Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,95
to see it, to know it. She won’t be the only one who sees it, and uses it.”
Just to check, she slid her gaze over. Galahad sprawled on her sleep chair, tail hanging down and twitching. His eyes slitted and staring.
“I met a boy there today,” Roarke told her. “So young, playing a guitar as if he’d been born with one. Quilla won’t be the only one, no, as he’s another. He made me think of the boy who sang on Grafton Street, with his little dog. I wonder what became of him.”
“You could find out.”
“I don’t remember his name, if I ever knew it. I put so much of that time behind me. Or thought I did. Not brooding,” he assured her as they ate. “Considering. A school such as we’ve done here might be welcome there.”
“That’s big considering.”
“Why go small?” Now he smiled and meant it. “Maybe the next time we go visit the family, we’ll hop over to Dublin and have a look.”
Reaching over, he squeezed her hand. “Now, tell me what you know.”
So they did the normal, talked murder over pasta and wine.
“The shops, the market, the bar,” Roarke mused. “He covered a number of blocks. I think you’d be right that his hole is in that area. Walkable to places he’s frequented—and not where he led us today.”
“He carried bags out, every time he bought something. Could’ve caught a cab, taken the subway, but it makes more sense to shop where you live, more or less. And he’d have no reason, yet, to assume we’d look in that area of the Lower West Side.”
“I can refine the search results somewhat. If I dig any deeper, I’d have to go beyond those I trust to those who know him, fear him, or owe him, and that would, inevitably, lead to one of them, or more, getting back to him on it.”
“Don’t risk it,” Eve said immediately. “We’ve got a good chance of finding him inside the next twenty-four. Let’s leave it at that. We know where he shops, where he trolled for a woman, what he’s driving. Hell, we know what he’s likely wearing. And he wanted that jacket, so there’s that. It adds up. Solid, incremental cop work adds up.”
“As I’ve seen before. What does Abernathy say?”
“He was surprised Cobbe rented a vehicle. Not that he hasn’t before, but he didn’t expect that would pan out here. Good public transpo, he doesn’t know the city. He figures the APB is a one in a million.”
Roarke nodded. “Because he has a garage, either where he’s holing up, or he’s rented a space inside. You don’t park that sort of car on the street, and you’d be lucky to find parking, regularly, convenient to where you’re staying.”
“Agreed, but he’s going to drive it sometime. It’s a tool when he manages, in his mind, to grab you up.”
Those eyes, those wild Irish eyes, latched onto hers. “Or you.”
“Or me. And it’s something he needs if he has to rabbit fast. He’s not stupid, so he’s mapped out how to get out of the city if and when he needs to.”
“We’re same page again. What time do we start the hunt?”
“We’re meeting at Central at oh-one hundred. He might troll for another woman, but I figure he’s smart enough to lay low there tonight.”
“Then I say it’s coffee and pie while we finish up the work here.”
He took his into his office.
Alone in hers, Eve wandered into her kitchen without giving the sulking cat a glance.
She came out with a handful of cat treats and walked back to her command center. In under thirty seconds as she scanned the paperwork from Santiago, Galahad leaped his pudge onto the counter. Still scanning, still holding the treats in her hand, she waited him out.
He padded over, gave her a butt on the shoulder with his head.
“You want something?”
He butted her again, added a rub.
“You know, there are going to be times on the job when I encounter another cat. If you recall, I was on the job when I found you.”
She turned to him, shaking the treats in her hand.
“You’re the one I brought home.”
She set the treats on the counter. Instead of pouncing on them as she expected, he rubbed against her again.
Maybe with love, she thought, maybe to overlay the other cat scent. Probably both.
She gave him one long stroke, a scratch between the ears. “Plus, she meant nothing to me.”
Apparently satisfied, Galahad pounced on the treats.