Portrait in Death (In Death #16)(118)

"How was he doing when you went by the hospital to see him?"

He smiled into her hair. "Apparently you see through me, too. He looked young and eager, if a bit tired. Baxter bought him an obscene balloon in the shape of enormous br**sts. With obvious embarrassment and delight, Trueheart tied it to his bed guard."

"Yeah, I saw it when I went by. All's right with the world again. Or as close as it gets."

"You're sorry for him."

She knew he didn't speak of Trueheart now. "More than I want to be. He's twisted. Maybe his mother's death turned him, or maybe he'd have ended up that way anyhow. That's for the head guys to figure out. I'm done. Guess I should go up and fall on my face for a few hours."

"I imagine so. We'll have to keep our date later."

"What date?"

He slipped an arm around her waist, turned for the stairs. "The date we outlined for when Summerset left for holiday."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." She jerked back, scanning the foyer. "He's gone? The house is Summerset-free?"

"Left not twenty minutes ago, still limping a bit, but-"

"I must be slipping. I should've known. I should've felt it."

She kicked her jacket into the air, wiggled her hips, did what might have been a cha-cha down the hall.

"You seem to have found a stored pocket of energy."

"I am reborn!" Cackling, she whirled around, pushed off with her toes and leaped on him. "Let's have monkey sex," she said as she wrapped her legs around Roarke's waist.

"Well, if you insist. It so happens I have a pint of very nice chocolate sauce in the parlor."

"You're kidding."

"One never kids about monkey sex with chocolate sauce."

She laughed like a loon, then crushed her mouth to his-hot and hard enough to make him stagger. And when they tumbled onto the floor, she thought she heard the door close, just a little more.

THE END

[Excerpt from next book]

If you enjoyed

Portrait in Death

you won't want to miss

J. D. Robb's newest novel of romantic suspense...

IMITATION IN DEATH

Here is a special excerpt from this provocative new novel

Available September 2003 from Berkley Books and The_Ghiti

(The_Ghiti's e-edition may be delayed up to 96 hours from print release-please be patient)

You never saw it all. No matter how many times you walked through the blood and the gore, no matter how often you looked at the horror man inflicted on man, you never saw it all.

There was always something worse, something meaner, or crazier, more vicious, more cruel.

As Lieutenant Eve Dallas stood over what had once been a woman, she wondered when she would see worse than this.

Two of the uniform cops on scene were still retching at the mouth of the alley. The sound of their sickness echoed back to her. She stood where she was, hands and boots already sealed, and waited for her own shuddering stomach to settle.

Had she seen this much blood before? It was hard to remember. It was best not to.

She crouched, opened her field kit, and took out her ID pad to run the victim's fingerprints. She couldn't avoid the blood, so she stopped thinking about it. Lifting the limp hand she pressed the thumb to her pad.

"Victim is female, Caucasian. The body was discovered at approximately oh-three-thirty by officers responding to anonymous nine-one-one, and is herewith identified through fingerprint check as Wooton, Jacie, age forty-one, licensed companion, residing 375 Doyers."

She took a shallow breath, then another. "Victim's throat has been cut. Spatter pattern indicates wound was inflicted while victim stood against the north-facing wall of the alley. Blood pattern and trail would indicate victim fell or was laid across alley floor by assailant or assailants who then..."

Jesus. Oh Jesus.

"Who then mutilated the victim by removing the pelvic area. Both the throat and pelvic wounds indicate the use of a sharp implement and some precision."

Despite the heat her skin prickled, cold and clammy as she took out gauges, recorded data.

"I'm sorry." Peabody, her aide, spoke from behind her. Eve didn't have to look around to know Peabody's face would still be pale and glossy from shock and nausea. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I couldn't maintain."

"Don't worry about it. You okay now?"

"I... Yes, sir."

Eve nodded and continued to work. Stalwart, steady, and as dependable as the tide, Peabody had taken one look at what laid in the alley, turned sheet white, and had stumbled back toward the street at Eve's sharp order to puke elsewhere.

"I've got an ID on her. Jacie Wooton, Doyers. An LC. Do a run for me."

"I've never seen anything like this. Just never seen..."

"Get the data. Do it down there. You're in my light here."

She wasn't, Peabody knew. Her lieutenant was cutting her a break, and because her head wanted to spin again, she took it, moving toward the mouth of the alley.

She'd sweated through her uniform shirt, and her dark bowl of hair was damp at the temples under her cap. Her throat was raw, her voice weak, but she initiated the run. And watched Eve work.

Efficient, thorough, and some would say cold. But Peabody had seen the leap of shock and horror, and of pity, on Eve's face before her own vision had blurred. Cold wasn't the word, but driven was.