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“She should go with you.”
“She’s not only my wife. Not even always my wife first.” He angled his head, smiled a little. “That’s something you and I might never see quite the same way.”
Summerset opened his mouth, then shut it again. Deliberately.
“People’s lives depend on her,” Roarke said with some exasperation. “It’s something she never forgets, and something I’d never ask her to put second. I can handle this on my own, and in fact, I think it’s best I do.”
“You were always one for believing you had to handle everything yourself. In that area, you and she are peas in a pod.”
“Maybe.” Because he wanted their faces on the same level, Roarke crouched. “Once, if you remember, when I was young and things were a bit tight for me, and the hate I felt for him still hot—running like some black river inside me—I told you I was going to take another name. That I wouldn’t keep his. Wanted nothing of his.”
“I remember. I think you were still shy of sixteen.”
“You said: Keep it, the name’s yours as much as his. Keep it, and make something of it, then it’ll be all of yours and none of his. Start now. Didn’t tell me what to make of it, did you?”
With a short laugh, Summerset shook his head. “I didn’t have to. You already knew.”
“I have to go back, myself, and find whatever it is she gave me. I have to know if I’ve made something of it, or have something yet to make. And I have to start now.”
“It’s difficult to argue with my own words.”
“Still, I don’t like leaving you before you’re on your feet again.”
Summerset made a dismissive sound. “I can handle this, and that irritating woman you’ve chained to me, on my own.”
“You’ll watch after my cop while I’m gone, won’t you?”
“In my way.”
“Well then.” He got to his feet. “If you need me for anything . . . you’ll be able to reach me.”
Now Summerset smiled. “I’ve always been able to reach you.”
Eve finished her oral report to Commander Whitney standing. She preferred that kind of formality in his office. She respected him for the kind of cop he was, and had been. Respected the lines of worry and authority that scored his wide, dark face.
Riding a desk hadn’t made him soft, but had only toughened the muscles of command.
“There are some media concerns,” he said when she’d finished. “Let’s get them out of the way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There have been some complaints that Channel 75, and Nadine Furst in particular, is receiving preferential treatment in this investigation.”
; “Channel 75 and Nadine Furst are receiving preferential treatment in this investigation due to the fact that we believe the killer has sent transmissions directly to Ms. Furst at 75. She, and the station, are cooperating fully with me and my team. As the transmissions were sent to her, I have no authority to stop her, or 75, from broadcasting any and all of the contents. However, they have agreed to filter those transmissions, and any other data received, through me. As quid pro quo, I have agreed to filter back any information on the case I deem appropriate for broadcast to them first.”
Whitney tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Then we’re covered.”
“Yes, sir, I believe so.”
“We’ll set up a media conference to keep the dogs at bay. When dealing with the media, it’s best to CYA twice, whenever possible. I’ll have our liaison go through your reports and cull out what we want to feed them.”
Satisfied, he set the media aside, went back to the meat. “You need to work the connections, find the conduit between the victims.”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to put a man, or better, a team on the club. Baxter and Trueheart. Trueheart’s young enough to pass for a student. Baxter’s training him, so I’d want him on board, to keep close. Trueheart hasn’t had much undercover experience. McNab could cover some ground in the colleges, working the geek end of things. He’s already been in the club with a badge, so I can’t use him there.”
“Set it up.”
