Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(94)

Peabody’s jaw twitched, but her voice was even. “I’m not going anywhere, Lieutenant.”

“Fine, just stand here and look martyred because I — ” In midtirade, Eve stopped, sucked in her breath. “I’m sorry. You’re a goddamn handy target at the moment, Peabody.”

“Is that part of my job description? Sir.”

“You always have a fine comeback. I could learn to hate you for that.” Calmer, Eve laid a hand on her aide’s shoulder. “I am sorry, and I’m sorry to put you in a tight spot. Duty and personal emotions never mix well.”

“I can handle it. He was wrong to come at you that way, Dallas. I can understand how he feels, but it doesn’t make him right.”

“Maybe not.” Eve leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “But he was right about one thing, and it’s eating at me. I didn’t have the stomach for what I did to Fitzgerald in interview. I didn’t have the stomach while I was doing it, while I was hearing myself hammer at her, twist her up when she was suffering. But I did it, because that’s my job, and going for the jugular when the prey’s wounded is exactly what I’m supposed to do.”

Eve opened her eyes and stared hard at the door behind which Jerry Fitzgerald was mildly sedated. “And sometimes, Peabody, the job just f**king sucks.”

“Yes, sir.” For the first time, Peabody reached out and touched a hand to Eve’s arm. “That’s why you’re so good at it.”

Eve opened her mouth, surprised when a laugh popped out. “Goddamn, Peabody, I really like you.”

“I like you, too.” She waited a beat. “What’s wrong with us?”

Cheered a little, she slung an arm around Peabody’s sturdy shoulders. “Let’s go get something to eat. Fitzgerald’s not going anywhere tonight.”

On that, Eve’s instincts proved to be wrong.

The call woke her at a little before four A.M., out of a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep. Her eyes were gritty, her tongue thick from the wine she’d indulged in to be marginally sociable with Mavis and Leonardo. She managed a croak as she answered the ‘link.

“Dallas. Christ, doesn’t anyone ever sleep in this town?”

“I often ask myself the same question.” The face and voice on the ‘link were vaguely familiar. Eve struggled to focus, to roll through her memory discs.

“Doctor… hell, Ambrose?” It slid back, layer by layer. Ambrose, spindly female, mixed race, head of chemical rehab at the Midtown Rehabilitation Center for Substance Addiction. “You still there? Is Fitzgerald coming around?”

“Not exactly. Lieutenant, we have a problem here. Patient Fitzgerald is dead.”

“Dead? What do you mean dead?”

“As in deceased,” Ambrose said with a bland smile. “As a homicide lieutenant, I imagine you’re familiar with the term.”

“How, damn it? Did her nervous system give out, did she jump out a f**king window?”

“As near as we can determine, she overdosed herself. She managed to get her hands on the sample of Immortality we were using to determine the proper treatment for her. She took all of it, in combination with a few of the other goodies we have stashed here. I’m sorry, Lieutenant, she’s gone. We can’t bring her back. I’ll fill you in on the details when you and your team arrive.”

“Damn right you will,” Eve snapped and broke transmission.

Eve viewed the body first, as if to ensure herself there hadn’t been a horrible mistake. Jerry had been laid on the bed, her color-coded hospital gown draped to midthigh. Sky blue for addict, first stage treatment.

She was never going to get to stage two.

Her beauty was back, oddly eerie, in the bone-white face. The shadows were gone from under her eyes, the strain from around the mouth. Death was the ultimate calmer, after all. There were faint burn marks on her chest where the resuscitating team had worked on her, a light bruising on the back of her hand where the IV had pinched. Under the doctor’s wary eye, Eve examined the body thoroughly, but found no signs of violence.

She’d died, Eve supposed, as happy as she would ever be.

“How?” Eve demanded shortly.

“The combination of Immortality and, as far as we can determine by what’s missing, doses of morphine and synthetic Zeus. Autopsy will confirm.”

“You keep Zeus here, in a rehab?” The idea had Eve scrubbing her hands over her face. “Jesus.”

“For research and rehabilitation,” Ambrose said tightly. “Subjects addicted need a slow, supervised withdrawal period.”

“So where the hell was the supervision, Doctor?”

“Ms. Fitzgerald was sedated. She was not expected to regain full consciousness until eight A. M. My hypothesis would be that, as we don’t fully understand the properties of Immortality as yet, what was left in her system counteracted the sedative.”

“So she got up, marched herself down to your drug hold, and helped herself.”

“Something of the kind.” Eve could all but hear Ambrose’s teeth grinding.

“What about security, the nursing staff? Did she turn herself invisible and walk right by them?”

“You can check with your own officer on duty about security, Lieutenant Dallas.”