Connections in Death (In Death #48)(85)

“What blood? Shit! These are almost new. No, it’s not mine. Is Peabody okay? We heard she got banged up some.”

“Some. She’s all right. Seven-thirty,” Eve repeated and walked out with Roarke. “‘Barking morons.’ I like that one, and it fits. A pack of wild dogs has more brains.”

She detoured to talk to sweepers already ghosting on scene in their white suits and booties. She thought she might carve out time the next day for another walk-through when the place was empty of cops and CIs.

“You drive,” she told Roarke. “I need to check on some things.”

“Louise will take good care of her. It’s our good luck Louise was nearby.”

“Yeah. But that’s not the only thing I need to check on.”

Just the first. She tagged McNab.

“Hey.” Relief breathed out in the single word. “No internal injuries, no breaks. Her shoulder’s going to be sore for a couple days, but she won’t need the sling. It’s the knee that’s bad. Louise treated it, and is giving us some stuff for it. She’s going to have to wear a brace for a few days, and isn’t real happy about it. Damn good thing she was wearing the helmet. The asshole that pulled her down with him has a concussion and about a dozen stitches in his head. Shattered his elbow, too. Ain’t that a shame?”

“Okay, good. I’m briefing at seven-thirty tomorrow. If she’s not up for it—”

“She will be. She needs to finish it out. The fall, well, it banged up her pride a little, too, you know?”

“Tell her not to be stupid. Seven-thirty.”

She clicked off, let out a breath. And Roarke patted her hand as he got behind the wheel. Then he took the case of blockers he carried out of his pocket.

“No.”

“You still have work,” he pointed out. “Why be distracted by pain and discomfort?”

“Not distracted by it. Using it.”

And using it, she contacted Commander Whitney.





18

Eve hit her AutoChef for coffee the instant she walked into her office. Roarke followed it up by programming her a pizza.

“Oh my God, nothing’s ever smelled that good in the history of smells.”

“See that you eat it, and use these.” He set some ice patches on her desk.

“Okay, yeah. Want a couple slices before you head home?”

“I’m not heading home but up to EDD where I wager I’ll find Feeney, Callendar, and my new friend Marley. I’ll order up there. Let me know when you’re wrapping things up for the night.”

Before she sat, he took her bruised face—gently, very gently—in his hands and laid his lips on hers.

Held there, just held there.

Understanding, she leaned in. “It probably looks worse than it is.”

“Of all the women I’ve known in my life you’re the only one who wouldn’t have even troubled to look to see for herself.”

She shrugged—felt the movement in various sore spots all the hell over her body. “Looking wouldn’t change it, right?”

Again gently, he brushed a hand over her hair. “Eat your pizza.”

“Count on it.”

Alone, she took that first slice, bit in, just sighed and chewed. She downed the coffee, every drop, because she needed it, then remembered Roarke stocked Pepsi in her AC, ordered a tube.

If you couldn’t have beer or wine, a Pepsi suited a pepperoni pizza just fine.

Eating with one hand, she contacted Reo.

The APA answered fast. “Good God, Dallas. You look terrible! How bad are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing.” Reo didn’t look terrible, Eve noted. She’d taken off her face gunk and looked sort of fresh. “We got twenty-five. Strong got nine. I’m dead sure I got the two still alive who killed Pickering, Duff, and Aimes. And the one who set it up. I’m briefing at seven-thirty tomorrow. You’re going to be filing a shit-ton of charges.”

“Including assaulting an officer from the looks of your face.

“Yeah. With a deadly. Tank gets that.”

“Do we have an actual name?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll find it.”

“We can try for attempted murder of a police officer on Jones as he fired on me—police stunner on full. That’s some icing on a fat cake. We found illegals, weapons, what will turn out to be stolen property, fake ID equipment, the works. And EDD is working on electronics we confiscated.”

“I’ll alert my boss.”

Eve polished off the slice, snagged another. “Cohen?”

“Sang like a bright yellow canary. You’ll want to talk to Teasdale, but I got the heads-up the feds raided the building serving as warehouse—a property also held by Cohen, Jones, and Vinn—and scooped up plenty. Including a handful of unlicensed sex workers who were, at the time, employed.

“Should I tag up with Detective Strong?”

“Tomorrow’s soon enough. We’re going to be processing for a while yet.”

“Then I’ll fill in my boss, get my beauty sleep, and see you in the morning. Good bust, Dallas. Get some ice on that face.”

“Right.”

After she broke transmission, she pressed a couple of fingers to her jaw. Felt it go straight through her skull like a spike. Maybe the ice wasn’t such a bad idea.