Devoted in Death

by J. D. Robb

  Eve said nothing to that as the image of her mother’s eyes, the hate in them when she herself had been a child, flashed into her mind.

  “Mostly indifference, but that look she claims to have witnessed had her awake at night worrying. She didn’t have anything to go to the authorities about, just that sick feeling.”

  “Okay.”

  “All over it? People tend to like James well enough. People seem not to like Parsens.”

  “James does, and that’s all it took. Come home, Santiago. This time I mean it.”

  “Gracias a Dios. And when I think in Spanish I’m verklempt.”

  She had to laugh. “Write it up on the way, make sure Mira’s copied. Report to Central at oh-eight-hundred because by Dios we’re going to have a net around these two tomorrow.”

  She clicked off, nodded as she noted Roarke and McNab had come back in. “You catch all that?”

  “Enough of it.”

  “Peabody and Banner are writing summaries from their deep background. You can read them if you want, but they’re mostly going to be useful in the trial phase. They further cement the pattern and profile of each, and confirm predilections, pathology, and some of the movements. I’ve carved off another block, eighty percent probability, using my own parameters.”

  “We can maybe help you there.” McNab picked up Peabody’s fizzy, took a slurp. “We got lucky on a couple of store cams, and caught sight of James heading away from the hardware store – the roll of plastic over his shoulder, shopping bag in hand. Heading north.”

  “North.” She whirled back to the map. “If we can cut off anything south of the hardware store… Not conclusive, but I can run two maps. How far could you track him?”

  “Only half a block. The cams in that sector tend to be dicey. We could see him bopping along. I’ll put it on screen. Just a half block north, head swiveling back and forth, craning up, like tourists do.”

  Eve watched James bop – not a bad description for it – nearly beaning a couple of pedestrians with the roll of plastic as he did the tourist head-swivel-and-crane.

  Then he zigged closer to the street, out of range of the limited cams.

  “Hell. He could’ve gotten lucky with parking. He could’ve been heading toward the van. Or he could’ve caught a cab.”

  “Maybe the van,” McNab agreed. “Probably no on the cab. We worked that angle. He’d have more luck on corners, but we put in an official on pickups, all four corners, or anywhere within a two-block radius to start. It was a lot of checking, and we got the ‘it’ll take time to run a search,’ so…”

  He glanced at Roarke.

  “I looked into it.” He shrugged off Eve’s narrowed look, turned to Banner. “Do you have any issues with me… circumventing the official protocol here, Deputy?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Well, then, we did find several pickups in that area, in that time frame. Two were single passenger fares. One was dropped off in Midtown, corner of Fifty-first and Madison.”

  “I did the badge thing,” McNab said, “contacted the cabbie directly. He doesn’t remember the fare, exactly, but he says he didn’t pick up anybody downtown hefting a roll of plastic.”

  “The second single fare was driven to Franklin and Hudson.”

  “Tribeca. I’ve pretty much eliminated that sector.”

  “The cabbie also says she – in this case – didn’t pick up any guy hauling plastic. It’s not absolute, Dallas, but we lean no on flagging a cab.”

  “We’ll focus north. It’s worth the leap. Another shot at any vacant buildings, apartments or flops in the narrowed sector. We’ll do a door-to-door sweep if it comes to it, hit every street slot, parking lot, vacant lot and underground. That van’s somewhere.”

  “Private garage perhaps,” Roarke suggested.

  “I can’t see them paying that freight, but maybe. Maybe if they hit a vic with one, if they did take out somebody to make their nest who had one. We’ll pull in private.”

  “I can do a search for you. Residents of this sector who also rent or own garage space.”

  “Good. Do that. He’s got an aptitude for electronics – according to his background.” Factor that in, she thought. “There must be hotels, office buildings in that general area with parking. Some apartment units with parking. How hard would it be to bypass the permit, the payment, take a vehicle in and out?”

