Page 69 of Devoted in Death

“He trained me. Best cop I know, and I know some good cops.”

“He said how if you’re on the trail of these two, you won’t stop till you bag them.”

“Are you asking a question or making a statement, Banner?”

“Maybe both.”

With breathless relief, she pushed off on her level of the garage. “Dorian Kuper,” she said. “He wasn’t the first, but he was my first on this. Played the cello, has a mother who’ll never get over this. Turned out to be a friend of a friend.”

“I saw him on your board.”

“That’s right. And so will I, every day until this is done. This is my ride.”

She saw surprise before he covered it, then hit the codes to unlock the doors. Surprise flickered again when he folded himself in and the seat adjusted for him.

“Sure is comfortable.”

“Gets me where I’m going.” She pulled out, did the arcing turn to the exit. Paused briefly, studying the traffic, the road conditions. “Goddamn winter,” she muttered, and zipped out fast enough to have Banner subtly adjusting his safety harness.

“She moves, too.”

“Why do men think about cars as female?”

“It’s love, I suppose. You’ll excuse me for gawking,” he added as he did just that, craning his neck to get a better angle on the ad blimp currently hawking a blizzard sale as it crept along a slate-gray sky. “I didn’t see much on the way in. Preoccupied,” he explained, clearing his throat softly as Eve nosed between a Rapid Cab and a creeping Mini. “Didn’t know what to expect when I got to Cop Central.”

She cut around a corner, just beating the WALK signals and the pedestrians pushing to flood through.

“I sure didn’t expect to be riding through the city with a big-city badge on the way to check out a lead.”

“I don’t know if it reaches ‘lead’ at this point. Missing’s Wayne Potter, age sixty-three, twice divorced, three offspring with three more between them. Worked as a furniture mover. Last seen August eighteen.”

She cut the next corner, slapped vertical and skimmed over a slow-moving panel van.

“He’d rented a camper,” she went on, “was allegedly going on a two-week vacation. He and the camper were last seen in the vicinity of Louisville, Kentucky. He never came back, and both he and the camper poofed.”

“Sounds like it could fit in pretty smooth.”

“It could. Or Potter, who apparently despised and was despised by both his ex-wives, had little to no relationship with his remaining family—including a brother to whom he owed about seven thousand dollars—decided to just keep going, and is currently camped somewhere thumbing his nose at New York and everyone in it.”

She considered her options, thought fuck it, and double-parked.

“Basement unit, this building.” She flipped up her On Duty light as blasting horns serenaded.

Ignoring them, Eve eased out, skirted the hood. “You carrying, Banner?”

“My service weapon. I had to check it when I came into Central, but Detective Peabody arranged for me to get it back.”

“Be ready,” she advised as she approached the building. “But don’t get twitchy.”

“I’ve only had to pull it four times since I’ve been on the job, and never once had to fire it.”

It was hard for Eve to imagine, but she nodded. “That’s a good record to hold on to.”

She flipped back her coat, rested one hand on her weapon, took out her badge with the other.

Minimal security on the door, she noted, bars on the windows.

“Hit the buzzer.”