New York to Dallas (15 page)

That got a snicker out of Annalyn. “I dated a guy named Colin Magee way back in the day. He was mostly Irish. His ass was pretty white.”

“You dated everybody back in the day,” Bree said, but her eyes stayed fixed on the door to the back room, as if she could will Vik to return with what they needed.

“I’ve always preferred the sampler menu. Take a few bites, then try something else. So how’s juggling cop and marriage?” she asked Eve.

“You’re never hungry. Tell me, is this Vik’s memory as good as he makes it sound?”

“Every bit,” Annalyn confirmed. “He rattled off the name of every regular when we first came in, and his opinion on same. Detailed the work schedules, gave us former employees in case one of them had come back and done it out of spite.”

He waddled through the door again with a printout. “Used the plastic. Chester H. Gibbons.”

He passed the printout to Bree.

“Thanks, Mr. Vik. This is a big help.”

“She did what you say, I hope you get her good. After she didn’t come back, I tried to get her on her ’link, even went over to her place. Worried about her—and felt guilty, too. She’d cleared out, and I figured she was too upset to stay.” He shook his head, eyed Roarke. “You don’t look like a cop.”

“I’m not, and thank you for noticing.”

“Irish, are you? Never knew a Mick—no offense—didn’t know how to drink. You come back any time, we’ll fix you up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ve got a couple questions,” Eve began.

“Now
you
look like a cop.”

“I am, thanks for noticing.”

Vik’s smiled flickered in appreciation. “But you ain’t from around here.”

“New York. You’ve got an impressive memory, Mr. Vik. When did Sarajo start working for you?”

“Would’ve been middle of August last year. She came in—Saturday night, it was, looking for work. Business was good, so I said she could work then and there. If she did good, I’d give her some hours. You could tell she’d worked bars before. She knew how to get the drinks out, when to talk, when to shut up. Good-looking. Even drunks like having a good-looking woman serve them drinks.”

“You didn’t ask her any questions?”

“Not then, but sure, before I hired her on official. She said her man left her in Laredo, and she wanted a fresh start. She did the job. Wasn’t especially friendly, but she did the job.”

“An observant sort such as yourself would’ve known she was a user.”

He lifted his shoulders; his gut flowed like the tide. “Maybe I figured she gave herself a boost here and there. I didn’t see it, and it didn’t screw with her work. So not my business.”

“How often did she lock up?”

“Once, maybe twice a week. After she’d worked here awhile, she asked if she could work that shift a couple times a week, or more if I wanted. Two of the other waitresses, they got kids. She didn’t. It worked out. What the hell you want her for? This isn’t for crying rape or using some boosters.”

“No, but they both play. She won’t come back here, Mr. Vik, but if you happen to see her anywhere in your travels, don’t approach her. Contact Detective Jones or Detective Walker. We could use witnesses like you in New York.”

“Couldn’t get me there with a bowie knife at my throat or a cattle prod up my ass—excuse my language. Full of thieves, murderers, and lunatics. No offense.”

“None taken.”

When they stepped outside, Eve turned to Bree. “I’d like to walk down to the clinic, talk to the doctor who examined the partner. I can take this one if you want to start working on finding Chester.”

Bree looked to Annalyn.

“Yeah, no point traveling in a pack. We’ll let you know what we find when we find it.”

“Same goes. Since you’re headed back, maybe you could update the feds.”

“Yeah, what the hell. The clinic’s about four blocks, that way.” Annalyn gestured.

They separated.

“So,” Roarke began, “you’re looking for a woman of a certain age, an addict who knows how to run a con, doesn’t quibble about hooking herself to a pedophile, knows her way around a hard-line drinking establishment, and plays the game well enough to fool Vik. And he’s no pushover. She doesn’t mind sex with strangers, and making it rough enough to simulate rape, and is just fine with aiding in the abduction and imprisonment of a woman who helped her.”

“Yeah, she’s a princess.” Even the thought of her made Eve vaguely ill and bitterly angry. “She’s also organized enough to pull all this, and put things together on her own until McQueen got out.”

“In homage to our location, this isn’t her first rodeo.”

“No. She’s been riding for a long time.”

