Immortal in Death

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

He looked into her eyes, felt the tremors that still shook her. "Darling, you had a nightmare."

"I had a flashback."

She had to be calm, had to be to get it all out. To be calm and rational, she had to think like a cop, not like a woman. Not like a terrorized child.

"It was so clear, Roarke, that I can still feel it on me. Still feel him on me. The room in Dallas where he'd lock me. He'd always lock me in wherever he took me. Once I tried to get away, to run away, and he caught me. After that, he always got rooms high up, and locked the door from the outside. I never got to go out. I don't think anyone even knew I was there." She tried to clear her raw throat. "I need some water."

"Here. Drink this." He picked up the glass Summerset had left beside the chair.

"No, it's a tranq. I don't want a tranq." She let air in and out of her lungs. "I don't need one."

"All right. No, I'll get it." He shifted her, rose, caught the doubt in her eyes. "Just water, Eve. I promise."

Accepting his word, she took the glass he brought back and drank gratefully. When he sat on the arm of the chair, she stared straight ahead and continued.

"I remember the room. I've been having part of this dream for the past couple of weeks. Details were beginning to stick. I even went to see Dr. Mira." She glanced over. "No, I didn't tell you. I couldn't."

"All right." He tried to accept that. "But you're going to tell me now."

"I have to tell you now." She took a breath, brought it all into her mind as she would any crime scene. "I was awake in that room, hoping he'd be too drunk to touch me when he came back. It was late."

She didn't have to close her eyes to see it: the filthy room, the blink of the red light through the dirty windows.

"Cold," she murmured. "He'd broken the temperature control, and it was cold. I could see my breath." She shivered in reaction. "But I was hungry, too. I got something to eat. He never kept much around. I was hungry all the time. I was cutting the mold off some cheese when he came in."

The door opening, the fear, the clatter of the knife. She wanted to get up, pace off the nerves, but wasn't sure her legs were ready to support her.

"I could see right away that he wasn't drunk enough. I could see. I remember what he looked like now. He had dark brown hair and a face gone soft from drinking. He might have been handsome once, but that was gone. Broken capillaries in his face, in his eyes. He had big hands. Maybe it was just because I was small, but they seemed awfully big."

Roarke lifted his hands to her shoulders, began to massage the tension. "They can't hurt you now. Can't touch you now."

"No." Except in the dreams, she thought. There was pain in dreams. "He got mad because I'd been eating. I wasn't supposed to take anything without asking."

"Christ." He tucked the blanket more securely around her because she was still shivering. And found he wanted to feed her, anything, everything, so she would never think about hunger again.

"He started hitting me, and hitting me." She heard her voice hitch, made the effort to level it. It's just a report now, she told herself. Nothing more. "Knocked me down and hit me. My face, my body. I was crying and screaming, begging him to stop. He tore my clothes and rammed his fingers in me. It hurt, horribly, because he'd raped me the night before and I was still hurting from that. Then he was raping me again. Panting in my face, telling me to be a good girl and raping me. It felt like everything inside me was tearing. The pain was so bad I couldn't take it anymore. I clawed at him. I must have drawn blood. That's when he broke my arm."

Roarke stood abruptly, paced away, jabbed the mechanism to open the windows. He needed air.

"I don't know if I blacked out, maybe for a minute, I think. But I couldn't get past the pain. Sometimes you can."

"Yes," he said dully. "I know."

"But it was so enormous. Black, greasy waves of pain. And he wouldn't stop. The knife was in my hand. It was just there, in my hand. I stabbed him with it." She let out a shuddering breath as Roarke turned to her. "I stabbed him, and kept stabbing him. Blood was everywhere. The raw, sweet smell of it. I crawled out from under him. He might have been dead already, but I kept stabbing him. Roarke, I can see myself, kneeling, the hilt in my hand, blood past my wrists, splattered on my face. And the pain, the rage pounding at me. I just couldn't stop."

Who would have? he wondered. Who could have?

