Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(51)

“You need help on it?” He smiled wanly. “I’m looking for busy work.”

“I’ve got it covered for now, but I’ll let you know.”

He paced to her narrow window, back to her door. He looked exhausted, she thought. So tired. So sad.

“What’s the story? Did you know the guy?”

“Not really.” Oh, Christ, what did she do here? “I’d talked to him once about a case I was on. Didn’t pan out. Could be he knew more than he was telling me. It’s going to be hard to say now.” She took a deep breath, hating herself. “I figure it was someone who wanted to take a swipe at me or Roarke. Most cops can keep their home addresses quiet. I can’t.” She shrugged.

“Price you pay for falling for a public figure. You happy?” he said abruptly and turned to study her face.

“Sure.” She wondered if guilt was plastered on her forehead like a neon sign.

“Good. Good.” He paced again, jiggling the bag of nuts he habitually carried in his pocket and no longer seemed to have the appetite for. “It’s tough to be on the job and make a decent personal life. Frank did.”

“I know.”

“Alice’s viewing is tonight. You going to make it?”

“I don’t know, Feeney. I’ll try.”

“It rips me, Dallas. It really rips me. My wife’s with Brenda now. She’s wrecked. Just wrecked. I couldn’t handle it anymore so I came in. But I can’t focus.”

“Why don’t you go back home, Feeney?” She rose, reached out to touch his arm. “Just go home. Maybe you and your wife could go away for a few days. You’ve got the time coming. Get away from this.”

“Maybe.” His eyes were bleak, heavy with bags. “But where do you go to get away from what’s always there?”

“Listen, Roarke’s got this place in Mexico. It’s great.” She was fumbling and knew it, desperate to give. “It’s got a monster view, and it’s fully equipped. It would be.” She managed a smile. “It’s Roarke’s. I’ll square it with him. You can go there, take your family.”

“Take the family.” He repeated it slowly, finding the idea was almost soothing. “Maybe I will. You never seem to make time to be with your family. I’ll think about it,” he decided. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing. It’s Roarke. It’s just there.” She turned blindly toward her desk. “I’m sorry, Feeney, I’ve got to get it together for a media statement.”

“Sure.” He worked up a smile for her. “I know how much you love that. I’ll let you know about using the place.”

“Yeah, do that.” She stared hard at her screen until he went out. She’d followed orders, she reminded herself. She’d done the right thing.

So why did it make her feel like a traitor?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

She made the tail end of the viewing, grateful that Roarke had come with her. It was too familiar, the same memorial parlor, the same scents, many of the same people.

“I hate this,” she murmured. “Sanitized death.”

“It comforts.”

Eve looked over to where Brenda was supported by her mother and her son while tears ran slowly down her cheeks. She had the glazed and delicate look of the heavily medicated.

“Does it?”

“It closes,” he corrected and took her cold hand in his. “For some.”

“When it’s my turn, don’t do this. Recycle the parts, burn the rest. Get it done.”

He felt the fist clutch around his heart and gave her hand a hard squeeze. “Don’t.”

“Sorry. I tend to have morbid thoughts in places like this. Well.” Her room scan stopped when she spotted Isis. “There’s my witch.”

Roarke followed her gaze and studied the imposing woman with flame-colored hair and wearing a simple robe of pure white. She stood by the viewing box beside a man a full head shorter than she. He wore a plain, almost conservative suit, also in white. Their fingers were linked.

“The man with her?”

“I don’t know him. Might be a member of her sect or whatever. Let’s check it out.”

They moved across the room and by tacit agreement, flanked the couple. Eve looked down at Alice first, at the young face, composed now. Death had a way of relaxing the features. After the insult had passed.

“She’s not here.” Isis spoke quietly. “Her spirit still searches for peace. I’d hoped… I’d hoped to find her here. I’m sorry I missed you today, Dallas. We were closed in Alice’s memory.”

“You weren’t at home, either.”

“No, we gathered at another place, for our own ceremony. The man across the street told me you’d been looking for me.” A faint smile wisped around her mouth. “He was concerned that I had a cop on my trail. He has a good heart, despite a certain imbalance.”

She stepped back to introduce the man beside her. “This is Chas. My mate.”

Training kept Eve’s eyes bland, but she was surprised. He was as ordinary as Isis was spectacular. His hair was a washed-out blond, thin in texture. His body was almost fragile, narrow in the shoulders, short in the leg. His square, unremarkable face was stopped just short of homely by a pair of surprisingly lovely deep gray eyes. When he smiled, it was with a sweetness that demanded a smile in return.