  “If he’s got any feel for it, and a decent jammer?” McNab nodded. “Oh yeah, icy cake on that. We’ve got a couple of drones in EDD dealing with that all the time.”

  “They can’t help but steal, so why pay for parking? Permit parking,” she considered, “they’d have reasonably decent cams. We’ll start on that, too. Public parking lots have cams, but a lot of them are just for show. We’re going to check those. After dark, after, say, nine,” she continued, pacing now. “Anything before that’s too early. Nine’s too early, but it’s as far as I’ll cut it. We’ll go by Banner’s take – no need to drive in the city. Except when they’re hunting. So we’ll start running feeds from permit and public parking, after twenty-one hundred.”

  She turned to McNab. “Can you pull in those drones, the ones who handle this routinely?”

  “I’ll ask the captain, but I think yeah.”

  “I’ll contact Feeney. Do what you can tonight, and if we don’t nail it down, we’ll put the drones on it in the morning. Peabody, use the map. Start another search for any missings reported in that sector. Any DBs who worked or resided in that sector.

  “Banner, use the map. Vacant buildings or units. And spread that out to recently rented. Maybe they invested some of the money they stole along the way. Focus in on basement apartments and self-contained houses. Anything you can find with a rear or side entrance. I’ve already started there, so you’ve got a jump.”

  Now she turned to Roarke. “Are you up for a drive?”

  “I could be.”

  “I need to cruise that sector. I want to roll through it, at night. They hunt at night. Maybe it’s not the best use of my time or yours, but I can’t let it go. I need to see it, feel it.”

  “You’ll need your boots,” he told her. “It’s still sleeting.”

  “Immediate contact if anything – anything pops,” she said, and headed out for her boots.

  “She’ll want to walk it as well,” he commented. “Are you set, Ian?” he asked McNab. “The lieutenant wouldn’t care for it overmuch, but Summerset’s a good hand, and I can have him work with you while I’m in the field.”

  “I’ve got this, but thanks.”

  “Fuel up when you need to. It looks to be a long night.”

  He met Eve downstairs, pulled the scarf out of her coat pocket, wound it expertly around her neck. “It’s bitter and filthy out.”

  “I get that, and odds are slim they’re out hunting. But —” She walked outside, into the icy sleet and wicked cold. “It’s also the perfect time to grab somebody. Most people are inside – home, a bar, whatever. It’s good cover.”

  Once inside the all-terrain, she frowned at the interior. “This isn’t the one from before.”

  “It’s another one. A bit smaller as we’re not hauling people around with us. Quick,” he said as he punched it to a speed she wouldn’t have attempted unless in pursuit. “And agile.”

  To demonstrate he hit vertical and flew over the gates.

  “It moves. And this isn’t the way you figured to spend your evening.”

  “I believe we’re past evening now. I enjoy working with McNab. His mind’s quick, his energy infectious. And I got a Bella report if you’re interested.”

  She watched the streets. Plenty of cabs – few with lights on – fewer private vehicles. And a stingy scatter of pedestrians. “McNab gave you a Bella report?”

  “He’s fairly mad for her. He and Peabody babysat last week so Mavis and Leonardo could have a date night. The three of them, I’m told, had a dance party. With costumes.”

  “Huh.”

 
“She’s coming up on her first birthday. Have you given that any thought?”

  “No.” Panic wanted to rise. “I don’t know how to buy a birthday thing for a one-year-old. You do it.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  She shifted her attention from the street to him for a heartbeat. He knew much about most, but she wasn’t sure even Roarke knew what you were supposed to get for a first birthday.

  “I’ll ask Peabody.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  “There’s going to be a party, isn’t there? Some big, insane Mavis party. Possibly with costumes.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “I’m not wearing a costume, not even for Mavis. Or one of those hats. Those pointy hats.”

  “There’s bound to be cake.”

  “I like cake. They were getting bored.”

  Not Bella, Roarke thought, or her parents. The killers.

  “So they wanted to mix it up.”