"Then I pulled myself into the corner to get away from him, because when he got up, he'd kill me. I passed out or just zoned, because I don't remember anything else until it was daylight. And I hurt – I hurt so bad, everywhere. I got sick. Really sick, and when I was finished, I saw. I saw."

He reached down for her hand, and it was like ice, thin, brittle ice. "That's enough, Eve."

"No, let me finish. I have to finish." She pushed the words out as though she were shoving rocks off her heart. "I saw. I knew I'd killed him, and they'd come for me, put me in a cage. A dark cage. That's what he'd always told me they did if you weren't good. I went in the bathroom and washed off all the blood. My arm – my arm was screaming, but I didn't want to go in a cage. I put on some clothes and I put everything else that was mine in a bag. I kept imagining he was going to get up and come for me, but he stayed dead. I left him there. I started walking. It was early, early in the morning. Hardly anyone was out. I threw away the bag, or I lost it. I can't remember. I walked a long way, then I went into an alley and hid until night."

She rubbed a hand over her mouth. She could remember that, too, the dark, the stench, the fear overriding even pain. "Then I walked more, and kept walking until I couldn't walk anymore. I found another alley. I don't know how long I stayed there, but that's where they found me. By then, I didn't remember anything – what had happened, where I was. Who I was. I still don't remember my name. He never called me by my name."

"Your name's Eve Dallas." He cupped her face in his hands. "And that part of your life is over. You survived it, you overcame it. Now you've remembered it, and it's done."

"Roarke." Looking at him, she knew she had never loved anyone more. Never would. "It's not. I have to face what I've done. The reality of it, and the consequences. I can't marry you now. Tomorrow I have to turn in my badge."

"What insanity is this?"

"I killed my father, do you understand? There has to be an investigation. Even if I'm cleared, it doesn't negate the fact that my application for the academy, my records, are fraudulent. As long as the investigation is ongoing, I can't be a cop, and I can't marry you." Steadier, she rose. "I have to pack."

"Try it."

His voice was low, dangerous, and it stopped her. "Roarke, I have to follow procedure."

"No, you have to be human." He strode to the door and slammed it shut. "Do you think you're walking out on me, on your life, because you defended yourself against a monster?"

"I killed my father."

"You killed a fucking monster. You were a child. Are you going to stand there, look me in the face, and tell me that child was to blame?"

She opened her mouth, closed it. "It's not a matter of how I see it, Roarke. The law – "

"The law should have protected you!" With visions dancing evilly in his head, he snapped. He could all but hear the tight wire of control break. "Goddamn the law. What good did it do either one of us when we needed it most? You want to chuck your badge because the law's too fucking weak to care for its innocents, for its children, be my guest. Throw your career away. But you're not getting rid of me."

He started to grab her by the shoulders, then dropped his hands. "I can't touch you." Shaken by the violence that spewed up in him, he stepped back. "I'm afraid to put my hands on you. I couldn't stand it if being with me reminded you of what he did."

"No." Appalled, it was she who reached out. "No. It doesn't. It couldn't. There's nothing but you and me when you touch me. It's just that I have to handle this."

"Alone?" It was, he realized, the most bitter of words. "The way you had to handle the nightmares alone? I can't go back and kill him for you, Eve. I'd give everything I have and more if I could do that one thing. But I can't. I won't let you deal with this without me. That's not an option for either of us. Sit down."

"Roarke."

"Please, sit down." He took one cleansing breath. She wouldn't listen to anger, he decided. Nor, from him, to reason. "Do you trust Dr. Mira?"

"Yes, I mean – "

"As far as you trust anyone," he finished. "That'll do." He walked over to her desk.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to call her."

"It's the middle of the night."

"I know what time it is." He engaged the 'link. "I'm willing to abide by her advice on this. I'm asking you to do the same."

She started to argue but found no solid ground. Weary, she dropped her head into her hands. "All right."

She stayed there, barely listening to Roarke's quiet voice, the murmured responses. When he came back to her, he reached out a hand. She stared at it.

