Treachery in Death (In Death #32)(21)

“Of course not.”

“Just confirming.”

“But it was an excellent prelude.”

“Worked for me. Coffee in bed, sex in the shower—makes a solid wake-up combo.”

She nuzzled another moment, then was gone—stepping out and into the drying tube.

While air swirled around her he ordered the water temperature to lower five civilized degrees.

When he walked into the bedroom with a towel slung around his waist she stood in a short robe doing something he rarely if ever saw her do. Actively studying the contents of her closet.

“This is weird,” she said, “but I need to ... Pick something out for me to wear, will you? I need to look in control, an authority, serious. Seriously in charge.”

Frustrated, she circled her hands in the air. “But without looking planned or studied. I don’t want it to come off like an outfit, but—”

“I understand you.” He stepped in, studied the jackets first. He’d selected every one of them himself as wardrobe—much less shopping for wardrobe—was dead low on her list of priorities.

“This.”

“Red? But—”

“Not red, but burgundy. It’s not bright, not bold, but deep and serious—and transmits authority, particularly in this very tailored cut. With these pants—a serious gunmetal gray, and this top in a slightly softer gray—no fuss, no embellishments. The gray boots, as they’ll give you one long line, with the jacket as the subliminal element of authority.”

She puffed out her cheeks, blew out the air. “Okay. You’re the expert.”

Once she’d dressed she had to admit there was a reason he was the expert. She looked put together but not—how had she put it—studied. And the red—sorry, burgundy—did look strong.

Plus, if she got blood on it, it might not show. Much.

“Wear these.”

She frowned at the little silver studs he held out. “I hardly ever wear earrings to work. They’re—”

“In this case, just a bit of polish. Simple and subtle.”

She shrugged, then put them on. Finished, she stood studying herself in the mirror as she sipped another cup of coffee.

“You’re not giving this attention to your wardrobe for Whitney,” Roarke said. “At least not particularly. It’s true, that old saying. Women dress for other women. This is for Renee Oberman’s benefit.”

“If things go as I’m damn well going to make sure they go, we’ll have our first face-to-face today. This is the sort of thing she’d pay attention to. She’s going to know, on every level I can manage, she’s dealing with power.”

“You want to challenge her.”

“I will challenge her. But that’s for later.” She glanced at the time. “I have to take the next step, contact Whitney. Christ, I hope his wife doesn’t answer the ’link.”

Eve picked hers up from the dresser, squared her shoulders. “Here we go.”

Commander Whitney’s wide face came on-screen after the second beep. She had a moment to be relieved he hadn’t blocked video, which meant it unlikely she’d woken him. Still, she was pretty certain it was a sleep crease across his left cheek and not a new line dug by time and the stress of authority, so she hadn’t missed by much.

“Lieutenant.” He spoke briskly, dark eyes sober in his dark face.

She matched his tone. “Commander, I apologize for the early hour. We have a situation.”

She laid it out with a military precision Roarke admired. Across the room, he dressed for the day, listened to Whitney pepper Eve with questions. Roarke thought you’d have to know the man and listen very well to hear the shock, but it was there.

“I want to review Peabody’s statement, to speak with her myself, and to review your records.”

“Yes, sir. Commander, if I could suggest we hold this initial review here rather than Central? Detectives Peabody and McNab are at this location at this time, and we would be assured of privacy until you make your determinations.”

He considered a moment, then, “On my way,” and clicked off.

“On your turf,” Roarke commented.

“That’s a factor, but he knows it’s smarter to start this outside rather than with a major meeting in his office. I’m going to go prep for this.”

“I imagine he’ll have some questions for me, so I’ll see if I can be available. I have a holo-conference in ten minutes. I should have it wrapped by seven or so. You did well,” he added.

“It’s just the beginning.”

5

EVE PREPARED A PACKET FOR HER COMMANDER with copies of all data, recordings, statements, and notes. While she worked she practiced, in her head, her pitch for the steps she hoped to take next, her reasons for each, her justifications for bringing in Feeney and Mira and connecting with Webster for the IAB aspect.

Tone, strategy, logic, confidence. She’d need them all, and in a seamless blend, to keep her hands on the controls of what would be a two-point investigation—one that put Marcus Oberman’s daughter in the crosshairs where they met.

She glanced up as McNab came in. He wore his own clothes—probably for the best. Seeing him in normal attire might shock their commander senseless.

“Peabody’s taking a few more minutes,” he told Eve. “I think she just wanted a little time alone.”