Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(104)

She was going there now, and bloody buggering hell she was considering how she could use it, use herself.

“It’s your opinion I’m a target,” Eve said to Mira.

“It’s my opinion that you’re not only a perfect fit, but would be, to them, the ultimate prey. Their timing of the first murder played the odds, and they were good ones, that you would catch the case,” Mira reminded her. “If you hadn’t, you would certainly have been involved in some manner by the second murder, which also connected to Roarke through its location. You fit their target requirements. You’re known to be one of the best in your field, a field of service. You’ve gained notoriety for what you do.”

“I don’t have any past connection with them.” But even as she said it, she glanced at Roarke.

“Of course you do,” he said, equably, “because I do. My business dealings and theirs have crossed in the past. They have reason, if they take such matters personally, to resent me for some of those dealings.”

She hooked her thumbs in her front pockets. “Why not go for you?”

He smiled. “Wouldn’t that be entertaining? I don’t fit,” he added. “I don’t provide a service, nor am I for sale. Protect and serve, Lieutenant, for which you draw a salary. And if you’d think as they do for a moment rather than grinding those gears wondering how you could set yourself up as bait, you’d see you’re an indulgence. Mine. From their perspective, I bought and paid for you. Mind you don’t sputter.”

He felt her fury, the hot burst of it, and continued to lean against the wall and watch her.

She pulled it in—he had to admire the strength of will—and simply nodded.

“I’d like to give this some thought, discuss it further, but detailing the investigation, thus far, and getting the warrants are the priority and purpose here. Do you have enough to take to your boss, Reo?”

“I’ll take it to him, and I’ll push.” Reo sat where she was, scanning the boards and screens. “You’ve got a mountain of circumstantial here that adds up to a solid argument for the search warrants. You’re shy of arrest—and you know it,” she added. “You’ve convinced me, and I’ll convince the PA. Convincing a judge to issue the warrants to search the homes of two men with no priors, with their pedigree, their connections and influence, that’s going to be work, and it’s going to take time.”

She rose. “So I’d better get started. It’s damn good work, all around. I’ll be in touch.”

“Let’s add to the mountain,” Eve said as Reo walked out. “Dig, push, wheedle, finesse. We’re going to pile it on, and we’re going to bring them in. Get back to work. Doctor Mira,” she continued as cops surged to their feet, “if I could have a few minutes. Commander, I’ll keep you fully updated and informed.”

“I believe I’ll stay.”

“Yes, sir. Peabody, coordinate the—”

“If my partner’s thinking about sticking herself on a hook, I’m going to be in on the strategy session.”

“Bait needs an e-team.” Feeney chose a pickle from the food table, crunched in.

“I’m not, at this time, planning any such operation.” She felt, literally, squeezed in. “It would be backup only, if Reo doesn’t get the warrants. I believe she will, so everybody can just stop hovering. Apologies, Commander.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Doctor Mira, if I’m a target, it’s likely they’ve already chosen the location and weapon, if not the time.”

“I agree. It would be my belief that you would be their endgame, at least here in New York, and at least for this phase of the contest. Everything points to their enjoyment of the competition, its results, so it’s unlikely they’ve positioned you for the last round. But—”

“If and when we get the search warrants, that would change the complexion of things.” Eve nodded. “It would piss them off, and it would challenge them. They’d want to go at me sooner.”

“I’d have to agree. They’ve left pieces of themselves at the scenes—the weapons. They’ve connected themselves to the murders, indirectly, to ensure you would have contact with them. While they compete with each other, they’re competing against you, as a team.”

“And they cheat.” Roarke took a bottle of water from the table.

“And when they tried that on you, you beat them. A golf thing,” Eve said with a shrug. “I’m not convinced you wouldn’t be a more exciting target. You’re not in service, fine, but you employ a universe of people who are. You’re already a competitor, and one they dislike because you had the nerve to build a fortune instead of inheriting one. It’s a pretty fair bet you’ve been involved with some of the women they’ve been involved with.”

He took a slow sip of water. “I’ll just say my taste has improved. Then point out what you should know very well. There’s no better way to strike at me than by murdering my wife.”

“The one you bought and paid for?”

Well now, that grated her ass, didn’t it? he mused. And for some perverse reason her reaction banked the embers of his own temper.

“Yes, to their minds. They don’t understand you, or me for that matter. And they certainly don’t understand love. Would you agree, Doctor Mira?”