"She's on her way. Will you come downstairs?"

"I'm not doing this to hurt you or make you angry."

"You've accomplished both, but that's not the main issue here." He took her hand and drew her to her feet. "I won't let you go, Eve. If you didn't love me or want me or need me, I would have to. But you do love me and want me. And though you still have difficulty with the concept, you need me."

I won't use you, she thought, but she said nothing as they went downstairs.

It didn't take Mira long. In her usual manner, she arrived promptly and perfectly groomed. She greeted Roarke serenely, took one look at Eve, and sat.

"I'd love a brandy, if you wouldn't mind. I believe the lieutenant should join me." As Roarke saw to the drinks, she looked around the room. "What a perfectly lovely home. It feels happy." She smiled, cocked her head. "Why, Eve, you've changed your hair. It's very flattering."

Baffled, Roarke stopped, stared. "What have you done to it?"

Eve lifted a shoulder. "Nothing, really, just…"

"Men." Mira took her brandy, swirled. "Why do we bother? When my husband fails to notice a change, he always says it's because he adores me for me, not for my hair. I usually let him get away with it. Now then." She sat back. "Can you tell me?"

"Yes." Eve repeated everything she'd told Roarke. But it was the cop's voice now, cool, composed, detached.

"It's been a difficult night for you." Mira skimmed her gaze over Roarke. "For both of you. It might be hard to believe that it will begin to be better now. Can you accept that your mind was ready to deal with this?"

"I suppose. The memories started coming more clearly, more often after that – " She closed her eyes. "A few months ago I answered a domestic disturbance call. I was too late. The father was on Zeus. He'd hacked the little girl to death before I got in. I terminated him."

"Yes, I remember. The child, she might have been you. Instead, you survived."

"My father didn't."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Glad. And uneasy, knowing I have that much hate in me."

"He beat you. He raped you. He was your father and you should have been safe with him. You weren't. How do you believe you should feel about that?"

"It was years ago."

"It was yesterday," Mira corrected. "It was an hour ago."

"Yes." Eve looked down at her brandy and squeezed the tears back.

"Was it wrong to defend yourself?"

"No. Not to defend. But I killed him. Even when he was dead, I kept killing him. This – blinding hate, uncontrollable rage. I was like an animal."

"He had treated you like an animal. Made you an animal. Yes," she said at Eve's shudder. "More than stealing your childhood, your innocence, he stripped you of your humanity. There are technical terms for a personality capable of doing what he did to you, but in simple English," she said in her cool tones, "he was a monster."

Mira watched Eve's eyes dart to Roarke, linger, drop away.

"He took your freedom," she continued, "and your choices, marked you, branded you, defiled you. You weren't human to him, and if the situation hadn't changed, you might never have been more than an animal if you had survived at all. And yet, after you escaped, you made yourself. What are you now, Eve?"

"A cop."

Mira smiled. She'd expected exactly that answer. "And then?"

"A person."

"A responsible person?"

"Yeah."

"Capable of friendship, loyalty, compassion, humor. Love?"

Eve looked at Roarke. "Yes, but – "

"Was the child capable?"

"No, she – I was too afraid to feel. All right, I've changed." Eve pressed a hand to her temple, surprised and relieved to find the headache drumming there was easing. "I've made myself into something decent, but that doesn't override the fact that I killed. There has to be an investigation."

Mira arched a brow. "Naturally, you can instigate one if finding your father's identity is important to you. Is it?"

"No, I don't give a damn about that. It's procedure – "

"Excuse me." Mira held up a hand. "You want to instigate an investigation into the death of this man by your hand when you were eight years old?"

"It's procedure," Eve said stubbornly. "And requires my automatic suspension until the investigative team is satisfied. It's also best if my personal plans are put on hold until the matter is resolved."

