Devoted in Death (37 page)

“Could be nothing, could be everything.” She reeled it off while she went to her desk, checked missing persons again for anyone in the range of John Doe.

“Pier 40 – it would coordinate with your map, or close enough.”

“That’s right. So, possible scenario: John Doe meets Parsens and/or James, or they scope him out while they’re hunting for a nest. John Doe likely lives alone, or he’d have been reported. That’s playing the odds, but they’re good ones. They take him down, in or near his residence. I vote for in. They have some fun with him, then do what they can to make IDing him difficult, they stuff him in a bag, add bricks. Steal those from an abandoned or a construction site, haul in the van, add bricks to the bag. Dump the body in the river, then make a nest in John Doe’s place.”

“Once you ID John Doe —”

“We check out his place. What Morris finds helps determine how we check it out. Could be no more than Doe’s serious bad luck, or it could be the piece we need to take these fuckers down.”

“You think the latter.”

She had the buzz, right down to her fingertips.

“Feels right.” She paced around her board, then strode to Peabody’s station, began a full review. “Feels really right. Do me a favor?”

“Of what sort?”

“Of that sort that gets McNab and Banner out of bed. When Morris gets back to me, we’re going to be ready.”

21

Eve stuffed waffles in her mouth – good choice, Peabody – while she briefed a rumpled-looking McNab and Banner. Less than thirty minutes after Peabody filled her in on John Doe, she had an outline of an op working through her mind.

Maybe John Doe had lived with his wife and three kids in an uptown penthouse apartment, and nobody noticed he’d been gone for a week.

But if her hunch hit, she’d be ready.

“McNab, contact Feeney. I want eyes, ears, heat sensors ready to roll when we get an address. Peabody, you’re on Carmichael and Santiago. They deserve to be in on this if it plays out the way we hope. I want them in body armor under soft clothes. We’ll place them once we have a location.”

She carted her plate, polishing off the waffle as she paced around her board, studied the map on screen.

“Banner, work me some probabilities on location. Factor the van, the John Doe, and the sector I’ve narrowed it to. No one’s approached the van since we found it, so they haven’t needed it. They didn’t hit any of the takeout places last night. Maybe they risked delivery due to weather, or maybe they had enough in stock, but they’ll go out soon.”

“We can figure Campbell and Mulligan are still alive,” Banner put in. “They didn’t need the van to dump bodies.”

“That’s exactly right. When we move, we move on the assumption there are two civilians in distress inside. We’ll have medicals standing by.”

She set her empty plate on the table. “Anybody without magic coats uses body armor.”

“The FBI?” Peabody said.

“Will be informed – when and if we’re on our way. I’ll go through Zweck after I talk to Whitney.” She checked the time, again, then glanced at Roarke. “You want in?”

“I believe that goes without saying.”

She grabbed her ’link at the first beep. “Morris.”

“Zed, Samuel, age twenty-eight, 251 Downing, apartment 1-A.”

“Bam. Roarke.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Data being sent now,” Morris told her.

“Have you had a chance to look at him?”

“Not thoroughly, but there are similarities in some of the wounds, particularly, the COD. And here, take a look.”

“We all will. Computer, transfer ’link image on screen.”

“The water, and the fish, compromised the body. You see the damage here.”

“That’ll put you off breakfast,” Banner muttered as a close-up of pale, mottled, torn and bloodless flesh came on screen.

“I see the damage,” Eve said, stepping closer. “And I see what looks like the side of a heart. That curve there. A fish didn’t do that.”

“Agreed. I won’t slap at Porter for missing it – overmuch. I might not have found it myself if I hadn’t been looking for it, specifically.”

Yeah, you would, Eve thought. “It’s enough. It’s what we need.”

“For what you have to do, yes. But Samuel deserves more from me. You’ll have a complete, amended report before noon. I hope you have those who did this to him before that.”

“Count on it. Thanks.”

She turned. “Roarke?”

“I’ve got it.” He continued to work his PPC. “It’s a twelve-unit building.”

“Tell me it has a basement unit.”

“It does. Give me a moment. Your gut remains reliable, Lieutenant. 1-A is a basement, one-bedroom unit, currently rented by Samuel Zed.”

“Suit up,” she ordered. “Move out.”

