Seduction In Death

He reached over, closed the briefcase, brushed at his suit jacket. "Our game's over," he mumbled. "I win." He hit the panic button under the table, then crouched down, began tapping Kevin's cheeks with his hand.

"He passed out," he told the guard. "Went into a rant about not being able to stand the thought of prison, then collapsed. He needs medical attention."

And while his dying friend was being carried to medical, Lucias Dunwood walked briskly out of Cop Central.

Whitney and Roarke were sharing after-di

He was still gri

"I don't know how the pair of you stay so fit with the menu to choose from in this place."

Amusement slid slyly over Roarke's face as he lifted his cup. "We… work out a lot. Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yeah, exercise is the key to good health. I'm glad you enjoyed your meal, sir. Feeney's on the electronics. I've arranged for surveillance on Dunwood's townhouse and his mother's home. Peabody's standing by to run any new data as it comes in. I goosed CSU, and they report they found blood on the living room floor and rug that matches McNamara's type. O Neg. Dunwood's also O Neg, but with some pressure on the tech on duty at the lab I had him run the full DNA. Early indications are it's McNamara's, sir. We'll confirm that before morning."

Whitney puffed on the cigar, a small luxury his wife denied him. "Do you ever wind down, Dallas?" At her blank look, he shook his head. "Sit down. Have some coffee. Everything's being done that can be done. We can't move until the PA reports in."

"She won't argue if it's an order," Roarke pointed out.

"I hate to, in her own house. Please." Whitney pointed to a chair. "Roarke tells me you're off to Mexico for two weeks. Have you put in for the time?"

"No, sir." Restless and reluctant, she sat. "I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Consider it taken care of. You're an exceptional cop, Lieutenant. Exceptional cops burn out faster than mediocre ones. A good marriage helps. I can attest to that. Children," he added, then laughed at her expression of sheer horror. "When the time comes. Friendships. Family. In other words, a life. Outside the job. Without it, you can forget why you do what you do. Why it matters that every time you close a case and put one down, there's one less."

"Yes, sir."

"I think since I've sat here eating your food, smoking your man's very excellent cigar, you could call me Jack."

She thought about it for about three seconds. "No, sir. I'm sorry. I can't."

He leaned back, blew a lazy smoke ring. "Ah well," he said, and his communicator beeped.

He went from relaxed to command in a single heartbeat. "Whitney."

"Bail is hereby revoked," the PA a

Whitney waited while they spit out of the data slot. "Good work." He shoved the communicator away. "Lieutenant. Let's go do the job."

When Roarke rose as well, Whitney inclined his head. "The civilian consultant on this case has requested permission to accompany us, and that request has been granted." He handed her the paperwork. "Do you have a problem with that. Lieutenant? As primary."

She sucked in a breath as Roarke gave her an easy smile. "A lot of good it would do me, so no, sir, I have no problem with it."

Sarah Dunwood lived in a two-level apartment in a quiet building only blocks from her son. Security pissed around with the usual "retired for the evening," "not receiving visitors," until Eve drilled through the muck with badge, warrant, and bitter threats.

"Impressive" Whitney commented as they stepped on the elevator. "But tell me, is it technologically possible to rip out a mother board and stuff it up a computer's ass?"

"I've never had to follow through, sir. The threat's usually sufficient. Dunwood's likely to resist," she continued. "He won't like being thwarted this way, and his instinct will be to attack before his control snaps back." She hesitated. "Commander, I'd like to arm the consultant. For his own protection."

"That's your call, Lieutenant."

Nodding, she bent down, released her clutch piece from its ankle grip. "It's on low stun, and it stays there. It doesn't come into your hand, it is not deployed unless you're in immediate physical jeopardy. Clear?"

"Crystal, Lieutenant." Roarke slid the weapon into his pocket as they stepped out on the Dun woods' floor.

"I'm at point," she continued. "We do this fast. Go in, locate, and restrain. I want you to clear any and all civilians out of the area."

She buzzed, and the instant the door opened, pushed inside. "Police. Bail for Lucias Dunwood has been revoked. He's ordered to turn himself over to my authority immediately."

"You can't come in this way! Miss Sarah! Miss Sarah!"

Roarke drew the shrieking maid aside, clearing Eve's path. "You'll want to sit down now, before you get hurt."

Sca

"What is it? What's the matter? Who are you?"

She was a small, rail-thin woman with a gleam of curly red hair, disordered now, and a mildly pretty face spoiled by bruising under her left eye and along the soft curve of her jaw.

"Mrs. Dunwood?"

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Dunwood. You're the police. You're the woman who arrested my son."

"I'm Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD." She offered her badge, but her eyes tracked for any movement and her ears were pricked for any sound. "Lucias Dunwood's bail has been revoked. I'm here to take him into custody."

"You can't. I paid. The judge – "

"I have the revocation order and the warrant. Mrs. Dunwood, is your son upstairs?"

"He's not here. You can't have him."

"Did he do that to your face?" „

There was terror now in the pitch of her voice. "I fell. Why won't you leave him alone?" She began to cry. "He's just a boy."

"That boy killed your father."

"That's not true. That can't be true." She covered her face with her hands and broke into wild sobs.

"Commander?"

"Go. Mrs. Dunwood, you need to sit down."

Leaving the men to deal with the hysteria, Eve laid her hand on her weapon and started her search. She went upstairs first, trusting Lucias could be dealt with if he made any move on the lower level. She swept each room, entered, searched. When she came to a locked door, she drew out her master, bypassed the locks.

He'd kept a room here, she noted as she stepped inside. A pampered, indulged boy's room full of high-class toys. The entertainment unit spread over an entire wall – video, audio, screen, game components. The data and communication center took up most of an L-shaped counter. Shelves were stocked tight with discs, books, mementos.

There was a mini-lab, fully equipped, set up in the adjoining room.

In both areas, the drapes were drawn tight over the windows, the doors locked to the outside hallways. It was a little world of secrets, she thought.

She searched the closets first, found more wigs stored in clear boxes along with what she assumed he considered his secondary wardrobe.

In the bath she found traces of face putty and face base on the counter.

No, he wasn't here, she thought. And he hadn't walked out as himself.