Divided in Death

“I am a cop, so just throttle back. Hands off,” she snapped when he started to reach for the boy. “Give it over, ace.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Lemme go. My ma’s waiting.”

“Whoever’s waiting missed the pass, so give me this man’s wallet and let’s call it a day. You’re good,” she said studying his soft, lightly freckled face. “Not only look harmless, but you’ve got good hands. Slick and smooth. If I hadn’t been right here, you’d have gotten away clean.”

“Officer, I want this delinquent arrested.”

“Give it a rest.” Eve reached into the goodie pouch inside the boy’s jacket, pulled out a billfold. Flipped it open and read the ID. “Marcus.” She tossed him the wallet. “You’ve got your property back. No harm, no foul.”

“He belongs in jail.”

She had a strong hold on the boy now, and felt him tremble. She thought of Roarke ru

“Fine. Let’s all go downtown and spend the next couple of hours filling out forms.”

“I don’t have time-”

“Then you’d better catch that cab.”

“It’s hardly a wonder the city is overrun with crime when the police treat law-abiding citizens with such disdain.”

“Yeah, that must be the reason,” she replied as he climbed into the cab, slammed the door. “And you’re welcome, sunshine.”

She hauled the kid around, studied his young, angry face. “Name, and don’t bother to lie, just give me the first name.”

“Billy.”

She saw it was a lie, but let it pass. “Okay, Billy, like I said, you’re good. But not that good. Next time you’re going to get caught by somebody without my mushy compassionate nature and wi

“Shit.” But he gri

“Ever been in juvie?”

“Maybe.”

“If you have, you know it sucks. Food’s lousy and they lecture you every damn day, which is worse. You got a problem at home, or wherever, need some help, you call this number.”

She dragged a card out of her pocket.

“Dufus? What the hell is that?”

“Duchas. It’s a shelter. Hell of a lot better than juvie,” she said when he sneered. “You can tell them Dallas sent you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Put it in your pocket. Don’t throw it away until you’re out of sight at least. No point in insulting me after I kept your ass out of lockup.”

“You hadn’t caught me, I’d have the wallet.”

Smartass, she thought. God, she had a weakness for a smartass. “Well, you’ve got me there. Scram.”

He bolted, then spun around, gri

And that, she figured, was a better thanks than the suit had managed. Feeling marginally better, she hailed a cab of her own.

She gave the driver Reva Ewing’s home address. He turned around, gave her a pained stare.

“You want I should drive you to fricking Queens?”

“Yes. I want you should drive me to fricking Queens.”

“Lady, I gotta make a living here. Whyn’t you take a bus or the subway or an airtram?”

“Because I’m taking a cab.” She yanked out her badge, pressed it to the safety shield that caged in the driver. “And I gotta make a living here, too.”

“Oh jeez, lady, now you’re go

“I’ll give you the standard fare, but get this bucket of shit moving.” She shoved her badge away. “And don’t call me lady.”

She ruined the driver’s evening when she told him to wait, then recorded his name and license number to ensure he did. He drooped behind the wheel as she got out to unseal and unlock the gates.

“How long am I supposed to wait?”

“Let’s see. Oh yeah. Until I get back.”

EDD had removed the statuary, and it was an improvement. Still, she imagined Reva would sell the place. She wouldn’t want to live where she’d lived with the man who used and betrayed her.

She unsealed and unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

It had the feel of an empty house, an abandoned one. A home that was finished, she supposed, being a home.

She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she wandered the house much as she’d wandered the streets. Just to see what popped out at her.

The sweepers and EDD had both combed the place. The faint, metallic smell of chemicals lingered. To satisfy herself she browsed through Bissel’s closet. Large wardrobe, expensive clothes. She knew how to recognize expensive material and cuts now.

He’d indulged himself in the two-level space with its revolving racks, automatic drawers, computerized menu of contents, and their location.

Jesus, even Roarke didn’t computerize his wardrobe. Of course, his brain was a damn computer so he probably knew just where the specific black shirt he wanted would be, when he’d last worn it, for what occasion, and with what pants and jacket. Shoes. Fricking underwear.

She blew out a breath and scowled at the little wall screen.

Bissel hadn’t fried his closet unit. Because there was nothing on there worth bothering with, or because there was something on there he wanted to retrieve?

Curious, she engaged it. “List last wardrobe selection, and date.”

Working… Last selection on September 16, at twenty-one sixteen, by Bissel, Blair. Contents removed as follows…

She listened to the list, mentally matching it with the contents taken from Bissel’s bags and Kade’s closet after the murders. They seemed to jibe.

“Okay, let’s try this. Last use of this unit by Bissel, Blair, for any purpose.”

Last usage September 23, at oh six hundred twelve hours.

“This morning, the son of a bitch was here this morning? What was the purpose of usage?”

Purpose blocked. Privacy engaged.

“Yeah, screw that.” She keyed in her police code, her badge number, and spent several a

The sound was hollow in the lavish space. “Well, what’s this?” She crouched and began to thump and press on the wall.

She considered, briefly, hunting up a really big knife and just hacking at the wallboard. But cooler heads prevailed. Instead she pulled out her communicator and contacted Feeney.

“I’m in Queens, in Bissel’s closet.”

“What the hell you doing in a closet in Queens?”

“Just listen, he was here. This morning. There’s a comp menu thing in the closet. He used it this morning, but the little bastard won’t tell me why. Privacy block. And there’s something behind the wall here, a hidey-hole or something. How do I get the computer to let me in?”

“You beat on it yet?”

“No.” She perked up a bit. “Can I?”

“Won’t do any good. Can you open her up?”

“I don’t have any tools.”

“You can give me a look at it, and I can try to walk you through, or one of us can come over there and work on it. Probably be faster to deploy one of the team.”

“That’s an insult, and don’t think I don’t know it. It’s a damn closet menu, Feeney, get me in.”

He puffed out his cheeks, made little noises while she sca

He read it off as she input the numbers manually. “What’s this? A privacy override?”

“Just keep going. Snap your fingers and say, ‘Open Sesame.’”

She started to obey, then set her teeth. “Feeney.”

“Okay, okay, just a little joke. Code’s from the data we’ve been pulling out here. Let’s see if he used it on that unit, too.”

“Computer, what was removed by Blair Bissel at last usage?”

Working… Contents listed as emergency package.

“Emergency package. What was in the emergency package?”

That data is not available.

“Computer, open the compartment from which said emergency package was removed.”