by J. D. Robb
Eve hesitated, then took the hand Mira offered. "You…when I remembered what had happened to me in that room in Dallas. When I remembered my father coming in drunk, raping me again, hurting me again. When I remembered killing him that night, and I told you, you said it was pointless, even wrong, to punish the child. You said"—she had to clear her throat—"you said I'd killed a monster, and that I'd made myself into something worthwhile, something I had no right to destroy because of what I'd done before."
"You don't still doubt that?"
Eve shook her head, though there were times, there were still times she doubted it. "Did you mean it? Do you really believe there are times, there are circumstances when taking the life of a monster is justified?"
"The state believed so until less than two decades ago when capital punishment was, yet again, abolished."
"I'm asking you, as a person, a doctor, a woman."
"Yes, I believe it. To survive, to protect your life or the life of another."
"Only in self-defense?" Eve's eyes were intense on Mira's, reading every flicker. "Is that the only justification?"
"I couldn't generalize in such a manner, Eve. Each circumstance, each person goes to defining the situation."
"It used to be black and white for me," Eve said quietly. "The law." She held up one fist. "The breaking of it." Then the other. On a long breath, she tapped the two fists together, held them close. "Now…I need to tell you about Marlena."
• • •
Mira didn't interrupt. She asked no questions, made no comments. It took Eve twenty minutes to tell it all. She was thorough, and made the effort to be dispassionate. Facts only, without opinion. And when she was finished, she was drained.
They sat in silence, while a few birds chattered, the fountain gurgled, and bruised clouds drifted over the sun.
"To lose a child that way," Mira commented at length. "There is nothing worse to be faced. I can't tell you the men who did that to her deserved to die, Eve. But I can tell you, as a woman, as a mother, that if she had been my child, I would have celebrated their deaths, and I would have sworn my gratitude to their executioner. That isn't scientific, it isn't the law. But it's human."
"I don't know if I'm shielding Roarke because I believe what he did was justice or because I love him."
"Why can't it be both? Oh, you complicate things, Eve."
"I complicate things." She nearly laughed, and pushed up from the bench. "I have three murders that I can't investigate in an open, logical manner unless I want to see my husband locked away for the rest of this life. I've involved my aide, an e-detective I barely know, and you in the duplicity, and I'm busting my ass to keep that idiot Summerset out of lockup. And I complicate things."
"I'm not saying circumstances aren't complicated, but there's no reason for you to internalize as much as you do. There's no need to try to segregate your heart from your intellect."
Mira brushed a speck of dust from her skirt and spoke briskly. "Now, from my end of it, I'd think it best if you make an official request for Summerset to be examined. In my office, tomorrow if possible. I'll do a complete testing scan and copy the results to you and Commander Whitney. If you can get me the data—official and otherwise—on your killer, I'll begin a profile right away."
"The unofficial data can't be included in your workup."
"Eve." Now Mira laughed, a light, musical sound as charming as the fountain. "If I'm not skilled enough to slide such things into a psychiatric profile without being specific, then I'd best turn in my license to practice. Believe me, you'll have your profile, and, if you'll forgive me, it's highly unlikely my work will be questioned by anyone."
"I need it fast. He doesn't wait long between rounds."
"I'll have it to you as quickly as possible. Accuracy is every bit as important as speed. Now, on a personal level, would you like me to speak with Roarke?"
"Roarke?"
"I can read through even your closely guarded lines, Eve. You're worried about him. About his emotional state. You think he blames himself."
"I don't know if he would talk to you. I don't know how he's going to feel about the fact that I've told you all this. Emotionally, he'll cope." She began to worry her wedding ring around and around her finger with her thumb. "My more immediate concern is his safety. I can't predict when the last round's coming. All I know is that Roarke's the finale."
Eve shook that off, knowing that fear would cloud her thinking. "If you'd come in now, I'll give you what I have, and we'll pin Summerset for testing tomorrow."
"All right." Mira rose and to Eve's surprise hooked arms with her. "And I'd love a cup of tea."
