Page 115 of Bonded in Death

“Not as of my last contact with Inspector Abernathy. Pierce is set to be extradited and transported to London this morning. There are things I can control, Commander, and things I can’t.”

“Get in line,” Whitney muttered.

“I’m consulting with Dr. Mira shortly, and plan to brief my squad on an op to take Potter this afternoon. He’ll be there, he’ll be close. I’ve requested Lieutenant Lowenbaum attend.”

“You haven’t been given clearance for this op.”

“No, sir. If you could attend—”

“Oh, I’ll be there.” He took another breath. “Dallas, you’re exceptional police. You run your division with skill and sense, and your instincts are solid. But Potter, if it is Potter, pulled you into this investigation, and he’s playing with you.”

“Understood, sir, absolutely and completely. But the fact is…” Screw it, she decided. “Permission to speak frankly.”

“By all means.”

“He’s fucking up. He firmly believes he’s smarter than any of the targets, than me, than the NYPSD. And his vision is narrow while his methods are unnecessarily complicated. He thinks of them as a puzzle only he can solve. And it’s stupid. The use of the cousin of one of the targets? We disproved that in about ten minutes. He should’ve expected us to check, but he didn’t. He believes we think he’s dead so we’re down some rabbit hole.

“He fully expects those three women to just—just la-de-da their way into that restaurant today. He killed one of their friends, someone they went through a war with, and they’ll just stroll into a ladies’ lunch? He doesn’t understand them or respect them. Or me. He’s so focused on taking them out so they’re just check marks on a list.”

When she finished, Whitney inclined his head.

“He managed to escape from a maximum-security prison, fake his death, and access considerable funds before coming to New York and executing a trained agent.”

“I didn’t say he was stupid, Commander. His methods are. If he’d just killed Rossi, he could have walked away and focused on the next. But he couldn’t leave it at that. And there’s the stupid.”

“I want those confirmations. Until we have them, you’re pursuing an unsub. The prints aren’t enough, if there are prints. He might have handled it during the wars. Which you’ve considered.”

“Yes, sir. It would up the probability, but we need the DNA to confirm.”

“Where’s the briefing?”

“Peabody’s booking a conference room.”

“I’ll be there. Dismissed. Dallas,” he said as she got up and started out. “How did Roarke learn to deactivate an Urban Wars–era bomb?”

“Summerset taught him.”

“Summerset—” Whitney rubbed his eyes. “Never mind. Go.”

She went, jogging down glides this time. She had an hour before the briefing, so some time to prep. On the jog, she texted Feeney, informing him and inviting him in.

She headed straight to her office, intended to hit her AC for coffee, then get down to it. Get some of it organized before she met with Mira.

And found Mira already in her office, sitting at her desk, studying the board.

“You haven’t been able to update your board since you clocked out yesterday.”

“No.”

“And want to get to that, and other matters. I want a few minutes first.”

“I’m briefing at eight-thirty if you’d like to attend.”

“I’ll adjust my schedule.” She rose so they both stood facing the board. “He’s not rational.”

“I clued into that.”

“What he’s attempted to do this afternoon, the way he’s attempted it, is foolish.”

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