Page 129 of Obsession in Death

“I have things I need,” Nadine began, and continued to gather discs and notes into a bag that could hold a baby elephant.

She already had a suitcase the size of Montana packed and ready.

“If you have witnesses to interview,” Peabody complained from the ’link, “I should be there.”

“I’ve got it covered. If you want to be up half the night, work on the new parameters. Have your e-genius run a search and match using the refinements Roarke made. If anything else comes through, I’ll let you know.”

“But—”

“She’s gone, Peabody. We won’t take her down tonight. But contact hospitals—emergency treatment centers, walk-in clinics. Maybe she’s burned bad enough to need medicals. Maybe she’d risk it. Hit facilities in your own neighborhood first. Let’s play the angle she lives close to my old place. Any hits, I hear about it, otherwise, zip it. Tomorrow,” she added, and cut transmission.

She turned to one of the uniforms who was waiting. “You get something?”

“A couple of teenage girls, Lieutenant, two floors down. Bocco family, apartment seven-twelve. Girls are Savannah Bocco, Thea Rossi, both age sixteen. They rode up in the elevator with her.” He handed her a pair of discs in an evidence bag. “Security feed from the exterior and the elevator, sir. No hallway cams in this building.”

“Good. Secure this unit once Ms. Furst is the hell out of it. Expand the canvass to emergency treatment centers and clinics in the area. She’s burned, right hand and/or wrist. Try outlets that sell medical supplies—over-the-counter burn meds, pain meds.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nadine!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She’d changed into black skin pants, boots, sweater, had actually taken time to slap some gunk on her face and fuss with her hair.

Eve all but shoved her out of the apartment. “Make certain she’s secure,” she told the transport officers. “In and locked down.”

“I appreciate the hospitality,” Nadine said, “however rudely offered.”

“Get the hell out.”

She turned to Roarke. “I’m going to talk to the teenagers—God help us all. You can be Peabody, if you swear not to sulk.”

“I think I can mask my bruised feelings. She wants to help—and be in on the action,” he added as Eve stepped out.

“She is helping, and there’s not likely to be much action.”

He patted her back, called for the seventh floor in the elevator. “A bit more action than there would’ve been, don’t you think, if Nadine hadn’t opened the goddamn motherfucking door.”

Eve just leaned back against the wall a moment. “If the bitch had gotten a better angle through the gap, Nadine’s dead. That chain wouldn’t have stopped her. No hallway cams, apartments around her soundproofed. You could see the bolt on the chain was already compromised on the jamb. A few good kicks, it gives, and that’s that.”

“If,” Roarke repeated. “And if didn’t happen.”

“What did happen is Nadine didn’t think.” She stepped out on seven. “And okay, yeah, yeah, I can see how it went in her head. A routine, the producer, what struck as a standard e-mail from the job. And at the push, she wasn’t fatally stupid. But it’s the kind of daily action, the acting on auto, that proves this individual can get to anyone. Louise gets an emergency call, heads out. Mavis takes five in her dressing room. Reo gets a damn messengered packet from her boss, whatever.

“She’s revved up now, blocked up, needs the release, needs the win. She’ll take more chances.”

“Taking chances leads to making mistakes.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to catch her mistake when I’m standing over the body of a dead friend.” She pushed the buzzer on the Bocco apartment, held her badge up to the security peep.

The door opened a couple inches, hit the chain. Eve considered giving it a few kicks just to see how many it would take.

“Mr. Bocco? Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and civilian consultant. We’d like to speak with Savannah, and with Thea Rossi.”

“Could I see your badge again?”

“Sure.” Eve held it to the gap, figured if she’d been a crazed killer she could’ve stunned the man between the eyes in under three seconds.

“Sorry. We’re a little nervous.” He closed the door, released the chain, opened it again. A long-eared dog with short legs hobbled over to sniff at her boots, at Roarke’s, then wagged the entire back end of its body.