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"Leads? What leads? God, I knew him."
Eve's eyes narrowed. "Did you really?"
"Sure, I met him dozens of times. Station functions, charity events. He even sent me flowers after—after that business last spring."
"The business where you nearly got your throat slit."
"Yes," Nadine snapped and sat again. "And I haven't forgotten who made sure I didn't. I liked him, Dallas. Damn it, he's got a wife, kids." She brooded a moment, pretty fingers tapping her knee. "The station's going to be in an uproar when this hits. And half the media around the world. How did it happen?"
"At this point, we believe he surprised an intruder."
"So much for security," she muttered. "Walked in on a damn burglary."
Eve said nothing, pleased that Nadine had jumped to that particular conclusion.
"A connection?" Her eyes sharpened. "Shawn Conroy was Irish, too. Do you believe he was involved in the burglary? Did they know each other?"
"We'll investigate that angle."
"Roarke's Irish."
"So I've heard," Eve said dryly. "Off the record," she began, and waited for Nadine's reluctant nod. "Roarke knew Shawn Conroy back in Ireland. It's possible—just possible—that the house where Conroy was taken out was being cased. It was furnished—well, as I'm sure you can imagine how well. And the new tenants weren't due to move in for a couple of days. Until we nail things down a bit, I'd like to keep Roarke's name out of it, or as far in the background as possible."
"Shouldn't be hard at this point. Every station, and certainly ours, is going to hit with the Brennen story—then we'll do a lot of retrospectives, biographies, that sort of thing. I've got to get this in."
She leaped up again. "Appreciate it."
"Don't." Eve unlocked the door, opened it. "You'll pay for it eventually."
And now, Eve mused, rubbing her temple, she could only hope she could bluff and bullshit her commander with half as much success.
• • •
"Your report seems sparse, Lieutenant," Whitney commented after Eve had finished backing up her written report with an oral one.
"We don't have a lot to work with at this stage, Commander." She sat, face composed, voice bland, meeting Whitney's sharp dark eyes without a blink. "McNab from EDD is working on the jams and trace, but he doesn't appear to be having much success. Feeney will be back in about a week."
"McNab has a very good record with the department."
"That may be, but so far, he's stumped. His words, Commander. The killer is highly skilled in electronics and communications. It's possible that's his link with Brennen."
"That wouldn't explain Conroy."
"No, sir, but the Irish connection does. They knew each other, casually at least, in Dublin some years ago. It's possible they continued, or renewed, the acquaintance in New York. As you've reviewed the tape of the transmissions I received from the killer, you know the motive is revenge. The killer knew them, most likely in Dublin. Conroy continued to live in Dublin until three years ago. Brennen has his main residence there. It would be to our benefit to enlist the aid of the Dublin police to investigate that angle. Something these men did, or some deal they were part of in Ireland in the last few years."
"Roarke has interests there as well."
"Yes, sir, but he's had no recent dealings with either Conroy or Brennen. I checked. He's had no business or personal contact with them in a more than a decade."
"Revenge often takes time to chill." He steepled his fingers and studied Eve over the tips. "Do you intend to bring Summerset back into Interview?"
"I'm weighing that option, Commander. His alibi for the time of Brennen's murder is weak, but it's plausible. Audrey Morrell confirmed their date. It's more than possible they confused the times. The manner of Brennen's death, and Conroy's as well, doesn't fit Summerset. He isn't physical enough to have managed it."
"Not alone."
Eve felt her stomach stutter but nodded. "No, not alone. Commander, I'll pursue the leads. I'll investigate Summerset and any and all suspects, but it's my personal belief, and a strong personal belief, that Summerset would do nothing to harm or implicate Roarke in any way. He is devoted—even overly devoted. And I believe, Commander, that Roarke is a future target. He's the goal. That's why I was contacted."
Whitney said nothing for a moment as he measured Eve. Her eyes were clear and direct, her voice had been steady. He imagined she was unaware that she'd linked her fingers together and that her knuckles were white.
