Witness in Death (In Death #10)(94)

"Roarke Industries. We oughta get a discount or something. Oh well, it's not so bad when you split it." She headed toward the auto-express checkout, glanced back at Eve. "I guess Roarke's got a whole factory full of these, huh?"

"Probably." Eve pulled out her credit card, swiped it through the scanner, pressed her thumb to the identi-plate.

Thank you for your purchase, Eve Dallas. One moment, please, while your credit is verified.

"I'll give you my half on payday, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever. Why do these things take so long?"

Thank you for waiting, Eve Dallas. The cost of your selection, Super Street Fighter, PPC version, comes to one hundred and sixteen dollars and fifty-eight cents, including all applicable taxes. Due to Authorization One, your account will not be debited for this selection. Please enjoy your day.

"What the hell are you talking about? What's Authorization One?"

Authorization One, Roarke Industries. This level entitles you to select any items under this manufacturer's brand at no cost.

"Wow. We can clean house." Peabody turned her dazzled eyes to the shelves crammed with delights. "Can I get one of these?"

"Shut up, Peabody. Look, I'm paying for this," she told the machine. "So just bypass Authorization One and debit my account."

Unable to comply. Would you care to make another selection ?

"Damn it." She shoved the game at Peabody. "He's not getting away with this."

Peabody had the wit to run the box through security release, then jogged to catch up with Eve. "Listen, since we're here anyway, couldn't I just have one -- "

"No."

"But -- "

"No." Eve gave the glide one quick, bad-tempered kick, then got on to ride to medical level.

"Most women would be happy if their husbands gave them blank shopping credit."

"I'm not most women."

Peabody rolled her eyes. "You're telling me."

Peabody might have sulked over the loss of her own imaginary game collection, but Trueheart's pleasure in the gift outweighed greed.

"This is great. It just came out."

He turned the box over in his good hand. His other arm was cased in a plasti-cast to knit the bone that had snapped in his fall.

There was a collar of the same material around his neck, an IV drip in his wrist, and a brutal bruise that crept over his shoulder and showed purple and black against the sagging neck of his hospital shift. His left leg was slightly elevated, and Eve remembered how his blood had pumped out of the gash there and onto her hands.

Machines hummed around him.

All Eve could think was if she were in his place, she wouldn't be so damn cheerful.

She left the small talk and conversation to Peabody. She never knew what to say to hospital patients.

"I don't remember much after I took the hit." He shifted his eyes to Eve. "Commander Whitney said we got him."

"Yeah." This, at least, was her element. "You got him. He's down on the next patient level. We'll be questioning him after we leave here. You did the job, Trueheart. He might have gotten by us if you hadn't reacted fast and taken him down."

"The commander said you put me up for a commendation."

"Like I said, you did the job."

"I didn't do much." He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "I would have taken him down clean if that trigger-happy ass**le transit jerk hadn't blasted off."

"That's the spirit. The trigger-happy ass**le and his moronic superior are going to get kicked around plenty."

"Wouldn't have happened if they'd listened to you. You had it under control."

"If I'd had it under control, you wouldn't be here. You took a mean hit and a bad fall. If you're feeling shaky over it, you should see the department counselor."

"I'm feeling okay about it. I want to get back in uniform, back on the job. I was hoping, when you close the case, you'd let me know the details."

"Sure."

"Ah, Lieutenant, I know you've got to get going, but I just wanted to say... I know you saw my mother the other night."

"Yeah, we ran into each other. She's a nice woman."

"Isn't she great?" His face lit up. "She's the best. My old man ditched us when I was a kid, so we've always, you know, taken care of each other. Anyway, she told me how you hung around, waited until I was out of surgery and all."

"You went down under my watch." Your blood was on my hands, she thought.

"Well, it meant a lot to her that you were here. I just wanted to tell you that. So thanks."

"Just stay out of laser streams," she advised.

Down on the next level, Kenneth Stiles stirred in his bed, glanced toward the nurse who checked his monitors. "I want to confess."

She turned to him, smile bright and professional. "So, you're awake, Mr. Stiles. You should take some nutrition now."

He'd been awake for a considerable amount of time. And thinking. "I want to confess," he repeated.

She walked to the side of the bed to pat his hand. "Do you want a priest?"

"No." He turned his hand over, gripped hers with a strength she wasn't expecting. "Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas. Tell her I confess."