As Roarke drove toward the gates, Eve sent the ID shot.
“Oh, wow! Jeez! That’s Matron. That’s the floor matron bitch whose swipe I swiped.”
“Are you positive?”
“Holy crap, yeah. Like I wouldn’t recognize the bitch from hell who smacked me around and jabbed me with the shocker? I didn’t do the artist stuff yet. How did you get her picture?”
“By doing my job. Detective Yancy’s still scheduled for the morning. Be ready for that unless I say otherwise. Go back to bed.”
“But how—”
“You want the bitch from hell to pay?”
“Fucking A!”
“Then go back to bed and let me make that happen. Put the officer back on. Now.”
“Sir?”
“Close eye, Officer. If there’s another movement tonight, I’ll loop you in.”
“Standing ready, Lieutenant.”
“Well, someone won’t sleep much tonight. And,” Roarke said as Eve snarled, “you were absolutely right. The eyewitness statement will grease the wheels for the warrant.”
“She might have something in that apartment that leads to the location of the Academy. If not, I’ll have cops sitting on the place until she gets home. Then I’ll put her in the box, break her down.”
“I’ve no doubt of it.”
She tagged Reo as Roarke surged downtown.
The APA came on-screen with her frothy blond hair bundled up. She wore what Eve assumed was a robe—tropical birds winging over a hot-red background.
“You know,” Reo began, “I was having my first full evening at home—a nice quiet me time. Bubble bath with wine and candles, a home facial, just snuggled myself in with a chirpy rom-com vid to top it off. You’re not going to add to that lovely pattern, are you?”
“I need warrants.”
“See my shock and amazement. On the Cabot/Gregg case, the child trafficking?”
“Marlene Williamson. Gregg has identified her as the night floor matron where she was held, one who physically assaulted and abused her. Gregg stole Williamson’s security swipe—it’s how she and Cabot got out. We retrieved a broken piece of it from the pocket of the clothing Gregg wore when she escaped, and retrieved enough data to confirm it’s Williamson’s.”
“And you have Dorian Gregg’s positive identification?”
“Affirmative. I showed her Williamson’s photo, asked if she recognized this individual, and Gregg nailed her as the matron, no hesitation. I need search and seizure for her residence, and an arrest warrant.”
“You’ve got her data, send it to me. I’ll get you what you need. Bag her sick ass, Dallas. Let’s bag all of them.”
“That’s the plan. Push it.” She clicked off, tagged Peabody, and filled her in.
“We’re on our way. I can help with the search, McNab can help Roarke with the e’s. This is the break we needed, Dallas.”
“Yeah, it is. Later.” Eve clicked off. “We’re going to need a place to park and wait until the warrants come through.”
“I believe there’s underground parking.”
“You believe that because?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, it’s one of mine.”
“Shocked and amazed.” But possibly convenient, Eve admitted.
“I can hardly keep all the addresses in my head, but I’m reasonably sure of this, as we recently completed an upgrade on the tenant fitness center.”
“An upscale building, like I figured.”
“Judge for yourself.” He lifted his chin toward the midsize tower of steel and glass before turning into a parking garage. A light blinked, then flashed on the gate before it opened.
“How does it know you’re authorized?”
“There’s a sensor on all our vehicles that takes care of that.” He pulled into a slot. “We can go straight up to her floor, or to the lobby. You’ll probably want to speak to night security.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“And you’ll want a field kit.”
“You got that, too.”
He took one out of the trunk, then set the locks on the car.
They crossed the echoing garage to a bank of elevators.
“Does it ever get old?” she wondered. “You know: ‘Hey, that’s my place’？”
“Absolutely not.” He nudged her inside the car.
Eve scanned the levels as he called for the lobby. Three parking levels, the fitness and—jeez—indoor pool level, lobby, retail level, then the floors, one through twelve, topped by a rooftop level.