Promises in Death (In Death #28)(82)

She went back to her desk, and while the chaos reigned, ran a probability to see if the computer agreed with her instincts. Moments later, Roarke came up behind her, rubbed her shoulders.

“Morris okay?”

“Better, I think.” Over her head, Roarke watched the activity at the table. “I’d say this is helping. Not just the work, the feeling of doing, but being here, with the others. You brought the murder board back in.”

“I asked him first.”

“No, I mean you brought it in. And he can see she’s the center of it. Even when they’re over there devouring sandwiches as if they’re about to be outlawed, he can see she’s the center of this. It would help.”

“It won’t help if the comp and I are right.” She turned to face him.

“I have to figure it two ways. Sandy’s been off the scope for nearly seventeen hours. One, he’s holed up somewhere, squeezed in a corner and sucking his thumb. Or two, he’s already dead.”

“And you and the probability scan you just ran favor dead. So do I. He’s a liability alive. Ricker has no need to keep him breathing, and every reason to end him.”

“Someone he trusted, like Coltraine trusted. It’s gone back to the squad. It’s one of them.”

“You can’t do more than you’re doing. Let it sit, Eve, for just a while. Whoever it is feels safe, feels secure. He won’t run like Sandy.”

“No, he won’t run. And as long as he’s valuable to Ricker, he’ll stay alive.”

“Then let’s get something to eat before your cops chew up even the tablecloth. I still have some things to see to before we leave.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Twins?” she added as they headed toward what was left of lunch.

“It seemed just the thing.”

She built a sandwich, took the first bite. Through the thrum of guy talk and smacking lips, she caught the sound of female laughter.

Peabody and Nadine, both wearing girlie dresses, popped in the doorway.

“Mmmm, She-Body, look at you.”

Love, Eve supposed, could cause even McNab to forget his stomach for a few seconds.

He bounced over to her, spun her around, then dipped her while she giggled—actually giggled—before he planted one on her.

“No! No! This is still a cop room. There is no dipping and kissing in a cop room.”

Peabody simply sent her lieutenant a smile out of starry eyes. “Too late.” For good measure, she gave McNab’s ass a squeeze as he spun her back up.

“Doesn’t this all look delicious?” Nadine fluttered her lashes. “And the food looks good, too.” She gave Eve’s cheek a pat as she passed, and brought a fiery blush to Trueheart’s as she sidled up to him. “Are you on duty, Officer?”

“Give it up, darling.” Roarke rubbed a hand over Eve’s back. “Shift’s over.”

And that, she supposed, was that.

Peabody snagged a carrot stick. “I’m sticking with the rabbit food for now. We’ve got amazingly mag goodies for later. Ariel made them. I gained five pounds just carrying in the boxes. You can fill me in on all this.”

“Later,” Eve decided. “We’re at a stop.”

“Okay.” Peabody gave the carrot a happy crunch. “Nadine and I brought most everything. Mavis and Leonardo should be here any minute, and they have more.”

“Yippee.”

“Trina and her consultants will be here by four to start setting up.”

“Joy and—what? Who? Trina? Why? What have you done?”

“You said no silly games, and no strippers,” Peabody reminded her. “We’re doing the full-out girl party. Champagne, decadent food, body, hair, face treatments. Chick-vids, presents, gooey desserts. Big girl slumber party, followed by champagne brunch tomorrow.”

“You mean . . .” The shock was sharp and cruel, a stunner blast against the heart. “Overnight? All night into tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Peabody grinned around her carrot. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“I have to kill you now.”

“Uh-uh. No games, no strippers. Those were your only rules.”

“I’ll find a way to hurt you for this.”

“It’s going to be fun!”

“Hurt you until you squeal like a pig.”

Eve spotted Roarke moving to his office, and dashed after him. “Wait, wait!” She rushed in behind him, shut the door.

“You can’t go to Vegas.”

“Because?”

“Because you can’t leave me here. We’re married, and there are rules. I try to follow them. I don’t know all of them, but God knows I try. And this has to be a rule. You can’t leave me alone in a situation like this.”

“What situation?”

“All these women. And Trina. Trina,” she repeated, with considerable passion as she gripped his shirt. “And gooey dessert and body things and chick-vids. All night. Slumber party. Do you know what that means?”

“I’ve had many dreams of them. Will there be pillow fights?”

She spun him around so his back hit the door. “Don’t. Leave. Me.”

“Darling.” He kissed her brow. “I must. I must.”