New York to Dallas - J. D. Robb [48]
Lips pursed, Ricchio sat back, nodded slowly. “All right, you’ve got points. Focusing on McQueen sits easier with me, but you’ve got points.”
“If I may,” Roarke interjected. “If you consider it a two-pronged approach rather than an overlap. Improve the odds.”
“Frankly, if I were in your position, I’d do what I felt I needed to do, regardless of the politics of cooperation. It’s better if we all say we agree.”
“Works for me.” Her ’link signaled. “Excuse me.”
When she stepped away, Ricchio turned to Roarke. “As the word is your particular area is electronics, you should meet Lieutenant Stevenson. He runs EDD.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have someone take you up when you’re ready. We work with civilians, such as Melinda, in SVU routinely. That’s not the usual in EDD.”
“Then I’ll do my best to be unobtrusive.”
“My father recently retired as Deputy Chief,” Ricchio began in an easy, conversational tone. “He was part of a task force, years ago, working on taking down a major weapons organization. Part of the investigation included a Patrick Roarke. I remember because my father spent a couple weeks in Ireland during the investigation. Any relation?”
“That would have been my father,” Roarke said coolly, “which illustrates the world is a strangely intimate place. He had dealings with Max Ricker, as I’m sure you’re aware. As you’d be aware that my wife is responsible for Ricker’s current accommodations in an off-planet cage. A strangely intimate place indeed.”
“With interesting turns,” Ricchio agreed. “Patrick Roarke was stabbed to death in Dublin, wasn’t he?”
“If you’re asking if I killed him, I didn’t have that pleasure.”
He set aside irritation as Eve strode back. From the look in her eye, he knew she had something.
“Our female UNSUB traded sex with the guard we have in custody for contact with McQueen. He got her in three times in the last year under the radar, let them use one of the conjugal trailers. He swears the contact initiated with the woman, not McQueen. She angled for a fourth, two weeks ago. McQueen instructed Lovett to tell her to wait.”
“She’s in love with him,” Roarke commented.
“In whatever twisted way it works with her kind. She’s hooked— addictive personality, and he’s another drug. He won’t keep her much longer.”
“He never confessed. It could never be proven, but the prevailing theory is once he disposed of his partner, he’d shortly dispose of any captives and move on.”
Eve looked at Ricchio, understood his guts would be in knots. “Prior to New York, he was still evolving, finding his pattern, his rhythm. Added to it. He hasn’t finished with me, so he hasn’t finished with Melinda. Who do you want me to work with, Lieutenant? And do you have somewhere I can set up?”
“I’ve got a temporary office for you. It’s not much. I’d like you to use Bree and Annalyn. Bree needs to keep her mind engaged, and she trusts you.”
Eve started to point out that Bree Jones didn’t know her, but let it go. “I’m good with that. Saves having to update them on what we got from the bar.”
“If you don’t need Roarke at the moment, I’d like to have him acquaint himself with our EDD.”
“Best use,” she said to Roarke.
“Then I’ll get back to you later.”
They went their separate ways.
“Not much” turned out to be twice the size of her office at Central with a shiny desk outfitted with a data and communication center, a multiposition gel-chair, an AutoChef, a personal friggie, an auxiliary station, two cozy visitor’s chairs—and a large window she immediately shielded.
Too much space, she thought, too much comfort. Adjust, she reminded herself. Make it work.
She programmed what passed for coffee, made do with that while she began to set up a case board. She barely glanced over when Bree and Annalyn came in.
“I’m still setting up. I’ll need you to share the auxiliary. Run