Free Missing in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

can use you on the third floor.”
    “Do you think he’s coming back?” Peabody wondered.
    “It’s a lot to leave behind. I guarantee all this is unregistered, calibrated to duck under CompuGuard radar. But no, he’s done here. He’s finished.”
    “His wife and kid?” Peabody gestured to the framed photo on the console.
    “Yeah.” Eve moved over, opened a mini fridge. “Water and power drinks.” She hit menu on the AutoChef. “Quick, easy meals.” The sort, she thought, she’d have had in her own mini fridge—when she remembered to stock it—before she’d married Roarke. “Sofa, with a pillow, a blanket, wall screen, adjoining john. He spent most of his time up here. The rest of the house, it’s just space.”
    “It all looks so tidy, kind of homey and neat.”
    Eve made a sound of agreement as she turned into the next room. “VirtualFit. It’s a nice unit. He wanted to keep in shape. A weight machine, muscle balls, sparring droid. Female, and at a guess, just about the height and weight of Buckley.”
    Eve studied the attractive blonde droid currently disengaged and propped in a corner. “He practiced here.” She moved across the room, opened the doors on a built-i n cabinet. “Wow, toy chest.”
    “Holy shit.” Peabody gaped at the display of weapons. “Not so much like Uncle Jacko after all.”
    Knives, bats, stunners, blasters, clubs, short swords, guns, throwing discs all gleamed in tidy formation.
    “A couple missing,” Eve noted, tapping empty holders. “From the shape, he took a couple of knives and a stunner. In one of his carry-ons, on his person.”
    “This is a lot to leave behind, too,” Peabody commented.
    “He did what he set out to do. He doesn’t need them anymore.” She turned as Roarke came in with McNab, and caught the gleam in Roarke’s eyes as he crossed toward the weapons chest. “Don’t touch.”
    The faintest line of irritation marred his brow, but he slipped his hands into his pockets. “A nice little collection.”
    “Don’t get any ideas,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s next door you might be useful.” She led the way and heard both Roarke and McNab hum in pleasure as some men would at the sight of a pretty woman.
    “Geek heaven,” she supposed. “Seal up, then see what you can find on all this. Peabody, let’s take the second floor.”
    “Do you want me to get someone in to take over street surveillance?” McNab asked.
    “He’s not coming back. He hasn’t been back since he took those weapons out of the chest. He doesn’t need this place anymore.”
    “There are still clothes in the closet,” Peabody pointed out when they started down. “I saw them when we cleared the bedroom.”
    “I’ll tell you what we won’t find. We won’t find any of his IDs, any of his emergency cash, any credit cards, passports.”
    She moved into the bedroom where the decor managed to be spartan in neatness and homey in its fat pillows and frayed fabrics. She opened the closet.
    “Three suits—black, gray, brown. See the way they’re arranged, spaces between? Probably had three more. Same with the shirts, the spare trousers. He took what he needed.” She crouched, picked up a pair of sturdy black shoes, turned them over to reveal the worn-down heels, scuffed soles. “Frugal. Lived carefully, comfortably, but without any excess. I bet the neighbors are going to say what a nice, pleasant man he was. Quiet, but friendly.”
    “He’s got drawer dividers. Cubbies for socks, boxers, undershirts. And yeah,” Peabody added, “it looks like several pair are missing. Second drawer’s athletic wear. T-shirts, sweats, gym socks.”
    “Keep at it. I’ll take the second bedroom.”
    Across the hall in a smaller room fashioned into a kind of den, Eve opened another cabinet. She found wigs, trays of makeup, facial putty, clear boxes holding various styles of facial hair, body forms.
    She saw herself reflected, front and back, in the mirror-backed