Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,86
now. It’s a nice day, people are out and about, right? We’ll come in, switch it out. We can do some more cruising, but we could have more luck after midnight, maybe after one.”
She hated the wait, hated the hours in between, but … “That’s a good point. You single out any solo occupancy. We run those and we could have a go before morning.”
They banged it back and forth, and Roarke nodded when she clicked off.
“Best use of time and manpower. And no reason I can see why we wouldn’t tag along with whoever Feeney puts on the late shift.”
She could think of reasons not to have him tag along, but all of them were personal. “I’ll clear it with Feeney. Are you heading home?”
“I’ve things I left undone in my hasty departure from the office.”
“Your car’s on a roof in the Village.”
“I have others.” He rose, stepped to her to rub a thumb between her eyebrows where a worry line had formed. “If he has the brass to be watching Central, he wouldn’t know what vehicle I’d take out of it. But he knows yours now, so I’ve more reason for the worry.”
“I made a promise to you. I’m not going to break it.”
“Then we’re fine, aren’t we, the both of us.” He drew her in, and because she’d closed the door, she wrapped around him. Held on.
“I’ll see you at home.” He kissed the top of her head. “I expect we could use some downtime before what could be a long night.”
She found it harder to watch him walk away than she’d imagined. She wished he’d go home, behind the gates, the walls, the security, where she knew he’d be safe.
Was this how he felt? she wondered. Every time she walked out of the house to do the job, did he feel this low, creeping anxiety?
While she’d acknowledged just how hard it was to be a cop’s spouse, she hadn’t really known until that minute.
She had to put it aside, had to lock it away, as she understood now he did on a regular basis.
She sat again, wrote her report, updated her book.
She got another cup of coffee, drank it with her boots on the desk, her eyes on the board, her mind in the investigation.
And got nothing.
It simply wasn’t the usual, she admitted. Her target had no real ties to New York, no regular haunts, no family, no friends, no business dealings.
He’d come to New York to kill, and had stayed for a bonus round.
Well, she wasn’t going to sit there until he gave it a try. She needed to get back in the field, back on the hunt.
As she got to her feet, her ’link signaled.
Jenkinson.
“Dallas. What have you got?”
“A hit here at this fancy shop, Urbane. The fancy clerk guy said Cobbe was in this morning, right after they opened. Went by the name Patrick, and paid cash. Four thousand and change.”
She was already heading for the bullpen. “Peabody, with me. Give me the address,” she told Jenkinson. “I’m coming to you.”
“Reineke’s getting the full list of what he bought,” Jenkinson began.
“I’m coming to you,” Eve repeated.
“Do you want Abernathy?” Peabody trotted to catch up. “He just went in the break room.”
“No.” She hit the elevator as Jenkinson reeled off the address. “Sit tight,” she told him, then clicked off. “We’ll read Interpol in later. We’ve got a wit, sold him clothes this morning.”
“That’s a break, and a good call, Dallas.”
“It’s not a break until it gets us somewhere.” To satisfy a hunch, she used the frustrating ride on the crowded car to check a map. “The shop’s six—no, seven blocks south from where we traced his call to Roarke. We’re canvassing the wrong sector.”
She nodded to herself. “That was smart. Yeah, yeah, that was deliberate. His hole’s going to be closer to the shop than the position we tracked him to. Good to know.”
She burst out of the elevator on the garage level. “We’re going to keep uniforms out of the sector around the shop for now. If he thinks we’re focused in another area, he may take advantage of the nice weather, do some more shopping, go out for something to eat.”
Peabody climbed in the car. “I was thinking he might head back uptown, try to keep an eye on your place.”
“Yeah, that, too. But he’s not going to try to take Roarke at home. He needs to bide his time, lure Roarke out, or wait until—he thinks—Roarke’s guard’s down.”