Memory in Death (In Death #22)(57)

It was—she thought it was—the happiest, most liberating moment of her life at that time. She could remember, even now, the odd way the smile had fit on her face. The way her cheeks had stretched out, and the laugh that had rumbled up in her throat and hurt her chest a little. But a good hurt, like nothing she'd ever experienced.

He'd said she could go again, that she was a natural.

But Trudy had come out, came streaming out with that look on her face. That hell-to-pay look. She had yelled, screamed at Eve to get off that damn thing.

Didn't I tell you to stay in the yard. Didn't I say? Who gets the blame if you breaks your fool neck?

You ever think of that?

She hadn't. Had only thought of the thrill of riding the board for the first time.

Trudy had screamed at the boys, too, told them she'd call the police. She knew what they were up to. Perverts, hoodlums. But they'd just laughed and made rude noises. The one whose board she'd ridden had called Trudy an old bitch, right to her face.

Eve had thought it was the bravest thing she'd ever seen.

He'd given Eve a quick grin, a quick wink, and told her she could have another ride whenever she shook the old bitch loose.

But she'd never ridden it again. She'd stayed away from him, and his friends.

And she'd paid for the momentary thrill with an empty gut.

Later, with stomach growling, she had stood at the window of her room. And she'd seen Trudy go out of the front door below. Had watched her take rocks and smash the windshield of her car, then the side windows. Had watched her spray paint on the hood—and made out the gleam of the letters in the dark.

OLD BITCH

Trudy had then marched across the street, had wiped the can on a rag, and then tossed it into the bushes in front of the boy's house.

She'd been smiling, a bared-teeth snarl of a smile as she'd walked back toward the house.

12

EVE HAD ONE MORE CHORE BEFORE SHE WENT off duty, and took it solo.

The hotel Roarke had provided for Bobby and Zana was a step up from the previous location. No big surprise there. Still, it was moderate, short on frills. Just the sort of place tourists or business-people on a budget might choose.

Security was subtle, but it was there.

She was stopped on her way across the tidy lobby before she could access the elevators.

"Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?"

The woman who tapped her shoulder had a pleasant face, an easy smile. And the faint bulge of a stunner under the armpit of her smart jacket.

"Police." Eve held up her right hand, reached for her badge with her left. "Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. My people are in five-twelve. I'm going up to check on them and the uniform on duty."

"Lieutenant. Orders are to scan ID. So..."

"Good." They were her own orders, after all. "Go ahead."

The woman took out a hand scanner—jazzier than any police issue—verified. She tapped a button, brought Eve's ID photo onto the scanner's screen. Satisfied, she handed Eve her badge.

"Go ahead up, Lieutenant. Do you want me to call the uniform on duty and tell him you're on your way?"

"No. I like surprising them."

Fortunately for the uniform, he was at the door. They knew each other by sight, so rather than ask for ID, he simply sucked in his stomach, straightened his shoulders. "Lieutenant."

"Bennington. Status?"

"Quiet. All the rooms this level are occupied except five-oh-five and five-fifteen. Few people in and out—shopping bags and briefcases. Not a peep out of five-twelve since I came on shift."

"Take ten."

"Thanks, Lieutenant. I'm relieved in thirty, so I can stand until."

"Good enough." She knocked, waited while someone inside checked the security peep. Zana opened the door.

"Hi. I wasn't sure you'd be by today. Bobby's in the bedroom talking to D.K. Do you want me to get him?"

"No need." Eve stepped inside the little parlor, Roarke had provided what she supposed was termed an 'executive suite,' with a jut of kitchenette off a cozy sitting area. The bedroom was separated by a pair of pocket doors, currently shut.

"How you doing?" Eve asked.

"Better, thanks. Better." Her cheeks pinked a little. She fluffed nervously at the long waves of her sunny hair. "It occurred to me that you've mostly seen me hysterical. I'm not usually. Really."

"You had reason." Eve scanned. Privacy screens engaged. Good. Entertainment screen on some sort of girlie talk show. No wonder Bobby had the doors shut.

"Can I get you something? The kitchen's got a good supply." She smiled wanly. "No need to run out for bagels. I can get you coffee or—"

"No, that's okay."

"It's a nicer room than the other. Terrible way to get it."

"No point in being uncomfortable and uneasy."

"No. No, I guess not." She turned her wedding ring around and around on her finger. Another nervous habit, Eve thought. There was a ring with a little pink stone on her right hand, and the same pink stone, as studs, in her ears.

They matched her lip dye, Eve noted. How—and why—did women think of that kind of detail?

"I'm so glad you got my purse back. It had all my stuff, pictures and ID and this new lip dye I just bought, and... God." She rubbed her hands over her face. "Want to sit down?"