Sensing Roarke's fury, Mira flicked him a warning glance and watched him win the bitter battle for control. "Resolved in what manner?" she asked reasonably. "I don't want to presume to tell you your job, Lieutenant, but we're talking about a matter that took place some twenty-two years ago."

"It was yesterday." Eve found some hollow pleasure in tossing Mira's words back at her. "It was an hour ago."

"Emotionally, yes," Mira agreed, unruffled. "But in practical terms, and legal ones, more than two decades. There will be no body or physical evidence to examine. There are, of course, the records of your condition when you were found, the abuse, the malnutrition and neglect, the trauma. Now, there is your memory. Do you feel your story will change during interview?"

"No, of course not, but… It's procedure."

"You're a very good cop, Eve," Mira said gently. "If this matter came across your desk, exactly as it is, what would be your professional and objective direction? Before you answer, be careful, and be honest. There's no point in punishing yourself, or that innocent, misused child. What would you do?"

"I'd…" Beaten, she set down the snifter and pressed her hands to her eyes. "I'd close it."

"Then close it."

"It's not up to me."

"I'll be happy to take this up with your commander, in private, give him the facts and my personal recommendation. I think you know what his decision would be. We need people like you to serve and protect, Eve. There's a man here who needs you to trust him."

"I do trust him." She braced herself to look over at Roarke. "I'm afraid of using him. It doesn't matter what other people think about the money, about the power. I don't want to ever give him reason to think I ever could or ever would use him."

"Does he think it?"

She closed a hand around the diamond hanging between her breasts. "He's too much in love with me to think it now."

"Well, I'd say that's lovely. And before much longer, you might figure out the difference between depending on someone you love and trust and exploiting their strengths." Mira rose. "I'd tell you to take a sedative and tomorrow off, but you'll do neither."

"No, I won't. I'm sorry to have dragged you away from home in the middle of the night."

"Cops and doctors, we're used to it. You'll talk with me again?"

She wanted to refuse, to deny – as she had spent years refusing and denying. But that time, Eve realized, was over. "Yes, all right."

On impulse, Mira laid a hand on Eve's cheek and kissed her. "You'll do, Eve." Then she turned to Roarke and extended her hand. "I'm glad you called me. I have a personal interest in the lieutenant."

"So do I. Thank you."

"I hope you'll invite me to the wedding. I'll see myself out."

Roarke walked over, sat beside Eve. "Would it be better for you if I gave away my money, my properties, tossed aside my companies, and started from scratch?"

Whatever she'd been expecting, it hadn't been this. She gaped at him. "Would you?"

He leaned forward, kissed her lightly. "No."

The laugh that bubbled out surprised her. "I feel like an idiot."

"You should." He linked his fingers with hers. "Let me help take the pain away."

"You've been doing that since you walked in the door." With a sigh, she rested her brow on his. "Tolerate me, Roarke. I'm a good cop. I know what I'm doing when the badge is on. It's when I take it off I'm not so sure of my moves."

"I'm a tolerant man. I can accept your dark spaces, Eve, just as you accept mine. Come on, let's go to bed. You'll sleep." He brought her to her feet again. "And if you have nightmares, you won't hide them from me."

"No, not anymore. What is it?"

Eyes narrowed, he combed his fingers through her hair. "You did change it. Subtly, but charmingly. And there's something else…" He rubbed a thumb over her jawline.

Eve wiggled her eyebrows, hoping he'd noticed their new improved shape, but he only continued to stare at her. "What?"

"You're beautiful. Really quite beautiful."

"You're tired."

"No, I'm not." He leaned in, closed his mouth over hers softly in a long, lingering kiss. "At all."

Peabody was staring, and Eve decided not to notice. She had coffee, and anticipating Feeney's arrival had even come up with a basket of muffins. The shades were open to her own spectacular view of New York with its spearing skyline behind the lush green of the park.

She supposed she couldn't blame Peabody for gaping.

"I really appreciate you coming here instead of to Cop Central," Eve began. She knew she wasn't running at full capability yet, just as she knew Mavis couldn't afford for her to take any down time. "I want to get some of this business squared away before I clock in. As soon as I do, I imagine Whitney will call me up. I need ammunition."

