Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)(5)

“I think maybe that’s Jupiter.” Peabody frowned at the ball, tipping her head back to look up at the window.

Eve avoided the shards, studied the security as they approached the doors. “It’s one of Roarke’s systems, so it’s good. Palm plate, voice ID, solid locks and alarm, double cameras.”

The door opened. “Lieutenant. Officer Vols.”

“Status.”

“Sir. Officer Gregg and I arrived, rang and knocked. Automated security engaged. The comp said no one was currently in residence. Before we attempted a bypass, Gregg stepped down to check windows, go around to the back. And the ball back there? Planet Jupiter?”

“I knew it,” Peabody said with quick triumph, before Eve shut her down with a cold stare.

“Well, it nearly beaned Gregg. And the kid who managed to throw it through the window started screaming for help. Gregg called up to her, told her we were the police. She said she couldn’t get out of her room.

“We couldn’t get through security, LT, had to use the battering ram.”

“Did the alarm go off?”

“No, sir, it didn’t. Disengaged. We found the kid upstairs—holding on to herself pretty well. She said they’d hurt her mom, and had taken her away. They’d taken her dad away. Then we heard the pipes. The mother managed to bang on the pipes in the basement room. We found her down there, beat up, tied up. The kid fell apart a little then.”

A ripple of emotion ran over his stony cop’s face. “She’d thought they’d killed her mom. Two men, they both state, broke into the house sometime in the early hours of Saturday after all three were in bed. From what the wife said, it sounds like they may have drugged the husband while he slept, taken him out that way, then they dragged the wife out of bed, smacked her around a little, tied her up, hauled the kid in. Tied her and the father up.”

“Did you get a description?”

“Masks. Both say white, featureless masks. Hoods, gloves. They both say male going by voice and build, but they can’t give us race, facial features, hair or eye color. I’ll tell you, we didn’t push too hard, Lieutenant. The mother needed medical attention, and the kid . . . She holds it together, like I said, but she’s pretty shaken up. We haven’t given Greenspan notification on Rogan. She and the kid asked about him, but we didn’t want to step in it on that.”

“Okay. You and Gregg stand by. I’ve got an e-man coming to evaluate the security breach and pick up all electronics. Where do you have them?”

“There’s a family area in the back of the house, off the kitchen. Gregg’s sitting on them.”

The two MTs walked out from the rear of the house, equipment in hand. “She won’t go to the hospital,” one of them announced. “The adult female. The minor’s mostly just shaken up, but the adult female could use the hospital.”

“What’s her status?”

“Two cracked ribs, bruised kidney, sprained wrist, deep lacerations on both wrists and ankles from fighting against the zip ties, broken nose, severe facial and torso bruising, and lacerations from repeated blows. She was dehydrated, suffered a mild concussion.”

“We’ll see what we can do about getting her to agree to the hospital.”

The other MT shook his head. “Won’t budge. Wouldn’t take a tranq, either. We’ve got her splinted, wanded, stabilized, but she needs to go in.”

“Got it,” Eve said as the MTs walked out.

“She’s afraid to be a foot away from the kid,” Vols told Eve. “Like the kid’s afraid to be a foot away from the mom. You can’t blame them.”

“Yeah. I got that, too. Good work, Officer.”

With Peabody, Eve started back to tell a woman her husband was dead, and a child her father wouldn’t be coming home again.





2

The kid sat, hollow-eyed, glued to her mother’s side on a wide sofa covered with big, bold red flowers. She wore baggy cotton pants, thick pink socks, a purple sweatshirt. The bruises on her wrists added more purple.

Her mother kept a protective arm wrapped around her.

Bruises rioted over Cecily’s face. Eve noted the swelling and blackened rays at the edges of the ice patch on her left eye.

NuSkin bandages wrapped around both of her wrists. Violet-and-yellow bruises spread around her unpatched right eye.

When she shifted, the flicker over her face told Eve there was still considerable pain.

“Ms. Greenspan, I’m Lieutenant Dallas. This is Detective Peabody. We have some questions. We can speak to you at the health center of your choice, as the medics who treated you strongly recommend further examination and treatment.”

“The MTs treated us here. We want to be home.” She looked down at her daughter who cuddled a little closer, nodded. “No one will tell us about Paul, about my husband, Melody’s father. We’ll answer all your questions, but you have to answer one first. Where is Paul?”

Eve sat. Eye-to-eye was better, though there was never a better. “I regret to inform you, your husband’s dead. We’re very sorry for your loss.”

The girl stared at Eve for a long, trembling moment, then pressed her face to her mother’s side. She made a sound like a small animal in terrible pain.

Cecily turned to gather her daughter in, and the pain, all the levels of it drained her face of color until the bruises stood out like banners.