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“That’s right. If she’s in trouble, she keeps quiet about it. Keeps to herself. Doesn’t party like that bunch downstairs. I can hear them howling and laughing right through the floor.”
“Ms. . . .”
“Jackson.”
“Ms. Jackson, I have a warrant to search Ms. Blake’s residence. We’re going to enter it now. If you want, you can verify that by contacting Dispatch at Cop Central.”
“You got the badge,” she said. “I know how to keep to myself, too.” So saying, she shut the door.
Eve used her master, bypassed the three locks—one standard, two additional police issue.
“She needed to feel safe when she was inside,” Eve murmured. “This is the police,” she repeated. “We’re coming in.”
As a matter of course, she drew her weapon, swept it as Roarke called for lights.
Modest, was Eve’s first thought. Uncluttered with a few nice pieces including a leather sofa she bet Blake bought in her corporate days.
But yeah, she’d taken a few things out.
“Took whatever art was on the wall there—you can see the variation in the tone of the paint, and the hanger’s still there. I’m putting it five to one it was one of Downing’s. Should be a table over there, right? Why have a chair sitting out there without a table? Nothing to put your drink on, and no light.”
“Easier for a woman to carry out a table than a chair.”
“Yeah, it is. No photos, good wall screen, no mess. Let’s clear it.”
They split up, with Eve taking the bedroom and bath off the living space.
They moved systematically: kitchen alcove, smaller room set up as an office—and now without computer or ’link.
“She took clothes,” Eve said as she holstered her weapon. “You can see spaces in the closet. Pretty much cleaned out the bath—no toiletries or enhancers.”
Idly, she opened the drawer in a night table. “Empty.”
Roarke repeated the process on the other side of the wide bed with its simple white duvet. “The same. And the AutoChef in the kitchen is the same as well. Not even a stray bagel.”
“She’s had time to plan, and a place to take what she wanted over time. So when she left, she took whatever she had left that suited her. It’ll be the same in her office. She’ll have cleared out the electronics. No chances taken. We’ll go through it, but it feels like she took her time, thought it through. When you do that, you don’t make mistakes.”
“If she has another place, we’ll find it.”
Eve nodded, began the search.
The warrant for the electronics came through, for all the good it did. When they left, they walked south, turned west at the corner.
“Parking lot over there. And not the kind that’s going to keep their surveillance feed for a damn week. We’ll check anyway.”
Dead ends, she thought, one after another, and connected with Peabody.
No electronics in the offices. No files.
“Go home,” Eve ordered. “Get some sleep. Have McNab set up a search on Su’s vehicle. Use variations of all their names for it, all five women. Use variations of all her family names. Set an alarm for any hits, and tag me if you get one.”
“I’m not playing mum.” Roarke put an arm around her as they walked back. “But it’s common sense to say you need some sleep.”
“What I want is coffee, a
nd something I can twist to bust through one of these dead ends. Maybe we got a hit on the searches while we’ve been in the field.”
“I’ve checked. Nothing yet. Some take more time than others.”