They stepped into the clinic, and she noted it did better business than the bar. The chairs lining the walls, more forming another backto-back line in the center of the room, were full.

Babies squalled, kids whined. Several women sported bellies testifying they’d soon bring more squallers and whiners into the world.

Eve walked to the counter where a woman in a floral scrub top worked feverishly on a computer.

“I’m sorry.” The woman didn’t pause. “The waiting time is two hours. There’s another clinic—”

“I need to talk to Dr. Hernandez.”

“I’m sorry.” The woman didn’t sound sorry. She sounded harassed and exhausted. “Dr. Hernandez is with a patient. I can—”

Eve palmed her badge, waved it in front of the woman’s face. “This is an urgent matter. I’ll be as quick as possible, but I need to speak with Dr. Hernandez.”

“Give me a minute. God, what a day.”

She popped up, scurried down a short hall, turned left, and vanished.

“Why is everybody sick or injured?” Eve wondered. “Thieves, murderers, and lunatics, sure. That’s why we love New York. But it looks like Dallas has a plague.”

The woman scurried back. “Listen.” She kept her voice low. “Every exam room and office is occupied. If these people who’ve been waiting so much as see a doctor, I could have a riot. Can you talk to her outside? Out the back?”

“No problem.”

“I’ve got to ask you to go out the front, walk around. If I take you back—”

“Riot. Got it. Thanks.”

“Not a plague,” Roarke said as they made the trip on foot. “More understaffed, likely underfunded, and the only free clinic for miles.”

“Okay, probably, but I’ve seen Louise’s clinic. Free, and sure crowded, but not like that.”

“Louise’s isn’t underfunded, thanks to you.”

She hunched her shoulders. “It was your money.”

“No, it was your money.”

“Only because you gave it to me.”

“Which, darling Eve, makes it yours.”

“Now it’s Louise’s, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t like it here.” She rolled her shoulders when they reached the rear of the clinic. “It’s a run-down area, poor—and that’s not what I mean. It’s got a strong whiff of criminal underbelly. But you know, there’s just no sense of character, or atmosphere. You feel like if some asshole came up to mug you, he’d have that accent, or cowboy boots, maybe the hat. How is that intimidating?”

“I do so completely adore you, and your chauvinistic New York mind.”

A small, dark woman darted through the door. “Officer?”

“Lieutenant Dallas. I’m working with Detectives Walker and Jones. You had a patient, claiming she’d been raped last October—outside the Circle D. Sarajo Whitehead. Those detectives caught her case, and Melinda Jones came in as counselor.”

“Yes, I remember. Have you caught the rapist?”

“He doesn’t exist. She faked it.”

“I sincerely doubt—”

“Don’t. You can check with the detectives you know. This is a very dangerous woman who is working with a very dangerous man. You know Melinda Jones.”

“Yes, very well.”

“They have her.” As Hernandez stared, Eve pushed on. “The faked attack was staged to make contact with Melinda, to connect. This woman lured Melinda out last night, and abducted her. We need everything you can tell us.”

“God, oh my God. I’m going to contact Bree. I can’t just take your word.”

“Go ahead.”

Eve waited while Hernandez used her ’link, waited through the shocked words, the shakiness.

“I’m going to get you her files,” Hernandez said when she clicked off. “I’ll give you everything I have. I believed her. Her injuries weren’t that severe, but her emotional state . . . I believed her.”

“No reason you shouldn’t have,” Eve said. “She’s good at what she does.”

8

F
ile in hand, Eve got back into the car.

“Back to the cop shop?” Roarke asked her.

“Have to. What I want to do is get to the hotel, set up my space, organize what I have, and
think
.” She scowled into space for a minute. “I’m a team player.”

Roarke said, “Hmmm.”

“I am,” she insisted.

“When necessary, yes.” He flicked her a glance. “Especially if you’re in charge of the team.”

“Okay, I’ll cop to that—and that it’s hard swallowing I’ve got to check with Ricchio—his house—the feds, figure out who to work with and how. Jones is sharp, but she can’t be objective on this. None of them can. Maybe I can’t either.”

“You have to adjust without having any time to adjust.”

“There isn’t any time.”

