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“A bloody lot of good it did me.” He drew back. “I’m going to find you a booster. Not now, not the sort you hate, as they wire you up. I’ll find something that suits you.”
“If anybody can. You can drive. I’ve got people to talk to.”
He got behind the wheel, glanced over at her. “Will this new sort of understanding, as it were, also table the daily sniping between you and Summerset?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Well then, there’s something to look forward to.”
—
She moved fast through Central, didn’t notice—as Roarke did—the other cops, support staff who recognized her, step aside to clear her way.
Even as she strode into Homicide, Peabody stood up behind her desk. “Mira’s in your office. Sweepers are all over the nests. We’re culling through wit reports. A few may be viable.”
“Keep it going. Mackie?”
“En route, with counsel.”
“In Interview, the minute he’s in the house. Give me ten with Mira.”
“I’ll take myself off to EDD,” Roarke told Eve. “And if I can’t be of use there, I’ll be elsewhere.”
“You could catch an hour’s sleep in the crib.”
“Not in this lifetime, or the next.”
“Snob.”
“So be it.” He’d have kissed her, actively longed to. But he understood there were Marriage Rules on either side. So he just flicked a finger down the dent in her chin and wandered away.
They’d both do what they could—and he’d access his home system, make certain Summerset was home, and in bed.
Then he’d find his cop a damn booster.
Mira stood in Eve’s office facing the case board. She’d tossed her coat on the visitor’s chair. Clothes might not have been high on Eve’s list of priorities, but observation was. And she observed Mira wore leg-hugging black pants with knee-high black boots and a floaty blue sweater rather than her usual pretty suit and heels.
“I need to update that.”
Mira didn’t turn. “It gives a good sense, and I’m fully briefed on this morning’s attack.”
“I need coffee. You want that tea stuff?”
“Yes, thanks. She continued her father’s agenda. Still seeking his approval.”
“She likes to kill.”
“Yes. Very much yes, but she’s still a child, and the child seeks to please the father. This is their bond. It began with weaponry, honing her skill there, and devolved into revenge. As his skills lessened due to his addiction, hers have sharpened. The apprentice has exceeded the master. She became his weapon.”
“She likes it,” Eve insisted.
“Again, I agree.” Mira took the tea, holding the cup as she studied the dead. “In the first attack, the other two victims were, essentially, cover. Or he convinced himself of that. But I wonder. Did he feel pride when she so skillfully struck three targets? I think he did. In the second, we had five struck, four dead, so he allowed her to test her skills. Or she increased on her own. And now the third.”
“Eighteen dead.”
“Yes. Now she has her head. She has no one to tell her to stop.”
“Will he feel pride?”