  “I think so.” She knew them now, knew them, and it… “It feels so. All the way here, they were on the move, had this goal – her dream of New York, and his romantic ideal to fulfill her dream. Then they got here. We assumed Kuper was their first in New York, but I’m not even close to assuming that now.”

  “The tenant or owner of wherever they’re – nesting is how you put it.”

  “Yeah. They could have gone the straight rental route, but it’s not pattern. Skipping out on the rent, stealing from wherever they work. I’ll bet you a night in costumes when we track them back, they’ll have skipped out on motels and flops, or used vacants, killed owners and tenants along their route.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m still considering the bet for costumes as I don’t see how I can lose.”

  “Eye on the prize, pal.”

  He looked at her, straight at her. “It always is.”

  “Sap.” But she laid her hand over his a moment. “I’m going to put the map up, dash screen. Highlighting the parking areas I already earmarked. Peabody can feed us anything she gets.”

  It took her some time, but since they had it, Roarke let her fight with the in-dash comp.

  “Fuck me. Why can’t you just say put up the damn map, and it puts up the damn map?”

  As, essentially, you could, Roarke kept his thoughts to himself.

  He headed down Seventh Avenue, and once south of the West Village, began to hunt with her.

  “I’m not going to let them take another. It may be too late for Campbell. Her chances are razor-thin, and that goes for Mulligan because I think they might go for the double-kill.”

  “A bigger thrill.”

  “And that’s all it’s about now. All it was ever about. Let’s try that lot.”

  They wound through a parking garage, level by level, drove out again, cut east.

  She studied every vehicle, every pedestrian.

  “It’s the perfect cover for them,” she said as they tried another lot. “Everyone’s bundled up, less people on the street. Even the chemi-heads and dealers take it inside or underground in weather like this.”

  They gave it an hour, covering every section of every block, driving through parking structures, into and out of lots.

  “Try this one.” She gestured to a private multilevel for a run of buildings. “We’ll park, and I’ll do a quick canvass on foot. You can wait for me.”

  “Really?”

  His really was another man’s fat chance, she thought.

  “You could. You won’t, but you could. We’ll take this last one tonight, do the foot patrol, and count on Feeney’s drones in the morning.”

  He doubted she knew it was going onto midnight. She had the scent, couldn’t quite give it up and settle down to hunt fresh the next day.

  So they’d scan another three levels of vehicles, he thought as he circumvented the permit requirement, drove smoothly in. Then they’d take a very unlovely winter’s walk.

  On the second level, she grabbed his arm. “Stop! There. That van. New York plates, but the rest fits. Navy-blue, tinted windows, the right make and model. Change the plates, just an extra cover.”

  She yanked out her PPC, more comfortable with that than the in-dash, ran the registered plates.

  “Registered to Anthony Charles Lappans, age seven-three, East Broadway address, and that’s not only not here, it’s near Kuper’s dump site. Keep an eye out.”

  She jumped out of the all-terrain, shoved her coat back for easy access to her weapon, and approached the van.

  She gestured to the sticker on the back window, circled the van, then walked back. “I’m going to get a warrant, but you’re right here, right now.”

  Understanding, he got out, took out his pocket tools. After a quick glance at the lock, he selected what he wanted. He had the rear doors open in seconds.

  Inside Eve studied a bulky armchair, a tool bag, a balled-up blanket, and spots and stains she’d bet her badge were dried blood.

  “Close it back up, will you, and open the passenger door.”

  “Dog gets the bone,” he murmured as he did as she asked.

  “What?”

  “You don’t give up. Just keep on digging until you have the bone. Your killers are also very untidy.”

  “Yeah, isn’t that handy?” Her lips spread in a feral smile as she studied the litter of fast-food bags, disposable go-cups and receipts. “I don’t suppose there’s a field kit in that new ride of yours?”

  “There is, of course, but I think all you’ll want at this point is…” He took tweezers out of his kit.

  Nodding, she used them to lift one of the receipts. “From a Stop ’N Go in New Jersey. Another from a café here, on West Broad.

