by J. D. Robb
“You put men on the house,” Whitney reminded her. “They’ll spot him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Because he’ll expect them to be there. Will you drive, sir?” she asked as they stepped outside. “I need the civilian to draw me a picture.”
He drove fast, and without sirens. Whitney’s eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing when at Eve’s request Roarke quickly called up blueprints of the townhouse on his PPC.
“You got holo-features on there?”
“Naturally. Display data holographically.” The image spilled out into Eve’s lap.
She studied it. And planned. “We’ll move the surveillance team to the rear. One man in, one man out. Additional men entering here, and here. We go in the front. Roarke, you’ll go left, and up the stairs. The commander right to sweep the main level. I’ll take the steps down. He’s got full security, with video, so if he’s paying attention, and he pays attention, he’ll know we’re coming. Watch each other’s backs because at the core, he’s a coward.”
While she committed the holo to memory, she called for additional backup.
When they pulled up behind the surveillance vehicle, she hopped out, demanded status. She detailed the situation, gave her orders quickly.
“Seal hasn’t been breached,” Whitney commented as they approached the front.
“He wouldn’t use the main door. There are three other entrances, twelve first-story windows.” She detoured at a jog to the side of the house farthest away from the surveillance. “Broken glass,” she reported. “He’s in there.”
Both she and Whitney pulled out masters. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“No. Forgot myself. Go.” He replaced the master with his weapon.
She uncoded the seal. “On three.”
“She likes to go in low,” Roarke told Whitney, and on Eve’s count went in the door with her, high.
They speared off, three arrows. Eve called out the required warning as she took the stairs to the lower level with her back to the wall.
The droid met her at the bottom.
“I am programmed to deflect, restrain, or impede any and all unauthorized intruders on these premises. If you attempt to come any farther, I will be forced to cause you physical harm.”
“Back off. We’re the police, fully authorized and warranted to enter these premises and remand Lucias Dunwood into custody.”
“I am programmed to deflect, restrain, or impede,” he began, moving toward her.
“Fuck this,” she muttered, and blasted him.
While he sparked and shuddered, she kicked him aside. “Lights on,” she ordered, and didn’t bother to swear when her order was ignored. She moved in the dark, leading with her weapon each time she approached a doorway.
At the soft sound of footsteps behind her, she whirled, finger twitching. “Goddamn it, Roarke.”
“You have two men covering the first level. Additional backup on the way. This’ll go faster with two of us down here. And,” he continued, moving up to guard her back, “down here is where he is.”
Her instincts told her the same. Which was why she’d taken the area personally.
“Lab’s going to be straight back,” she said quietly, though she’d already picked up the security cameras tucked into the corners of the ceiling. “He’s boxed in, but he’s ready for us.”
The door was locked.
“I’m going to bypass,” she whispered in Roarke’s ear. “He’ll expect us to rush. That’s what he’s ready for. Don’t go through the door until I give the signal.”
She slipped the locks, kicked the door, then spun away.
The move saved her. Something crashed in the dark near the toes of her boots. She saw the smoke, heard the hiss, and was forced to sidestep before the acid eating into the floor hit leather.
There was a flash from inside. She felt a bright, shocking pain in her left shoulder. “Shit!”
“You’re hit.” Roarke dived across the open doorway, blocked her body with his as another series of blasts shot through like lightning bolts.
“Just glanced me.” Her arm was numb now, shoulder to fingertip. “Get my communicator out of my pocket. My left hand’s dead.”
He pulled it out. “Lowest level, east end,” he said into it. “Dunwood’s armed. The lieutenant’s been hit.”
“Minimal damage,” she snapped, irritated. “I’m not down. Repeat, I am not down. Security panel’s over there.” She jerked her head. “Bypass the damn voice command and get the lights on. Dunwood!” she shouted, duck-walking to the doorway with her left arm hanging useless and her weapon in her right hand. “It’s over. The house is surrounded. You’ve got nowhere to go. Throw out your weapon, and come out with your hands up.”
“It’s not over until I say it’s over! I’m not finished.” He fired again. “Do you think I’m losing to a woman?”
