Kindred in Death (In Death #29)(99)

“Daddy plays golf Wednesday afternoons. You’ve been alone with this monster.”

“Why did he switch the one lesson?” Eve asked.

“He said he got called into work. He’s a computer programmer, and there was some glitch or other he had to take care of. It was raining that day,” she added. “My Deke doesn’t play golf when it rains, so he was home all day. And once a month, Thursday evenings, he goes and plays poker with some of the boys. He wasn’t home the Thursday evening this one came.”

Those soft blue eyes sharpened. “That was smart, wasn’t it? Smart to know all that, to make sure I’m the only one who’s seen him. Why, he’s a f**ker, isn’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am, he is. Has he ever come to your home on a weekend?”

“No, but he asked to switch this week’s lesson to Friday afternoon.”

“Lieutenant, my father, my husband, brothers, the grandsons, they’re all going on a camping trip this weekend. They’re leaving Friday. My mother would be home alone until Sunday. He must know.”

“Sure he knows, didn’t I tell him myself?” Charity slapped a hand to her own thigh. “I must’ve said something a couple weeks back about how glad I was going to be to have the house to myself for a couple days, and damned if I didn’t tell him all about it. He asked where they camped, how long they’d be away. It was smooth, when I think about it, all how he’d never gone camping, wasn’t sure he’d like it. And last Wednesday, he brought it up, making sure, I see now, that it was still on.”

She gave a grimace of disgust. “He’s planning on coming here to kill me. I’ll kick that little bastard’s ass to next week.”

“I bet you could,” Eve said. “But you’re going to have to leave that part to me.”

Charity drew a deep breath, then gave Eve a look of approval. “You look like you can handle it. What do you want us to do?”

It took time to lay it out, reassure, and to bring in the last name on her list, find the target, interview, and again reassure.

At the end of it, a tired Peabody sighed. “We’ll get him tomorrow, at the memorial. We’ll get him then, and all the rest will just be precaution and backup. Because, well, we want him but . . . Louise’s wedding.”

“Don’t. Don’t even start.” Tired herself, Eve scrubbed her hands over her face. “Briefing tomorrow as scheduled. We’ll bring the rest of the team up to speed. I’ll write it up. Go ahead and fill in McNab and Jamie since you’re going to do that anyway. Then shut down. You need to be on full charge tomorrow.”

“I will. Because we have to take him tomorrow. For the sake of law and justice. And true love.”

“Roarke. Please.”

He smiled. “Good night, Peabody,” he said, and discharged the holo.

“Okay, and peace reigns across the land. For a minute. I need the recording so I can—”

“Disc copy.” He offered it. “And another is already transmitting to your unit. Now, come with me.”

“I have to—”

“Yes, I know you do.” He took her hand, drew her to the elevator. “If there was enough time—or I thought I could browbeat you into it—I’d see you took a hot bath and a relaxation session, but rather than argue for the next many minutes . . .”

He drew her into the bedroom.

“I don’t have time for that either.”

“Dear God, sex, sex, sex. It’s all you think about.” He turned her toward the sitting area.

There was candlelight, two glasses of wine, and—

“Is that cake?”

“It is.”

“I get cake?”

He pulled her back before she could pounce. “It depends.” He pulled a small case out of his pocket, watched her happy surprise turn to annoyed scowl.

“I don’t need a blocker.”

“You do if you want cake. I know you have a headache—overwork, stress—overthinking—it shows. Take the blocker like a good girl, and you’ll have cake.”

“It better be really good cake.” She popped the blocker, then immediately grabbed the plate. One bite had her closing her eyes. “Okay, it is. Really good. Worth it. Ten minutes for cake.”

“Seems only fair.” He tugged her down to sit.

“We found them all.” She closed her eyes again, not in pleasure but relief. “All five.”

“Saved them all.”

“No, not all.”

“There are five women, and their families, who think differently.”

“If we can take him tomorrow.” She let it ride a moment, took another bite of cake. “The judge’s mother? Something.”

“Indeed she is.”

“Do the math. Seventy years into the marriage deal, and she’s ninety. Twenty when she stepped into the deal, started popping out kids. Seven decades later, and it’s still there. It’s what Pauley wants to destroy. Not just the person, but the connection. Strangle them with their own family ties.”

A slow sip of wine went down smoothly. “If we don’t take him tomorrow, she’ll hold up. She’ll stand to it.

“I don’t want to screw up the wedding,” she said suddenly. “I don’t want to mess this up, but if—”