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“How’s it going?” she asked him.
“Oh, well, hit some rough spots now and then, but what can you do? How about you?”
“Tonight? Good, because when we bag these bastards, we’ve got enough evidence to lock them in a cage for several lifetimes. I need everything processed, and everything left exactly where you found it. If we miss them tonight, they may come back for the van. We’ll have it watched, but we’ll want them to lead us to the vics. I don’t want them spooked.”
“Full record before we touch anything.”
“I got prints, I got blood. I’ll leave you to take blood samples, get them in, wrangle expedited. I didn’t go as far as hair and fiber. You’ll be faster there. I’d want Harvo on that end.”
He smiled a little. “Everybody wants Harvo, but I’ll make it happen.”
“Did you bring the tracker?”
He patted his own kit. “As requested.”
“The guy’s a mechanic. A good one. Make sure it doesn’t show if he does a look-see. And he knows something about electronics, so —”
“We’ve got it, Dallas.”
“In and out, fast as you can. We’re doing the door-to-doors, and I’ve got a couple of cops coming in in an unmarked to keep an eye on it from the first level. It’s probably too late for them to come in and take a ride tonight, but there are uniforms scattered around. You’re covered.”
“How many vics?”
“Twenty-four and counting – that we know of. Two more still alive, that we know of.”
“We’ll sew this end up.”
Nodding, she moved off again, joined Roarke. “I want to do some knock-on-doors. It’ll go faster.”
“Then I’m with you.” But he caught her chin in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the shallow dent as he studied her face. “You get so bloody pale when you push past your limit. We’ll cover as many doors as you like, but if you don’t have them by the end of it, or a Herculean lead, we’re home after, and you’ll get some sleep.”
And after that he was determined she’d take a booster – however much she disliked them – whatever it took to see her through it.
Together they covered four floors of the second building. Hit one no-answer.
But the across-the-hall stepped back out. “I should’ve told you, that’s the Delwickies. Nice young couple. They’re away for a few days.”
Eve turned back, studied the door as if she could see through it if she concentrated enough.
“Took a winter break with some friends, down to the Florida Keys. I’m watering her plants while they’re away.”
Eve let her concentration throttle back. “You’ve been in their apartment in the last few days?”
“Every morning. Alice set store by her plants. Got a green thumb, too. She’s got a little orange tree in there with real fruit growing on it. It’s something.”
She yawned, pushed at her mop of steel-gray hair. “You don’t want to think they’d have anything to do with taking that little girl who’s missing. They’re nice people. Quiet, but not, you know, creepy quiet like you hear about when the neighbor turns out to be a serial killer. He’s what you call a sous chef, and at least once a week, he brings me and my husband back something from the fancy French place where he works.”
Knowing the woman had been inside the apartment every morning had been enough, but Eve let her wind out.
“Okay, thanks very much. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“I’ve got kids, and grandkids, of my own. I’m going to keep my eye out for the little girl. Bless her heart.”
Out of all the units, the canvass netted six doors that didn’t open – not counting the Delwickies as Eve considered them crossed off.
She ran them all, found two worked night shifts, and when contacted were indeed at work, on shift. Two more reportedly out of town, and on the twelfth and fifteenth floors respectively.
Low probability.
