Obsession in Death (In Death #40)(83)

“I can look at it. But,” he said again. “Right ID gets you into Records easy enough. Or you hack in, if you’re good enough and interested enough. She’s interested enough, and shows some e-chops.”

She sat on his desk. “Anybody spring to mind? Any of your techs, anybody new, any of the e-support? You use outside consults off and on.”

“Squeaks, sure. Civilian geeks. Hell, Roarke’s the top squeak around here.” He scrubbed at his wiry hair. “I’ll do some digging there, but nobody pops for me. Then again, some of my kids use squeaks I’m not real familiar with. Wannabe, that’s how it reads all around. Wannabe cop, wannabe vigilante, wannabe your number one pal.”

“Maybe not so much on the pal anymore.”

“Pissed at you,” Feeney agreed. “Whiny bitch on top of it.”

“Which takes her right out of contention for any pal of mine. But it’s pals I’m worried about. I don’t want to insult you.”

“Better not.” Casually, he recrossed his ankles. “I outrank you.”

“You were my trainer, my partner. You’re —” The closest thing to a father she’d ever had. But that was too sloppy and sentimental for both of them. “You’re a pal. When I put myself in her head, I ask myself who’d be the target that would pay me back most? Who would I want to bump aside so there’s room for me as Dallas’s – what’s it? – BFF? I come up with Mavis right off. Oldest friend, and a civilian. But there’s you, Feeney, and Peabody.”

“Roarke’s not your pal?”

“She’s not good enough to get to him. And that’s insulting, and I don’t mean it that way. He’s covered, is what I mean. My sense is she’s too cowardly to take on a cop, but…”

He took a handful of almonds now, leaned back as he studied Eve, popped one into his mouth. “An old cop, a geek, a desk jockey? Pretty easy pickings?”

“In her head, Feeney, not mine. Old, my ass.”

“I feel the years more than I used to, but I’m no easy pickings.”

“I know it. She may not. I’m just telling you how I see it, and asking you to be on guard. She’s going to go after somebody I care about. If not the next hit, soon enough unless I stop her.”

“She’s working chronologically, so far. If you had to pull it out of your hat, who’d be next in line? Not a pal.”

“Ah, hell, Feeney. I couldn’t count them.” Even the idea had her scrubbing her hands over her face, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “Jesus, I’m going to have to read through all my case files, from the Stevenson investigation to now.”

“You could go that way,” Feeney agreed. “And spend the next couple weeks buried in them. Or you could have Roarke load them up, use that fancy comp lab of his. Do a search for physical or verbal altercations – with people not currently in a cage. Separate out other cops. Not that she wouldn’t go for one, but civilians more likely. Won’t be quick, but quicker than slogging through a couple years of case files. Easier on the eyes, too.”

“Run a probability on what I get. I could have him do a quicker one.” She saw it now. “Six months to start. Run the probability, factoring timeline. It’s something.”

She pulled out her signaling communicator, scowled at it. “Kyung. Media wants an update. He wants to go with statement only, no questions. It could be worse.”

Considering, she keyed in a response. In ten minutes. Brief statement, done. I have work.

She shoved it back in her pocket, rose. “I’m going to get this out of the way. If McNab’s clear, I’m going to run him and Peabody home, check in on Mavis.”

“Take him. I’m going to be heading out myself. I’ll keep an eye out for homicidal women who think I’m an easy mark.”

“Good enough. Thanks.” She paused at the door. “Would you consider going to the ball drop tomorrow night?”

“Sure, if I lose my mind between now and then.”

She absolutely beamed at him. “Exactly.”

In the media room, she glanced over the statement Kyung had drafted, then stepped out in front of the cams and mics.

The questions blew out immediately. To deal with them she simply stood, silent until the noise level dropped.

Stony silence often worked on suspects, uncooperative wits in the box. It could take longer on reporters but generally did the trick.

“I’m not taking questions so don’t waste my time. The investigation into the murder of Leanore Bastwick and the murder of Wendall Ledo is active and ongoing.”

“Are there any new leads?”

“Do you have a suspect?”

“We believe the attack on Dirk Hastings last night was perpetrated by the same individual responsible for the deaths of Bastwick and Ledo. Mr. Hastings was injured, but has made a full recovery. The newest sketch of the suspect has already been distributed to all of you, so there’s no point in asking questions I’m not going to answer anyway on that element. The suspect fled when interrupted by a guest in Mr. Hastings’s residence. No, I will not reveal the identity of the witness.”

With thinning patience, she waited out the next barrage of questions. “We are evaluating all evidence, pursuing all leads, and will continue to do so until the suspect is identified and apprehended. I’ll add the suspect has my full attention.”