Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(67)

“You said you'd work from here.”

“No, I said we'd argue about it this morning.” He reached out, skimmed a finger down her chin. “My work can't stop any more than yours, Lieutenant--and if someone's paying attention, they might wonder why I'm hunkered down here when I should be out and about. I'll promise you to be careful, very. No unnecessary chances.”

“We might have different definitions of unnecessary chances.”

“Not so very much. Come here.”

“I am here.”

“A bit closer than that.” With a laugh he yanked her forward, into his arms. “I'll worry about you, you worry about me.” He rubbed his cheek to hers. “And we're even.”

“You let something happen to yourself, I'll kick your ass.”

“Ditto.”

Since she had to be satisfied with that, Eve fought the traffic downtown. Even the sky seemed more crowded this morning, jammed with sky trams and airbuses and the traffic copters that struggled to keep things moving.

However quicker they claimed it was to use the sky routes, she'd stick with the creep and stink of the streets.

She fought her way down Columbus and straight into a fresh logjam caused by a glide-cart that had overturned into the street. A number of pedestrians were helping themselves to the tubes and food supplies that were rolling on the asphalt while the operator jumped up and down like a man on springs.

For a moment she regretted she didn't have the time to wade in to the potential riot. It would've been an entertaining way to start the day. Instead, she called the incident in, and solved her own commute dilemma by blasting her sirens--wow! look at those ass**les scramble --and hit vertical mode.

Okay, she admitted, she loved her new ride.

She breezed over the jam--caught a glimpse of the glide-cart operator shaking a fist into the air--then settled back down three blocks south in relatively reasonable traffic. She decided to trust auto long enough to make the calls on her list. She left messages for the Dysons, for Mira, reserved a conference room for ten, and left more voice mails for each member of the team she wanted in attendance.

And thought how much of this drone work she'd been able to avoid when Peabody had been her aide rather than her partner.

When she got to Central, there was Peabody right outside the bull pen, fit up against McNab like they were two pieces in some strange and perverted jigsaw puzzle.

“I actually had breakfast this morning.” Eve stopped beside them. “This is the sort of thing that could make me boot.”

“Just kissing my sweetie good-bye,” Peabody said, and made exaggerated kissy noises against McNab's lips.

“Definitely booting material. This is a cop shop, not a sex club. Save it for after shift.”

“Still two minutes before shift.” McNab gave Peabody's butt a squeeze. “See you later, She-Body.”

“Bye, Detective Stud.”

“Oh, please.” Eve pressed a hand to her uneasy belly. “I want to keep the waffles down.”

“Waffles?” Peabody spun on the heels of her checked airskids. “You had waffles. What's the occasion?”

“Just another day in Paradise. My office.”

“Tell me about the waffles,” Peabody begged as she scurried after Eve. “Were they the kind with strawberries and whipped cream all over them, or the kind you just drown in syrup? I'm dieting, sort of. I had a low-cal nutridrink for breakfast. It's disgusting, but it won't expand my ass.”

“Peabody, I've observed--unwillingly and with considerable regret--that the person you have chosen to cohabitate with appears to have a nearly unnatural fondness for your ass.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, dreamily. “He does, doesn't he?”

“So why--I ask unwillingly and with some regret--are you so obsessed with the size and shape of that particular part of your anatomy?”

“I've got the body type and metabolism that means I have to watch it or you'll be able to serve a five-course meal off the shelf of that particular part of my anatomy. It's a matter of pride. Not all of us are preordained to go through life skinny as a snake.”

“Now that we've cleared that up, I want coffee.”

She'd planned to wait a couple of beats, then give Peabody the Look of Destruction. But her partner moved directly to the AutoChef and programmed. “I guess what happened last night with Knight and Preston got me and McNab both thinking, and just appreciating what we've got. Knowing what can happen sort of makes the moment more intense. He doesn't usually walk me to Division.”

She handed coffee to Eve, took one for herself. “We just wanted a few minutes more.”

“Understood.” And because it was, Eve gestured to the chair before she leaned back against her desk. “I left you a message, as well as leaving one for the rest of the team. Conference Room C, ten hundred. We'll brief, and hope Yancy's got a better picture of our suspects. Meanwhile, I have some names to be run. Potentials. Morris worked on Knight and Preston last night. Nothing new or unexpected there. Stun took them down, knife took them out. Tox was clear. I'm waiting for the lab to confirm that Preston's weapon was fired before he went down.”

“Hope he got off a good stream.”

“Ophelia said one of them was limping. I'd say Preston got some of his own in before the end. EDD doesn't give us anything new, but it establishes pattern. Let's see if we can find it again with any of the names on the list of people the Swishers knew who are now missing or dead.”