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 announced. “Lucias Dunwood is to be remanded into custody, all charges holding, immediately. Copies of the revocation order and new warrant transmitting now.”
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 Dunwoods’ 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 Bail for Lucias Dunwood has been revoked.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.”
Scanning entries and exits, Eve strode into the living area. Her fingers twitched toward her weapon, then away again as a woman came rushing down the stairs.
“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.