The In Death Collection 06-10

by J. D. Robb

  “I love you.”

  He turned his head, heavy eyes slitting open with a lazy gleam that had her juices flowing. That, she thought, was the magic of him. That he could make her yearn for sex after what she’d seen, what she’d experienced.

  “Well then, come back here. I can probably manage to stay awake long enough.”

  “Later.”

  His response was a grunt as he pushed his face back into the pillow.

  Deciding not to take it the wrong way, she dressed, ordered up coffee, strapped on her weapon. He hadn’t stirred a muscle when she left the room.

  She decided to check in with McNab first and found him sprawled out flat in her sleep chair with Galahad draped over his head like fat earmuffs. Both of them snored.

  At her approach, the cat slitted one eye open, gave her a bored look, then offered her an irritable meow.

  “McNab.” When she got no response from him, Eve rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a light punch. He only snorted and turned his head.

  The slight shift had the cat drooping lower. Galahad retaliated by digging in with his claws. McNab snorted again and smirked in his sleep. “Watch the nails, honey.”

  “Jesus.” Eve punched harder. “No sick sex dreams in my chair, pal.”

  “Huh? Come on, baby.” His eyes opened, glazed and heavy, then focused on Eve’s face. “Uh, Dallas, what? Where?” He lifted a hand to the weight on his shoulder and closed it over Galahad’s head. “Who?”

  “You forgot why, but don’t ask me. Pull it together.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Man.” He turned his head again and found himself eyeball to eyeball with Galahad. “This your cat?”

  “He lives here. You awake enough to give me an update?”

  “Okay, sure.” Struggling to sit up, he ran his tongue around his teeth. “Coffee. I’m begging you.”

  Because she shared the addiction, she was sympathetic enough to go into the kitchen and order him a double-sized mug, strong and black.

  The cat was in his lap when she came back, kneading McNab’s thighs and watching him as if daring the man to protest. McNab took the mug in both hands and downed half the contents.

  “Okay, wow. I dreamed I was off planet on some resort island and making it with this incredibly built mutant with fur instead of skin.” He eyed Galahad again and grinned. “Jesus.”

  “I don’t want to know about your prurient fantasies. What have you got?”

  “Right. I checked out all the high-end hotels in the city. No single man booked a room last night. I ran the midlevel ones, same results. I got personal data. Disc’s on your desk, marked.”

  She went over to pick it up and slipped it into her bag. “Give me the highlights.”

  “Our man’s forty-seven, born here in New York. Parents divorced when he was twelve. Mother was custodial parent.” He yawned until his jaw cracked. “Sorry. She never remarried. Worked as an actress, mostly nickel-and-dime productions. She’s got a history of mental illness. In and out of nut palaces—mostly depression. They didn’t do the trick because she offed herself last year. Guess when?”

  “Christmas.”

  “That’s a bull’s-eye. Simon, he got himself a good education, double majored. Theater and cosmetology. He’s got a degree in both. Did some gigs as makeup producer. Took over the salon two years ago. He never married, shared living digs with his mama.”

  He paused to slurp down more coffee. “He isn’t hurting for credits, but his mother’s treatments took big bites out of his accounts. No criminal record. Nothing but standard exams and checkups on the physical end, and no mental work.”

  “Copy the personal data to Mira, then see what you can dig up on the father. Stick with the hotel checks. He’s got to go somewhere.”

  “Can I get some breakfast?”

  “You know where the kitchen is. I’ll be in the field. Keep me updated.”

  “Sure. Uh, Dallas, you and Peabody okay?”

  Eve lifted her brows. “Why shouldn’t we be?”

  “Just seemed like something was off with you.”

  “Keep me updated,” she repeated, and left him drinking coffee, scratching the cat’s ears, and puzzling.

  Eve decided that her aide had either slept on a board or put extra starch in her uniform. Peabody was stiff and brittle as burned toast.

  But she was prompt. Exchanging nods rather than words, they walked into the salon together. Yvette was already behind her console, busily plugging in the day’s schedule.

