Apprentice in Death (In Death #43)(114)

And a serious boatload of kids.

She didn’t know everyone, but she knew a good chunk. Her people as much as Mavis’s. Like it or not.

Chaos got real when the time came for Bella to rip into the gifts.

“Where the hell are they going to put them all?”

Roarke slid an arm around Eve’s waist. “They’ll find a way.”

Maybe, Eve thought, but certainly at the moment the kid was ridiculously thrilled with everything.

“Looks like we’re up,” Roarke said as Leonardo signaled. He slipped away with Leonardo into another part of the apartment.

Together they carried out an enormous box of glittery pink and silver.

“I’m told this is a magic box,” Roarke said to Bella, who stared at it with huge eyes. “And you’ve only to pull that ribbon there to see what’s inside.”

With Mavis’s help, Bella pulled the long pink ribbon. The box collapsed outward to reveal the contents.

She’d wanted a dollhouse, according to Peabody—and Mavis had confirmed. And since Roarke had been in charge . . .

Like the home he’d built for himself, it was more castle than house. And in this case, all girl. Pink and white and pretty with its turrets and drawbridges, its arched windows and fussy balconies.

Eve didn’t get it, just didn’t get the concept of giving dolls a place where they could gather to plot. But she got Bella’s reaction, and couldn’t deny the little squeeze of her own heart.

Bella gasped, put her fingers to her lips, her eyes saucer wide with shock. Mavis murmured to her, and those eyes went shiny as she looked up at Roarke, over at Eve.

Then another girl squealed and rushed forward.

Bella’s shiny eyes went hot and fierce, her teeth showed. Eve was prepared to see a long, forked tongue shoot out between them.

Obviously imagining the same, the squealer stopped dead, and backed up.

Shiny eyes returned, and Bella toddled to Eve. When Bella started to lift her arms, Eve took the safer course and crouched down.

“Das,” Bella said with a world of meaning in the single syllable. Her arms went around Eve, and she swayed in the hug—as her mother often did. “Das,” she said again, and held out a hand for Roarke. “Ork. Das. Ta. Ta. Ta.”

Whatever she said after was beyond Eve’s scope, but the emotion was crystal. Pure joy, deep gratitude.

“Glad you like it.”

“Ove. Ove ou.”

Bella let out a long sigh, then sparkled as she danced in place. Whirling, she charged the dollhouse, applauded, poked at it, pulled out a throne-like chair, and hooted with laughter.

“I’d say it’s a hit,” Eve said.

Then was struck when Bella looked over, smiled, and held out a hand to the squealer. An invitation to play.

A lot going on in that head, Eve realized, and everywhere else, too. A gift deeply wished for—let me take a minute here, sister. The thanks to the people who’d granted the wish, done with charm and sweetness. Another moment to celebrate, to have it for herself. Then a willingness to share it, to have someone enjoy it with her.

Nature, nurture, what the hell. The nature part was a lot of risk, a gamble, often the luck of the draw. Nurture could be kind or cruel, smart or insane—and still.

But here was a kid, with just one year under her belt. Sweet, innocent—but not stupid. Iron willed but compassionate. Already with her own sense of . . . style, Eve supposed. Her own little agenda.

How did all that get in there?

“You guys hit that one out of the park.” Peabody, sipping some frothy pink concoction, stepped up beside Eve to watch Bella and some of her friends with the dollhouse. “It’s abso-mag, and when the place clears out some, I’m getting a turn with it.”

She took another sip. “It’s a good day.”

“It’s holding its own,” Eve began. And her communicator sounded. “Shit. Shit.”

She switched to text—too many people—and read the message. “Shit again. I’ve got to go.”

“We catch one? We’re not on the roll.”

“No, it’s Willow Mackie. Some issues.”

“Let me tell McNab.”

“No, you stay. It’s just cleanup. If it turns into more, I’ll tag you. Crap. Tell Mavis I’m sorry.” She glanced around, saw Roarke had already fetched their coats. “Tell her—tell her I’ll tag her later.”

She grabbed her coat from Roarke, got out before any questions could delay her.

“What have you got?”

“A uniform in the hospital, a CS rep in hysterics, and people who’d better have a damn good explanation. We’re going in hot,” she added. “Because I am pissed.”





EPILOGUE


As the communication had come from Officer Shelby, Eve ordered her to go to the garage and wait. When they pulled in, Shelby stood beside Eve’s designated slot as if guarding it from invaders.

“Lieutenant, I apologize for contacting you on your free day.”

“Forget it. Status.”

“The prisoner is contained. She had some minor injuries, has been treated.”

“I want her transferred to Rikers today, put in maximum security.” And for now, Eve intended to go to the confinement area of Central herself. “The injured officer?”