Imitation in Death (In Death #17)(37)

"It wasn't my fault." Sulking a little, she touched fingers gingerly to her jaw. "Somebody knocked me into this guy's fist when I was trying to stop him from beating this other guy who was whacking off in the subway to a bloody pulp. I couldn't blame the guy, the-guy with the fist, because he wasn't aiming it at me. But still."

"My life," Roarke said after a moment, "was gray before you walked into it."

"Yeah, I'm a rainbow." She wiggled her jaw. "My face anyway. You up-for some drone work?"

"I might be persuaded. After we put something on that bruise."

"It's not so bad. You know, the transit cop told me that guy's a -regular on that line. They call him Willy the Wanker "

'That's a fascinating bit of New York trivia. He pulled her toward the elevator. "It makes me yearn to ride the subway!,

Chapter 8

In Peabody's cramped apartment, McNab ran her through a series of intense computer simulations. He'd proven himself, Peabody had discovered in the last few weeks, a strict and fairly irritating instructor.

With her shoulders hunched, she carefully picked her way through a murder scene, selecting her choices and options in a field investigation of a double homicide.

And cursed when her selection resulted in a. blasting buzz-McNab's personal addition to the sim-and a sternfaced figure of a robed judge shaking his finger at her.

Ah-ah-ah-improper procedure, scene contamination. Evidence suppressed. Suspect gets a free walk due to detective investigator's screwup.

"Does he have to say that?"

"Cuts through the legal mumbo," McNab pointed out, and stuffed potato chips in his face. "Digs down to the point."

"I don't want to do any more sims." Her face fellinto a pout that had McNab's libido jiggling. "My brain's going to leak out of my ears in a minute."

He loved her, enough to mostly ignore the image of peeling her out of her clothes and doing her on the rug. "Look, you're aces on the written. You've got a memory for details and points of law, blab blab. You get thumbs-up on the oral, once your voice settles down from a squeak." "It does not squeak."

"Sort of like how it does when I bite your toes.". He grinned toothily when she scowled at him.

"And while I like how it sounds myself, the test team's going to be less romantically inclined. So you're going to want to oil the squeaks It

She continued to pout, then her mouth dropped open in shock when he slapped her hand away from the bag of chips. "None for you until you get through a sim."

"Jesus, McNab, I'm not a puppy performing for a biscuit."

"No, you're a cop who wants to make detective." He moved the bag out of her reach. "And you're scared."

"I'm not scared; I'm understandably anxious about the testing process and proving myself ready to..." She hissed out a breath as he merely studied her with patient green eyes. "I'm terrified." Because his arm came around her, she snuggled into his bony shoulder. "I'm terrified I'll blow it, and I'll. let Dallas down. And you, and Feeney, the commander, my family. Jesus."

"You're not going to blow it, and you won't let anyone down. This isn't about Dallas, or anybody else. It's all about you."

"She trained me, she put me up for it."

"So she must figure you're ready. It ain't no snap, SheBody." He gave her cheek a quick'nuzzle.

"It's not supposed to be. But you've got the training, you've got the field time, the instincts, the brains. And, honey, you've got the guts and heart, too."

She turned her head to look up at him. "That's so damn sweet."

"It's a fact, and here's another one, here's what you don't have right now. You don't have the balls."

Her gooey affection toward him transformed into brittle insult. "Hey."

"And because you don't have the balls," he continued calmly, "you're not trusting your gut, or your training. You're second- guessing yourself. Instead of going with what you know, you keep wondering what you don't know, and that's why you keep missing up on the sims."

She'd pulled away from him. Her breath hissed out. "I hate you for being right."

"Nah. You love me because I'm so damn good looking."

"Asshole."

"Fraidy cat."

"'Fraidy cat." Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile, "Jeez. Okay, set up another one. Make it tough:_ And when I nail it, I not only get the chips, but :." Her smile widened. "You wear the hat."

"You're on."

She rose to pace and clear out her head while he programmed the sim. She'd been afraid, she admitted. Afraid she wanted it too much. So she hadn't used the hunger, but had let it eat away at her confidence. That had to stop. Even if her palms were damp and her stomach in knots it had to stop.

Dallas never let nerves get in the way, she thought. And she had them, nerves and something deeper, darker. It had peeked through on the Gregg scene, for just a moment that afternoon. Now and again on a sexual homicide, it peeked through. It turned her lieutenant's cheeks pale. Took her back, Peabody was sure, to something horrible.

Something personal.