Visions in Death (In Death #19)(102)

"I didn't. Sorry. I just—"

"Forget it. He say anything to you?"

"Called me a whore. Whore cop."

"You make the voice if you hear it again?"

"Bet your ass. Sir. I think I heard him... It sounds weird, but I think he called for his mother. Or called me Mother. Maybe it was me, calling for mine because, I can tell you, I wanted her."

"Okay."

"I can give you a full description."

"I'm going to show you a picture. Tell me if it's him."

She held it up, adjusting the position so Peabody could study it without moving.

"That's him. He had a lot of sealant on his face, but that's him. You got him?"

"Not yet. We will. Can't take you on the bust because you'll be having your drug party, but we'll take him, and you're part of it."

"Will you tell me when you've got him?"

"You'll be the first."

She stepped back, nodded to Louise. "You want to get sprung from here, you can recoup at our place if you need to."

"Appreciate it. I... whee!" She laughed as the drugs bumped up. "That's more like it."

"We'll be back," Eve promised. McNab was on her heels as she went out.

"Dallas? We're crapping out on the Transit discs. Since you got your ID, you won't need me on that anyway. Anything else you need me to do?"

"Get some sleep."

"Not until."

She nodded. "Stick with her. I'll let you know if anything comes up. I'll be back in a minute."

She strode away, headed straight for the women's bathroom. Inside, she just sat on the floor, pressed her hands to her face, and cried.

Her chest hurt with it, heaved with it as the pressure finally broke free. Her throat was raw, her head thumping as the emotions she'd stifled took over, poured out in a hot, violent flood.

And sucked her dry.

She started to spring up when she heard the door open, then stayed where she was when she saw Mavis.

She just lifted her hands, let them fall. "Shit, Mavis."

"I know." Mavis settled down beside her. "Scared everybody. I had my jag already. You can go ahead, finish yours."

"I think I did." But because she could, she let her head lean on Mavis's shoulder a moment. "Maybe after she's better, Trina could give her the full works. Peabody'd like that. She can be a real girl."

"Good thinking. We'll have a complete girl party."

"I didn't mean... sure, whatever. You got any sunshades on you?"

"Do monkeys screw in the jungle?" She reached into the purple fringe worked into her shirt and drew out a pair of purple shades with green lenses.

"What the hell." Deciding they were marginally better than going around with red, swollen eyes, Eve put them on.

"Uptown!"

"No, I'm thinking down." Eve got up, helped Mavis to her feet. "Thanks for the loan. I've gotta go bust this bastard."

Chapter Twenty-One

Roark said nothing until they were back in the car, Eve behind the wheel. "Not your usual fashion accessory."

"Huh?"

He tapped a finger on the frames.

"Oh. Mavis. I, ah, borrowed them because..." She blew out a breath.

"You don't need to hide them from me." He slipped the glasses off, leaning over to lay light kisses on her eyelids.

"Aw," she said with a half smile. "What're ya gonna do?" She threw her arms around him, burrowing in. "I didn't want to break down and start blubbering all over McNab. I got most of it out, so you don't have to worry about me blubbering all over you."

"I never worry. You were due for a breakdown, and you timed it until you were sure our girl was going to be all right."

"Yeah, I guess." It was so good to hold, to be held. "Now we're going to take care of business." She eased back. "Eyes bad?"

"They're beautiful."

She rolled them. "This is not Peabody on drugs."

"By the time you get to Central, good as new."

"Okay." But she stuck the sunshades back on. "Just in case."

They weren't even out of the parking garage when her communicator beeped. "Dallas."

"Got him."

"Oh Jesus, Feeney. Send it through to my vehicle's unit. I want to see him. We're on our way to Central now. Can you meet me in my office?"

"I'll be there. Take a look."

Quickly, she programmed the vehicle for Central's garage and shifted to auto so she could give the image her full attention.

"There you are, you son of a bitch. Blue, John Joseph. Age thirty-one. Damn it."

Since auto didn't allow her to exceed speed limits or outrun reds, she switched back, hit the sirens. "I don't want audio," she said to Roarke. "I don't need to hear it all. Just give me the salient."

"Single, mixed-race male. No spouse, no legal cohabitation partner. No offspring on record. No criminal on record."

"He's got something. Juvenile, I'll bet your ass. And sealed. We'll worry about that later."

"Residence listed as Classon Avenue, Brooklyn."