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“Thanks.” Jan offered Roarke an uncertain smile as she set the dog down. It scurried—Did it have feet under that hair? Eve wondered—grabbed the bone, and scurried back with it clamped in its teeth like a bright blue cigar. “We’ve been working hard on it. Month fourteen now.”
Roarke tapped a finger on the kitchen island. “You’re doing the work yourselves?”
“With some friends as slave labor. We wanted this area done first, and the powder room down there. We’re nearly finished with the master suite now.”
“Great.” While she understood Roarke’s line of conversation served to calm the civilians, time mattered. She tapped her earbud. “Feeney, where is he?”
“Still third level.”
“Let me know if he moves. This is an NYPSD operation,” she began as the dog stared up at her—she could just see its eyes. “The individuals next door are suspects in an ongoing investigation. We know the adult male is currently stationed on the third floor of the adjoining building. Have you seen the second individual?”
“The boy?” Philippe frowned, looked at Jan. “I don’t remember seeing him today, but I was at work, didn’t get back until around six.”
“I worked here today, third floor. I was painting. I saw him head out, maybe about four, four-thirty? I’m not sure of the time, it could’ve been a little later. He had his backpack and some sort of big case. I don’t know if he came back. They’re dangerous, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are. We need your cooperation,” Eve continued as Jan scooped up the dog again, held it like a baby in her arms. “Let me assure you, there are police stationed outside, and our first priority is your safety.”
“Oh man.” Philippe pulled Jan against his side. “What did they do? We’ve got a right to know.”
“They’re the prime suspects in the strikes on Wollman Rink and Times Square.”
“I’m going to sit down.” Jan’s color drained away as she pulled out a counter stool. “I’m just going to sit down a minute.”
Scared, Eve noted, but not surprised.
“Have they approached you?”
“The opposite,” Jan said. “Both made it clear they didn’t want any neighborly interaction. The boy’s only here half the time.”
“Actually, it’s a girl.”
“Really? The man calls him—her—Will. I heard that a few times. He—damn it, she goes off every other week. I figured it’s a custody deal, and would’ve felt a little sorry about it, but she gave me the creeps. Something about her just had the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up.”
“She’s just a kid,” Philippe murmured.
“Who, along with her father, is responsible for the deaths of seven people. We could wait him out, but other lives are on the line. In the case she carried away with her is, we believe, a long-range laser rifle. We need to capture her father and learn her location and the name and location of her next target. The quickest, cleanest way, we feel, is to do that from inside.”
“Inside what?”
“Phil.” Jan shook her head at him. “Inside here to inside there. Common wall.”
“Go through our place to his? He’s armed, isn’t he?”
“He is. So are we. There are twenty cops, armed, ready to move in. If we take the building by force, there will be injuries, possibly fatalities. This way lessens.”
“You have to get Jan out, get her to safety first.”
“We can work with that.”
“No.” Jan pushed to her feet again. “No, because first I’m not going without you, and if we both go and he sees us, the whole thing falls apart.”
“We could walk Lucy.”
“Phil, you walked Lucy right after you got home. It wouldn’t look right if we went out again with her, and we’ve got . . . well, company.”
“We can keep you safe inside,” Eve told them. “My word on it. Do you do any renovations in the evenings like this?”
“Sure. We knock off anything that’s annoyingly noisy around ten, but most of this is done in the evenings and on weekends.”
