“Suspected.”
“Yes, sir. I can use some of that, will use some of that to grease the rails and get the confession for the bombings.”
“You’ve got the day, you’ve got the op. Anything starts to slip or slide, you nail up the St. Cristóbal’s case. Nail it tight.”
“Yes, sir.” She clicked off, stepped into the conference room.
“Relief is heading uptown, Lieutenant,” Peabody began. “Baxter and Trueheart will head back as soon. It’s going to be more than thirty.”
“Okay. Contact Detective Stuben at the Four-six, ask if he and his former partner want any piece of this.”
“Can I tell him piece of what?”
“Of closing their cases. Are you still here?” she asked McNab.
“You said briefing, and didn’t tell me to go away.”
“Actually, I can use you. I’ve got the lawyer this skank’s been using coming in. I need you to set him up at a D&C so it transmits like it’s from his own. She may know how to check that, Lino could have shown her how to verify transmissions. And I want it right here. I want any incomings traced and copied—and whatever you e-geeks do to ID them to a specific unit and location and account.”
“Can do.”
“Then do.” Eve slapped a photo of Penny Soto to the center of a board. “Because she goes down today.”
Within the hour she had the room set, with McNab refining the details of an e-station. On the board, surrounding Penny’s photo were photos of every victim who could be associated with her.
When Feeney came in, she glanced over in surprise. “Hey.”
“Hey. When you steal one of my boys for an op, I like knowing why.”
“Sorry.” She scooped her hair back. “I should’ve tagged you. I got caught.”
“I’m hearing.” He wandered to the e-station, examined McNab’s work. His hands stayed in the baggy pockets of his baggy pants. “So I figured I’d sit in.”
“I’d appreciate it. Baxter, Trueheart,” she said when they walked in. “We have a couple of detectives coming in from the Four-six. I’ll wait for them before I start the briefing. We’ll need to—” She broke off, frowned as Roarke strolled into the room. She moved to intercept him.
“I just needed the data.”
“My data, my property.” He smiled at her. “I want to play.” He handed her a disc, then wandered over to examine the e-work with Feeney.
With the arrival of Stuben and his partner, Kohn, she made brief introductions, followed with a short overview of Penny Soto.
“We’re keeping the arrest of Juanita Turner quiet for the moment. I’d like to surprise Penny with that, once we pull her in. I’ve got the lawyer on tap. If McNab’s done his job, we’ll be able to track the transmission from here to her location and unit, and track the transmission back from her. Another lock in. We lure her here.”
She brought up the info on Roarke’s disc, scrolled through to an image of the building. “Untenanted residential unit—no civilian factor. The lawyer contacts her, relays that this property—alludes that her partner knew of it—is now added to the inheritance due to the recent death of old Mr. Ortega’s cousin. Just need some lawyer bullshit, she’s not going to question it too deep. As José Ortega is named heir, and so on, so on, she’ll be counting the profits. He’ll do his legal dance about escrow, trusts, market values, taxes, whatever. And he’ll say he’s hesitant to transmit the passcodes.
“She’ll want them, she’ll demand them. And she’ll go there as soon as she can to take a look. She’ll use them. And when she does, we’ve got her. We keep the tail on h
er.” She brought up the map, called for zoom and enhancement of 95th Street. “Baxter and Trueheart, stationed here and here. Soft-clothes. Detectives Stuben, Kohn, will you take this half of the duplex?”
“Happy to.”
“Peabody and I here. E-team and vehicle, here. Lure her in, scoop her up. Keep it tight in case she gets frisky. Bring her in, and lock it up all the way back to 2043. Questions?”
It took another twenty before she brought the lawyer in.
“This is what you’re going to say.” Eve handed him a printout. “You can use your own words, legal it up, but this is what gets across. Understand?”
“Not entirely. If there had been property in probate, I certainly would have informed Mr. Aldo—or, well, the person I believed to be Mr. Aldo.”