Promises in Death (In Death #28)(78)

“I want all the data on his financials. All his financials. You understand me?”

“Yes. You’ll have it.”

“He takes trips, vacations, and so on without you. Time off where you wouldn’t keep tabs on him.”

“Of course.”

Times he could’ve visited Omega, Eve thought. “Do you know who your father has in Coltraine’s squad?”

“No. I don’t know that he has anyone, not that I can confirm. He was always proprietary about that kind of thing.”

“What did you and your father talk about when you visited him on Omega?”

“Nothing that applies to this.”

“Everything applies to this.”

Anger flashed across his face. “Understand I’m under no obligation to answer you, or to cooperate in this matter. But I’ll tell you that I made it clear to my father I wouldn’t be back, wouldn’t communicate with him in any way. That I’d come to see him only because I wanted to look at him—this last time—and know he was exactly where I wanted him to be.”

“And his response?”

“He didn’t need me, or want me. He promised to bring me down, and when he was done with me I’d have nothing. As nothing was what I deserved. That was the gist.”

Alex closed his eyes, fought for control. “What could he have offered Rod to have him do this? What could he have promised him he couldn’t have asked me for?”

“You’re going to tell me everything you know about Sandy, everything not on his official data. And you’re going to get me those financials. While you do, Detective Baxter’s going to turn his room inside out. Record on,” she ordered. “Mr. Ricker, do we have your permission to search the quarters of Rod Sandy on this premises, at this time?”

“Yes, you do. You have my permission to search his room, my permission to hunt him down like a dog. My permission to do whatever it takes to take him down. Is that enough?”

“It’s a good start. Baxter.”

“I’m on it.”

Eve sat. “Tell me about Rod Sandy.”

16

EVE PUSHED, SHOVED, AND BULLIED HER WAY through Saturday morning traffic. Beside her, Baxter worked furiously on the in-dash auxiliary computer.

“We need an e-man if we want to get into some of these accounts,” he told her. “I can pull up the standard ones. No major activity over the last ten days. But the others are trickier. It’s going to take me some time.”

“I’ve got an e-man. Recheck the transportation.”

“He didn’t get on any public transpo out of the city, not using his legit ID. Private’s going to take longer. And private’s the way he’d go. He could’ve taken a cab or a car service out of New York and picked up a private any damn where with the lead he’s got on us.”

“He’s got to tap one of his accounts.” There was always a trail, Eve thought, and money was the biggest breadcrumb. “And he’ll contact Ricker on Omega. He does what he’s told. He’s a drone, just a goddamn drone. He’ll follow instructions, if not direct from Ricker, then from whoever Ricker’s got working him.”

“He panicked, left with the clothes on his back, whatever cash he had, probably some files. But the panic’s working for him.”

“Not for long. He may get out, get away, but he’s already a dead man. Jesus, Baxter,” she said when he turned to her. “Ricker’s not going to let him run loose. His value just bottomed out. He’s worthless. We find him first or Ricker’s going to shut him down.”

Too impatient to wait for the gates, Eve hit vertical and soared over them. Baxter said, “Yee-haw.”

“We find which account he tapped.” Eve tore down the drive. “When he tapped it, and backtrack to where he was when he tapped it. We search on private transpo, starting in the city, working out. And we call in the locals on all of Sandy’s and all of Alex Ricker’s residences. He’ll want a place to catch his breath, to pick up more of his things. If he’s got any brains, and he does, he’ll be quick about that and he’s already gone. But we find out where he was, and we’ll start tracking where he goes from there.”

She swung out of the car, strode up the steps.

“You.” She jabbed a finger at the lurking Summerset. “Be useful. Contact Feeney and McNab, tell them I need them here. Now. Baxter, call in your boy,” she added as she headed upstairs.

“You recall,” Summerset called after her, “you’re hostessing a bridal shower in approximately six hours.”

The sound Eve made was perilously close to a scream.

“Bridal shower?” Baxter repeated.

“Shut up. Shut up. Never speak of it.” She rounded toward her office and nearly ran into Morris.

Baxter pulled up short. “Ah, hey, Morris.”

“You’ve got something,” Morris said.

“Got someone, lost him, now we’re going to find him.” She pushed past him, then let out an oath when she saw the connecting door between her office and Roarke’s was closed. The red light over it indicated he was working.

She’d owe him, she told herself. Big-time.

She knocked.

When he opened the door, irritation sparked in his eyes. “Eve. Closed door. Red light.”