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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.
“Gotcha. Open her up, will you?”
“My pleasure.”
When she tapped her recorder, handed him her master, he waited until she’d skirted around, started on the passenger side before he took out his tools.
“Got her, too,” she told him. “Handprint.”
She came around back, sealed up, climbed in the doors he’d opened.
“Bag’s got cord, rope, duct tape, crowbar, wrenches, a hammer.”
She took out more of her own tools, tested the wrench. “Blood on the big wrench. And the crowbar, and for the triple, the hammer.”
She tested the interior floor. “And the carpet. We’ll have the sweepers get samples, take them into the lab. They’re going to match the vics. At least some of them are going to match.”
She opened the glove box. “Flashlight, owner’s manual disc, first aid kit, and this.”
With her sealed hands she held up a large knife.
“That would be a bowie knife. I’m acquainted from my own weapon collection.”
“James’s former employer. The mother’s boyfriend’s knife.”
Processing it, she found blood, and a partial print from James, another from Parsens.
“They didn’t even try to clean it. Why bother?” she supposed, “When they’re only going to use it again. Once we get them, they’re never getting out.”
She put the knife back where she’d found it, took a tag from Uniform Carmichael.
“Quick, quiet, thorough,” she told him. “Anything, anyone feels off, I get a signal. Record any door that doesn’t open.”
By the time the sweepers arrived, she’d done all she could do on the van. She crossed over to Dawson, the head sweeper and, with what had gone down on New Year’s Eve in mind, took a good look at his team of two.
