"You're with me. You don't look like a cop."

"Why, thank you."

"Peabody, give me that stupid coat."

"My coat!"

"Pink coat, snowflake hat." She pulled it out of her pocket. "I don't look like a cop."

"Beg to differ," Roarke murmured.

"I know how to not look like a cop. I need like a..." She gestured.

"Purse?"

"Yeah, yeah, a bag thing. Tool or tools can go in that. What've we got in here?"

Feeney pulled open a drawer. "McNab's old satchel."

The old satchel was a wild green just short of fluorescent, with a jagged lightning bolt pattern done in Peabody pink.

"Christ, it's nearly as bad as one of Jenkinson's ties."

"I heard that," Jenkinson said in her ear.

"It's not a secret. Okay, give me your coat." Eve took off her much-loved coat, put on Peabody's girlie pink coat, and dragged her own cap onto her head. "The scarf, too."

Eve wound Peabody's bold, brightly colored scarf around her neck.

"It actually looks really good with the bag."

"Don't ever say that again." She hitched the bag on cross-body like a sensible New Yorker, and slipped out of the van.

"We need to circle the block, come around from the south, hook up with Lowenbaum. Then we're going to walk fast, hold hands, laugh and talk, straight to the connecting duplex."

"So I assumed." And, though there was no need to do so at this point, he took her hand as they walked west. "There are heat sources in the attached house three of them. One would be a small dog, possibly a large cat."

"We'll deal with that."

"I don't doubt it."

As they walked they passed Baxter, who kept going as he spoke in her earbud. "No sign of her yet. Trueheart?"

"I've hit two places with previous sightings pizza joint, deli. Nobody's seen her today or tonight."

"Finish the sweep, then retake your positions. Without her as a bargaining chip, odds are slim to nada on talking him out."

As they rounded the next corner, Lowenbaum hopped out of the big armored van. "Got battering rams, sledgehammers, torches, but I figured you didn't want to make that much noise."

"Not if you've got something else.

"Laser cutter. She'll go through those interior walls like shit through a goose. Not as noisy as the other options, but she hums. If he hears it, he'll know what it is."

"We'll make sure he doesn't hear it."

"I can go in, create an entry."

"I need you out here, Lowenbaum. The chances of me taking out a trained sniper most likely in body armor with my sidearm? Low. We're the distraction, and believe me, we're going to duck and cover when necessary. I need you to take him down that's on you. We'll get him to move you tell me when and where and we'll make it happen so you can take him down."

"You can count on that. Do either of you know how to work a laser cutter?"

"I do, yes." Roarke took it, studied it. "And a fine one it is," he added as he put inside the satchel.

"I'm going to call Trueheart and Baxter in. Make sure everyone's aware there are civilians in the attached house. We'll get them to a secured area, but stay aware."

She started to walk again. "Baxter, Trueheart, back to post. Roarke and I are heading for the corner of Third and Eighteenth, about to move into suspect's eyeline."

"In that case." Roarke wrapped an arm around her, glued her to his side. "Could we look less concerned about murderers?"

When they stopped at the corner, she tugged him down to her for a kiss, studied the target location, and murmured against his mouth, "He's scanning the street, so he's seen us. But he hasn't moved to cover the back. Might have some sort of early warning system set up for that."

She snuggled in against him as they crossed at the light. "We're going straight to the neighbors, like we're expected."

"Jan Maguire, Philippe Constant. I looked them up while you were changing coats."

"Jan and Phil, got it. Do you want to tell me how come you know how to work a laser cutter?"

He grinned down at her. "Not at this time."

She grinned back, let out a laugh she hoped carried. "Thank God we're here. I'm freezing! We're springing for a cab on the way home."

"Let's see how it goes."

They walked up the steps and, with their backs to the target, pressed the buzzer.

13.

R.

oarke shifted his body to block any possible view from the adjoining duplex when Eve palmed her badge.

"First trick is to get them to open the door, fast. After that, just move in. We'll deal with the rest inside."

She didn't need a trick, as the door opened.

The man, mid-thirties, wearing a gray Mets sweatshirt and jeans with holes in the knees, frowned at the badge.

"What?"

"Hey, Philippe!" With a blast of a smile, Eve moved forward. Roarke closed the door at their backs.

"Wait just a -"

"There's trouble next door. I'm Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and this is my consultant. I need you to call Jan just call her from wherever she is."

"But I want to know -"

"Philippe," Roarke said in a smooth, easy tone. "The quicker you follow the lieutenant's instructions, the quicker we'll explain. How's your soundproofing?"