"I'm sorry, I should have thought. I'm lousy at the hostess thing."
"I'd hoped we'd progressed beyond the point of hostess and guest and into friendship. Look, isn't that Mavis and her gentle giant getting out of a cab at your front door?"
Eve looked over. Who else but Mavis Freestone would be decked out in pink leather and green feathers on a weekday evening? Beside her, Leonardo looked huge and magnificent in an ankle skimming robe the color of good bordeaux. As fond as she was of both of them, Eve gusted out a sigh.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with them?"
"I'd say you're going to take a short break and be entertained." With a laugh, Mira lifted an arm in a wave. "I know I am."
• • •
"So, you know, like this is all so bogus in the extreme." Mavis helped herself to a glass of wine, gesturing with it as she clicked around the room on four-inch heels. Tiny golden fish swam within their clear spikes. "Leonardo and me, we've caught most of the deets on the screen. I'd've been by before." She gulped wine, gestured again. "But I've got gigs scheduled back-to-back to prep for the recording session next month."
"She's magnificent." Leonardo beamed at her, his wide, golden face glowing with love.
"Oh, Leonardo." She wrapped her arms around him, as far as they would go. "You always say that."
"It's always true. Turtle dove."
She giggled, then spun around, the feathers decorating her breasts and shoulders fluttering. "So, anyhow, we came to give Summerset our moral support."
"I'm sure he appreciates it." Since she could see no immediate escape, Eve reached for the wine herself. "Dr. Mira?"
"I'll wait for the tea, thank you. Mavis, is that one of Leonardo's designs you're wearing?"
"Absolutely. Frigid, isn't it?" She turned a circle in a flourish and had her currently lavender locks bouncing. "You should see the mag rags he's got going for spring. He's got a show in Milan coming up."
"I'd love to show you a preview of my corporate woman line, Dr. Mira," Leonardo offered.
"Well…" Mira ran her tongue around her teeth, eyeing Mavis's feathers, then, catching Eve's exaggerated eye roll, chuckled. "I don't know if I'm as creative a model as Mavis."
"Just a different style." Leonardo's smile was sweet and guileless. "You'd want classic lines, cool colors. I have some marvelous linen in a dusky pink that would be perfect for you."
"Dusky pink," Mira repeated, intrigued.
"Leonardo does the conservative jazz really well,'' Mavis chimed in. "Sexy lady of the manor, you know."
"I might just have a look at that." Sexy lady of the manor, Mira thought and smiled.
"There he is!" Mavis made a leap forward as Summerset rolled in a cart laden with a tea service, neat squares of apple pie, and rounds of frosted cakes. His color rose when Mavis locked herself and her feathers around him. "We're behind you, Summerset. Don't you worry about a thing. Eve's the best there is. She took care of everything when I was in trouble. She'll look out for you."
"I'm sure the lieutenant will settle the matter." His gaze flicked to Eve. "One way or the other."
"Come on, lighten the load." Mavis squeezed him. "Have a drink. Want some wine?"
His eyes softened as his gaze returned to Mavis's eager face. "Thank you, but I have duties."
"He doesn't know if he wants to pat
her head or jump her bones," Eve muttered to Mira, causing the doctor to muffle a laugh into a cough.
"Roarke will be down momentarily," Summerset continued. "He's completing an interstellar transmission."
Mavis caught up to him in the hall, tugged on his arm until he stopped and turned. "Listen, I know what you're feeling. Been there, you know." She offered a quick, crooked smile. "When I was scared, when they put me in a cage and part of me thought they'd just leave me there, forever, you know, I got through it because I knew Dallas wouldn't let it happen. I knew she'd do it for me, no matter what it took."
"Her affection for you is one of her finest qualities."
"And you figure because the two of you don't rub smooth she'll let things slide?" Her eyes, colored to match her hair were round and sad. "That's jerk thinking, Summerset. Dallas'll work till she drops to do right by you, and I figure you know it. If somebody came after you, she'd step between and take the hit, because that's who she is. I figure you know that, too."
