Witness in Death (In Death #10)(30)

"Sorry to break up the boy talk, but could you keep Areena company for a moment while I speak to Charles?"

"Of course. The coffee's reasonably good."

She waited until he'd walked out, then moved to the AutoChef more to give herself a moment to settle than out of a desire for hotel coffee. "When did Ms. Mansfield make the appointment for your services?"

"This afternoon. About two, I believe."

"Isn't that late notice for you?"

"Yes."

Eve pulled the coffee out, leaned back against the wall, with the steam rising from her cup. "No bookings tonight?"

"I rearranged my schedule."

"Why? Areena indicated you hadn't met before, socially or professionally. Why go to that trouble for a stranger?"

"Because she doubled my fee," he said simply.

"What did she buy? Straight sex? An overnighter?"

He paused, stared down at his wine. When he lifted his gaze again, his eyes had gone cool. "I don't have to answer that. And won't."

"I'm investigating a homicide. I can pull you in for an interview at Central."

"Yes, you can. Will you?"

"You're making this sticky." She set the coffee down, paced up and down the narrow space between the wall and the counter. "I have to put you in my report as it is. That's bad enough. But you make me take you in, formalize this, it's right up Peabody's nose."

"And neither of us want that," he murmured, then sighed. "Look, Dallas, I got a call. A client of mine gave my name to Areena as someone who could give her a comfortable evening. She was obviously upset. I'd heard about Draco, so I didn't have to ask why. She wanted a companion for the night. Dinner in, conversation, sex. To compensate for my inconvenience, she doubled my usual overnight fee. It's simple."

"Did you talk about Draco?"

"No. We talked about art, we talked about theater. She's had three glasses of wine and half a pack of herbals. Her hands stopped shaking about twenty minutes before you got here. She's an emotional wreck who's trying to hold on."

"Okay. I appreciate it." She jammed her hands in her pockets. "Peabody's going to see the report."

He could feel his own hackles rise. "Delia knows what I do."

"Right." It stuck in her craw like barbed wire.

"She's a grown woman, Dallas."

"Grown, my ass." She gave up and kicked the wall. "She's out of her league with an operator like you. Damn it, her family's Free-Agers. She grew up out in bumf*ck somewhere." A vague gesture took care of the Midwest. "She's a good cop. She's a solid cop, but she's still got blind sides. And she's going to get really pissed off when she finds out I said anything to you about it. She'll jam that stick up her ass and freeze me out, but damn it -- "

"She matters," he shot back. "She matters to you. Doesn't it occur to you that she could matter to me?"

"Women are a business to you."

"When they pay me to be my business. It isn't like that with Delia. For Christ's sake, we don't even have sex."

"What? She can't meet your fee?" As soon as it was out, she hated herself. Hated herself more when she saw those cool eyes register simple hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That was wrong. That was way off."

"Yeah, it was."

Suddenly tired, she scooted down and sat on the floor with her back against the wall. "I don't want to know this stuff. I don't want to think about this stuff. I like you."

Intrigued, he lowered to the floor, his back to the counter so their knees almost brushed. "Really?"

"Yeah, mostly. You've been seeing her since before Christmas, and you haven't... What's wrong with her?"

He laughed, and this time it was easy and rich. "Jesus, Dallas, which way do you want it? I have sex with her, I'm a bastard. I don't, I'm a bastard. Roarke was right."

"What do you mean, Roarke was right?"

"You can't figure women." He took a drink of his wine. "She's a friend. It just happened that way. I don't have many friends who aren't clients or in the business."

"Watch yourself. They start to multiply when you're not paying attention. It complicates your whole damn life."

"You're a good friend. One more thing," he said and gave her foot an easy pat. "I mostly like you, too, Lieutenant Sugar."

The nightmare came. She should have expected it. Areena's talk of dreams and blood and terror triggered it. But even knowing, she could never stop it once it slid into her mind.

She saw him come into the room. Her father. That nasty little room in Dallas, so cold, even with the temperature gauge stuck on high. But seeing him, smelling him, knowing he'd been drinking, but not drinking enough, had sweat popping out on her chilled arms.

She dropped the knife. She'd been so hungry, so hungry it had been worth the risk of finding a snack. Just a little piece of cheese. The knife fell out of her hand, took days, years, centuries to reach the floor. And in the dream, the clatter of it was like thunder that echoed. Echoed. Echoed.

Across his face as he walked to her, the red light from the sign washed red, then white, then red.