"Our well, we're working on it. Why -"

"I see you're doing some renovations," Roarke continued in that same conversational tone, then glanced at Eve. "Handy."

"Yeah, should be. Call her, get her down here." As she spoke, Eve stripped off the pink coat because it made her feel like an idiot, tossed it on a seriously old-fashioned hall rack someone had painted bright blue.

"Let me see that badge again."

Eve held it closer, waited while he studied it, and her. And, still watching her, he shouted out, "Jan! Come on down here."

"Phil, I'm in the middle of -"

"Come on, Jan."

Moments later a tall woman in paint-splattered overalls, blond hair bundled up under a Yankees cap appeared. A mop head of white scurried down after her, yipping all the way. "I was just putting another coat of- Oh, sorry. I didn't know there was anyone here."

"They're the cops."

"The -"

Jan stopped when Eve put a finger to her lips, then scooped up what had to be a dog, continued down the stairs.

"Let's take this back there." Eve gestured. "Have you got a music system? How about you put on some music, like you would when friends come over. There's trouble next door," she repeated. "You share a wall, and your soundproofing's iffy. Put on some music, we'll go in the back, and I'll tell you what's going on."

As the dog wiggled to get down, Jan groped for Philippe's hand. "Behave, Lucy! I told you something was off with the new people, Phil. What did they- Okay." She shook her head, sucked in some air. "Let's go back to the lounge. You won't believe how great it looks now."

Eve gave her a nod of approval. "Can't wait to see it."

"Put on some tunes, Phil, and let's crack that wine. I don't know how much they can hear over there," Jan said quietly as they headed back, past dingy walls, spaces where dingy walls had obviously been torn down. "We can sort of hear them their screen noises, and on the third floor some thumping around. That's where our workshop is, so we spend a lot of time up there."

When they reached what Jan called the lounge, Eve noted it was pretty great. They'd transformed the space into a cozy, retro-style kitchen with warm gray counters and a lot of plants thriving under dull silver gro-lights. It spread into a lounge space with big cushy furniture, floor pillows, funky lamps on one side, and a long table with eight mismatched chairs under a trio of wire balls that served as pendant lights.

In the corner sat another pillow with three short sides, and a bone-shaped toy in fluorescent blue.

"Isn't this charming."

"Thanks." Jan offered Roarke an uncertain smile as she set the dog down. It scurried Did it have feet under that hair? Eve wondered grabbed the bone, and scurried back with it clamped in its teeth like a bright blue cigar. "We've been working hard on it. Month fourteen now."

Roarke tapped a finger on the kitchen island. "You're doing the work yourselves?"

"With some friends as slave labor. We wanted this area done first, and the powder room down there. We're nearly finished with the master suite now."

"Great." While she understood Roarke's line of conversation served to calm the civilians, time mattered. She tapped her earbud. "Feeney, where is he?"

"Still third level."

"Let me know if he moves. This is an NYPSD operation," she began as the dog stared up at her she could just see its eyes. "The individuals next door are suspects in an ongoing investigation. We know the adult male is currently stationed on the third floor of the adjoining building. Have you seen the second individual?"

"The boy?" Philippe frowned, looked at Jan. "I don't remember seeing him today, but I was at work, didn't get back until around six."

"I worked here today, third floor. I was painting. I saw him head out, maybe about four, four-thirty? I'm not sure of the time, it could've been a little later. He had his backpack and some sort of big case. I don't know if he came back. They're dangerous, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are. We need your cooperation," Eve continued as Jan scooped up the dog again, held it like a baby in her arms. "Let me assure you, there are police stationed outside, and our first priority is your safety."

"Oh man." Philippe pulled Jan against his side. "What did they do? We've got a right to know."

"They're the prime suspects in the strikes on Wollman Rink and Times Square."

"I'm going to sit down." Jan's color drained away as she pulled out a counter stool. "I'm just going to sit down a minute."

Scared, Eve noted, but not surprised.

"Have they approached you?"

"The opposite," Jan said. "Both made it clear they didn't want any neighborly interaction. The boy's only here half the time."

"Actually, it's a girl."

"Really? The man calls him her Will. I heard that a few times. He damn it, she goes off every other week. I figured it's a custody deal, and would've felt a little sorry about it, but she gave me the creeps. Something about her just had the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up."

"She's just a kid," Philippe murmured.

"Who, along with her father, is responsible for the deaths of seven people. We could wait him out, but other lives are on the line. In the case she carried away with her is, we believe, a long-range laser rifle. We need to capture her father and learn her location and the name and location of her next target. The quickest, cleanest way, we feel, is to do that from inside."

"Inside what?"