Promises in Death (In Death #28)(74)

“To do it, he’d need someone close to Alex, and someone close to Col—to Ammy,” she corrected. “I have two e-detectives on their way to Omega now. I think Ricker’s got someone up there covering his visitor and communication log. I think he’s been in touch, and he’s been orchestrating this—maybe more than this. I’m going to see Alex in the morning—but more, I’m going to see his personal assistant. That’s the guy I’m looking at. Nobody’s closer to Alex than this guy, this Rod Sandy. On the other part, I’m looking at her squad.”

“One of her squad?” Morris set his cup down again. “Jesus. Jesus.”

“It was an inside hit—inside her world, inside Alex Ricker’s. I know it.”

For a long moment, he stared at the fire. Stared in silence.

“I didn’t think you were so close. I didn’t believe you’d gotten this far. I should’ve known better. What can I do?”

“You can spend some time tonight thinking about anything she told you about the people she worked with. Little things: comments, observations, complaints, jokes. Anything you remember. Anything you observed personally when you went to see her at work, when you joined her for a drink, for a meal with anyone in her squad. Note it down.”

“I will. I can do that.”

“And try to sleep. You’re no good to me if your brain’s fuzzed up with exhaustion. Think, note, sleep. I’m heading out in the morning to interview Alex and his PA. Send anything to my unit here, and I’ll review. I can talk to you more about it when I get back.”

His eyes held hers, and they were sharp again—the dullness honed away by purpose. “All right. I’ll start right away.”

“Why don’t I take you up?” Roarke rose.

“I was just coming to do so.” Summerset walked in. “Let me show you your room, Dr. Morris, and you can tell me if there’s anything else you need.”

“Thank you.” Morris looked back at Eve. “I have what I need.”

As Morris left with Summerset, Roarke skimmed a hand over Eve’s hair. “You’re no good to me if your brain’s fuzzed up with exhaustion. I don’t know how you could choke those words out without them burning off your tongue. Nicely done, though. He’ll will himself to sleep because of it.”

“That’s the plan. I need to finish up, and stow the murder board. I won’t have him wander into my office and see that.” She smiled at him as she rose. “It was nice what you did, seeing that he stayed here tonight.”

Roarke took her hand. “We’re family.”

Somewhere in the dim hours of the morning, Eve felt herself being lifted. She managed to focus about the time Roarke carried her into the elevator from her office.

“Damn it, I conked. What time is it?”

“Around two, fuzzy-brain.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“It happens I got caught up myself, and the work took longer than I’d anticipated. I just surfaced myself.”

“Oh.” She yawned. “Maybe I should be carrying you.”

“Easy to say now that I’m hauling you into the bedroom.” Crossing it, he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed. “And I doubt either of us have the energy for a sexy new nightgown.”

She managed to pull off a boot, toss it. “I don’t know. I could fuel up if you put one on.”

“Aren’t you the funny one when you’re asleep on your feet?”

She tossed the second boot. “I’m not on my feet.” She dragged off her shirt, wriggled out of her pants. Then crawled up the bed. “Screw nightgowns,” she muttered, then snuggled down in her underwear.

When Roarke slipped in beside her, she was already asleep again.

In the dream, Coltraine circled Eve’s murder board. She wore a pale blue sweater and trimly tailored pants, and her weapon at her hip.

“I worked murder cases a couple of times,” she said. “Not as primary, but part of a team. A break-in or mugging gone bad, that kind of thing. It always depressed me. I can’t say I ever thought someone would be working my murder.”

“Who does?”

Coltraine smiled over at Eve. “Good point. You know more about me now than you did when you started.”

“That’s usually the way it works.”

“Some of it you’re getting through Li’s eyes. You can’t trust that a hundred percent.”

“No, but he won’t lie.”

“No, he won’t.” Coltraine moved over to where Eve sat at her desk, then leaned a hip on it. “I used to think you had to be cold to be a murder cop. Cold enough to walk in death every day, or nearly every day. To pick through lives, uncover all the secrets of people who couldn’t hide them anymore. But I was wrong. You have to be able to control the heat, but there has to be heat. Otherwise, you wouldn’t give a damn, not really. You wouldn’t care enough to do what you have to do to chase murder.”

“Sometimes it takes the cold.”

“Maybe. I know more about you now, too, seeing as you’ve got me stuck in your head. You struggle with the law, because you have such intense and marrow-deep respect for it. Such strong belief. But it’s the victim who pulls you, the victim who might have you question that line of law. More even than justice, and justice is your faith.”