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Eve turned to the door, opened it. “She saved herself.”
After going back inside, Eve had to stand for a moment, orient herself and bring the location of the game room into her head.
“If you need to talk about this further—”
“I’ll let you know.” She closed the door on it. “This way. We keep her on monitor. Got a homer on her.”
“No precaution is overdone, in my opinion.”
“On authority figures, I talked with her legal guardians. Linnie Dyson’s parents. They’re still pretty torn up. I thought if you talked to them it might come easier than having a cop on their doorstep again.”
“I’ll do what I can. It would be good for Nixie, certainly, to see them, to talk to them. And it would help them as well.”
Eve paused. She could hear the beeps and bells of machines. They’d left the door to the game room open. “Listen, before you go in. Grabbing up Newman like that. It was ass covering, and a logical step. But it was strutting, too. Daylight, in front of witnesses. Pulling off something that risky, it’s going to juice you up. Coolheaded, cold-blooded, organized planners, sure, but you’re going to feel the juice.”
“Those who, even routinely, perform in risky professions or situations get the adrenaline kick. It’s part of the reason they do what they do.”
“And the more they get out of Newman, the bigger the rush.”
“Yes.”
Eve let out a deep sigh. “She’s dead, isn’t she? As soon as they determine they’ve gotten all the information out of her, there’s no reason to keep her alive.”
“Unfortunately, I agree. You couldn’t have saved her.”
“I could’ve thought ahead. I could’ve ordered this protection lockdown sooner on all connected parties. But I didn’t.” Restless, she moved her shoulders. “Hindsight doesn’t change anything, so I’ll think ahead now.”
She gestured toward the room. “They’re in there. You can tell by the insanity of noise.”
“You should come in with me. She needs to see you routinely,” Mira continued when Eve instinctively stepped back. “To remember me in connection to you, so that she’s comfortable with me. Once she’s seen you, you can go.”
“All right. Jeez.”
Nixie was standing on a stool and pushing the buttons for the flippers on a pinball machine. The one, Eve noted, with cops and robbers—Roarke’s particular favorite.
Trueheart was cheering her on, and looked about two years older than his charge.
“You got it now, you got it! Blast ’em good, Nix. In pursuit, armed suspects! You rock.”
The tiniest smile tugged at her cheeks, but her eyes were focused, her brow knitted in fierce concentration.
Eve smelled popcorn, and saw a bowl of it on one of the tables. The wall screen was on, volume up to scream, with one of Mavis’s videos blaring. Mavis Freestone herself, in little more than a sparkle of paint, cavorted on
that screen with what looked to be a number of mostly naked pirates. Black patches weren’t just worn over the eye in Mavis’s world, Eve observed.
She recognized the song—so to speak. Something about having your heart sunk and your love shipwrecked.
“I’m not sure that video, however entertaining, is appropriate for a girl Nixie’s age.”
“Huh?” Eve looked back at Mira. “Oh, well, shit. Am I supposed to turn it off?”
“Never mind.” Mira patted Eve’s hand, and waited until Nixie lost the ball.
“I still didn’t get high score.”
“Beat the pants off of me,” Trueheart reminded her.
“But I can’t beat Roarke. Maybe he cheats.”
