Free Promises in Death by J. D. Robb Page B

ten minutes.”
    “Maybe he didn’t take her weapon and the rest until after he killed her?”
    “Disarm first. SOP. You’d be stupid to leave her weapons on her—just in case. He was checking his tracks after he’d finished her. Making sure, I’d say. Making sure he didn’t leave any trace, make any mistakes.” Eve sat up, studied the room from her vantage point. “So far as we can tell, he didn’t. Unless he’s idiot enough to try to hock her ring, her weapon, he left nothing behind.”
    She got to her feet. “Let’s take another pass through her place, then we’ll go back to Central, hook Feeney into it, and put together what we have.”
     
     
     
    S he wished it was more, Eve thought as she sat back at her desk at Central. A full day’s work, and most of what she had was impressions—how people saw the victim, felt about her. She had her own image of Coltraine to add to it. She could walk in her footprints, create what she believed was a fairly accurate time line of events. But she couldn’t know who or what had drawn the dead cop out of her apartment.
    The hour she and Peabody had spent searching, hoping to find an answer, or a hidey-hole where Coltraine had stashed some secret, hadn’t given her any more.
    She had Feeney and some of his best e-geeks on research and cross-check. She had several of her own men pouring over Coltraine’s cases, past and present. She had Coltraine’s backup date book, with no entry on the night she died.
    It just wasn’t enough.
    She copied all data to Dr. Mira, the department’s top profiler, and requested a meet at the doctor’s earliest convenience. She copied all data to her commander, then to her home unit.
    She started to rise. One more cup of coffee, one more pass before she took it all home and tried a fresh approach on it there.
    Baxter came in, carrying a sealed box. “This came for you, special messenger. They scanned it downstairs. There are weapons inside. Police issue.”
    “Where’s the messenger?”
    “In holding. It’s been scanned for prints. The messenger’s are on it, and two more sets—both employees of the mail drop where it was left. No explosives scanned.”
    Peabody crowded in behind Baxter. “They’ve got to be hers. What else could they be?”
    “Let’s find out. Record on. Package, addressed to Lieutenant Eve Dallas, Homicide Division, Cop Central, delivered by special messenger. Scanned and cleared.” She took out a knife, cut through the seal.
    Inside were two police-issues, Coltraine’s badge, and her ID. A single disc snugged into a protective case. Eve shoved down impatience. “Let’s get the contents checked for prints, and this disc cleared.”
    “I’ve got a minikit in my desk.” Peabody rushed out.
    “It’s a slap in the face,” Baxter said, his fury barely held under the surface. “We already know that. Here, I took this off a cop, killed her. See what you can do about it.”
    “Yeah. But if you’re cocky enough to take the slap, you’re cocky enough to start making mistakes.” She took the print kit Peabody brought in, used it herself. “Wiped down. Contents, interior of the box, all clean. No hair, no fiber, no nothing.”
    She ran the disc through a hand analyzer. “Text disc. No video, no audio. No viruses detected. Let’s see what the bastard has to say.”
    She plugged it into her machine, ordered it to display.
    The text was bold font, all caps.
     
    I TOOK THESE OFF THE CUNT COP, AND KILLED HER WITH HER OWN WEAPON. SHE WAS EASY. YOU CAN HAVE THEM BACK. MAYBE SOMEDAY SOON, I’LL BE SENDING YOURS TO SOMEBODY ELSE.
     
    “Let’s log them in,” Eve said coolly. “And have a little chat with the messenger. Baxter, you and Trueheart take the mail drop.”
    “I’ll grab the boy and go.”
    “Peabody, with me.”

5
    AS EVE DROVE HOME, SHE WONDERED IF COLtraine’s killer understood the full import of having the weapons and the badge back in official hands. Despite the insult of the message,