Visions in Death (In Death #19)(52)

He answered quickly.

"Okay, she's..." Eve narrowed her eyes. "Where are you?"

"About to continue my little adventure in Daytime Breaking and Entering."

"I told you to wait until I contacted you."

"Hmm." He smiled and continued to work on Celina's bedside 'link. "It appears I've disobeyed, once again. I expect to be roundly punished at the first opportunity."

"Damn it—"

"Would you like to continue this chat, or let me get on with things?"

"Do it."

In Celina's bedroom, Roarke smiled to himself. He had a habit of irritating his wife, and was afraid he was just small enough to enjoy it.

He'd watched the cops pull up, go into Celina's building. Casual shirts and trousers aside, he'd have made them as what they were at two blocks, heading in the opposite direction.

Cops looked like cops, especially to the eye of a criminal. Even a former criminal.

And though he trusted his cop implicitly, he preferred casing a job personally.

Ten minutes after Celina had come out and driven off with her escort—it was always best to make certain the mark didn't turn around and go back for something forgotten—he jammed her security cameras with a remote. And strolled across the street.

Under three minutes later he was through the outside locks and alarms, and strolling inside.

A short time later, he'd verified the source of the transmission and was replacing the 'link. Celina had made the call exactly as she'd claimed. From her own bedside unit, moments after two A.M.

His cop could stop wondering.

It was hard to resist that poking around Eve had warned him against. It was, after all, in his nature. She, his cop, would never understand the hum in the blood that came from simply being where you were not allowed to be.

He gave himself a moment of it, admiring the art on the bedroom walls—fanciful, sensual, evocative. The color scheme that was richly and confidently female.

And if he wandered the second level of the loft, he was, technically, on his way out.

He liked the style, the openness of space, and again what he saw as the confidence of a woman who knew how she wanted to live, and did so.

He thought it might be interesting to hire her for some business event down the road.

He strolled out, as he'd strolled in. And with a check of the time, calculated he'd be in midtown in plenty of time for his first meeting of the day.

———«»——————«»——————«»———

He didn't beep her. Eve knew Roarke and his clever fingers. When her personal 'link hadn't signaled by the time Celina was brought into the conference room, she knew the transmission was verified as being made from the bedroom 'link as stated.

No need to wonder, she thought. And no mistaking the emotional state of the stricken and exhausted woman who came into the room.

She looked drawn and sallow, like someone who was recovering from a long and severe illness.

"Dallas."

"Have a seat. Have some coffee."

"I will." She sat at the conference table and used both hands to lift the mug. Her rings clinked lightly against the cheap stoneware. "I took a soother after we spoke last night. Didn't help very much. I took another right before I came in. That doesn't seem to be doing the job either. What I'd like to do is tranq myself into a coma. But I'm not sure that would help either."

"It wouldn't help Lily Napier."

"That's her name?" She drank. Paused. Drank again. "I didn't turn on the media reports this morning. I was afraid I'd see her."

"You saw her last night."

Celina nodded. "It was worse than the last one. What I mean is, for me. I'm not equipped for this."

"It's very difficult for someone with your gift to witness or experience violence," Peabody said, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

"Yes. God, yes. It's not that I experience the same extent—the full physical extent of the violence as the victim, but enough. And if... when you're linked, psychically, the emotions reverberate in you. I know how she suffered. I'm alive. I'm alive and whole and drinking coffee, while she's not. But I know how she suffered."

"Tell me what you saw," Eve ordered.

"It was..." Celina held up a hand, as if halting everything until she gathered herself. "The other time, it was like a dream. A vivid and disturbing dream, but something I could dismiss as just that. Until I saw the media reports. This was more. I wouldn't have, couldn't have mistaken it for anything but a vision. One of the most powerful I've ever had. It was like being there. Walking alongside her."

"She walked quickly, with her head down."

"What was she wearing?"

"Ah, dark skirt—black, I think—short. A white shirt. Long sleeves, open collar, and a little cardigan-style sweater over it. Flat shoes with thick soles. Gel-soles, perhaps. She barely made a sound. She had a bag. A small purse she wore on a strap over her shoulder."

"What was he wearing?"

"Dark. I don't know. She didn't know he was there, waiting, inside the park. In the shadows. He was dark, everything about him is dark."