Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(105)

“I would. And they prefer killing women. You can judge the ratio.” Mira gestured to the board. “They’ve killed men, and certainly will continue to if not stopped. But women are the preferred target, as both of them consider women something to be used, something disposable. Something less.”

“Dudley particularly,” Eve commented. “He surrounds himself with them. It’s like a harem. Okay.” She nodded again as her mind took a few leaps forward. “We’ll need to put something in place. The search warrants may be enough to push me to the head of the line, but we can work something that ups that time frame.”

“But if you wait for Reo to come through,” Peabody protested, “we’d have more time to work out the strategy, the backup.”

Feeney shook his head. “She fronts the play, they react. That puts them on defense. They have to rush their move, and while they’re pissed off. They don’t maneuver her into a situation, because she’s maneuvering them. We can get eyes and ears on you.”

“I’ve got this.” Eve held up her wrist, and Feeney’s eyes narrowed.

“Let me see that. Take it off,” he told her when she held her arm out. “I’m not going to pocket it.”

When she obliged him, he took it off to a chair to examine.

“I confront them. I’m pissed off.” Eve tapped a hand to her chest. “All these bodies piling up, and two in one day. I’m the best, right, and they’re running circles around me. I know they’re involved,” she continued as she began to pace. “I’ve got all these arrows pointing, but they’re racking up the points while I’m spinning. Makes me look incompetent.”

She could work this, she realized. Yes, she could work it.

“My commander’s on my ass, my husband’s getting testy with the hours I’m putting in. I’m starting to look like an idiot and I don’t like it. I’m going to light some fires.”

“How much will you give them?” Whitney asked her.

“Just what they’ve given me. The surface connections, but I need to make it personal. Them, me. Budget’s stretched,” she decided. “Yeah. I can’t access the resources through the department, but I’ll use my own money to get those resources outside the department. Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know I’ve got more money than the two of you put together? That’ll speak to them, won’t it?” she asked Mira. “He bought me, but now I can get my hands on billions as long as I bang him when he wants it.”

“A fool and his money,” Roarke murmured, amused despite himself.

Mira let out a little sigh. “I would say it’s their probable view of your relationship.”

“And I’d say this no longer sounds like a backup plan,” Roarke put in.

“Feeney’s right, I front the play. I can time it. Hit them after I know, or am reasonably sure, we’re going to get the warrants, but before we serve them. It’s just adding incentive for them to move up their timetable. We sting them right,” she insisted, and Roarke understood she was pushing to get him in her corner, “they go after me, they go after a cop, they’re done. Their high-priced lawyers, their family fortunes, their goddamn pedigrees aren’t going to keep them out of a cage for the rest of their lives.”

“Is that what worries you?” he asked. “That even with the case you’ve built, even with the evidence you believe you’ll gather with the warrants, they’ll slip through the system?”

“They worry me.” In one sharp move, she pointed to the board, to the faces of the dead. “The chance I’ll have to put another up there worries me.”

He watched her realize she’d let her emotions spike, let them show in front of her superior. And he watched her draw them down again, draw them in.

“They want me up there,” she said in a tone both cool and flat, “so we’ll make them want me up there sooner.”

“You know, I’ve been working on something like this off and on.” Feeney continued to study the wrist unit as his casual comment defused the charged air. “This one’s nice and compact, got more bells and whistles than I’d worked out.”

He glanced up, his gaze flicking over Roarke before homing in on Eve. “What would be prime is if you run into them—the both of you—someplace. Public place. Restaurant, club, like that. That’s what fries you, see, trying to get a little downtime, and there they are in your face. Maybe you’re already pissy, having a spat with Roarke, and that just shoves you over the line. That way it comes off impulse. Like you just lost it there for a minute.”

“That is prime,” Eve agreed.

“I’ve got moments.” Feeney rose, handed the unit back to Eve, looked at Roarke. “That’s nice work.”

“Thanks.”

“Peabody, see if you can find out where they’re going to be tonight. At least one of them. Friday night . . . they’re not going to sit at home playing mah-jongg.”

“It’ll be easier and quicker for me to find out.” Roarke took out his ’link, walked away.

“Still want eyes and ears on you,” Feeney told her.

“Fine.” She stuck her hands in her pockets as she tracked Roarke out of the room.