Memory in Death (In Death #22)(94)

"Yeah, I can help you with that. How would you have made her stop, Bobby?"

"I don't know. She'd listen to me. If she knew I was really upset, she'd listen to me." Now he sighed a little. "Or pretend to. I don't know anymore. I don't know how to tell Zana all this. I don't know how to tell her this is true. She's already been through so much."

"She was tight with your mother."

"They got along. Zana gets along with everyone. She made a real effort with my mother—it takes one." He tried another smile.

"You know, women get tight in a certain way. When they do, they tend to tell each other things they might not tell a man. Could it be your mother told Zana about what she was doing?"

"Not possible." He tried to sit up straighter, as if to emphasize his point, and cursed the restriction of his broken arm. "Zana's... she's scrupulous. I don't know anyone as intrinsically honest. She might not have argued with my mother about it, but she'd have been horrified, and she'd have told me. We don't have secrets."

People said that, Eve knew. But how did they know the other party didn't have secrets? How did they know there'd been full disclosure?

"Zana the type to keep her word?"

His face was full of love. "Probably cut off a finger before she'd break it."

"Then she'd be in a tough spot if she'd given your mother her word not to tell you, or anyone."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and Eve could see him wrestling with this new possibility. "I don't know how she'd have dealt with it. But she'd have told me, at least after my mother was killed. She'd never have kept that to herself. I wonder where she is." His fingers began to tug at the sheet. "I thought she'd be here by now."

"I'll check in a minute, make sure she's on her way. They say when they're springing you?"

"Not before tomorrow, but I'm pushing for that. I want to salvage something of Christmas. It's our first, probably told you that. At least I bought a couple of things here, so Zana will have something to open. Man, this—how did you put it? Oh, yeah, this sucks out loud."

Reaching into the pocket of her coat, Eve brought out a little bag. "Thought you might like these. Cookies," she said as she put the bag in his good hand. "I figure they might not run to Christmas cookies around here."

"Appreciate it." He peeked inside, nearly smiled again. "Really. The food's fairly crappy around here."

He'd brought her food once, and now she'd returned the favor. She thought that made them even, or wanted to think it.

Eve checked with her uniforms, assured Bobby his wife would be there shortly.

Then she let it all shuffle around in her mind during the long, ugly drive uptown.

Her pocket 'link signalled, causing her to fumble a moment as she interfaced it with the unfamiliar system on the all-terrain so her hands stayed free to fight the fight. "Dallas, and this better be good because I'm stuck in lousy traffic."

"I'm not!" Peabody's voice shot out thrills and excitement completely in contrast with the icy rain. On the dash screen, her face glowed like a damn candle. "I'm in Scotland, and it's snowing. It's snowing in big, fat, mag flakes."

"Yippee."

"Aw, don't be that way. I just had to tell you we're here, and it's so beyond frosty. The McNabs have this amazing house, kinda like a really big cottage, and there's a river and mountains. McNab's dad has a burr."

"Well, why doesn't he pull it out?"

"No, no, the accent. It's total. And they like me, Dallas. I mean, they just slathered, like, all over me."

"Again, I repeat: Yippee."

"I don't know why I was so nervous and freaky. It's just piles of fun on top of more. The shuttle ride was so uptown, and then, wow, the scenery is so completely mag. It's like a vid or something, and—"

"Peabody, I'm glad you're having a good time. Seriously. But I'm trying to get home here, so I can grab a little Christmas cheer myself."

"Sorry, sorry. Wait, first, did you get the presents I left on your desk?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Oh." Peabody's face went through several expressions, ending on a pout. "You're welcome."

"We didn't open them yet."

"Oh! Oh, okay." The pout turned into a nervous grin. "You want to wait until tomorrow. I just wondered. So, well... Anything I should know on the case?"

"Nothing that can't wait until you get back. Go eat some—what is it—haggis."

"I might. I've already had a really big whiskey, and it's dancing in my head. But I don't care! It's Christmas. And last year you and I were mad at each other, and now we're not. I love you, Dallas, and Roarke, and every bony inch of McNab. And his cousin Sheila. Merry Christmas, Dallas."

"Yeah, you bet." She cut off before Peabody could get started again. But she was smiling as she rolled through the gates toward home.

The house was lit as if it were night, and an icy mist rolled over the ground, sparkled just a little in the lights. She could see trees shimmering, candles glowing, and heard the patter of that cold, hard rain on the roof of her vehicle.