Echoes in Death (In Death #44)(103)

“You didn’t have enough.”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda,” Olsen said under her breath. “But we’ve got it now.”

“Record on.” Eve pressed the buzzer.

“Dallas? I’m betting that cam goes to a screen in most every room in the place.” McNab stood casually, orange earflaps over his bedecked lobes, kept his back to the cam, and his voice low. “Audio, too.”

“Hmm. It’s a good thing we’re cleared to enter whether or not the resident is home.” Eve didn’t keep her voice low. “I’m going to give it another buzz or two, in case he’s a late sleeper. Peabody, you can get the battering ram out of the vehicle if the occupant doesn’t answer.”

It took less than thirty seconds more for the locks to click. Kyle opened the door, casual sweater, pants, skids. Because she knew him—she knew him—Eve watched him paint a mask of fear over his face.

“Neville and Rosa. Something happened. God, what—”

“Nope.” Eve held up the warrant. “We are authorized to enter this building and search same. Please step back.”

“What? Wait a damn minute.”

“You need to step back,” Eve said when he tried to block the door. “Now,” she added, shoving her shoulder against it as he started to slam it shut.

“You can’t just break in here,” he began.

“Warrant, read it.”

“I don’t give a goddamn about some ridiculous warrant. This is private property. This is my home. Get out.”

“Mr. Knightly.” Tredway’s voice stayed cool as ice. “You don’t want to interfere with a duly executed warrant.”

“Fuck you and your warrant.” Rage stained red over his face; insult glittered in his eyes. “We’ll see what my lawyer has to say.”

“Yeah, you see what your lawyer has to say. Peabody, take this first area, McNab, all electronics.”

Kyle shouldered Olsen aside, pushed his face into Eve’s. There was the pure, hot, violent fury, unmasked, she’d waited for. “You touch anything, you so much as lay a finger on an inch of my home, I’ll have your badge, you arrogant bitch. You touch nothing!” He dragged his ’link out of his pocket. “My lawyer will deal with this, and you.”

“Peabody, Olsen, Tredway.” After each name, Eve pointed in a direction. “You’re in my way, Mr. Knightly.”

“Get out of my house. Marco, get Wesley on the ’link. I don’t give a fuck who he’s talking to! Get him now!”

“You need to move, Mr. Knightly.”

“You need to move,” he snapped back, and shoved her.

Eve signaled the others to stay back with a hand held down at her side. Oh, yeah, she knew him. And just which buttons to push.

“You may think you’re in charge here, but you’re wrong. I’m in charge. You’re going to do what I tell you to do and step back. You don’t want to lay a hand on me again.”

“You don’t tell me what to do! Get out of my house.” He backhanded her. She could’ve dodged it—he telegraphed the move—but she wanted the hit, wanted the taste of blood in her mouth.

She heard four weapons slap out of their harnesses.

“Stand down,” she said easily. “I’ve got this.”

As she lifted a hand to wipe the blood from her mouth, she shot her foot out, swept it, and took his legs out from under him.

He fell hard, as she’d meant him to.

She pulled her restraints, pressed her knee into the small of his back, yanked his arms behind his back as he struggled and spat obscenities. “Kyle Knightly, you’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer.” She leaned down closer. “Believe me, other charges will follow. Peabody, send for a couple of uniforms in a black-and-white to take Mr. Knightly into Central for booking. No rush,” she added.

She pulled her comm. “Baxter, he’s not going to rabbit. Come on in, give us a hand.”

Tredway hauled Knightly to his feet. “I’ve got him, Dallas. Why don’t we have a seat?”

“Take your hands off me. Get these things off me. Do you know who I am?”

“I know exactly who you are,” Eve said.

She watched his face, his eyes as she wandered the large, open, sleekly furnished main level. Plenty of rage—he shook with rage—but no fear, not yet.

Then she saw it, watched it leap through the rage as she started up the first curve of open iron steps.

“Up here, isn’t it?”

His bedroom and an office area both opened onto the wide balcony that overlooked the main level. But beyond, snug behind a jog in the wall, was a large door, closed and locked.

She tapped on it, heard the ring of metal.

“McNab.”

“Yo.” He came double time.

“Can you bypass the security on this?”

“Wowzer. As much as he’s got on the exterior. It’ll take some time, but I’ll get you in.”

“Let me know.”

She walked back to the bedroom, and Trueheart came upstairs. “Baxter said you might want some help up here.”

“Take the office, Detective. Let’s be thorough.”

She found porn—no law against it—some sex aids for solo flights. He wouldn’t bring women here, she thought. No need for women here.