Calculated in Death

Peabody shoved out of the car. She wrapped her arms protectively around her torso, and stood shivering—no coat, no bag. “You’re a big prick with a little dick,” she shouted.
    Baxter shot a hand out of the window, speared up his middle finger, and sped off.
    As instructed, Peabody chased the car for a few feet, teetering on high heels. “Come back here, you fucker! You’ve got my bag. You’ve got my ’link!”
    She feigned a turned ankle, then began to limp back the way she came.
    “That’s the way,” Eve guided when they picked her up on screen. “Pissed, but a little desperate. What do I do? Poor me. That’s good, spot the house, don’t even think about it. You need somebody to help you.”
    Her heart hammered with excitement and a little panic. Don’t blow it, Peabody ordered herself. Don’t blow it.
    She pressed a buzzer, pretended to search for the intercom. “Hello!” she shouted, trying for a raspy, sexy voice. “Is anybody home? Hello? I’m in trouble. Can you help me?” She angled herself toward the cam, leading with her chest and willed a couple of tears down her cheeks. “Hello? Can I use your ’link?
Please
.”
    She shivered again, no need to feign that. She felt her nipples standing at attention, but maybe he wasn’t even in there. Maybe her girls were on display for nothing.
    “It’s so cold. I don’t even have my coat. My boyfriend dumped me out without anything. Can’t somebody help me?”
    “No way he could resist that,” McNab declared. “He must not be there.”
    “Give it another minute.” One more minute, Eve thought, then she’d clear Roarke and McNab to do the probe and scan.
    “There. Do you see that, Ian?”
    “I see it.” McNab nodded at Roarke. “He’s in there.”
    “How do you know?” Eve demanded.
    “He’s doing a sweep.” McNab tapped his monitor. “Checking.”
    “Can he make us?”
    “No, we’re on the down-low. We’ll read as standard comm.”
    “She can’t keep buzzing and calling. Peabody, you need to look like you’re giving up. Start to turn away, then just sit down on the step and blubber some.”
    “What am I going to do?” Sniffling, Peabody knuckled a tear from under her eye. “I don’t know what to do.” She started to turn, then she heard it. The faintest hum from the intercom. Forcing herself not to react, she took another step away.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Oh, thank God!” She spun back toward the door, remembered to limp just a little. “Hello! Hello! Please, can you help me? My boyfriend left me. He took my bag. It’s got my ’link, my money. Everything. It’s so cold out here. Can I come in for just a minute? Can I just use your ’link? I could call Shelly. Maybe she can come get me.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Oh. I’m Dolly. I’m Dolly Darling. I dance at Kitty Kat, over on Harrison? You know it? It’s a nice place. It’s classy, you know? Shelly’s working this shift, so she could get off and come get me if you just let me in. He took my coat with him. I’m so cold.”
    “Did you have a fight?”
    “I found out he was cheating on me. With my ex–best friend. Why did he want to do that? Why did he want to be so mean to me?” She put on her best sultry (she hoped) pout, and took an enormous breath to bring her breasts up to full potential.
    “I’ve been sweet to him. I did
anything
for him. Honey, please? I’m so awful cold. Maybe you could just lend me a coat or something. I could trade for it, just for a loan. Give you a freebie, maybe. I’ve got a license. Well, not with me, because Mickey took my purse.”
    She
was
freezing, Peabody thought, and worked up some fat tears.
    Her head came up when she heard the electronic click of locks disengaging. “Are you opening the door? Oh, thank you! Thank you. I owe you so big, really, really big.”
    The door opened a few inches giving Peabody—and the team—their first up-close look at Milo the Mole.
    He’d had some work since his last ID shot. Chin implant, Eve deduced, which he’d opted to spotlight with a narrow, horizontal strip of sandy blond hair. His eyes, an eerie green, couldn’t stop drifting down to the display of Peabody’s generous breasts. He’d chosen a neon rainbow of long dreads for his current hair style and wore what Eve thought of as typical geek baggies in pumpkin orange with a sunburst T-shirt that sat just as baggy on his skinny frame.
    “Hi.” Peabody gave the syllable a breathless, baby-doll huff, smiling