Forgotten in Death(111)

“Coming into? Fuck me sideways.”

“Let’s try that one once we’re home again.”

They bounced, swayed, jittered. She heard Roarke swear—lightly, and under his breath, but she heard it. They dipped, they danced, and a line of ice-cold sweat slid down Eve’s spine.

The world outside the windscreen rolled thick and dense and dirty gray. All angry clouds snarling, booming.

Peabody would pick it up, she told herself. If they ended up a smoking, smoldering tangle of body parts and twisted copter in the river, Peabody would see it through. Justice would be done.

That was something.

Then a few tiny tears ripped through the solid gray, and through them she saw the flicker of lights from the heliport.

Roarke communicated with somebody, got clearance, and, after a couple of final, nasty shakes, they landed.

“There now.”

Eve held up a finger, then dropped her head between her knees. “Not gonna boot. Just need a second. Need my warrants, too. Need my goddamn warrants.”

“And there, she’s rounding back already. You’re a bit pale yet,” he told her when she straightened. “But you’ll do.”

She got out, resisted kissing the wet ground, and slid into the waiting all-terrain.

“Big enough for transporting.” She nodded. “I’ll guide you in.”

“I had them program the address. Have some water. Settle yourself the rest of the way.”

“Yeah, maybe. Come on, Reo. I expect some mild resistance,” she continued. “The grandmother’s over the century mark, and he’s a coward under it, but some. Probably threats and insults, which will hurt my delicate feelings.”

“You’ll muddle through.”

“I tend to agree with Lilith’s take on Marvinia, but we don’t take chances. I’d peg her as in the best shape, physically, of the three of them. We’ll be sexist here. If it comes to it, I’ll deal with the women, you deal with him.”

“As necessary.”

“You’re carrying, aren’t you? You’re always carrying. Don’t pull a weapon, for Christ’s sake, but they’ve got security, a gate. I don’t want them to know we’re coming until we’re there. With the warrants. Cams on the walls, about every five feet. And alarms, scanners on the gate.”

“No worries.”

“Got none there. Yes! And Reo scores.”

“I don’t like to go on auto in this weather, so…” He pulled over, took out his ’link. “Just under a quarter mile.”

“What are you doing?”

“Scanning their system. Ah well, it’s not absolute shite, but they can afford better. I’m just going to deactivate cams and alarms. If they notice, they’ll likely blame the storm. There we are.”

Though pleased, the cop in her frowned. “You can do that with your ’link?”

He shot her an easy smile. “It has a few handy accessories built in.”

He continued to drive and when he reached the gates, hit vertical and sailed over them.

“It is very ugly. I’ve seen prisons—from the outside of course—with more charm.”

Lights glared against the window glass, but didn’t add welcome or cheer. Eve walked through the rain to the door. “Are the door cams down?”

“They are, yes.”

She rang the bell. Moments later a flustered Marvinia opened it. “Oh! Hello. I thought you were the driver. The storm’s taken out the security.”

“Going somewhere?” Eve asked.

“Me? In this?” On an eye roll, she shook her head. “No. But J.B. is determined to head off to Capri for some sunshine. Elinor’s up there trying to talk some sense into him. I’ve left them to it. So sorry, come in out of this horrible rain.”

She stepped back. “Roarke, it’s lovely to see you. I didn’t expect to see anyone on a night like this. Let me take your coats.”

“We’re good. I need to see your husband and mother-in-law.”

“Yes, of course. Come, sit down. I’ll go get them. I assume you have some resolution on your investigation, and coming out on a night like this shows you’re even more dedicated than I believed.”

“If you could use the house ’link to ask them to come down,” Eve began, when she heard J.B.’s voice.

“I don’t want to wait until morning, Mother! I need to get away from all this stress.”

He appeared at the top of the staircase, and froze when he saw Eve.

“I wouldn’t.” She saw flight in his eyes. “Nowhere to go. Come down, Mr. Singer, or I’ll come up and get you. And tell your mother to get down here.”

“What is this?” Marvinia put her hand on Eve’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Okay, I’ll come to you.” Eve started up the staircase. “James Bolton Singer, as you already know, this is the police. I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Johara Murr and the viable, healthy fetus she carried.”

“What? What? That’s crazy. Who is she talking about?”

“Marvinia.” Roarke spoke softly. “Stay here.”

As Eve reached the top of the stairs, turned Singer around to restrain him, Elinor strode down the corridor to the right.