  “You’re getting to be a regular,” she said to Eve. “You ought to let me work in a manicure or something for you.”

  “Got an empty treatment room?”

  “I’ve got a couple, but no free consultants until two o’clock.”

  “Take five, Yvette.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Clock off. I need to talk to you. We’ll use one of those empty rooms.”

  “I’m really busy.”

  “Here or at Cop Central. Let’s go.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” With an irritated huff, Yvette pushed off her stool. “Let me set up the backup droid. We don’t like to use droids. They’re not as personal.”

  She scooted around the corner and uncoded a tall cabinet. The droid inside was beautifully groomed and coiffed, outfitted in a smart pastel skinsuit that set off deep gold skin and fiery red hair. When Yvette initialized, the droid opened big, baby blue eyes, blinked thick, weighty lashes, and smiled.

  “May I assist you?”

  “Take over the reception counter.”

  “I’m happy to be of service. You’re looking lovely today.”

  “Right.” Obviously annoyed, Yvette turned away. “She’d say that if I had a face covered with warts. That’s the problem with droids. I hope we can make this fast,” she added, clicking her way toward the back. “Simon doesn’t like us to leave our posts except on scheduled breaks.”

  “He’s not going to be a problem.” Eve stepped into the treatment room and wished it didn’t remind her of an autopsy suite. “When did you last talk to Simon?”

  “Yesterday.” Since she was there, Yvette picked up a massage mitt, slipped it on, and engaged. It hummed low as she ran it over her neck and shoulders. “He had a breast plumper at four, finished up at six. If you need him, he’ll be here any minute. Fact is, he was supposed to open up. Day before Christmas we’re swamped with appointments.”

  “I wouldn’t expect him today.”

  Yvette blinked and the massage mitt stuttered as her hand jerked. “Is something wrong with Simon? Did he have an accident?”

  “Something’s wrong with Simon, but no, he didn’t have an accident. He attacked Piper Hoffman last night.”

  “Attacked? Simon?” Yvette bubbled out a laugh. “You’re out of orbit big time, Lieutenant.”

  “He’s killed four people, raped and murdered four people, and nearly did the same to Piper last night. He’s gone under. Where would he go?”

  “You’re wrong.” Yvette’s hand shook as she ripped off the mitt. “You have to be wrong. Simon’s gentle and sweet. He couldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “I— A couple of years, ever since he took over the salon. You have to be wrong.” Yvette held up her hands, then pressed them to her cheeks. “Piper? You said Piper was attacked? How badly is she hurt? Where is she?”

  “She’s in a coma, in the hospital. Simon was interrupted before he’d finished with her, and he ran. He’s been back to his apartment, but he’s not there now. Where would he go?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t believe this. You’re sure?”

  Eve kept her eyes level and cool. “I’m sure.”

  “But he adored Piper. He was her consultant, hers and Rudy’s. He did all their work. He called them the Angel Twins.”

  “Who else is he close to? Who does he talk to about his personal life? His mother?”

  “His mother? She died last year. He was devastated. She had an acci
dent and she died.”

  “He told you she had an accident?”

  “Yes, she fainted or something, in the bathtub. Drowned. It was awful. They were really close.”

  “He talked to you about her?”

  “Yeah, we worked together, put in a lot of hours here. We’re friends.” Her eyes filled. “I can’t believe what you’re telling me.”

  “You’d better believe it, for your own safety. Where would he go, Yvette? If he’s scared, if he can’t go home. If he needs somewhere to hide.”

  “I don’t know. His life was here. The salon, especially after he lost his mother. I don’t think he has any other family. His father died when he was a kid. He didn’t call me. I swear he didn’t.”

  “If he does, I want you to contact me immediately. Don’t play games with him. Don’t meet him alone. Don’t open the door if he comes to your place. I need to get into his locker, and interview the rest of the staff.”

  “Okay. I’ll fix it. He hasn’t been acting weird or anything.” Yvette dashed a tear from her lashes as she rose. “He was all pumped up about Christmas. He’s a real softie, you know. And last year, losing his mother put a cloud over the holidays for him.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s making up for it this time around.” Eve stepped into the staff room, and glanced briefly at a beefy consultant gulping down a mint-green nutri-drink.