She had Roarke drive, the bigger version of the A-T while she read the rest of Zed’s data.

“Peabody, Zed was employed as a line cook at the Fish House. Find out why nobody noticed he hasn’t been on the line for the past several days. Mother and one sib live in Indiana, and likely don’t know he’s been missing. McNab?”

“On with Feeney now, Dallas. We’ll have it covered.”

She turned in her seat, gave Banner a straight look. “You warm enough, Deputy?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“That’s not going to last. Roarke’s going to drive by the target, and you’re going to get out. I’ve got uniforms keeping an eye out. You’ll do the same. I don’t want them taking a look outside, spotting cops. So you’re going to find a spot. Maybe you get something from a glide-cart or café – as long as you can keep the target in sight. You’re going to look like a tourist.”

“I can do that.”

“If they come out, or one does, you follow. Don’t get made, don’t get close, just keep me updated.”

“I can do that, too.”

“Peabody, tell Banner what happens if you screw up.”

Peabody smiled a cheery smile. “You find her boot up your ass.”

“You don’t want to find my boot up your ass, Banner. Keep your eyes open, and that’s it, until Santiago and Carmichael are in place. When they are, I’ll tell you where to go.”

“I’ve got enough boots of my own, and I appreciate the chance to be a part of this. I’ve got good eyes, Lieutenant.”

She decided to count on that, and brought up the vid map Roarke had sent her of the target building and its neighbors.

“We walked right by this building last night. I walked by it on my own the day before. Right by it.”

“As you can’t see through walls, walking by it was all you could do.” Roarke sent her a quick look. “There’s no time to beat yourself up,” he said, repeating her words to Peabody.

She couldn’t argue, and instead contacted the uniforms to tell them Banner would be on point.

She edged forward in her seat when Roarke turned onto Downing. Quiet street – at least at this hour. On the shabbier side but trying to hold on.

Barred windows the norm for basement and street level. Apartment 1-A of number 251 had bars and privacy screens, no exterior cam. She couldn’t make the locks from the drive-by.

“Drop Banner on the corner. Eyes, Banner, nothing but eyes.”

“That’s a big yes, sir.”

He climbed out, hunched his shoulders against the cold, then sauntered across the street in the crosswalk.

“They might make him for a cop if they look out and look close, but they sure as hell won’t mistake him for a New York cop.”

“Which is why you put him on point.”

“Which is why,” she agreed. “And because we wouldn’t be this far unless he’d stuck on Little.”

She checked the time, gauged the distance to Central and contacted Whitney.

She was still updating him when Roarke pulled into Central’s garage.

“I’m in Central now, sir, and heading up to the division. I’ll brief the team, coordinate with Captain Feeney. We’ll be in place in under an hour. I’m looking at forty minutes. I’ll contact Special Agent Zweck now to apprise him of the situation so the FBI can join us.”

“I’ll contact Zweck. At the moment this is an NYPSD op.” His tone was brisk and final. “I’ll let you know if and when that changes.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” She ended transmission as they piled on the elevator. “Damn straight. Let’s get this on, and get it on right before federal red tape trips anything up. Roarke, you can make this elevator bypass floors, go straight to my level, right?”

“An express ride? Happy to.” He pulled out his PPC, went to work.

Seconds later, Peabody said, “Whee!” as they zipped straight up.

Eve was off and striding to Homicide the second the doors opened.

“McNab, use our single and rarely reliable wall screen in the bull pen. I don’t have time to fight for a conference room.” She turned into the bull pen. “Get the vid map up. Carmichael, Santiago, front and center.”

She hesitated a moment when she spotted Carmichael’s sapphire-blue cowboy boots with jewel-colored studs running down the sides. “Are you serious?”

“Sheepskin lined, Dallas. Warm as it gets. You said soft clothes. Santiago bought a hat.”

His lip actually curled. “I’m not wearing it.”

“Not on an op, but on the job, five full days. He lost a bet.”

He shook his head sadly at Eve. “I didn’t learn from my mistakes, and now have to pay the price.”

“Pay it later. Target’s the basement apartment, 251. We believe the two vics are still alive in there. Banner is currently on point, on location. We have four uniforms, here, here.” She used the laser pointer. “Two with eyes on the rear exit, here. The rear exit is an escape window, backed by a short alley to Bedford.”

