Page 156 of Bonded in Death

“I’m good,” she repeated.

Time to take a hard look at the far-too-many German luxury cars registered in New York.

She lost track of time as she searched, whittled, added, or deleted.

Roarke’s ’link signaled.

“Peabody and McNab at the gate. I’ve let them through. Summerset will let them in.”

“Good. I need to move.”

She rose, rolled her shoulders, circled her neck. After adding her current list of cars to the board, she paced.

“Are you getting anywhere?”

“I might be.”

“Passed ninety minutes. I lost track.”

“Give them a bit longer. You’ve McNab to add in now.”

“Yeah. An hour more.”

She checked the time. Ten hours, eight minutes until noon.

“Twelve. It’s noon because it’s twelve. He should’ve given us less time, but he had to hit that mark.”

“That slipped by me, and of course, you’re right.” He crossed to her, held out a cookie. “A bit of fuel.”

“What kind of cookie is that?”

“Oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal in cookies should be illegal.” She stuffed it in anyway. “Next thing, it’ll be spinach.”

“Actually—”

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

She turned as she heard the clomp and prance.

They came in carrying boxes. Peabody in black didn’t particularly surprise her. But she wouldn’t have believed McNab owned any black. The shirt had a lot of black-on-black swirls and symbols, and the airboots sported dark red and black stripes.

But the baggies looked almost normal until you considered the shocked-face emoji on the belt buckle.

“Helmets,” Peabody said. “Battering ram.”

“Put those anywhere. McNab, computer lab. Summerset and the rest of them will bring you up to speed.”

“I’m there.” McNab’s pretty face hardened like stone. “Somebody uses a kid like this? He’s going down, he’s going down hard. Booster or high-octane coffee, She-Body. Not both.”

“It was just that one time. Where do you want me?” she asked Eve.

“I’ve got a list of lower probability vehicles, a culled list of seasonaltheater tickets, and a list of Potter’s known—so far—aliases. You can use your PPC, cross-check. A wit says the car’s black, but—”

“Yeah, can’t be sure. I’m going for the coffee instead of the boost.”

After she programmed her coffee, Peabody sat at the table.

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