Page 85 of Fury In Death

Roarke pulled to the curb in front of a white brick building she imagined had once been a foursquare—two units up, two down.

Now it boasted one large entrance door flanked by wide windows. Above the three second-story windows, an iron rail danced across the edge of the roof.

“Well designed, at least on the surface. He does run a construction company after all.”

She continued to study as they got out. “Privacy-screened windows, expected. Lights on, main level. Good security, but not yours.”

“No, not mine. I’d say this is his own work, or one of his employees’.”

Eve took out her badge for the expected scan, rang the bell.

She waited, rang again. “Come on, Reo, where’s my warrant?”

“It’s early yet. He may not be home. Why don’t we find out?”

“You’re not lifting those locks.”

“Ah, the crushing disappointment. But I was thinking more along the lines of a scan.” He pulled out his PPC.

“You can do a scan with that?”

“I’ve made some adjustments, so I can, yes.”

Deciding it shouldn’t surprise her, she leaned in to watch the screen with him.

“Nothing, nothing . . . wait.” She reached out to grip his wrist. “There. That’s on the floor, has to be, just a trace of heat. That’s a heat trace, faded. It’s a goddamn body that’s not cold yet. Record on. Open the door. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, authorizing Roarke, expert consultant, to circumvent the locks on the residence of Carlos Cruz. Reason to believe Cruz or another individual inside is dead or dying.”

“Another moment. It’s a good system. There we are.”

Eve drew her weapon. She went in low; Roarke went in high.

She smelled it, blood and death. And saw it, as the entrance opened to a living area on the right, a kind of game palace on the left.

The body lay in the wreckage of the living area, what was left of the face mashed against the dark, blood-smeared floor.

She didn’t have to check for a pulse to confirm death, but stepped over carefully, crouched to do so.

“He’s gone. I need my field kit. I need to clear the rest of the house.”

“I’ll help you with the second, then fetch the kit for you.”

They checked rooms, closets, the security hub off a kitchen she sensed was designed more for style—moody—and entertaining than actual cooking.

They went up glossy black stairs, cleared two large bedrooms, the large, attached baths, a home theater, and a locked room.

“Probably his office,” Eve said. “Go ahead and open it.”

Once he had, and her assumption proved correct, she nodded. “I’ll let you loose in here after you check the security hub. I need to call it in, take the body.”

“I’ll get your field kit.” He ran a hand down her back. “You’re thinking if we’d been faster.”

“I know he’d be alive if we’d been faster, and I know we moved as fast as possible. Redman’s had six years to plan, and likely more. We’ve had two days to catch up.”

She pulled out her communicator as they went back down. Took the field kit when Roarke brought it in.

“I’ve got the morgue and the sweepers coming, and some uniforms. I negated the contact to Peabody. She’ll be a little pissed about that.”

“More grateful, I imagine. I’ll see how he got in.”