Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,111
He read off the coordinates for the rest of the e-team. “He’s about a quarter mile from here, moving again.”
“Got him, Cap,” Callendar said.
“Same here. Definitely on foot.”
“Getting his bearings,” Eve said. “He doesn’t know the area, wants to see the best ways in and out. Just a guy taking a walk in the rain.”
“He’s passed the point it makes sense for him to veer off to this location,” Santiago said. “We can start moving to the next house.”
“Not yet. Wait it out.”
“We see him. Black shirt, pants, boots. No jacket. He’s getting pretty wet.” Eve heard the quiet satisfaction in Whitney’s voice. “Field glasses coming out. From his angle he should be able to see the east side of the main house, any activity outside in that area.”
“Stay frosty. Roarke, don’t let him see your face.”
“He won’t.”
“Peabody, go out the front door, just a couple steps—for what, for what?”
“Shake the rug,” Sinead suggested. “Go out and shake the rug.”
“Yeah, fine, good. Just step out, back to the east, shake the rug, come back. He sees you, he sees the door’s not locked. He’s going to go for the front.”
“Moving to the front.” Peabody took the little kitchen rug from the back door, walked through the house, out, letting the door shut behind her.
She shook out the dirt, stepped back in.
“Moving faster now, but still at a walk.”
“She got his attention. Easy prey. Unarmed woman, doing housework.”
“Stopped.”
“Scanning again,” Whitney announced after Feeney. “He’s taking a good look at the men out in the near field, the one crossing in front of the chicken coop.”
He has to buy it, Eve thought. Too far away yet to pursue with a hundred percent chance of taking him down, even with stunners. He had to buy it, keep coming.
“Moving again.”
“He likes what he sees,” Whitney added. “Pocketing the field glasses, picking up his pace. Rounding the curve of the road. We’re coming down.”
“Don’t come out yet. Sir, do not exit the barn at this time. We need him inside.”
“Coming down, but remaining inside. Not my first day on the job, Lieutenant.”
“I can see him from here.” Jenkinson tried to look like a man at home in a cow pasture. “He’s got a good visual on the house from his position. Just a guy stopping to admire the flowers out front. He should be able to see in the east-facing kitchen windows if he’s angled right.”
“Sinead, look busy. Relaxed, but busy. When he makes the front door, upstairs. Quiet.”
“Moving fast now, yeah, he’s at the front gate.”
“Go now, Sinead. Now.”
“He’s not at the door yet.”
“Close enough. Peabody, stay in view of the windows, in case.”
Eve crab-walked out of the mudroom, kept going until she got to the hall. Out of sight of the windows, she straightened, dashed, then got back into a crouch.
“Something distracted him. He’s backing off.”
“He can’t see me, damn it.”
“No, no, it’s a car going by. He’s waiting it out.”
She took that opportunity to get to the door, and behind it.
“I’m at the door.”
“He’s rushing it now. Through the gate.”
“Wait, wait, let him get inside. Move in on my go.”
Feeney’s voice dropped to a whisper. “At the door.”
She watched the doorknob turn, slow, slow. Held up her left fist with her weapon in her right hand to signal the rest to hold positions.
Inside, she thought, come inside. All the way in.
The door opened a crack.
From the kitchen, music playing cheerfully. Peabody let out a quick laugh.
Good. Smart. Lure him in.
The crack widened; she waited.
He came in fast now. Eve moved faster, had her left arm around his neck, her stunner at his throat.
“Drop the knife.”
Instead he pivoted, jabbed it. While it bounced off her coat, he shot an elbow back.
It hit her jaw, and she welcomed that bright pain.
She’d have welcomed a fight, relished one—recognized that dark need, and made herself suppress it. Instead, she gave him a light jolt so his body jerked in response.
Before the knife clattered to the floor, both Feeney and Peabody moved in, weapons drawn.
“On the ground!” She kicked his feet out from under him, dropped him to his knees. She heard the pound of feet as others rushed in, from the front, from the back.
“Cobbe’s contained.” Feeney alerted the rest of the team. “He’s contained.”
He fought her. For the sheer satisfaction she twisted her wrist, put the point of the stiletto in his eyeline.
“Keep it up, you could get a taste of your own.”
Yanking his hands behind his back, she slapped on restraints, then patted him