She highlighted it with her pointer.

“According to our expert consultant, civilian who accessed the blueprints, the escape window must be released from the interior to unlock the bars, then lifted manually. To get out, you climb up and out. An unlikely exit, but our e-team will bypass the release. You’ll take the rear, close off that escape route.”

“We got that,” Santiago said.

“Medicals will be on tap, Seventh and West Houston. EDD will have its van at the end of the block, east side. We’re after four heat sources, two suspects, two victims. EDD will approach the building from the east, get us eyes and ears, if possible.

“We go when I say go. Body armor?”

Santiago tapped his chest. “We’re geared up.”

“You’re clear to go to the location. Let Banner know when you’re there. And tag me. McNab, body armor. Roarke, can you zoom in on the target door? I want to see the locks.”

“They’re standard click/slide with dead bolt,” he told her. “Middle range. Not utter crap, but nothing fancy. Might be a riot bar on the inside, but we’ll know that once we have eyes in there.”

“We’ll take a battering ram, in the event.”

“No cam, no alarm that I can see, and none added in during building rehab some twelve years ago. They’ve a Judas hole, and that’s all.”

McNab came back wearing the black armor over his sweater of screaming red with shivering silver stripes to match, Eve supposed, his silver pants.

“EDD’s in the garage, Lieutenant.” He pranced to her in his red-and-green plaid boots. “And Feeney’s in the van.”

“Let’s move out. Roarke, you’re with Feeney. Let’s go save lives and kick ass.”

She ran it through, over and over on the drive, but she understood, too well, you couldn’t know all the angles, all the movements, until you were in it. Having two civilians, likely restrained, certainly injured, added to the issues.

Saving lives came first.

“You’re on the vics, Peabody. Once EDD verifies their location, getting to them, covering them, that’s your priority. I’m putting Uniform Carmichael with you. He’s got the most experience. Cover the vics, cover your ass, cover each other.”

“In that order?”

“Pretty much. None of the vics we’ve investigated had evidence of stun marks. But we don’t go in assuming they don’t have stunners. We know they have stickers and tools.”

She pulled up behind the EDD van. “He’s going to be more inclined to protect her than she is him. But she’s not going to go down easy. They’re a lot of stupid, but they’re wily. Don’t forget it.”

“You, either.”

They got out. Before Eve could rap on the back of the van, Roarke opened the door, held out a hand to boost her, then Peabody, in.

“Setting up for heat sources,” he told her.

Feeney worked the equipment, McNab jiggled beside him.

“Just refining coordinates. Most of that unit’s below street level.” Feeney fiddled, fooled, then rolled his shoulders.

“Got you four. Two in the northeast corner.”

“That would be the bedroom,” Roarke said, studying his PPC.

“Two more, front of the unit.”

“Living area.”

Eve hunched over Feeney’s shoulder.

“Probable suspects are still in bed. Probable victims, also horizontal, about eighteen inches between them.”

And alive, she thought. Still generating heat.

She stepped out again, to use her comm, coordinate her team, and to have the van transferred.

Roarke jumped out. “I have your eyes and ears, Lieutenant.”

She should’ve figured he’d wheedle his way out of the van and into the action.

“Set me up.” He handed her earbuds first, and another set for Peabody. “We’re on the move,” she said. “Feeney, if anything moves in there, I hear about it.”

“Hey, She-Body?”

McNab leaned out the back of the van, reached out so they did the little finger tap Eve had seen them do dozens of times.

“Back in a few,” Peabody told him.

“On approach,” Eve said as they started down the block. “Stay alert. No detectible movement inside.”

Even so, they crouched, took the last few yards at a bent jog. Weapon drawn, she went down the short steps first, sidled over to the side of the door. Peabody took the opposite side while Roarke hunkered down with the portable unit.

“Give us a few seconds here.”

Inside, Reed turned and twisted his arm from the shoulder. His broken hand throbbed so brutally with the movement he could hear the sound of it inside his head. His breath wheezed through lips so dry they bled.

He felt as if he’d been at it for days. He’d passed out from the pain a few times, but he could see, through the privacy screen, it was still daylight. Still morning, he thought.