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They'd been friends as well. Sharing laughs, perhaps secrets and dreams. They'd been young together, and foolish together. That was a link that was never completely broken.
And he'd summoned her, asked her to fly across an ocean.
She hadn't hesitated.
She'd known there was trouble, but she'd dropped everything and come, and had waited. And had died.
"Dallas?"
Eve shook herself, turned to Peabody. "What?"
"Nothing on the 'link, but I had the fax replay transmissions. You'll want to see this."
The minifax was tucked inside a small, slanttop desk. It hummed patiently, waiting the next command. Peabody picked up the single sheet of paper it had spilled out and handed it to Eve.
Jennie, my dear,
Roarke wishes to convey his thanks for you agreeing to make this unexpected trip. We hope it hasn't caused you any great inconvenience. We trust your rooms are satisfactory. If you have any needs or desires that haven't been met, you have only to contact the concierge.
You're aware Roarke is concerned for your welfare. It's vital that he speak with you privately, and without the knowledge of the woman he chose to marry. He has information he wants to pass on to you as soon as possible. It's imperative that you meet him, and that you tell no one, not even those you trust, where you 're going. Please go to the corner of Fifth and Sixty-second at five p.m. A black sedan with New York plates and a uniformed driver will meet you. The driver will escort you and has full instructions.
Forgive the intrigue, Jennie. A man in Roarke's position must be discreet. We ask that you destroy this communication.
Yours, Summerset
"Clever boy," Eve murmured. "He gives her enough to be sure she goes along. He tells her to get rid of the copy of the fax, but he doesn't tell her to wipe the machine. He has to figure we'll check it, and he wants us to find this."
"It's still circumstantial." Peabody frowned at the communication. "Anybody can send a fax, put any name on it. He's blocked the return code."
"Yeah, on the hard copy, but I'll bet a year's pay that when we hand the unit over to McNab, he finesses the code, and that the code matches one of Roarke's fax lines. Bag it," she ordered, passing the sheet to Peabody. "Our boy drove the pickup car, waltzed her right into the room on the West Side. Then he took her down, physically or with drugs. The ME will tell us that part. Then he took his time setting it up. Everything he needs is in the car. Maybe he owns it, maybe he rented it. Slim chance he boosted it for the day, but we'll check on reports of stolen black sedans."
She paused, took a slow survey of the room again. "Calling the sweepers in here's a waste of the taxpayers' money, but we'll go by the book. I'll call it in, and run the sedan for what it's worth. You take the minifax to McNab at my home office. I'll meet you there when I can."
"Where are you going?"
"To ask another favor," Eve said as she walked out.
• • •
It was waiting to rain, and the air was moist and cool, the wind freshening. A few stubborn mums continued to bloom, adding unexpected splashes of color and scent. There was a fountain where water bubbled over the petals and stems of copper and brass water lilies. Well across the rolling lawn and sheltered by tall trees stood the big stone house, glowing in the dimming afternoon sun.
Dr. Mira sighed. Such a place was built for peace and power, she thought. She wondered how often Eve settled for the first, how often she allowed herself to enjoy it.
"I've been expecting your call," she began, watching as Eve stared at the house. "I heard about the third murder."
"Her name was Jennie O'Leary. It sounds like a song, doesn't it?" Surprised that she'd said such a thing, Eve shook her head. "She and Roarke were friends. More than friends once."
"I see. And the other two victims, they were both from Ireland?"
"He knew them, all of them." She made herself turn.
Mira was tidy, as always, though the wind was fluttering her short, soft brown hair. Her suit was a deep green today, a change from the usual quiet colors she wore. Her eyes were patient and filled with compassion. And understanding.
Eve thought she looked every bit as efficient here, sitting on a stone bench under the denuded branches of an oak, as she did in her elegant office. She was the best criminal and behavioral psychologist New York, and possibly the country, had to offer.
"I appreciate you agreeing to meet me here."
"I remember the grounds from your wedding." Mira smiled. It was difficult to nudge Eve over that first hurdle and into trust. "It's a magnificent space. Carefully planned, lovingly tended."
