Connections in Death (In Death #48)(82)

“Lock him down, and let’s clean up the rest of this mess.”

She circled around, through another door to the hall. Found Baxter clearing the individual flops. “Your nose is bleeding, LT,” he said with a glance at her.

“It’s not broken.”

“Bet it hurts anyway. Trueheart’s hauling some of them out. We found a naked girl trying to hide in a bathtub. My boy’s blushing, but he’s getting her out and into the wagon.”

“Good.”

“They had a little more trouble than we did upstairs, so we gave them a hand. Got the three contained. All kinds of goodies up there, boss. Some cash money, ID maker, weapons, and enough illegals to keep you zoned out for a couple years.”

“Also good. We get twenty-five?”

“Can’t tell you for sure. We bagged eight.”

“Jorgenson?”

“Oh yeah. He was the little bit more trouble upstairs.”

“Very good.” She swiped at the blood dripping from her nose. “Let’s get a count. Where’s Peabody?”

“Here I am.”

Eve turned to see her partner hobbling up the stairs. She had blood seeping from several cuts and scrapes on her sheet-pale face.

“Ouch,” Baxter said, then hurried to get a supporting arm around her.

“What the hell happened?”

“I sort of fell down the stairs—with the naked having-sex guy. He kind of went crazy, and I had to tackle him, then he pulled me down the stairs. But I got him. I got the naked guy.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I got a little banged up. You, too.”

“Did you break anything?”

“I don’t think.”

“I think she’s a little shocky, Dallas.”

Nodding at Baxter, Eve ran her hands over Peabody’s arms, down her legs. Nothing felt broken. “Hold on.”

She moved back into the living space. “Jenkinson, Reineke, get a team and clear the house, every room. Santiago, Carmichael, get the rest into the wagon.”

“Some are going to need medical attention, Lieutenant.”

“That’s next.” She tapped her comm. “Lowenbaum, we’re controlled and clearing.”

“Copy that. We got five who slipped out. A couple of them thought the van looked like a nice getaway. Didn’t work out for them.”

Five outside, she thought, eight from Baxter’s count. She counted seven restrained or being restrained from the living area.

“Clean sweep. McNab, we need the MTs. Got some bad guys down. Listen, Peabody got a little banged up. We’re bringing her out.”

Like Baxter, she got an arm around Peabody, started taking her down the stairs. They hadn’t gotten halfway when McNab charged up.

“Hey, hey!” He saw blood, bruises, dazed eyes. “Did you take a hit?”

“I hit lots of places when I fell down the stairs. My face.”

“It’s my best girl’s face.”

“Aw.”

“I’ve got her.” He put his arms around her. “Marley’s pulling in medical. I’ve got her,”

“Go on back and help sweep it up,” Eve told Baxter. “I need to check in with Strong, and the van. I’ll be back.”

She walked down behind McNab and the hobbling Peabody, then blinked when skinny-assed McNab picked Peabody up to carry her the rest of the way.

“Strong,” she said into her comm. “Can you report?”

“Can and will. Ho and eight others are in custody. We got a few bumps, no serious injuries. Your team?”

“Bagged them all. Some bumps,” she added as she watched McNab carry Peabody to a mobile medical. “Sweep the place, Strong. Good work. I’ll see you back at Central.”

She kept walking to the van where a couple of men were still on the ground. One of the uniforms hauled one to his feet. The other, like Peabody, might need to be carried.

When she noticed the one now on his feet, hands restrained behind his back, begin to snap his fingers, she smiled.

She signaled a uniform over, gave instructions, then continued to the van just as Roarke stepped out.

“Peabody,” he said.

“Banged up some. She’s with McNab and the MTs. You had some trouble?”

Marley hopped out, held out a fist for Roarke to bump. “We gave the trouble. We are the freaking trouble. Dumb-asses thought they could jack the van? We said, Uh-uh. Dreamcake has a good pow!” Then Marley winced. “Looks like somebody got a couple pows in on you.”

“I got in more. Go ahead and call in the sweepers, and we’re going to need to coordinate confiscation of illegals, weapons, fraud equipment.”

“On top, on bottom. Frosty working with you, Dreamcake.”

“And with you, Detective Adorable.”

As Marley hopped back in, Eve gestured toward the finger-snapper. “Is he one of your pows?”

“He was, actually. McNab and Marley handled the bulk of it—with assistance from Lowenbaum. That one thought he’d bull his way behind the wheel. He went down with one punch. He can’t be more than sixteen.”

“We’ll find out. Look at his hands.” Her smile came back. His fingers continued to snap as the uniform led him away.