Midnight in Death (In Death #7.5)(7)

Chapter Three

Stephanie Ring’s car was still in its permit slot in the garage. Her luggage was neatly stowed in the trunk. Eve circled the vehicle, searching for any sign of struggle, any evidence that might have been dropped and gone unnoticed during the snatch.

“He’s got two basic MOs,” she said, as much to herself as to the uniforms waiting nearby. “One is to gain entrance into the victims’ homes by a ruse—delivery, repair, or service con; the other is to come on them in an unpopulated area. He spends time getting to know their routines and habits, the usual routes and schedules. He keeps all that in a log—very organized, scientific, along with bio data on each of them.”

They weren’t lab rats to him, she mused. It was personal, individualized. That was what excited him.

“In either case,” she went on, “he uses a stunner, takes them down quickly, then transports them in his own vehicle. Security cameras operational in here?”

“Yes, sir.” One of the uniforms passed her a sealed package of discs. “We confiscated them for the last three days, assuming that the subject may have stalked the victim previous to her abduction.”

Eve lifted a brow. “Miller, right?”

“Sir.”

“Good thinking. There’s nothing more you can do here. Go home and eat some goose.”

They didn’t exactly race away, but neither did they linger. Eve put the package in her bag and turned to Roarke. “Why don’t you do the same, pal? I’ll only be a couple of hours.”

“We’ll only be a couple of hours.”

“I don’t need an aide to do a pass through Ring’s apartment.”

Roarke simply took her arm and led her back to the car. “You let the two uniforms go,” he began as he started the engine. “Everyone else on Palmer’s list is under guard. Why aren’t you?”

“We covered that already.”

“Partially.” He reversed and headed out of the garage. “But I know you, Lieutenant. You’re hoping he’ll shuffle the order and come after you next. And you don’t want some big-shouldered uniforms scaring him off.”

For a moment she just drummed her fingers on her knee. In less than a year, the man had learned her inside and out. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with that. “And your point would be?”

He nearly smiled at the annoyance in her voice. “I admire my wife’s courage, her dedication to duty.”

“You tossed in ‘my wife’ to irritate me, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Satisfied, he picked up her hand, kissed the knuckles. “I’m sticking, Eve. Deal with it.”

The pass through Stephanie Ring’s apartment was no more than routine, and it turned up nothing but the tidy life of a single career woman who enjoyed surrounding herself with attractive things, spending her city salary on a stylish wardrobe.

Eve thought of the naked woman crouched like an animal in a cage, screaming in terror.

He’s killing her now. Eve knew it. And she had no power to stop him.

When she was back in her home office, she reviewed the disc Palmer had sent Nadine. This time she willed herself to ignore what was happening and focus only on the surroundings.

“No windows,” she commented. “The floor and walls look like concrete and old brick. The whole area can’t be over thirty feet by twenty. It’s probably a basement. Computer, pause. Enhance sector eight through fifteen. Magnify.”

She paced as the computer went to work, then moved closer to the screen. “There, that’s a stair tread. Steps, part of a railing. Behind it is some sort of—what is it—old furnace unit or water tank. He’s found himself a hole. It has to be private,” she continued, studying the view. “He can’t do his work in a building where people might hear. Even if it’s soundproofed, he’d risk someone poking around. Maintenance crew, repair team. Anything like that.”

“Not an apartment or office building,” Roarke agreed. “And with the steps it’s not likely a storage facility. From the look of the furnace, it’s a good-sized building, but far from new. Nothing built in the last fifteen or twenty years would have had a tank furnace installed. He’d want something in the city, wouldn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’d want to be close to all of his marks. He wouldn’t go for the ‘burbs and even the boroughs aren’t likely. Dave’s a true urbanite and New York’s his turf. Private home. Has to be. But how did he get his hands on a private residence?”

“Friends?” Roarke suggested. “Family?”

“Palmer didn’t have a tight circle of friends. He’s a loner. He has parents. They relocated after the trial. Went under the Victim and Survivor’s Protection Act.”

“Sealed files.”

She heard the faintest trace of humor in his voice, turned to scowl at him. For a moment she wrestled with procedure. She could get clearance to access the Palmers’ location. And it would take at least two days to hack through the red tape for authorization. Or she could hand the problem to Roarke and have what she needed in minutes.

She could hear Stephanie Ring’s screams echoing in her head.

“You’ll have to use the unregistered equipment. CompuGuard will have an automatic block on their file.”