"I've done nothing." He spoke stiffly now, refusing to acknowledge any shame. "I would expect an efficient detective to deduce that, whatever her personal feelings."
"You're down," Mavis said gently. "You want to ventilate sometime, just give me a call." She teetered onto her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll bring the brew."
"Your young man is very fortunate in you," Summerset managed then hurried down the hallway and disappeared through an open door.
"That was well done. Mavis." Roarke continued down the steps now and crossed to her to take her hands.
"He's bummed flat. Who can blame him?"
"And who could stay flat with you around?"
"It's like my mission to bubble things up. Let's see what we can do with the group in the parlor." She slid a smile up at him. "Am I staying for dinner?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
Despite the company, Eve managed to slip away long enough to dismiss McNab and Peabody, gather their reports and file them for later view. She cornered Summerset and, after a nasty little conversation, convinced him it would be in his best interest to report to Dr. Mira's office at eleven a.m. for testing.
At the end of it, her head throbbed badly enough for her to resort to a dose of painkiller. Roarke found her in the bathroom, scowling at the pills palmed in her hand.
"It must be unbearable, for you to even consider a pill."
"It's been a long day," she said with a shrug, and dumped the pills back into their tube. "But I can handle it."
"We'll run a bath. You need to relax."
"I've got work."
"Eve." Firmly, he took her arms, turned her to face him. "This is the part of your job I hate most. The shadows it puts under your eyes, and in them."
"I don't have a lot of time on this one."
"Time enough to take an hour for yourself." Still watching her, he began to rub at the knots in her shoulders.
"I have to read the reports, extrapolate from them for the official record. I keep hitting walls." There were nerves in her voice, and hearing them irritated her. "I haven't been able to trace the tokens at all, and you hit it on the statue. Thousands of them available at God shops all over the known universe. Even at five hundred credits a pop, she's a popular lady."
She started to pull back, but his hands held her still. "I have to give Whitney something by tomorrow. I told Mira everything."
His hands paused, a fraction of a moment, then continued kneading her muscles. "I see."
"Maybe I should have asked you first, but I did what I felt was necessary."
"There's no need to apologize."
"I'm not apologizing." This time she shrugged him off. "I'm saying." She stalked into the bedroom. Even excellent coffee could start to burn a hole in the gut. Despite it, Eve jammed at the AutoChef to program a pot. "I'm doing what needs to be done, and one of those duties is to advise you to increase your personal security until this case is closed."
"I believe my security is more than adequate."
"If that was the case, this bastard wouldn't have slipped through it to shoot transmissions from this house, to arrange for hotel rooms with one of your credit accounts, to draw a woman over from Ireland in your name."
Roarke angled his head, nodded. "Point taken. I'll have a look, personally, at my electronic security."
"Fine, that's a start." She slopped coffee into a cup. "I'm putting a tag on Summerset."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm tagging him." The fury was bubbling, couldn't be stopped. "For his own welfare. The next time I find a body, I want him well alibied. I put a tag on him, fit him with a security bracelet, or cage him. I figure the first is the easiest choice."
"Perhaps it is." Roarke decided brandy would go down easier than coffee. "And do you intend to put a tag on me, Lieutenant?''
"If I thought one could stick, damn right I would. Since you'd peel it off within an hour, it would be a waste of time."
"Well." He lifted his snifter in salute. "We understand each other."
"I think we do." She drew a breath. "I contacted the ME. There were traces of a tranq in Jennie O'Leary's system."
Roarke stared into his brandy. "Had she been raped?"
"No, there were no signs of sexual assault, no indication of struggle. She was still tranq'd when he strung her up. But the token—there was another token—the ME found it in her vagina. Again, there was no bruising or indication of force or struggle. It would appear that the token was inserted while she was unconscious. I'm sorry, but I thought you'd want the details."
"I do, yes."
