Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(71)

“Roarke,” she muttered and jammed the code into her pocket along with her frozen fingers.

“I’ll show you the way.”

“Yeah, do that.”

They moved across the tarmac and into the warmth of the terminal. The private transportation sector was quiet, almost reverently so, as opposed to the constant noise, bumping bodies and food and gift hawkers that crowded the public areas.

They rode the elevator down to green, where Eve was shown a sleek, black air-and-road number that made the all-terrains the illegals detectives drove look like kiddie cars.

“If you’d prefer another make or model, you’re authorized for any available unit,” she was told.

“No. Fine. Thanks.” She waited until he’d walked away before she seethed. “He’s got to stop doing this.”

Peabody ran a loving hand over the glistening fender. “Why?”

“Because,” was the best Eve could come up with, and she uncoded the door. “Map out directions to Monica Rowan’s address.”

Peabody settled in, rubbed her hands together as she scanned the cockpit. “Air or road?”

Eve spared her a steely look. “Road, Peabody.”

“Air or road, I bet this baby moves.” She leaned forward to study the on-board computer system. “Oh wow, she is loaded.”

“When you finish being sixteen, Officer, map out the damn route.”

“You never stop being sixteen,” Peabody murmured, but followed orders.

The in-dash monitor responded immediately with a detailed map of the best route.

Would you like audio prompts during this trip? They were asked in the computer’s warm, silky baritone.

“I think we can handle it, ace.” Eve cruised toward the exit.

As you wish, Lieutenant Dallas. This trip comprises ten point three miles. Your estimated time to complete at this time of day on this day of the week, at the posted speed limits, is twelve minutes, eight seconds.

“Oh, we can beat that.” Peabody shot Eve a quick grin. “Right, Lieutenant?”

“We’re not here to beat anything.” She drove decorously through the parking garage, into and around airport traffic, and through the gates.

Then there was a stretch of highway, long, wide, open.

Hell, she was human. She punched it.

“Oh man! I want one of these.” Peabody grinned as the scenery blurred and flew by. “How much do you think this honey goes for?”

This model retails for one hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars, excluding tax, fees, and licenses.

“Holy shit.”

“Still feeling sixteen, Peabody?” With a quick laugh, Eve swung onto their exit.

“Yeah, and I want a raise in my allowance.”

They hit the commuter high-rises, strip malls, and hotel complexes that edged the suburbs. Traffic thickened on the road and overhead, but remained well-mannered and well-spaced.

That made Eve immediately miss New York with its nasty streets, rude vendors, and snarling pedestrians.

“How do people live in places like this?” she asked Peabody. “It’s like somebody cut it all out of a travel disc, took a few thousand copies, and pasted it down outside of every goddamn city in the country. They’re all the same.”

“Some people like all the same. It’s comforting. We took a trip to Maine when I was a kid. Mount Desert Island, the national park?”

Eve shuddered. “National parks are full of trees and hikers and weird little bugs.”

“Yeah, no bugs in New York.”

“I’ll take a good honest cockroach any day.”

“Come over to my place. Sometimes we have parties.”

“Complain to your super.”

“Oh yeah, that’ll work.”

Eve took a right, slowed as the street narrowed. The duplexes and triplexes here were old and shoved unhappily together. Lawns were quietly miserable, showing grass the bitter yellow of winter where snow had melted. She pulled up at a curb by a cracked sidewalk, shut off the engine.

Trip complete. Time elapsed nine minutes, forty-eight seconds. Please remember to code your door.

“You’d have cut another two minutes off easy if you’d gone air over that traffic,” Peabody told her when they climbed out.

“Stop grinning and put on your cop face. Monica’s peeking out the window.” Eve headed up the bumpy, unshoveled walk and rapped on the middle door of the triplex.

It was a long wait, though she judged Monica had about three steps to take to get from the window to the door. She didn’t expect a warm welcome. And didn’t get one.

The door opened a crack and one hard gray eye peered out. “What do you want?”

“Lieutenant Dallas, New York Police and Security, and aide. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you, Ms. Rowan. Can we come in?”

“This isn’t New York. You’ve got no authority here, no business here.”

“We have some questions,” Eve repeated. “And we’ve been cleared to request an interview. It would be easier for you, Ms. Rowan, if we conducted it here rather than arranging for you to be transported to New York.”

“You can’t make me go to New York.”

Eve didn’t bother to sigh, and pocketed the badge she flipped out for Monica’s study. “Yes, we can. But we’d rather not inconvenience you. We won’t take up much of your time.”