Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(13)

No one knew anything, of course. No one had seen anything. The single corroborative statement she’d gleaned from her crawl through the seamier side of the city was that no one had heard from or laid eyes on Boomer in over a week, possibly longer.

But someone had laid a great deal more than eyes on him. Her time was running low to find out who and why.

The bedroom lights were on dim. She’d already stripped off her shirt and tossed it aside when she noted the bed was empty. There was an instant flare of disappointment, a faint uncomfortable tug of panic.

He’d had to leave, she thought. He was right now heading toward any possible spot in the colonized universe. He could be gone for days.

Staring miserably at the bed, she toed off her shoes and tugged off her slacks. Groping in a drawer, she pulled out a cotton undershirt and yanked it over her head.

God, she was pitiful, mooning because Roarke had to take care of business. Because he wasn’t mere for her to snuggle up against. Because he wasn’t there to ward off the nightmares that seemed to plague her with more intensity and frequency as her memories of the past grew to crowd her.

She was too tired to dream, she told herself. Too busy to brood. And strong enough not to remember anything she didn’t care to remember.

She turned, intending to go to her upstairs office to sleep when the door slid open. Relief flushed through her like shame.

“I thought you’d had to leave.”

“I was working.” Roarke crossed to her. In the dim light his black shirt was a stark contrast to the white of hers. He tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes. “Lieutenant, why do you always run until you fall down?”

“I have a deadline on this one.” Perhaps she was overtired, or perhaps love was beginning to be easier, but she lifted both hands to his face. “I’m awfully glad you’re here.” When he lifted her up and carried her toward the bed, she smiled. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m tucking you in, and you’re going to sleep.”

It was hard to argue when her eyes were already closing. “Did you get my message?”

“The elaborate one that said, ‘I’ll be late’? Yes.” He kissed her forehead. “Turn yourself off.”

“In a minute.” She fought back the edges of sleep. “I only had a couple minutes to contact Mavis. She wants to stay where she is for a couple days. She isn’t going in to the Blue Squirrel either. She called in and found out Leonardo’s been by there a half a dozen times looking for her.”

“The course of true love.”

“Mmm. I’m going to try to take an hour personal time tomorrow and swing by to see her, but I may not make it until the day after.”

“She’ll be all right. I can go by, if you like.”

“Thanks, but she wouldn’t talk to you about it. I’ll take care of it as soon as I figure out what Boomer was up to. I know damn well he couldn’t read that disc.”

“Of course not,” Roarke soothed, hoping to lull her to sleep.

“Not that he wasn’t good with figures. Money figures. But scientific formulas — ” She bolted straight up, nearly bashing Roarke’s nose with her head. “Your unit’ll do it.”

“It will?”

“I got the runaround from the lab. They’re backed up, this is low priority. No priority,” she added, scrambling back out of bed. “I need an edge. You’ve got scientific analysis abilities on your unlicensed unit, right?”

“Of course.” He sighed and rose. “Now, I suppose?”

“We can access the data from my office unit.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged him toward the faux panel that concealed the elevator. “It won’t take us long.”

She filled him in on the basics as they traveled up. By the time he’d coded them in to the private room, she was wide awake and revved.

The equipment was elaborate, unlicensed, and of course, illegal. Like Roarke, she used the handplate for access, then moved behind the U-shaped console.

“You can pull the data faster than I can,” she told him. “It’s under Code Two, Yellow, Johannsen. My access number’s — “

“Please.” If he was going to play cop at three A. M., he wasn’t going to be insulted. Roarke sat at the controls and manipulated a few dials manually. “Into Cop Central,” he said and smiled when she frowned.

“So much for security.”

“Anything else you’d like before I focus on your unit?”

“No.” She said it firmly, moving behind him. Manipulating a keyboard with one hand, Roarke drew one of hers over his shoulder, to his lips, to nibble on her knuckles. “Show-off.”

“It would hardly be any fun if you just plugged me in with your code. In your unit,” he murmured, and switched to auto. “File Code Two, Yellow, Johannsen.” Across the room one of the wall screens flashed.

Waiting

“Evidence number 34-J, view and copy,” Eve requested. When the formula scrolled on, Eve shook her head. “See that? It might as well be ancient hieroglyphics.”

“Chemical formula,” Roarke mused.

“How do you know?”

“I manufacture a few — legal ones. This is some sort of analgesic, but not entirely. Hallucinogenic properties…” He clucked his tongue, shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Not a standard. Computer, analyze and identify.”