Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(63)

“I think there must be. It could hardly be heaven if it wasn't fun.”

“If I'd been in bed, I'd be in heaven with them. I wish--”

“You mustn't.” He drew her back so she could see his face. “You mustn't wish for that, and they wouldn't want you to wish it. There was a reason you didn't go with them. Hard as that is, you have to live your life and find out what it is. It hurts to be alone, I know.”

Her face bunched up like a fist. “You don't. You're not.”

“There was a time I was. Someone took my mother from me before I was old enough to know her.”

“Is she in heaven?”

“I'm sure she is.”

“That's not fair either.” She laid her head on his chest again, patted him with her hand in a gesture of comfort that moved him, amazingly. She could offer him comfort, Roarke thought. Even now she had the heart in her to give solace. How did she come by that? Was it born in her or had it been instilled by her parents?

“I won't tell you I know how you're feeling, but I will tell you I know what it is to be alone and angry and afraid. And I'll tell you it'll get better, however much you don't think so, it will get better.”

“When?”

“Bit by little bit.” He touched his lips to her head.

She sighed again, then turned her head to study the painting on the wall. He shifted her, studied it himself. He and Eve, under the blossoming arbor on their wedding day.

“She doesn't look like police there.”

“Not on the outside anyway. She gave that to me on our anniversary. It's out in the garden here, on our wedding day. I hung it there, though it's a bit selfish of me, so I could look at it whenever I'm working here. I can see her when I'm missing her.”

“We've got pictures at my house.”

“Would you like someone to bring some pictures to you?”

“I could look at them.”

“I'll see to it, then.”

“Can I stay in here for a while, with you?”

“You can. Do you want to see what I'm doing here?” He swiveled so they could both look at the wall screen. “Those are plans for some developments on an off-planet resort and housing colony I've an interest in.”

“It says Olympus Resort. I've heard of that. It's got big hotels and amusement parks, and a beach and arcades. We were maybe going to go there one day. Maybe.”

“These are for a different sector than what's been done so far. See the first screen? Those are plans for villas, vacation villas. We're going to put a river in.”

“Do you build rivers?”

He smiled. “I'm going to build this one.”

“How do you?”

“Well, why don't I show you what I have in mind?”

While Roarke showed Nixie how a river was built on an off-planet

colony, Eve met with Yancy. “Give me good news.” “How about cautiously good?” He was young, and what Peabody would have called a cutie. And he was the best Ident artist in the city. Eve tracked him down in his domain, a generous cube filled with comp screens, portables, paper sketchpads, and pencils.

“How cautiously?”

“Your wit's enthusiastic, and she's got a good eye. Our favor. She's also prone to what I call dramination. She's rocking on the drama, and using her imagination to juice it all up. I can work with that, and we're making progress.”

“Where is she?”

“In the crib. Hey, Peabody.”

“Just settled her in,” Peabody said as she joined them. “Got her an entertainment screen, extra pillows, a meal, a brew.”

“A brew?” Eve demanded.

“You said within reason,” Peabody reminded her. “Not within regs. She's happy, though she squawked some about having to give up her pocket 'link, and not having access to another. Anyway, she's down, and I've got Invansky babysitting.”

“I wonder--just a thought that passes through my mind--why our wit is watching screen and drinking brew instead of giving us a picture of a couple of stone murderers.”

“My call, Lieutenant.” Yancy held up a hand. “She was tapped for the night. She's given us a good start, but she was starting toward hyperbole. She comes back to what we've got fresh, it's a better chance other details will spring for her.”

“Okay, okay.” Eve raked both hands through her hair, at war with her own impatience. “Show me what you've got.”

“Split screen,” he ordered, scooting over. “Current images.”

Eve looked at rough sketches--rougher, she noted, than usual when working with Yancy. Both were of square-faced, square-jawed men she'd judge to be in their early forties to early fifties. The eyebrows were straight and pale, the mouths grim but sensuously full. Dark watch caps were pulled low over both foreheads, and most of their upper faces were concealed by them and the dark, wraparound shades.

“You've got to ditch the shades. I need best probability on the eyes.”

“I will. I'm going to work some from these, but I've got a better chance of hitting it closer after I have another session with Ophelia.”

“I can't go out with this, Yancy.”