"No problem." Peabody knew there really were people who lived like this. She'd heard of it, read of it, seen it on screen. And there was nothing particularly fabulous about the lieutenant's rooms. They were nice, certainly – plenty of space, good furnishings, excellent equipment.

But the house. Jesus, the house. It went beyond the category of mansion into that of fortress, or maybe even castle. The green lawns, flowering trees, and fountains. There were all the towers, the sparkle of stone. That was before you were brought inside by a butler and blown away by marble and crystal and wood. And space. So much space.

"Peabody?"

"What? Sorry."

"It's all right. The place is pretty intimidating."

"It's incredible." She swung her gaze back to Eve. "You look different here," she decided, then narrowed her eyes. "You do look different. Hey, you got your hair cut. And the eyebrows." Intrigued, she leaned closer. "A skin job."

"It was just a facial." Eve caught herself just before she squirmed. "Can we get down to it now, or do you want the name of my consultant?"

"Couldn't afford it," Peabody said cheerfully. "But you look good. You want to start primping up since you're getting married in a couple weeks."

"It's not a couple weeks, it's next month."

"Guess you haven't noticed that it's next month now. You're nervous." Amusement flitted around Peabody's mouth. "You never get nervous."

"Shut up, Peabody. We've got homicide here."

"Yes, sir." Slightly ashamed, Peabody swallowed the smirk. "I thought we were killing time until Captain Feeney arrived."

"I've got a ten o'clock interview with Redford. I don't have time to kill. Give me the rundown of your progress at the club."

"I have my report." Back in the saddle, Peabody took a disc out of her bag. "I arrived at seventeen thirty-five, approached the subject known as Crack, and identified myself as your aide."

"What did you think of him?"

"An individual," Peabody said dryly. "He suggested I would make a good table dancer, as I appeared to have strong legs. I told him it wasn't an option at this time."

"Good one."

"He was cooperative. In my judgment, he was angry when I informed him of Hetta's death, and the means. She hadn't worked there long, but he said she was good-natured, efficient, and successful."

"In those words."

"In the vernacular, Dallas. His vernacular, which is quoted in my report. He did not observe who she spoke with after the incident with Boomer as the club was crowded and he was busy."

"Cracking heads."

"Exactly. He did, however, point out several other employees and regulars who might have seen her with someone. I have their names and their statements. None noticed anything peculiar or out of the ordinary. One client believed he observed her going into one of the private booths with another man, but he didn't recall the time, and his description is vague. 'A tall dude.'"

"Terrific."

"She clocked out at oh two fifteen, which was more than an hour earlier than her habit. She told one of the other companions that she'd made over her quota and was calling it a night. Flashed a fistful of credits and cash. Bragged about a new customer who believed in paying for quality. That was the last time she was seen at the club."

"Her body was found three days later." Frustrated, Eve pushed away from the table. "If I'd gotten the case sooner, or if Carmichael had bothered to dig… Well, that's done."

"She was well liked."

"Did she have a partner?"

"No one serious or long term. Those kind of clubs discourage dating the customers on the outside, and apparently Hetta was a real pro. She did move around from club to club, but so far, I haven't hit on anything. If she worked anywhere the night she died, there's no record of it."

"Did she use?"

"Socially, casually. Nothing heavy, according to the people I spoke with. I checked her sheet, and other than a couple of old possession charges, she was clean."

"How old?"

"Five years."

"Okay, keep on it. Hetta's yours." She glanced over as Feeney strolled in. "Glad you could join us."

"Hey, traffic's murder out there. Muffins!" He pounced. "How's it going, Peabody?"

"Good morning, Captain."

"Some digs, huh? New shirt, Dallas?"

"No."

