Witness in Death (In Death #10)(87)

What sort of woman chooses to sleep with her own father?

Eve's stomach had been in knots since that question had been tossed at her. What if there is no choice? What then? She let her head fall back. There was another question: What sort of man chooses to sleep with his own daughter?

That was one she had the answer to. She knew that kind of man, and he still whispered his candy breath in her ear.

"What are you doing, little girl?"

The breath exploded out of her lungs. She sucked it greedily back in.

What about the mother? she asked herself and wiped her damp palms on the thighs of her trousers. What made a mother? She didn't believe it was the bulk of life stirring in the belly. Eve angled her head, looked up toward the windows where Anja Carvell sat with her pot of chocolate and her ghosts. No, she didn't believe it was as simple as that.

There was more. There had to be more.

Most rational, decent human beings would instinctively protect an infant, a helpless child. But the need to protect another adult stemmed from duty. Or love.

She straightened in her seat as Peabody climbed back in. "She checks out. Called in yesterday, after six, requested a reservation. She got into the hotel some time just before eight. She's scheduled to leave tomorrow, but arranged for an option to extend."

"Mother, father, devoted friend," Eve murmured. "Let's move on to child."

"Carly. We're going to go right by a couple 24/7s crossing town. Maybe we could stop and get some hot chocolate."

"That stuff they sell in those places is swill."

"Yeah, but it's chocolate swill." Peabody tried a pitiful, pleading look. "You wouldn't let her give us any of the good stuff."

"Maybe you'd like some cookies, too. Or little frosted cakes."

"That would be nice. Thanks for asking."

"That was sarcasm, Peabody."

"Yes, sir. I know. Responded in kind."

The easy laugh had the black cloud lifting. Because it did, Eve pulled over at a cross-street 24/7 and waited while Peabody ran in and loaded up.

"You know, I'm really trying to cut down on this stuff. But..." Peabody ripped into the pack of cookies. "Thing is, weird, McNab doesn't think I'm chubby. And when a guy sees you naked, he knows where the extra layers are."

"Peabody, do you have some delusion that I want to hear how McNab sees you naked?"

She crunched into a cookie. "I'm just saying. Anyway, you know we have sex, so you've probably reached the conclusion we're naked when we're having it. You being an ace detective and all."

"Peabody, in the chain of command, you may, on rare occasions and due to my astonishing good nature, respond to sarcasm with sarcasm. You are not permitted to lead with it. Give me a damn cookie."

"They're coconut crunchies. You hate coconut."

"Then why did you buy coconut?"

"To piss you off." Grinning now, Peabody pulled another pack of cookies from her bag. "Then I bought chocolate chip, just for you."

"Well, hand them over then."

"Okay, so..." Peabody ripped open the second pack, offered Eve a cookie. "Anyway, McNab's got a little, bitty butt, and hardly any shoulders. Still -- "

"Stop. Stop right there. If I get an image of a naked McNab in my head, you're going back to traffic detail."

Peabody munched, hummed, waited.

"Damn it! There he is."

Hooting with laughter, Peabody polished off the last cookie. "Sorry. Dallas, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Kinda cute, isn't he?"

And, she thought, it had bumped whatever had been troubling her lieutenant out of the way.

"Button it up," Eve warned, but she had to swallow a chuckle along with her cookie. "Brush the crumbs off your shirt and try to find your dignity somewhere." She pulled to the curb in front of Carly's building.

The high-end neighborhood, the exclusive building, the plush lobby sent a different signal to Eve now. Anja Carvell had selected wealthy parents for the child. The kind of parents who could assure the child would grow up with privilege, security, luxuries.

Had she taken as much care in researching the kind of people they were? Stable, loving, wise, supporting?

"Peabody, we did the run on Carly Landsdowne's educational history? It was private schools, right?"

"Yes, sir, I believe so." To verify, Peabody pulled out her PPC as they entered the lobby elevator. "Private and top rated, preschool through college. They sprang for a bunch of extras including drama, dance, music, voice. All private tutors."

"What do the parents do?"

"Father's a doctor, micro-surgeon. Mother's a travel agent, her own company. But she filed as professional mother from 2036 until 2056, the full twenty years allotted per child."

"No siblings?"

"None."

"She picked winners. She was careful. It mattered," she said to herself as she stepped out and walked to Carly's door.

It took two long buzzes before the door opened. Heavy-eyed, her hair sleep-tumbled, Carly gave a careless yawn. "What now?"

"A moment of your time."

"At dawn?"

"It's after nine."

"I repeat, at dawn?" Then she shrugged, stepped back. "Don't ask me anything until I get a cup of coffee. That should be added to those rights and obligations you're so fond of spouting."