  “Lock it back up. We’ve got them now. One way or the other, we’ve got them.”

  20

  She tagged Reo first, interrupting the APA’s beauty sleep. Cher Reo would order the search warrant, save time.

  The chain of command meant she should contact Whitney next, but her team had earned it. And briefing them first would add to the movement.

  “Hey,” Peabody said when she came on screen. She blinked blurry, sleep-deprived eyes.

  “I’ve got the van.”

  “You – what? Holy crap, Dallas, are you kidding me?”

  “They changed the plates. Do a quick run on Lappans, Anthony Charles, on East Broadway just to tie it up. Reo’s getting us a warrant to search it.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Second level of a permit garage.” She rattled off the address. “Get that to McNab. I want the security feed for the past five days. Have Banner start a search on the three buildings that use this garage. Vacants, missings, DBs. I’m ordering a dozen uniforms to knock on doors in these buildings.”

  “Do you want us down there?”

  “I want you where you are. Get the data, all of it. I’ll pull you in, if we locate them, for the bust.”

  “It’s not about the bust – I mean being there. Me being there.”

  “I know it, but I’ll pull you in if and when. Work fast.”

  She cut Peabody off, and woke up her commander.

  She considered Mira, but she’d need the shrink after the bust. She’d want Mira once she had James and Parsens in the box.

  Pacing, she ordered the uniforms, giving her own Uniform Carmichael the lead, with specific instructions. Two uniforms per door, with a story about a lead on a missing child reported seen in the building.

  “They can’t and won’t open the door,” Roarke commented. “Or it’s highly unlikely.”

  “I know it. So we can cross off any doors that open. Hostages are a possibility – other than Campbell and Mulligan – but I think that’s low. They’d be compelled to hurt and use anyone they have.”

  “Another possibility,” he began.

  “The van’s here – they’re not.” If that turned out to be the case, she’d deal with the frustration of it later. “We still have to do the door-to-doors.”

  She used her comm again, ordered
up sweepers for the van.

  “Can you find a slot for that machine of yours, leave me the field kit? If Reo comes through before the sweepers get here, I can start processing the van. But I want that thing out of the way. Maybe they’ll decide it’s a good night to pick up fresh meat, and I don’t want to warn them off.”

  He took a slow study of their ground, assessed it.

  “Why don’t I take out the elevators while I’m at it? That would limit them, if they’re in the building, to the stairs. If they do come in, and from the outside, you’d hear them before they made it up on foot.”

  “Good thinking.”

  She’d put a couple of uniforms on the garage entrance while she and the sweepers worked. She checked the time, saw it was after midnight.

  “Still time for them to hunt, but it’s getting past the time frame they hit the three New York vics. The later it gets, the less chance they’ll be on the move tonight. I want to get the van processed, then put under surveillance. We leave it just where it is.”

  She took the field kit, circled the van again, her fingers itching to try for prints. Hearing the echo of an engine, she slipped two vehicles over, used one for cover.

  From there she watched a sleet-covered sedan, an exhausted-looking woman behind the wheel, circle up as Roarke had done.

  She hoped he hadn’t copped the sedan’s slot, but if he had, he’d handle it.

  She yanked out her ’link when it signaled.

  Reo, blond hair springing in all directions, baby blues shadowed, gave Eve a smirk.

  “I caught Judge Hayden watching Any-Time Sports on screen. He was awake and amenable. Warrant’s coming through.”

  “Good, quick work. Go back to bed.”

  “I never got out.”

  Even as the screen went blank, Eve heard the new incoming. She read the warrant – best to cross every T on this one. Satisfied, she opened her kit as Roarke strolled down to her.

  “Elevator’s blocked.”

  “There was a four-door sedan.”

  “I waited for her. The warrant?”

  “We’ve got it.”

  After switching on her recorder, she went to work on the driver’s-side door first, pulled two clear prints. When she ran them for a match, got James, her lips spread in that feral smile again.