Apprentice in Death (In Death #43)(41)

“A lot of my best men worked with Mac. Susann’s cousin’s on the job, a friend of mine. That’s how they met.”

A former cop, Eve thought, with twenty in, would have a lot of friends and connections on the job.

“Pick carefully. And remember he’s responsible for seven deaths, and one of them was a cop. A twenty-three-year-old uniform whose last act was trying to shield another victim. Mackie gets wind we’ve ID’d him, he’ll either rabbit or he’ll go the last-stand route.”

“He won’t rabbit.” Pale, Lowenbaum scrubbed at his face again, pressed his fingers hard against his eyes. “Give me a few minutes to settle into this, order my thoughts. I know him as well as anybody, I’d say.”

“And the kid? Do you know the kid?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know Will, a little anyway. She idolizes him. She’s been in some trouble here and there—school shit—and her mother remarried, had another kid. It’s split custody with Will. Let me organize this in my head. We have to stop him, and I’d like him to be alive after we do. Let me think.”

“Think here. Peabody, find our conference room.”

“It’s A.”

“Let’s take what we’ve got, move this there. I need you in ten, Lowenbaum, organized or not.”

“Ten’s good.”

Within five, Eve was putting her board together, putting her thoughts together, putting the outline of an op together.

When her detectives and uniforms began to file in, she glanced back at Uniform Carmichael.

“Uniform Carmichael, I need the following people brought in for protective custody. Brian T. Fine, Zoe Younger, Lincoln Stuben, Zach Younger Stuben, age seven, Marta Beck. Peabody will give you home and work addresses. If these individuals don’t cooperate, arrest them for impeding a police investigation. Send out whatever people you need, and get those individuals into Central as soon as possible. You’ll be fully briefed subsequently. Peabody, get him those addresses—home and employment. No chatter, Carmichael. Absolutely none.”

“No chatter, LT. Absolutely none.”

Eve went back to her board as Feeney came in with Roarke and McNab, as Lowenbaum—no longer pale—followed.

“Grab chairs, grab coffee if you need it. We start as soon as the commander and Mira are in the room.”

Roarke moved to her, spoke quietly. “It’s one of yours?” At her nod, he simply looked into her eyes, didn’t touch her as he wanted. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

She heard Mira’s heels—brisk, brisk, brisk. “Maybe you can see if there’s any of that flower tea crap Mira drinks in this AutoChef. This is going to take a while. You didn’t order in a bunch of food, did you?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t. This is the sort of thing you’re better off going into hungry.”

She already had Mackie’s ID photo—along with Yancy’s sketch. Willow Mackie’s beside it on the board. And the room full of cops muttered and mumbled around it.

Then Whitney stepped in—with Chief Tibble—and the room silenced.

“Lieutenant,” Tibble said, and moved to a chair. “You have the room.”

“Yes, sir. Everybody, take a seat, listen up.”





8


Eve turned to the board.

“Our suspects are Reginald Mackie, age fifty-four, former Tactical officer, NYPSD.” She expected the mutters, rode over them. “And his daughter, Willow Mackie, age fifteen. We’ve identified these suspects through an eyewitness working with Detective Yancy. In addition to the physical identification, Mackie fits the profile. He was Army, weapons specialist and instructor, and for the last dozen years was part of our own Tactical unit.”

She paused, focused on the image of an attractive woman. “While Willow Mackie was produced with his first wife, that relationship ended in divorce several years ago, and in joint custody of the minor child. Zoe Younger subsequently remarried and has a second offspring. Younger, her husband, and younger child are now being taken into protective custody. I believe the impetus for the recent strikes stems from the death of Mackie’s second wife, Susann Prinz Mackie, shown here, and the fetus she carried. They died in a traffic accident in November of 2059. The full incident report is available, but to sum up: Mrs. Mackie ran out into the street into oncoming traffic and was struck and killed. Accident reconstruction as well as eight eyewitnesses confirmed the driver, Brian T. Fine, was not at fault. Mr. Fine is also being brought into protective custody.

“Mrs. Mackie’s doctor—whose offices are roughly a block from the accident scene—was Brent Michaelson, a victim in the strikes on Wollman Rink in Central Park yesterday. The first-on-scene at Susann Prinz Mackie’s accident, and the officer in charge, was Kevin Russo, who was killed in the line of duty at Times Square this afternoon.”

Eve stopped, looked at Mira. “Dr. Mira, would you concur Reginald Mackie is targeting individuals connected in some way to his wife’s death?”

“I’ll familiarize myself with all the data as soon as possible, but yes. The evidence clearly shows the suspect is targeting specific people through this connection. The others are a kind of cover. He has reached a point where these lives mean nothing. And to have involved his teenage daughter . . . I would say he believes this is not only revenge but justice.