Page 155 of Bonded in Death

“They’re both Potter. I have Peabody and McNab with the parents now. They’ll bring any further information here, sir. I have the remaining Twelve in Roarke’s comp lab. They’ve given me several possibilities on Potter’s location and his vehicle. I’m bringing in the rest of my detectives here, at oh-six hundred. Sooner if we hit.”

“I’ll be there at oh-six hundred. Contact me if sooner. Narrow down those possibilities, Dallas.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll work here,” Roarke told her. “I’ll take the auxiliary.”

“Stick with the financials. That’s another angle. Money, house, vehicle.” She shoved at her hair. “He won’t have the car and the house under the same ID, that’s too simple for him. But there’s got to be some overlap with the accounts. He needs a driver’s license, vehicle registration, background that’ll pass if he gets in a fender bender, deals with any traffic stop. He doesn’t want to bother, have to remember grabbing that license every time he uses the car.”

“And the IDs he’s created are too good for one-offs.”

“Right.” Funds flush, she remembered, but not unlimited. “I’m going to push on the car. If they don’t narrow the potentials on the house in an hour, ninety minutes, we shift and focus there.”

Something would give, she thought. Something would break.

They worked in near silence. She heard Roarke mutter or curse now and then, and his mutters and curses leaned harder into the Irish.

She tried not to think of Devin McReedy, of the fear in his weeping eyes, the terror in his voice.

Why were there so many luxury vehicles in New York? The wit said black, but she couldn’t discount dark blue or gray.

Devin’s voice played back in her head.

“He edited the recording.”

“Hmm. He did, of course.”

“Because it had to be perfect. It wasn’t quite seamless, but close. He took that time. Status, top-of-the-line. If it’s French food and design at the top for him, and the Italians after, who makes the best vehicles?”

Deciding he could use a short break, since she’d distracted him anyway, Roarke got more coffee. “I like to think I do.”

“You weren’t making them pre-Urbans. And he’s not putting money in your pocket. You’re Summerset’s. What nationality? Think like him.”

“Ah, I see. For status and longevity and so on. Add he’s from Europe. Germany.”

“Okay. I’m pushing German makes up.”

Her ’link signaled. “Peabody.”

“We’re leaving the McReedys’ now. I’ve got the report from the detectives who caught the case, and Devin’s parents couldn’t tell us much more. They’re holding on by a thread, and the thread’s really thin.”

“Go by Central, pick up helmets. He might try for a head shot this time. And a battering ram.”

“Bollocks to that,” Roarke said.

“Battering ram’s a backup.”

“How close are we to finding him?”

“Getting closer. Take a booster if you need it. It’s going to be a long night.”

She clicked off, rolled her stiff shoulders.

“You could take an hour on the sleep chair.”

“I’m good. I’m still good.”

“You get so pale.”

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