Apprentice in Death (In Death #43)(52)

Eve stayed back. Lowenbaum was clear, precise, accurate. He fielded follow-ups with more patience than she might have.

But when she’d heard enough, just enough, she moved forward again.

“If you want to angle a story that blames the department for the actions of a retired officer, go do that. But right now there are two suspects at large. You have their names, you have their faces. Maybe you should push forward with your trumpet call of the public’s right to know and get this information out there. It might save a life. We’re ending this session so we can go to work and make certain we save lives.”





10


Lowenbaum caught up with her—Eve moved fast—took her arm. “They may have a point.”

“The reporters? Most of them only have a point on the top of their heads.”

“I didn’t see a killer, Dallas. He was one of mine, and I didn’t see what he was.”

“Because he wasn’t.” She had to keep moving, but she also needed Lowenbaum, and needed him steady. “If that was in him all along, the Army missed it, the NYPSD missed it, his former LT missed it. Testing missed it. What makes you so damn special?

“And where’s that gum you always have?”

Perplexed, Lowenbaum pulled it out of his pocket as they worked their way through the maze of glides toward Homicide. “You want?”

“No. It smells purple. How do you chew something that smells purple?”

Since it was in his hand, Lowenbaum unwrapped a piece, popped it in. “I used to smoke.”

“And Mackie used to be a pretty solid cop. Things change. Our job’s to stop him, and after that it’s Mira territory.” She paused outside her bullpen, took a good look at him, and saw what she felt in herself. Anger, frustration, and adrenaline warring with bone-deep exhaustion.

“Tactical has scenarios, right, for containing attacks throughout the city? Your basic plays?”

“Yeah, and we’ve been running them holographically since the first strike. I’ve got the tech guys running probabilities—feeding them data as we get it—trying to project when and where he’ll strike next. It’s a crapshoot.”

“What’s your sense? Once he sees we’ve ID’d him and his daughter? Pause and reflect or up the schedule?”

“He’s had months to pause and reflect. He’ll want to take down as many targets as possible.”

“Agreed. We’ve got all but three where he can’t get to them. Talk to your men. Maybe, just maybe, he mentioned names.”

“Been doing that, but I’ll try a different angle.”

“Do that. Good talk. I’ve got people to interrogate.”

She left him looking bemused, and strode into the bullpen.

“Reports.” She snapped everyone to attention. “Younger first. Go.” She pointed at Baxter.

“Right call to have Trueheart soften her. She came in with a chip on the shoulder, bitching for a lawyer, demanding blah-blah. And where was her daughter? Trueheart suggested she contact the daughter, and the chip started wobbling some when she was unable to reach same, when she contacted the school and was told Willow Mackie was no longer a student at that facility. She started to ream the school office a new one, but they had the paperwork—with her signature along with Mackie’s.”

“Her reaction to that?”

“Pissed off and scared. Trueheart played both. Over to you,” he told his partner.

Trueheart shifted in his shiny black shoes. “She said she never signed anything, and that rang true. She believes Mackie abducted their daughter, so I worked that. We put out an Amber Alert, and she was more cooperative in providing information.”

“Such as?”

“She last saw her daughter three days ago, when she left to switch off to Mackie. They haven’t communicated, which Younger stated wasn’t unusual. Her relationship with her daughter has been somewhat strained for the last several months.”

Trueheart hesitated, then lifted his shoulder. “I think longer than that, but it got bigger, harder over the last several months. Ms. Younger stated Willow idolizes her father, resents the stepfather, often picks fights with her younger brother and/or her mother. Ms. Younger feels it’s a stage, but has tried to persuade the daughter and Mackie toward family counseling.”

Trueheart shifted his feet again. “She cried a lot, Lieutenant, claimed she hated her daughter’s obsession—her word—with weapons, but as it was Willow’s only real interest and outlet, and a connection to her father, she didn’t want to forbid it. Couldn’t have, as the shared custody put Willow out of her supervision half the time.”

“Round it up for me.”

“She’s scared and she’s holding on to the belief Mackie has the girl against her will, or at least is deceiving the girl. But . . .”

“Finish it.”

“I think, I feel, she’s as scared of her daughter as she is scared for her.”

“Good. I can use that. Interview A?”

“We just had her brought up. She’s pissed again,” Baxter added. “Wants to go home, doesn’t like being brought up and separated from her husband and son.”

“I’ll use that, too. Who took Marta Beck?”