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“It’s hard for me to buy five victims of the same group just happened to use the same crisis center. And none of them reported a rape. Nothing on record.”
“A support group then, a therapist, something else that united them.”
“Even then, all of them, independently? It’s a stretch. But it’s what I’ve got. Easterday’s shaken up. If I don’t find Betz, I’m pulling Easterday into Interview. I need to scare it out of him.
She shot a glance at Reo—petite, pretty. And under it, fierce.
“I could use some weight there.”
“He’s a lawyer, so he’s going to have plenty of representation telling him to exercise his right to remain silent.”
“If I make him believe his life’s on the line, he’ll break. It damn well is on the line. The other thing is getting into Edward Mira’s place—his things—without his wife’s consent. She’s going to block me however she can.”
“So lawyers come in handy. When do you want to go?”
“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.”
