Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(115)



“What away?”

“The idea that if you’d gotten to him sooner, or hadn’t pushed at him in a certain way, Kellie Lowry would be alive. It’s as much a fallacy—and as egotistic, really—as blaming yourself Mars died while you were having a drink with a colleague.”

“I’m working on it because I know better. And I don’t like the ego crack.”

“Truth is often harsh. It’s all here,” he continued. “His searches for the method, how long, on average, a human being will bleed to death, how the body shuts down and so on, from those specific wounds. He ordered the scalpel online from a medical supply house about two months ago.”

“Planning and practice time.” She came around to read the screen over his shoulder.

“Yes. He’s meticulously—he had meticulous in common with Mars—detailed Mars’s movements, her haunts, and he’s listed some of her marks he identified when he shadowed her. He practiced on a droid. In the closet there.”

Eve walked over, opened the closet, studied the economy droid with numerous gashes on the arms, on the thighs.

“He has Kellie Lowry in here as well. You were quite right about them using the same gym. He even took a few yoga classes with her. He also has several files dedicated to Annie Knight.”

“I’d have been surprised if he didn’t have files on her.”

“His devotion there is extreme,” Roarke said. “She is perfection to him, and he did indeed see himself as—as you put it—her shiny knight. His respect for Bic has been disintegrating over the last months. It’s now down to disgust. I believe it may have gone further in time.”

Those wild blue eyes flicked up to Eve’s. “That’s Mira’s territory, but if he did kill again, he would have felt justified in eliminating the man he believed allowed his goddess to be tormented.”

Roarke reached for Eve’s hand. “So consider you very likely saved a life. And this sort of obsession can grow and turn—as you know. He may have devolved until he killed Annie, then himself.”

“Mira territory, but yeah, I can see it.” Had already gone there in her head. “I’m going to have Baxter and Trueheart finish this up. Finalize the search, take in the electronics. They should have a part in it. I need to write it up. At home.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home,” he agreed.

She set the sealed weapon on the desk for Baxter and Trueheart, went back to the living area, got her field kit. “I need to tag DeWinter—I said I would. And Nadine. Nadine’ll take longer.”

“From home.”

“Yeah, from home.” She stepped out, sealed the door, took out her ’link to tag Baxter as they walked to the elevator.

Before they reached the car, the snow had started, thin, swirling flakes against the black sky, the brilliant lights of the city.

Home, she thought, where the shadows could be banished. Where all that mattered was right there.

“After I make the tags and write this up, let’s crack a bottle of wine and watch a vid. Something funny. Like stupid funny. Something ridiculous.”

“I can come up with one of those.”

“You never let me down.” She stowed the field kit, turned to him.

And, at least for the moment, she put it aside. For the moment she leaned into him, wrapped around him, and kissed him while the snow swirled white against the bitter.

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