Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(86)

“I don’t believe I’ve seen any of those women before.”

“I have a few more.”

Peabody held up Lydia Su’s ID shot.

Eve figured Lipski probably played a solid game of poker. But her skills weren’t good enough to completely mask the quick awareness. She waited, saw something similar come with Charity Downing.

She started to speak, then saw something else when Peabody offered Carlee MacKensie. That was both an instant of puzzlement, and, Eve thought, deep sorrow.

“You recognized the last three,” Eve said.

“I can’t discuss this with you.” But that acknowledgment remained in the dark eyes as she spoke. “Even if you get a warrant.”

“I’m not going to get a warrant. I could threaten to arrest you for obstruction. I could threaten to charge you with accessory after the fact if you contact any of these women. I’m not going to do that, either. But I’m going to tell you, again, if you do contact them, they’ll kill the man they have immediately, and very likely flee. You’ll live with that death on your hands. What I intend to do is to bring them in, to prevent them from killing again, and to listen to their story.”

“I don’t and won’t condone murder.” Lipski stared down at the dead. “I don’t and won’t condone this level of retribution. But the crimes committed will carry a hard, long punishment. Victims victimized—by their own actions—yes, by their own. But also by the law.”

“The law may be hard and cold—and I can be the same. It may be blind. I’m not. I need to hear them out. You know, and I know, my Free-Ager partner’s right. What they’re doing will only spread the wound until the wound is all they have. Let me do my job.”

“I’ll contact no one, my word on that—because I do know what’s right. This, what was done, this isn’t right. But when and if you arrest anyone, I want you to contact me. I want to be there for them. To do whatever I can for them.”

“My word on that.”

—

Eve moved fast, pulling out her ’link as they wound through the crowded space and out to the hall, down the stairwell. “Baxter, I’ve got three names verified. Downing, MacKensie, Su—be on the lookout for any or all of them.”

“Three of them.”

“It looks like. We’re heading to MacKensie’s now to pick her up. She’s closest. I’ll let you know when we have all three of them. Sit tight.”

“You want BOLOs?” Peabody asked her as she jogged to keep up.

“Not yet. We need to get them into the box, start putting pressure on them. One will break. Send uniforms to pick up Su—two to her apartment, two to her workplace, just to cover it. We should be able to scoop up MacKensie, then get Downing before any of them know we’re coming.”

Eve went in hot, while Peabody ordered the uniforms, cutting the sirens a block from MacKensie’s building. Rather than search for parking, she flipped on her On Duty light, double-parked.

The bitter resentment of other drivers and the frantic breaking of noise pollution laws slid off her back as she jogged to the sidewalk.

“Uniforms on their way, both locations. Even if Lipski breaks her word—and I don’t think she will,” Peabody added, “she wouldn’t have time to warn all three before we move in.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Eve used her master, then charged up the stairs.

“Loose pants,” she heard Peabody pant. “Loose pants.”

“Get your mind off your ass.”

On MacKensie’s floor, Eve slowed to a walk. She pressed the buzzer, waited, then used a fist on the door.

“That’s what I was worried about.” She turned, pressed the buzzer on the door across the hall.

“I said I’d meet you down in the—” The woman who opened the door stopped short. “Who are you?”

“NYPSD.” Eve held up her badge. “Where’s Carlee MacKensie? Across the hall.”

“How would I know?” The woman’s forehead wrinkled under the big fuzzy black hat she wore. “Look, I’m running late. I was just heading out.” To prove it she finished buttoning her coat. “Anyway, I think she’s away for a while.”

“Away where?”

“How should I know? I was heading out this morning at the same time she was. We rode down in the elevator together. She had a suitcase, so I asked—you know, neighborly—if she was taking a trip. And how it would be nice to get out of the city and the freaking cold. She said yeah. That’s about it. I’ve got to go. I was supposed to work the rest of the day at home, but we got called back in. I have to go.”

“One minute.” Eve just shifted to block the woman’s path. “What kind of suitcase?”

“Jeez, how should I know? A regular rolly. Taking a winter vacay—fixed up for traveling.”

“Fixed up how?”

“Did her face and hair—and she hardly ever does, that I’ve seen. Had on nice boots. And perfume. I even said how I liked her perfume. You think she’s done something, you’re barking down the wrong alley. She hardly leaves her apartment, never has anyone over, that I’ve seen. Keeps to herself. Quiet, maybe stuck-up, maybe shy. I don’t poke my nose in anyway.”