  “He’s changed the combo,” Yvette murmured. “He’s got it blocked. I can’t open this without his new code.”

  “Who’s in charge around here with him gone?”

  Yvette blew out a breath. “That would be me.”

  Eve drew her weapon, tilted her head. “This’ll open it, but you have to give me assent for forced entry.”

  Yvette simply closed her eyes. “Go ahead.”

  “On record, Peabody?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Eve adjusted the setting, aimed, and fired at the lock. The gun gave a muffled blast, sparked. Then metal sheered away and crashed to the floor.

  “Jesus, Yvette, what the hell?”

  “It’s cop business, Stevie.” She waved a hand at the gaping consultant. “You got a nine thirty buffer. Go on and set up for it.”

  “Simon’s going to be pissed,” he said with a shake of his head as he left the room.

  Stepping to the side so Peabody could get the right angle on record, Eve tapped a finger on the pull. “Shit.” She winced and sucked her fingertip. “Too hot.”

  “Try this.” Peabody handed her a neatly folded handkerchief from her pocket. Their eyes met briefly.

  “Thanks.” Using the cloth, Eve covered the pull and opened the locker door. “Santa was in a hurry,” she murmured.

  The red suit was balled up and shoved into the locker. High, shiny black boots stood on top of it. Reaching down, Eve pulled a can of Seal-It out of her bag, coated her hands. “Let’s see what else we’ve got.”

  There were two cans of disinfectant, a half case of herbal soap, tubes of protective cream, an over-the-counter gadget that promised to destroy germs with high-frequency sound waves. She found another box of tattoo works along with templates for several complicated designs.

  “This nails it.” Eve took out a thin sheet with stylized letters:

  MY TRUE LOVE

  “Bag everything, Peabody, and arrange for a pickup. I want it all in the lab within the hour. I’ll be in that treatment room doing the interviews.”

  She didn’t get anything more from the staff. Simon had been loved and appreciated by his people. Eve heard words like compassionate, generous, sympathetic.

  And she thought of the horror and pain in Marianna Hawley’s eyes.

  The drive to the hospital to check on Piper was made in silence. Though the new vehicle’s climate control pumped out pleasant heat, the air seemed very chilly.

  Fine, Eve thought. That was just fine. If Peabody wanted to walk around with a stick up her ass that was her problem. It wouldn’t affect the work.

  “Bounce a call to McNab.” Eve stepped into the elevator, stared straight ahead. “See if he’s got any more on possible locations for Simon. Then see if Mira got the personal data.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You call me sir again in that snotty tone, I’m going to belt you.” With this Eve marched off the elevator and left Peabody scowling after her.

  “Status on Piper,” Eve said and slapped her badge on the counter at the nurses’ station.

  “Patient Piper is sedated.”

  “What do you mean sedated? Did she come out of the coma?”

  The nurse wore a colorful tunic crowded with spring flowers and a harried expression. “Patient Piper regained consciousness about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Why wasn’t I contacted? Her chart was supposed to be flagged.”

  “It was, Lieutenant. But Patient Piper regained consciousness at the top of her lungs. She was incoherent, hysterical and violent. We were forced to restrain and sedate at the attending’s recommendation and next of kin’s approval.”

  “Where’s the next of kin now?”

  “He’s in the room with her, where he’s been all night.”

  “Page the attending. Get him up here.” Turning on her heel, Eve strode down the hall and into Piper’s room.

  She looked like a fairy sleeping. Pale and blond and pretty. Delicate shadows were under her eyes and a faint flush of pink from the medication traced her cheekbones.

  A short distance from the bed, monitors hummed. The room itself was decked out like the parlor of a classy hotel suite. Patients who had the means could afford to heal in class and comfort.

  Eve’s first memory of medical treatment had been a horrid, narrow room lined with horrid, narrow beds where women and girls moaned in pain or misery. The walls were gray, the windows black, and the air thick with the stench of urine.

