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Mostly, my ass, Eve thought. “Look, I shouldn’t have called you in on this. Take a couple of more days to level off.”
“Sir. I’d do better if I got back to work, into routine. Sitting home watching videos and eating soy chips isn’t the way I want to spend another day. Work clears it out quicker.”
Because she believed that herself, Eve moved her shoulders. “Then get some coffee, Peabody, I’ve got plenty of work here.”
“Yes, sir.” She stepped forward, pulling a small wrapped box from her pocket, setting it on the desk as she went to the AutoChef. “Your Christmas present. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you before.”
“I guess we were a little busy.” Eve toyed with the ribbon. Gifts always made her feel odd, but she could sense Peabody’s eyes on her. She ripped off the red foil, opened the lid. It was a silver star, a little dented, a bit discolored.
“It’s an old sheriff’s badge,” Peabody told her. “I don’t guess it’s like Wyatt Earp’s or anything, but it’s official. I thought you’d get a kick out of it. You know, the long tradition of law and order.”
Absurdly touched, Eve grinned. “Yeah. It’s great.” For the fun of it, she took it out and pinned it to her shirt. “Does this make you the deputy?”
“It suits you, Dallas. You’d’ve stood up wherever, whenever.”
Looking up, Eve met her eyes. “You stand, Peabody. I wouldn’t have called you in today if I thought different.”
“I guess I needed to hear that. Thanks. Well…” She hesitated, then lifted her brows in question.
“Problem?”
“No, I just…” She pouted, giving her square, sober face a painfully young look. “Hmmm.”
“You didn’t like your present?” Eve said lightly. “You’ll have to take that up with Leonardo.”
“What present? What’s he got to do with it?”
“He made that wardrobe for your undercover work. If you don’t like it…”
“The clothes.” Like magic, Peabody’s face cleared. “I get to keep all those mag clothes? All of them?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with them? Now are you going to stand around grinning like an idiot or can I get on with things here?”
“I can grin and work at the same time, sir.”
“Settle down. Start a run and trace on this rope.” She pushed a hard-co
py description across the desk. “I want any sales within the last week, bulk sales. He uses a lot of it.”
“Who?”
“We’ll get to that. Run the rope, then get me a list of private residences—upscale—sold or rented in the metro area within the last week. Also private luxury vehicles—pickup or delivery on those within the last week. He needs transpo and he’d go classy. The cage,” she muttered as she began to pace. “Where the hell did he get the cage? Wildlife facility, domestic animal detention? We’ll track it. Start the runs, Peabody, I’ll brief you when Feeney gets here.”
She’d called in Feeney, Peabody thought as she sat down at a computer. It was big. Just what she needed.
“You’ll both want to review the investigation discs, profiles, transcripts from the Palmer case of three years ago. Feeney,” Eve added, “you’ll remember most of it. You tracked and identified the electronic equipment he used in those murders.”
“Yeah, I remember the little bastard.” Feeney sat, scowling into his coffee. His habitually weary face was topped by wiry red hair that never seemed to decide which direction it wanted to take.
He was wearing a blue shirt, so painfully pressed and bright that Eve imagined it had come out of its gift box only that morning. And would be comfortably rumpled by afternoon.
“Because we know him, his pattern, his motives, and in this case his victims or intended victims, he’s given us an edge. He knows that, enjoys that because he’s sure he’ll be smarter.”
“He hates you, Dallas.” Feeney’s droopy eyes lifted, met hers. “He hated your ever-fucking guts all along. You stopped him, then you played him until he spilled everything. He’ll come hard for you.”
“I hope you’re right, because I want the pleasure of taking him out again. He got the first two on his list because he had a lead on us,” she continued. “The others have been notified, warned, and are under guard. He may or may not make an attempt to continue in order. But once he runs into a snag, he’ll skip down.”
“And come for you,” Peabody put in.
