Page 124 of Bonded in Death

“We appreciate your cooperation, Melinda. The police artist will be in touch.”

Peabody waited until they walked out. “That guy’s a dick. I’d hate to work for somebody who’s that big a dick. Potter planted the bomb before he contacted Iris. What if she’d said she couldn’t make it?”

“They’re lamebrained women, remember? He played the odds in his view of women. He could always come back and retrieve the device. Or hell, blow it up because he was pissed they didn’t bite.”

“I think he might have done that.” As if she felt a chill, Peabody rubbed her arms. “Just let it go off.”

“I wouldn’t bet against it. See if you can get Yancy to hook up with the server. If he’s too involved with this find-the-face project, ask him who’s next best and tap them.

“Let’s get back to Central. I don’t want to be on the street on this block where he could spot us when he gets here.”

They went, and Eve grabbed coffee, wrote it all up, sent it all out.

She had the map up on her screen again when Roarke came in.

“You’re a little early. That’s helpful. Let me catch you up.”

When she had, quickly, efficiently, he nodded.

“The facing restaurants, particularly the sidewalk tables, are prime spots. Which is why you’re worried he’ll go somewhere else.”

“I can’t put cops in every building on the block. But he’s not expecting cops. He’s expecting three women. Heshouldbe at one of those tables. There’s no indication he’s cased any of the units, vacant or otherwise, and every indication he hasn’t.”

“But.”

“But. Still, it’s barely raining now, and the sidewalk areas have cover.”

“You’ve done everything you can to box him in. Now it has to play out.”

“His server was about twenty-four, pretty as it gets. He’d have blown her to hell without a second’s regret. Just a casualty of his war. He’ll be armed today, with something from his stockpile.”

“Something easily concealed. Most likely an Urbans-era handgun. Semiauto, quick-release holster. And likely a secondary, a clutch piece.”

She’d calculated the same, and that calculation formed a weight in her gut.

“A stunner on full can do some damage, but bullets fly, Roarke. They fly and they ricochet, and they can rip holes in a dozen people in a matter of seconds.”

He heard her concern, brushed a hand down her arm. “And not everyone has a magic coat.”

“For all we know the son of a bitch carries hand grenades in his pockets. It’s not possible to clear a whole block of civilians, the businesses, the apartments, the streets and sidewalks. I don’t want any casualties, not on my team, and not with civilians who just happen to get in the way. We need to close that box.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Are you wearing Thin Shield?”

He opened his light jacket to show her.

“Okay. Time to move out.”

In the bullpen she gathered with the team again.

“There are a handful of unoccupied units along the block, and no sign of illegal entry. No sign he’s cased any of them. The probability reads he’d choose his view from one of the restaurants or shops, or just time it so he’s on the street when it’s set to blow. I’m going to emphasize again. He will be armed, most likely an Urbans-era handgun, potentially more than one weapon.”

She paused, felt that weight in her belly.

“Protect and serve. Protect and serve the civilians, and each other. You all know your positions. Feeney, Peabody, Roarke, and I ride with you. He knows our faces.

“Now let’s go get this fucker.”

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