The lights went on, and gave her a good look at the blackened hole in the floor only inches from her feet. “Seduce and conquer. We accessed your game, Lucias. Not too smart of you to write it all down so nice and tidy for us. We know you did Kevin. That was slick, but you don’t know as much about law as you do about chemistry. His confession stands. And you were stupid enough to leave traces of putty and base in your bathroom. Really losing points fast.”
Glass crashed inside the room, and his voice raged as temper lashed out. “It’s my game, you bitch. My rules.”
She held up her gun hand, signaling the men back as she heard them rushing down the stairs.
“New game, new rules, and you’ll never beat me, Lucias. I’m better than you are. Throw out the weapon and come out or I’m going to hurt you.”
“You won’t win.” He was weeping now, a spoiled boy choked by a tantrum. “Nobody beats me. I’m undefeated. I’m a Dunwood.”
“Cover me.” She drew in a breath, tucked and rolled into the room. The stunner blasts jolted over her head, shot along the floor by her hip as she dived for cover.
“Not smart, Lucias.” She pressed her back into a wide cupboard. “Nope, not so smart. You keep missing. Aiming wild. You buy that off the street? Did they tell you it was fully charged? They lie. I bet if you check the discharge rate, you’re more than half out already. I’ve got a full load. And I don’t miss. I won the game. And my prize is locking you into a cage for the rest of your life. A woman’s going to lock you away, Lucias.”
She angled herself, signaled to Roarke to lay down fire to her right. On the blast, she leaped up. She swore, fired a stun shot. But was already too late.
The vial he held slid out of his hand as he shuddered and collapsed.
“Call for MTs,” she shouted, and leaped over the broken glass. She kicked his weapon away, crouched. “What did you take?”
“What I gave Kevin.” He smiled, coldly. “Double the dose for speed. No woman’s locking me away. I end the game my way, so I win. I always win. You lose, bitch.”
She watched him die, and felt nothing. “No. Everybody wins.”
Epilogue
She stood outside, breathing in the night air, cradling her now tingling left arm in the palm of her right hand.
Sarah Dunwood would be burying both her father and her son. Daughter and mother, trapped in loves and loyalties that made no sense.
Maybe they weren’t meant to.
“Do you want medical attention, Lieutenant?”
She glanced over at Whitney. “No, sir.” Flexed her fingers. “It’s coming back.”
“You played him as well as anyone could.” Together, they watched the black bag that held Lucias Dunwood, twenty-two, boy genius, beloved son and predator, being carried out of the house. “You couldn’t guess he’d self-terminate rather than surrender to you.”
But she had, Eve thought. A part of her had known exactly what she was doing—and had done it, had goaded him to it, with cold calculation.
Had they carried her father out of that freezing, filthy room in a black bag?
Then she closed her eyes because she w
as a cop—and the badge stood for . . . Everything. “I knew it was a risk, Commander. I pushed his buttons fully aware there was a probability he’d take himself out rather than lose when we had him cornered. I could have ordered the room rushed. Potentially he’d be on his way to lockup instead of the morgue.”
“He was armed, dangerous, and had already fired on you with a black market weapon set on full. Men might have been lost, certainly injured, who are going home to their families tonight. You played him as well as anyone could,” he repeated. “File your report, then go get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Rolling her awakening shoulder, she crossed the street to where Roarke waited. “I have to go in, write and file my report.”
“How’s your arm?”
“It feels like there are about six million hot needles sticking in it.” She wiggled her fingers again. “Should be back to normal in a couple hours, which is about what it’ll take to do the paperwork.”
Because he knew her, and what she was thinking he said, “The world’s better off with him out of it, Eve.”
“Maybe, but that wasn’t my decision to make.”
“You didn’t make it. He did. He had only to give up. You’d have taken him in, turned him into the system, and been satisfied.”
“Yeah.” Because it was true, she settled again. “I’m sending a police counselor to his mother. She doesn’t need to hear about this from me, and she’ll need someone who has the right words.”
“Later, when her grief’s not so raw, we might send someone from the abuse shelter to talk to her.” He took her good hand in his. “Walk away, Eve.”
She nodded. “Let’s go tonight,” she said as they walked to the car.
“Go?”
“Yeah, to Mexico. As soon as I’ve closed this, let’s just head out, take one of those snappy transpos of yours and get the hell out of town.”
He kissed her fingers before opening the door for her. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
• • •
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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