  She’d been eight, broken and alone, without even the memory of her own name to comfort her.

  But Piper wouldn’t wake to such discomfort. Her brother sat beside the bed, holding her hand, gently, as if it would shatter like thin glass at the wrong pressure.

  There were already sweeps and flows of flowers, in baskets, in bowls, in tall, spearing vases. Music, something soothing with strings, played quietly.

  “She woke up screaming.” He didn’t look over, but kept his bruised eyes on his sister’s face. “Screaming for me to help her. She made sounds that didn’t even sound human.”

  He lifted that long, narrow hand and stroked it over his cheek. “But she didn’t recognize me; she beat at me, at the nurses. She didn’t know who I was, where she was. She thought she was still . . . She thought he was still with her.”

  “Did she say anything, Rudy? Did she say his name?”

  “She shrieked it.” His face seemed to have lost its texture as well as his color as he lifted his head. It was flat, waxy. “She said his name. ‘Oh please God,’ she said, ‘Simon, don’t. Don’t, don’t, don’t.’ Over and over and over again.”

  Pity, for both of them, squeezed her heart. “Rudy, I have to talk to her.”

  “She needs to sleep. She needs to forget.” He lifted his other hand and stroked Piper’s hair. “When she’s better, when she’s able, I’m going to take her away. Somewhere warm and sunny and full of flowers. She’ll heal there, away from all this. I know what you think of me, of us. I don’t care.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think of you. She’s what matters.” She moved closer, so that they could face each other on either side of the bed. “Won’t she heal cleaner, Rudy, knowing the man who did this to her is locked away? I need to talk to her.”

  “She can’t be made to talk about it. You can’t understand what she’ll feel, what it’s like for her.”

  “I can understand. I know what she’s been through. I know exactly what she’s been through,” Eve said, pacing her words while Rudy studied her face. “I won’t hurt her. I want to put this man away, Rudy, before he does what he did to her, and worse, to someone else.
”

  “I have to be here,” he said after a long moment. “She’ll need me here—and the doctor. The doctor has to stay. If she’s too upset, I want him to sedate her again.”

  “All right. But you have to let me do my job.”

  He nodded, and shifted his eyes back to Piper’s face. “Will she . . . How long . . . If you know what it’s like for her, how long will it take her to forget?”

  Oh Jesus. “She’ll never forget,” Eve said flatly. “But she’ll live with it.”

  chapter nineteen

  “This will bring her out gradually.” The doctor was young, with eyes that still held compassion and devotion to his art. He added the medication to the IV himself rather than ordering the pesky task to a nurse or physician’s assistant. “I’m going to keep her down a couple of levels so that she won’t be overly agitated.”

  “I need her coherent,” Eve told him, and he flicked those soft brown eyes over her face.

  “I know what you need, Lieutenant. Ordinarily I wouldn’t agree to deactivate sedation on a woman in Patient Piper’s condition. But I understand the necessity in this case. Now you understand, she needs to remain as calm as possible.”

  He gave his attention to the monitors while keeping his fingers on Piper’s wrist. “She’s steady,” he said, then looked back at Eve. “Recovering, both physically and emotionally, from a trauma of this kind, is a difficult journey.”

  “You ever been to the rape wards down in Alphabet City?”

  “There aren’t any rape wards in that area.”

  “There were up until about five years ago, until they restructured the license requirements and standard fees for street LCs. They were mostly street whores in the wards, mostly young ones, too. Boys and girls fresh off the farm who didn’t know how to handle a john pumped up on Zeus or Exotica. I worked that sector for six miserable months. I know what I’m doing here.”

  The doctor nodded, lifted his patient’s eyelid. “She’s coming around. Rudy, let her see you first. Talk to her, reassure her. Keep your voice quiet and calm.”

  “Piper.” Rudy put on a hideous excuse for a smile as he leaned over the bed. “Darling, it’s Rudy. You’re okay. You’re with me. You’re absolutely safe. You’re with me. Can you hear me?”