The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [132]
If he worked there, how the hell did he get four tranq’d people through building security and up to the twelfth floor?
She was hoping to be able to ask him directly, very soon.
She met up with Baxter and Trueheart in the lobby. It was a small space, very quiet, very clean. Security cams swept the entrance and the two silver-doored elevators. It didn’t boast a doorman, live or droid, but it had required a scan of her badge to gain entrance.
“The target is apartment 1208, east-facing unit, third in from the south corner. Windows are, from south to north, numbers six, seven, and eight.”
She glanced at Trueheart—couldn’t help it. It was so rare to see him in civilian clothes. If possible he looked even younger in the sports shirt and jeans than he did in uniform.
“Where’s your weapon, Trueheart?”
He patted the base of his spine, under the long tail of his baby blue shirt. “I thought I’d attract more attention wearing a jacket in this heat. I know it looks a little sloppy, Lieutenant, but it’s more usual street wear.”
“That wasn’t a fashion question.”
“She’d be the last to ask one of those,” Baxter put in, and looked cool and casual in summer khakis and a faded green tee. “Not that she doesn’t always look hot. Especially since somebody with taste’s buying her threads these days.”
“I’ll remind you to bite me later. Right now, we’re going to try to pinpoint and apprehend a serial killer, so maybe we can talk about how cute we all look some other time.
“Communicators on,” she continued. “Weapons low stun. You two take the sidewalk across the street. Spread out. You see anybody at any of the target windows, I want a heads-up. Anybody fitting profile enters or exits the building while I’m inside, I want to know about it. Let’s pin him down.”
She walked to the elevators, scooping up a fake potted fern on the way.
“I didn’t know you liked houseplants, Dallas.”
“Home decorating is always on my mind. He sees my face through his security peep, he’s not going to open the door. He knows me.”
“Oh, camouflage.”
“Stay out of the line of sight,” she ordered Peabody. “We need him to open the door, establish he’s in there, get a look at his face. Record on.”
“So if he panics, slams the door again, we’ve got probable cause and a face.”
“And he’s bolted in until we get a warrant. Nobody dies tonight,” she stated as she stepped out on twelve.
She hitched the fern up, looking through the fronds as she approached the apartment. It had a security peep, full screen, a palm plate, and voice box.
Taking no chances, are you, she thought. You’re a careful bastard. Don’t want some casual burglar lifting your locks and finding your goodies.
She rang the bell, waited.
The red locked light stayed steady.
She rang again. “Delivery for 1208,” she called out.
Hearing the door behind her open, Eve shifted her weight and put her free hand on her weapon.
A young woman stepped out of 1207, eyes widening when she spotted Peabody’s uniform. “Is there some sort of trouble? Is anything wrong? Is Gerry okay?”
“Gerald Stevenson.” Eve set the fern down. “Does he live here?”
“Sure. Haven’t seen him for, I don’t know, a few days anyway. But that’s his place. Who are you?”
“Dallas. NYPSD.” She took out her badge. “So, Gerry’s not home.”
“No. Like I said, I haven’t seen him for a while. He’s probably out on assignment.”
“Assignment.”
“Yeah, you know, taking pictures.”
Eve felt the quick leap in her blood. “He’s a photographer.”
“Image artist. That’s what he calls it. He’s good, too. He took some of my husband and me last year. Of course, he hasn’t been doing much work since his mother died. What’s this about, anyway?”
“When his mother died,” Eve prompted. “What happened?”
“What you’d expect. He fell apart. They were really close. He took care of her through the whole thing, and believe me, some of it had to be horrible. She just died by inches. Mark and I did what we could, but really, what