computer.”
“My computer? But—”
“It’s police business,” she said shortly. “You’ll get it back.”
“Well, that was fun,” Peabody said when Eve resecured the door.
“A barrel of laughs.”
“Poor kid. He was mortified. Here he was thinking he was going to have the sex of his dreams with his girl, and he gets busted.”
“The fact that a rosebud managed to preserve most of his modesty tells me that the sex of his dreams outruns the reality.” At Peabody’s snort, Eve turned to the elevator. “Sunny backed up his story about them being an item. Not that I doubted it. The kid was too scared to lie. So…Dave’s been keeping up with the social activities of his marks. He knows the family, the friends, and he knows how to use them.”
She stepped out of the elevator, crossed the lobby. “For an MD in a maximum lockup, he managed to get his hands on plenty of data.”
She paused at the door and simply stood for a moment looking out at the thin, steady snow. “You got off-planet clearance, Peabody?”
“Sure. It’s a job requirement.”
“Right. Well, go home and pack a bag. I want you on your way to Rexal on the first transport we can arrange. You and McNab can check out the facilities, find the unit Palmer had access to.”
The initial rush from the idea of an off-planet assignment turned to ashes in her mouth. “McNab? I don’t need McNab.”
“When you find the unit, you’ll need a good electronics man.” Eve opened the door, and the blast of cold cooled the annoyed flush on Peabody’s cheeks.
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
“Sure he is, but he knows his job. If Feeney can spare him, you’re the off-planet team.” She reached for her communicator, intending to interrupt Feeney’s sleep and get the ball rolling. A scream from the end of the block had her drawing her weapon instead.
She pounded west, boots digging into the slick sidewalk. With one quick gesture, she signaled Dalrymple to stay at his post in the surveillance van.
She saw the woman first, wrapped in sleek black fur, clinging to a man with an overcoat over a tux. He was trying to shield her face and muffle her mouth against his shoulder. The pitch and volume of her screams indicated he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“Police!” He shouted it as he saw Peabody and Eve running toward them. “Here’s the police, honey. My God, my God, what’s this city coming to? He threw it out, threw it out right at our feet.”
It, Eve saw, was Carl Neissan. His naked and broken body lay face up against the curb. His head had been shaved, she noted, and the tender skin abraded and burned. His knees were shattered, his protruding tongue blackened. Around his neck, digging deep, was the signature noose. And the message carved into his chest was still red and raw.
The woman’s screaming had turned to wailing now. Eve tuned it out. With her eyes on the body, she pulled out her communicator. “This is Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. I have a homicide.”
She gave Dispatch the necessary information, then turned to the male witness. “You live around here?”
“Yes, yes, this building on the corner. We were just coming home from a party when—”
“My aide is going to take your companion inside, away from this. Out of the cold. We’ll need her statement. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out here with me for a few minutes.”
“Yes, of course. Yes. Honey.” He tried to pry his wife’s hands from around his neck. “Honey, you go with the policewoman. Go inside now.”
“Peabody,” Eve said under her breath, “take honey out of here, get what you can out of her.”
“Yes, sir. Ma’am, come with me.” With a couple of firm tugs Peabody had the woman.
“It was such a shock,” he continued. “She’s very delicate, my wife. It’s such a shock.”
“Yes, sir, I’m sure it is. Can I have your names, please?”
“What? Oh. Fitzgerald. George and Maria.”
Eve got the names and the address on record. In a few minutes she would have a crowd to deal with, she knew. Even jaded New Yorkers would gather around a dead, naked body on Madison Avenue.
“Can you—sir, look at me,” she added when he continued to stare at the body. He was going faintly green. “Look at me,” she repeated, “and try to tell me exactly what happened.”
“It was all so fast, so shocking.” Reaction began to set in, showing in the way his hand trembled as he pressed it to his face. “We’d just come from the Andersons’. They had a holiday party tonight. It’s only a block over, so we walked. We’d just crossed the street when there was a squeal of brakes. I barely paid attention to it—you know how it is.”
“Yes, sir. What did you see?”
“I glanced back, just out of reflex, I suppose. I saw a dark car—black, I think. No, no, not a car—one of those utility vehicles. The sporty ones. It stopped right here. Right here. You can still see the skid marks in the snow. And then the door opened. He pushed—he all but flung this poor man out, right at our feet.”
“You saw the driver?”
“Yes, yes, quite clearly. This corner is very well lit. He was a young man, handsome. Light hair. He smiled…he smiled at me just as the door opened. Why, I think I smiled back. He had the kind of face that makes you smile. I’m sure I could identify him. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah.” Eve let out a breath, watched the wind snatch it away as the first black-and-whites arrived on the scene. You wanted to be seen, didn’t you, Dave? she thought. And you wanted me to be close, very close, when you gave me Carl.
“You can go inside with your wife, Mr. Fitzgerald. I’ll be in touch.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you. I—it’s Christmas week,” he said with honest puzzlement in his eyes. “You live in the city, you know terrible things can and do happen. But it’s Christmas week.”
“Joy to the world,” Eve murmured as he walked away. She turned around and ordered the uniforms to secure the scene and prepare for the crime-scene team. Then she crouched beside Carl and got to work.
NINE
Eve spent most of the next thirty hours backtracking, searching for the step she was sure she had missed. With Peabody off-planet, she did the work herself, rerunning searches and scans, compiling data, studying reports.
