She toggled from him to Peabody as she sprinted across the lobby. “She broke pattern,” Eve said as soon as Peabody answered. “I’m going to the transpo station to view the security feed, but she had to pick Brinkman up there when he landed.”
“How did—”
“I’ll explain later. Tell the cab to turn around. Meet Baxter and Trueheart at the Callahan house. They’ll be staked out shortly.”
“I’m getting out, taking the subway. It’ll be faster.”
“Fine.” She jumped in the car, tried Roarke.
“Three in one day,” he said, “and a gala tonight.”
“Forget the gala. She snagged the target. Under my fucking nose.”
His easy smile vanished. “Where are you?”
“Heading to the transpo center to see how she did it. I need something, some fucking thing to wrangle a warrant because I know she’s got him in there.”
“I’ll meet you at the station. You may need an EDD man,” he said before she could protest.
“Yeah, yeah, I may. Gotta go.”
And thinking EDD, she tagged McNab. “Clear it with Feeney. I need you on an op. Clear it and hook up with Baxter, Trueheart, and Peabody at Eloise Callahan’s address. Check with them on where they’re staked out.”
“On it. Do you want the van?”
She considered; though she hoped not, why risk it? “Yeah, yeah, bring the van. Move it.”
She hit the sirens, the lights, and moved it herself.
Even with that, a double-parked delivery van, then a jackhammer-wielding road crew cost her valuable time.
She pushed her way through the transpo center to the private shuttle terminal. When she pulled to the curb, jumped out, security blocked her way.
“You can’t leave that vehicle there.”
She pulled out her badge. “I’m a cop. I need—”
“Then you oughta know the law, am I right? No unattended vehicles in this zone. Move it or lose it.”
“I need to see the feed for—”
He expanded his chest. “You ain’t seeing nothing till you move that ride. Parking’s through that gate.”
“For Christ’s—” She considered arguing, seriously considered kicking his ass. But calculated either would take more time than just parking her damn ride.
She jumped back in, drove through the gate, pulled into a priority, reserved spot, ignored the automated warning telling her she had no authorization. She flipped on her On Duty light, giving the warning a hiccup while it processed the new data.
And sprinted back to the terminal.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” curb security asked with a smirk.
“Bite me,” she suggested, “and contact your head of security.”
“Cop or no cop, you can’t talk to me like that. I oughta—”
She grabbed his shirtfront in a fist, jerked him to her. “If you don’t get your head of security in the next five fucking seconds, I’m arresting your dumb ass for impeding a police officer in the course of her duties, for obstruction, and if I don’t get that feed in time, I’m going to kick in accessory to murder.”
“You oughta get a grip.”