“That’s right. That’s absolutely right.”
He leaned back, waved a hand in the air. “The older ones have their uses. You just might be useful with another couple decades of seasoning. They like to serve, or pretend to like it. They want to be flattered and petted, want pretty, shiny things. And promises.”
He let out a sigh, a shake of his head, but his eyes sparkled with an ugly glee. “They’re so pitifully grateful for the attention. So calculating in their attempts to manipulate a man. They need to be used—all while flattered and petted, of course. A woman will do everything she’s asked if you dangle the bright and shiny, if you give her some poetry—and a good fuck now and then.”
He shifted in the chair again, wrapping his hands around his knee, smiling his smug smile until Melinda wanted to beat his face bloody with her fists.
“Then, they have to be ended because they’re so
“No, I won’t.”
“Well now.” He slapped his hands on his thighs before he rose. “Time to move along to the younger generation. I have to thank you, honey. You really did
Melinda braced. It would be useless, end badly, but she wouldn’t let him take Darlie without a fight. She had her teeth, her nails. At the least she’d give him pain.
His ’link sounded. He paused to pull it out of his pocket. “The old bad girl checking in,” he said, then frowned at the unfamiliar display.
“Do you know a Sampson Kinnier? Neither do I,” he said before Melinda could answer. “Crossed transmission, I suppose, but we’ll let it go to v-mail, see what Sampson has to say.”
When Sylvia’s voice came on, McQueen’s eyes went flat as a snake’s.
“Isaac, baby, it’s me. Answer the ’link! There was trouble. That fucking bitch Dallas tracked me to the other place. I made the assholes, but she crashed the van. She hurt me, baby—but not like we’re going to hurt her. Come on, answer the goddamn ’link! I got patched up at the hospital. I got out—took a cop down doing it. I’m on my way to you. I need a boost, baby, need one bad. They wouldn’t give me any decent shit at the hospital—had me tied down like a crazy person. I fixed it. Mama needs some candy, baby. Fix me some candy, will ya? I’ll be there soon. And we’ll make her pay. We’ll make her bleed.”
Isaac studied the ’link, held his silence. Watching him, Melinda thought she saw confusion in his eyes, and felt another blossom of hope.
Then he sighed. The smile returned; the eyes stayed flat. “We seem to have a change of plans.”
He pocketed the ’link. And he unsnapped the sheath on his belt, drew out his knife.
Eve snatched at the EDD reports the instant they came in. Video was toast, Feeney reported, and audio was fragmented. But they got solid chunks of the transmissions and more would come.
Eve closed her eyes, played them out.
McQueen’s voice, smooth as cream, hinting of seduction. And Stella’s—no, Sylvia’s, she reminded herself— excited, flirtatious.
Don’t know what I’d . . . without you doll. Can’t wait . . . won’t . . . longer.
. . . come up to see you. Everything’s set . . . could come back with you when . . .
Be patient . . . need to check security at our place. Don’t want to . . . problems once we get started.
. . . just there yesterday. Soundproofing’s finished . . . can’t hear that baby crying half the damn night down the . . .
. . . security cams tested . . . count on you sweetheart.
You can . . . stalled last week. Tech tested all three . . .
Good girl. You’ve got your eyes on the prize?
Check her every day. Miss you, baby.
Miss you right back.
Can you send some money? Rent’s . . . on our place in a couple days.
. . . run through your spending money already? . . . buy yourself something pretty?
Gotta look pretty for you, baby.
I’ll take care of it. We don’t want Maxwell’s credit getting any black marks. My time’s up. Just a couple more weeks and . . . with you.
It’s killing me to wait . . . so close.
Soon doll.
She noted down the date and time of the transmission, and on the text copy highlighted key words and phrases.
“Copy and send file to Detectives Jones and Walker, to Agents Nikos and Laurence, marked urgent. Orders to narrow search using highlighted text.”
“Begin search for apartments within a twenty-mile radius of listed address. Search for rentals with payment due on the fifteenth of the month. Further narrow to leases under the name of Maxwell—first or last name. Unit will be two or three bedrooms. Building will have direct access to parking garage.”
She e-mailed Roarke the names, the dates. Easier than actually speaking to him right now, she decided.
The minute she’d done so, her ’link signaled.
“Dallas.”
“She’s loose.”
“What?”
“She killed Malvie—Officer Malvie,” Bree said quickly. “Forced the nurse on duty to give her scrubs. Took the ID and walked out. They’ve locked down the hospital, have an alert out for her, but—”
“She’s headed straight to McQueen.” Fury and frustration would have to wait. “She won’t be on foot. She’ll boost a vehicle, hail a cab.”
“You don’t hail cabs here.”
“What do you—never mind. Have security check for a missing vehicle out of hospital parking, nearest her exit point. How long does she have?”
“An hour, maybe a little more.”
Too long, Eve thought. Too long.
“I’m on my way in.”
She broke transmission, shoved up to bang on Roarke’s office door.
“It’s not locked for Christ’s sake.”
She pushed it open. “She’s out. She killed the cop on duty, got nurses’ scrubs and walked. I need to go. Now.”
“Two minutes.” He hunkered over his comp. “Two bloody minutes. I’m nearly there. She’ll go to McQueen. Let me find the bastard.”
“Add Maxwell to the search. Don’t ask,” she snapped. “Just do it. Add Maxwell and look for a transfer of funds on the twelfth of the month.”
“Feeney sent me the same data. It’s in. Be quiet.”
She gritted her teeth, fisted her hands. But she knew that look—the cold, clear eyes, the scowl. If he said he was close, he was close.
He snapped out orders even as he worked the keyboard and the screen manually. From her angle she could see data—incomprehensible to her—flashing by.
She answered her signaling ’link with a snarl. “What?”
