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“Dallas!” Peabody moved into a jog. “We just confirmed the Mackies in Divine on the afternoons of both attacks. They’re on the feed today, at the counter ordering, at fourteen-twenty-five.
“Both?”
“Yeah. The security feed’s a twenty-four-hour loop, so we’ve missed catching them after the first incident, but while Uniform Carmichael reviewed the feed, Officer Shelby talked to some of the staff. Two of them remembered the Mackies, and the day because of the attack. Both agree they came in around quarter to four. Just after the peak of the after-school swarm.”
“Were they carrying anything?”
“I—”
“Find out, find out now! Did he have any kind of case, did she? Backpacks, bags, rollies. Now, Peabody.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eve went straight to her office, snagged the results from EDD the minute she saw them.
“On screen.”
Hands on her hips, she studied the buildings highlighted in order of probability. They’d gotten lucky with the first nest, she thought. Maybe that luck would hold.
“She had a backpack.” Peabody came to the door. “That’s it. No briefcase or luggage or bags of any kind on the feed. Just a backpack. The wits don’t remember any bags either from yesterday.”
“So they went to their hole after the strike, had time to stow their weapons, then get fucking ice cream. Get me a conference room.”
“We’ve got A. Whitney has it reserved for us for the duration.”
“Briefing, everybody, five minutes.”
“Do you want EDD?”
“I said everybody.”
Eve grabbed what she needed, went straight to the conference room. She updated the board, brought up the EDD map on screen, split it, and began assigning sectors to various officers and detectives.
She glanced over, frowned when Roarke came in.
“I didn’t know you were still here.”
“I wasn’t, now I am. As they didn’t need me, particularly, in EDD, I did some remote work. Now I’m back. How can I help you?”
“I don’t— Actually, you could bring up a map on the other screen, focus
on a place called Divine on the East Side.”
“I know it. So do you—at least their products.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“Because we stock it at home. One of the perks of owning it.”
“Your place?”
“Actually, it’s in your name.”
Even with her mind full of cop details, she stopped cold, blinked at him. “I own an ice cream joint?”
“You own what many consider to be the premier ice cream parlor in the city,” he told her as he worked.
“No one can ever know.”
