Page 145 of Bonded in Death

“Oh, you’re in for it, my man.”

But her stomach stayed knotted, and panic tickled at her throat.

When she saw the violin case at the mouth of the alley, her knees gave way.

By then, Devin, ankles and wrists zip-tied, lay unconscious in the windowless basement storage room while Potter completed his preparations.

A little more time, he thought, and the remains of The Twelve were in for a big surprise.

With coffee, Eve worked at her command center. Roarke had set up the group in the comp lab and now worked on his part in his office.

As initial results came in, she dug into them. Eliminated or put on a potentials list.

She cross-checked those with the potentials list from season ticket holders for opera and ballet.

When her ’link signaled, she readABERNATHY.

“Finally.” She snatched it up. “Dallas. What the fuck—I’ve tagged you a half dozen times.”

“And I had nothing to tell you. We got a confession out of Pierce—he broke fast and easy. But he knows little to nothing regarding Potter, nothing that advances your investigation.”

“How about I judge what advances my investigation? How’d he get the payoff?”

“Potter transferred ten million—in five-million installments—to an offshore account Pierce opened on his instructions. He used Pierce’s personal comp to make the transfer, which, on Potter’s instructions, he then destroyed. Potter, with Pierce’s help, used the prison’s own bloody equipment to fabricate Pierce’s new ID and background.”

Wincing, Abernathy rubbed at the back of his neck. “I need a vacation. Pierce executed the plan, gave Potter the drug, brought the warden in to verify the death. He brought Potter out of it, smuggled him out of prison in his own shagging car.”

Abernathy sighed. “He’s lucky Potter didn’t kill him on the spot.”

“He still needed him.”

“You’re right, and Pierce saw it through. Used some ashes from another dead inmate, sealed it up, labeled it, saw it buried. Potter had given him the name of a doctor who’d match the ID—just a few changes. We’d pull her in, but she’s been dead two years. And with a fresh new look and ID, and a fat account, Pierce headed to Costa Rica.”

“Where did the funds come from? Transferred from where?”

“We’re trying to run that down. Pierce doesn’t know. He’d have spilled it all if he did. Potter didn’t tell him where he was going, what he was planning. Why would he? Pierce, and he got sloppy with it, tried to claim he believed Potter was an unjustly persecuted war hero. That’s bollocks, but a man has to try.”

“I want to see the interview recording.”

“Considering all, I’m sending it to you. We included your questions, Lieutenant, and this is what we have. And the fact is, if Potter had told him anything—”

“It would be bollocks,” Eve finished. “I still want to see it.”

“I’ll send it. We greatly appreciate your help. Interpol is also on the hunt for Conrad Potter.”

“I don’t care who gets him first, as long as he’s got.”

“If you’d pass on any updates—”

“As soon as I can. I’m up to my neck. Dallas out.”

She sat back, gulped some coffee. As more results came in from Roarke’s comp lab, she thought: They’re efficient. And got back to work.

She surfaced again when Roarke entered her office. With a first aid kit.

“I already had medical treatment.”

“You’re about to get more. I’m changing the bandage, putting a topical on it, as I know full well it’s hurting you again. You’re taking a blocker as well. And for being a good girl—”