Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(43)

She had no answer for that, so she rose. “Now the problem is getting you out of here and keeping your involvement out of the media. They’ll be watching the gate.”

“There’s always an alternative,” Roarke commented. “I’ll arrange it.”

She had no doubt he could, and nodded. “I’ve got to change, get down to Central. Peabody.” She flicked a meaningful look in Jamie’s direction. “Stand by.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She means guard dog me,” Jamie muttered as Eve and Roarke left the kitchen.

“Yeah.” But Peabody flashed a companionable smile. “Want another Pepsi?”

“I guess.”

She got up to play with the delivery slot on the fridge, helped herself to a cup of Roarke’s magnificent coffee. “So how long have you wanted to be a cop?”

“For as long as I remember.”

“Me, too.” She settled down to talk shop.

“I’ll take him out by air,” Roarke told her as he and Eve cleaned up and changed in the bedroom.

“By air?”

“I’ve been meaning to take the minichopper out for a spin, anyway.”

“This area isn’t zoned for personal choppers.”

Wisely, he disguised a laugh with a cough. “Say that again when you’re wearing your badge.”

She muttered to herself and pulled on a clean shirt. “Take him home, will you? I appreciate it. The kid’s lucky to be alive.”

“He’s resourceful, bright, focused.” Roarke smiled as he picked up the jammer, admired it. “Now, if I’d had one of these at his age… ah, the possibilities.”

“You do well enough with your magic fingers.”

“True.” He tucked the jammer in his pocket. He was going to have one of his engineers analyze and very possibly reproduce it. “I’m afraid youth today doesn’t appreciate the satisfaction of hands on. If young Jamie changes his mind about law enforcement, I think I could find a nice slot for him in my little world.”

“Don’t even mention it. You’ll corrupt him.”

Roarke picked up his slim gold wrist unit, fastened it on. “You did very well with him. Firm without being cold. A nice, authoritative, yet maternal style.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re good with children.” He grinned as she paled. “I’d wondered.”

“Get a grip. A good strong grip,” she advised and strapped on her weapon harness. “I’m going to hit Central first, file my report, feed Whitney the data that’s not going into it. Officially, Jamie’s name isn’t going to be linked with this. I’m sure, if necessary, the two of you can work out a plausible story for his mother.”

“Child’s play,” Roarke said with tongue in cheek.

“Hmm. From my prelim, Lobar was killed at oh three thirty. That would be about an hour after we left the club. Hard to tell how long he’d been propped outside the gate, but at a guess, no more than fifteen minutes or so before Jamie happened on him. It’s not likely that whoever left Lobar hanging, let’s say, stuck around. But if they did, and spotted Jamie, he could be a target. I want the kid under surveillance, and until Whitney uncuffs me, I can’t use a cop.”

“Would you like me to put one of my trusted employees on him?”

“No, but that’s what I’m going to ask you to do.” She turned to the mirror, raked fingers through her hair in lieu of a comb. “I’m bringing this home, too many angles of it. I’m sorry.”

He walked to her, turned her around, caught her face in his hands. “You can’t separate what you do from who you are. I don’t expect or want you to. What touches you, touches me. That’s what I expect and what I want.”

“The last case that touched me almost killed you.” She wrapped her hands around his wrist, squeezed. “I need you too much. It’s your own fault.”

“Exactly.” He bent down, kissed her. “That’s what I want as well. Go to work, Lieutenant.”

“I’m going.” She strode to the door, paused, glanced back. “I don’t want to hear from Traffic that my husband was hotdogging the skyways in his minichopper.”

“You won’t. I bribe too well.”

It made her laugh as she headed back down to fetch Peabody and face the first media onslaught.

She’d no more than strapped into her vehicle when she heard the throaty purr of an expensive engine. Wincing only a little, she glanced east and saw the sleek little copter with its tinted one-way glass cabin and whirling silver blades rise, circle playfully — and illegally — before bulleting off.

“Wow! What a machine. Is that Roarke’s? Have you been up?” Peabody craned her head to try to get a last look. “That is one rapid mother.”

“Shut up, Peabody.”

“I’ve never been up in a personal.” With a wistful sigh, Peabody settled. “Makes the units Traffic use look like dog meat.”

“You used to be intimidated when I told you to shut up.”

“Those were the good old days.” Grinning, Peabody crossed her ankles. “You handled the kid really well, Lieutenant.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “I know how to interview a cooperative witness, Peabody.”