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He’d never even noticed her, she mused. Too focused on the mission at hand.
She went in, and up an elevator designed to resemble an old cage type. But its guts were fully 2060. She ordered Cill’s third-floor loft, and obeyed the computer’s request for her name, her business, then a badge scan.
The team had already begun their work when she stepped into a wide and open living area. Benny stood, hands in his pockets. Fists, she corrected. Seriously pissed.
“She’s very private with outsiders,” he said to Eve. “This has really spun her out. She’s already down, and now this.”
“We all do what we have to do. A lot of space,” she added, glancing around at the bright, cheerful colors, the framed comp art, the triple screens, the cushy chairs.
“So what? It’s not a crime to like space.”
“Never said it was. You’ll want to chill, Benny. It’s going to be a long day.”
She wandered through, glanced at the kitchen, which appeared to actually be used to cook. A few dishes scattered the counter, the sink.
Eve opened the fridge, noted some brews, some soft drinks—heavy on the power type—water, milk that had expired the day before, some sort of lettuce that seemed to be wilting.
Hasn’t been shopping for a while, she thought.
“Do you expect to find a clue in the damn fridge?” Benny demanded.
Eve closed it, turned so they were face-to-face. She read passion on his, as bold and bright as his red dreads. “This is going to be harder on you if you try to pick a fight with me. I don’t mind a fight, but you’re going to end up losing, and potentially being hauled down to Central for interfering with a legal search.”
She left him stewing to walk through the loft. Lots of space, she thought again, lots of comfort. No frills, but still subtly female. Plenty of toys, game systems.
At first glance the office appeared to belong to a disorganized teenager, but Eve saw the method under the clutter. She’d bet a month’s pay Cill could put her hands on exactly what she wanted. On the far side of the office from the workstation was a screen and several game systems.
She could work on something, then try it out right here. Do her testing, her tweaking.
No guest room, she noted. Not much on company.
In the single bedroom, the sheets on the unmade bed were a tangle, projecting restless nights.
“She just bought the suit and shoes she had on.” Peabody turned from the closet. “The bags are in here, with the receipt. Just yesterday. It’s kind of sad. She doesn’t have another black suit, or much black at all in here. So I guess she felt she needed to get something appropriate.”
“Good-sized closet for a woman who didn’t own a black suit until yesterday.”
“A lot of costumes—con-wear—and work clothes if you’re in e. Couple of formal things, a couple cocktail type things. But mostly it’s work and play.”
With a nod, Eve slid open a bedside drawer. She found what she thought of as basic female self-serve sex tools, a scatter of unused memo cubes, and an e-diary.
“She kept a journal.”
“That’s private.” Benny stood in the doorway, fury vibrating off his skin. “If she wrote something in there, it’s private.”
“There’s nothing private now. I don’t care about her personal thoughts, unless they pertain to the investigation. And you’re making me think I might find something here that does.”
“That’s off. That’s so off. You don’t know her. She’s never hurt anyone in her life.”
“Then she doesn’t have to worry. Detective, log this in, and see that it’s transported with the other electronics to Central.”
“Yes, sir.” Peabody took the diary, slipped out.
“You want to take me on, Benny?” Eve said quietly. “You’ve got the training, so it might be an interesting fight. Before you’re charged with assaulting a police officer, with obstruction of justice, with interfering with a legal search. Do you want to spend Bart’s memorial in a cage?”
“I’m never going to forget this. Never.” He spun around, walked away.
“Bet you won’t,” Eve murmured.