She did personal drop-bys at both the safe house where Justine and her family were being kept and Mira’s home. She ran checks on their security bracelets to confirm that they were in perfect working order.
He couldn’t get to them, she assured herself as she paced her office. With them out of reach, he would have no choice but to come for her.
Jesus, she wanted him to come for her.
It was a mistake, she knew it was a mistake, to make it a personal battle. But she could see his face too clearly, hear his soft prep-school voice so perfectly.
But you see, Lieutenant Dallas, the work you do is nothing more than a stopgap. You don’t change anything. However many criminals you lock up today, there’ll be that many and more tomorrow. What I’m doing changes everything. The answers to questions every human being asks. How much is too much, how much will the mind accept, tolerate, bear, if you will, before it shuts down? And before it does, what thoughts, what impulses go through the mind as the body dies?
Death, Lieutenant, is the focus of your work and of mine. And while we both enjoy the brutality that goes with it, in the end I’ll have my answers. You’ll only have more questions.
She only had one question now, Eve thought. Where are you, Dave?
She turned back to her computer. “Engage, open file Palmer, H3492-G. Cross-reference all files and data pertaining to David Palmer. Run probability scan. What is the probability that Palmer, David, is now residing in New York City?”
Working…. Using current data the probability is ninety-seven point six that subject Palmer now resides in New York City.
“What is the probability that subject Palmer resides in a private home?”
Working…. probability ninety-five point eight that subject Palmer is residing in a private home at this time.
“Given the status of the three remaining targets of subject Palmer, which individual will he attempt to abduct next?”
Working…. strongest probability is for target Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Attempts on targets Polinsky and Mira are illogical given current status.
“That’s what you’re hoping for.”
She turned her head. Roarke stood in the doorway between their offices, watching her. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
“Why aren’t you wearing a tracer bracelet?”
“They don’t have one that goes with my outfit.” She straightened, turned to face him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” He crossed to her. “Or are you too close to this one? He’s gotten to you, Eve. He’s upset your sense of balance. It’s become almost intimate between you.”
“It’s always intimate.”
“Maybe.” He brushed a thumb just above her left cheekbone. Her eyes were shadowed, her face pale. She was, he knew, running on nerves and determination now. He’d seen it before. “In any case, you’ve interrupted his work. He has no one now.”
“He won’t wait long. I don’t need the computer analysis to tell me that. We’ve got less than forty hours left in the year. I don’t want to start the new one knowing he’s out there. He won’t want to start it without me.”
“Neither do I.”
“You won’t have to.” Because she sensed he needed it, she leaned into him, closed her mouth over his. “We’ve got a date.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
When she started to ease back, he slid his arms around her, brought her close. “I’m not quite done here,” he murmured, and sent her blood swimming with a hard and hungry kiss.
For a moment that was all there was. The taste of him, the feel of him pressed against her, the need they created in each other time after time erupting inside her.
Giving herself to it, and to him, was as natural as breathing.
“Roarke, remember how on Christmas Eve we got naked and crazy?”
“Mmm.” He moved his mouth to her ear, felt her tremble. “I believe I recall something of that.”
“Well, prepare yourself for a review on New Year’s Eve.” She drew his head back, framing his face as she smiled at him. “I’ve decided it’s one of our holiday traditions.”
“I feel very warmly toward tradition.”
“Yeah, and if I feel much warmer right now, I’m not going to get my job done, so…”
She jumped away from him when her ’link beeped and all but pounced on it. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant.” Peabody’s face swam on, swam off again, then came shakily back.
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“Peabody, either your transmission’s poor or you’ve grown a second nose.”
“The equipment here’s worse than what we deal with at Central.” The audio came through with a snake hiss of static. “And I don’t even want to talk about the food. When you’re planning your next holiday vacation, steer clear of Rexal.”
“And it was top of my list. What have you got for me?”
“I think we just caught a break. We’ve tracked down at least one unit Palmer had access to. It’s in the chapel. He convinced the padre he’d found God and wanted to read Scripture and write an inspirational book on salvation.”
“Glory hallelujah. Can McNab access his files?”
“He says he can. Shut up, McNab.” Peabody turned her head. The fact that her face became a vivid orange could have been temper or space interference. “I’m giving this report. And I’m reporting, sir, that Detective McNab is still one big butt ache.”
“So noted. What does he have so far?”
“He found the files on the book Palmer used to hose the preacher. And he claims he’s working down the levels. Hey!”
The buzzing increased and the screen blurred with color, lines, figures. Eve pressed her fingers to her eyes and prayed for patience.
McNab’s cheerful, attractive face came on. Eve noted that he wore six tiny silver hoops in one ear. So he hadn’t decided to tone down his look for a visit to a rehabilitation center.
“Dallas. This guy knows his electronics, so he took basic precautions with his personal data, but—take a hike, She-Body, this is my area. Anyway, Lieutenant, I’m scraping off the excess now. He’s got stuff tucked under his praise-the-Lord hype. It won’t take me long to start picking it out. The trouble, other than your aide’s constant griping, is transmitting to you. We’ve got crap equipment here and a meteor storm or some such happy shit happening. It’s going to cause some problems.”
“Can you work on the unit on a transport?”
“Ah…sure. Why not?”
“Confiscate the unit, catch the first transpo back. Report en route.”
“Wow, that’s iced. Confiscate. You hear that, She-Body? We’re confiscating this little bastard.”