“Exactly.”

“And he knows that. He’s playing with that. Yeah. Yeah.” She tapped her fingers on her thigh as she chewed that over. “The longer I’m off my rhythm, the longer he has to screw with me.”

“There are times when in order to get what you need, you have to work on two levels and integrate them on another.”

So speaks the business god, she thought—and accurately. “Work with Ricchio and the feds here, with my people there. I guess the trick is the integration. We can all say it doesn’t matter who does what or gets what, and it’s mostly true. But cops are territorial. We have to be.

“God, I want coffee. And no, you’re not having a supply sent down to Ricchio’s department. It’s just . . .” She wiggled a hand in the air. “Adjust.” She nodded to herself. “Gotta adjust.”

Adjusting, she took the medical files straight to Ricchio.

“Hernandez was very cooperative. I have her statement here as well. The gist is, the female unknown subject’s injuries were fairly minor, but consistent with her story, as was her emotional state. She played the role well.”

“So she’s played it before.”

“My take, yeah. We’re looking for someone who’s run sex cons. I understand you have people who can work with the data we have. So do I. I’d like to have some of my men working this in conjunction with yours. Different eyes, different angles. Whoever gets there first, we all win.”

“Overlapping ground takes time and manpower away from other potential leads.”

She wanted to stand, but sat. “Look, I don’t want to step on toes, but this is a tough balance for me. Imagine yourself called up to New York to work with an established unit.”

He smiled a little. “I went to New York once, and I still can’t imagine it. Imagine yourself, in charge of an established unit, juggling in not only federal agents but a New York boss.”

“Tough balance all around,” Eve agreed. “But the goal’s the same for all of us. I’ll get more done toward that goal if I’m able to tap my own resources as well as work with you and yours.”

She paused a moment. “Straight out, I strongly believe the female UNSUB is the route to McQueen. She’s done the legwork, and very likely continues to. She’s the one who’ll run the errands, and she’s separated from him for periods of time. Her own apartment, potential other employment. She’s been here for more than a year. Somebody knows her, has done business with her, sold her food, clothes, goods. She’s an addict, and that’s another angle. Where does she get her junk? She’s attractive, and she’s got a man to please. Where does she get her hair stuff, her face stuff, all that other woman stuff?”

Lips pursed, Ricchio sat back, nodded slowly. “All right, you’ve got points. Focusing on McQueen sits easier with me, but you’ve got points.”

“If I may,” Roarke interjected. “If you consider it a two-pronged approach rather than an overlap. Improve the odds.”

“Frankly, if I were in your position, I’d do what I felt I needed to do, regardless of the politics of cooperation. It’s better if we all say we agree.”

“Works for me.” Her ’link signaled. “Excuse me.”

When she stepped away, Ricchio turned to Roarke. “As the word is your particular area is electronics, you should meet Lieutenant Stevenson. He runs EDD.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll have someone take you up when you’re ready. We work with civilians, such as Melinda, in SVU routinely. That’s not the usual in EDD.”

“Then I’ll do my best to be unobtrusive.”

“My father recently retired as Deputy Chief,” Ricchio began in an easy, conversational tone. “He was part of a task force, years ago, working on taking down a major weapons organization. Part of the investigation included a Patrick Roarke. I remember because my father spent a couple weeks in Ireland during the investigation. Any relation?”

“That would have been my father,” Roarke said coolly, “which illustrates the world is a strangely intimate place. He had dealings with Max Ricker, as I’m sure you’re aware. As you’d be aware that my wife is responsible for Ricker’s current accommodations in an off-planet cage. A strangely intimate place indeed.”

“With interesting turns,” Ricchio agreed. “Patrick Roarke was stabbed to death in Dublin, wasn’t he?”

“If you’re asking if I killed him, I didn’t have that pleasure.”

He set aside irritation as Eve strode back. From the look in her eye, he knew she had something.

“Our female UNSUB traded sex with the guard we have in custody for contact with McQueen. He got her in three times in the last year under the radar, let them use one of the conjugal trailers. He swears the contact initiated with the woman, not McQueen. She angled for a fourth, two weeks ago. McQueen instructed Lovett to tell her to wait.”