"The ME reports that you've requested—as the victim has no next of kin—to be given possession of the body when it's released."
"She'd want to go back to Ireland."
"I assume you'll take the body back yourself."
"Yes."
The burn in her gut spread to her heart. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know when you've finalized your plans."
He looked up then, and the emotions swimming in those beautiful eyes stabbed her heart. "Did you think I would send her back alone? That I would wash my hands of it and go about my business?"
"No. I've got work."
"For Christ's sake."
It was the tone, impatience, frustration, and just a whiff of amusement that had her whirling on him. "Don't take that line with me, pal. Don't try to make me feel like an idiot. You loved her. Okay, fine. Do what you have to do, and so will I."
He was swearing viciously by the time he caught her. Even the whiff of amusement was extinguished. "Yes, I loved her, and what we once had was important to me. Even so it wasn't so much as a shadow against what I feel for you. Is that what you want to hear?"
Shame rushed over her, smothering temper. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's all pushing into my head." Feeling helpless, she lifted her fingers to press at her temples. "None of the others mattered because… I don't know, they just don't matter to me. She does, and I hate myself for being jealous, even for a minute, of a dead woman."
"Eve." He laid a hand on her cheek. "From the first moment I met you, every other woman paled for me."
She only felt more foolish."I wasn't groping, it's just—''
"You're all," he murmured, touching his lips to each pounding temple in turn. "You're only."
The burning around her heart turned to an ache, sweet and strong. "I need you." Her arms came tight around him, her mouth fused to his. "For so many things."
"Thank God." He deepened the kiss, gentled it until she sighed. "We'll take that hour now. Together."
*** CHAPTER ELEVEN ***
She could think again. Until she'd met Roarke, Eve hadn't realized how many benefits sex had to offer. Feeling limber, focused, and energized, she settled down in her office.
The new computer Roarke had arranged to have installed that morning was a beauty. Eve indulged herself, admiring it, tinkering with the tonal qualities. Her mood lifted even higher as it gobbled up the data she inp
uted like a hungry, yet well-mannered wolf.
"Oh, you honey," she murmured and stroked its sleek, stylishly black armor. "Okay, let's see what you can do. Run probability scan, file A data. What is the probability that victims Brennen, Conroy, and O'Leary were murdered by same perpetrator?"
Working, the computer announced in a creamy baritone enlivened with a hint of Parisian French. Before Eve could finish her grin, the scan was complete.
Probability ninety-nine point six three percent.
"Dandy, remain in file A. What is the probability that suspect Summerset committed murders?''
Working…. Probability eighty-seven point eight percent. With current data arrest warrant for murder, multiple, first degree, is recommended. Please advise if list of available judges is desired.
"No thanks, Bruno, but I appreciate the advice."
Please advise if you wish to contact the prosecuting attorney's office.
"Eve."
She looked over, saw Roarke in the doorway. "Hold on, Bruno." Eve swiped her hair back, rolled her shoulders. "I told you I was going to work."
"Yes, so you did." He wore only jeans, unhooked at the waist and obviously tugged on as an afterthought.
Despite the fact that her blood was still warm from him, it heated now. She found herself fantasizing about tugging those unfastened jeans off again, then maybe nipping her teeth into his firm, naked butt for good measure.
"Huh?" she managed when his voice got through her fantasy.
"I said…" He paused, then, recognizing the glint in her eyes, arched a brow. "Christ Jesus, Eve, what are you, a rabbit?"
"I don't know what you mean." She shifted back and stared hard at her monitor.
"You certainly do, and I'm more than happy to accommodate you…after you explain why you're running probabilities on Summerset. I thought you agreed he was innocent."
"I'm doing my job, and before you start," she continued, holding up a hand, "I'll explain. I've run the probability from my file A, which contains all the data, all the evidence that I'm free to pass on through official channels at this time. This analysis indicates that I'll be carting Summerset off to maximum lockup in restraints. It's not a lock at under ninety percent, but nobody would argue with the arrest."