"Look different." He poured coffee while she rolled her eyes. "Found our snake tattoo. Mavis hit Ground Zero at about two, bought herself a Screamer and a table dancer. Talked to the guy myself last night after I bounced to it. He remembers her. Said she was way out of orbit, and chugging them back. He offered her a list of accepted services, but she passed and staggered out."

Feeney sighed, sat. "If she crawled into any other clubs, she didn't use credit. I've got nothing after her totaling out from Ground Zero at two forty-five."

"Where's Ground Zero?"

"About six blocks from the murder scene. She'd been moving steadily down and across town from the time she left Pandora and walked into ZigZag. She went into five other clubs between, Screamers all the way, mostly triples. I don't know how she stayed on her feet."

"Six blocks," Dallas murmured. "Thirty minutes before the murder."

"I'm sorry, kid. It doesn't make it look any better for her. Now, the security discs. Leonardo's scanner was busted up at ten on the night in question. Lots of complaints about kids whacking outside cameras in that area, so it's likely that's how it went down. Pandora's security was turned off using the code. No fiddling, no sabotage. Whoever went in knew how to get in."

"Knew her, knew the setup."

"Had to," Feeney agreed. "I can't find any blips on the discs from Justin Young's building security. I've got them going in about one thirty, and her going out again at ten or twelve the next day. Nothing in between. But…" He paused for effect. "He's got a back door."

"What?"

"Domestic entrance, through the kitchen to a freight elevator. No security on the freight. It goes to six other floors and the garage. Now, the garage has security, and so do the other floors. But…" Another pause. "You can also take it to the rear utility, ground floor. The maintenance area, and security's very spotty there."

"Could they have gotten out unobserved?"

"Could have." Feeney slurped coffee. "If they knew the building, the system, and if they were careful to time the exit to avoid the sweep in maintenance."

"Could put a different light on their alibis. Bless you, Feeney."

"Yeah, well. Send money. Or just give me these muffins."

"They're yours. I think we'll have to talk to our young lovers again. We've got some interesting players here. Justin Young used to sleep with Pandora and is now intimately involved with Jerry Fitzgerald who is one of Pandora's associates and her top rival for queen of the runway. Both Fitzgerald and Pandora are after a screen career. Enter Redford, producer. He's interested in working with Fitzgerald, has worked with Young, and is sleeping with Pandora. All four of these people are partying at Pandora's, at her invitation on the night she's killed. Now, why would she want them there, her rival, her ex-lover, and the producer?"

"She liked drama," Peabody put in. "She enjoyed friction."

"Yeah, true. She also liked causing discomfort. I wonder if she had something she wanted to rub their faces in. They were all very calm in interview," she recalled. "Very composed, very easy. Let's see if we can shake them up."

Eve glanced over as the panel between her offices and Roarke's slid open.

"It wasn't secured," he said as he stopped on the threshold. "I'm interrupting."

"It's all right. We just need to finish up."

"Hey, Roarke." Feeney toasted him with a muffin. "Ready to strap on the old ball and chain? Just a joke," he muttered when Eve scalded him with a look.

"I think I'll continue to hobble along well enough." He glanced at Peabody, lifted a brow.

"Sorry. Officer Peabody, Roarke."

At Eve's introduction, he smiled, crossed the room. "The efficient Officer Peabody. It's a pleasure."

Struggling not to goggle, she accepted the hand he offered. "Nice to meet you."

"If I could steal the lieutenant for just a moment, I'll get out of your way." He laid a hand on Eve's shoulder, squeezed. When she rose to go with him, Feeney snorted.

"You're going to swallow your tongue, Peabody. Why is it just because a man's got the face of a devil and the body of a god, women get all glassy-eyed?"

"It's hormonal," Peabody muttered, but she continued to watch Roarke and Eve. She'd developed an interest in relationship games recently.

"How are you?" Roarke asked.

"I'm fine."

He cupped Eve's chin, dipped his thumb lightly in its dent. "I believe you're working at it. I have some meetings in midtown this morning, but I thought you'd want this." He handed her a card, one of his own, with a name and address scrawled on the back. "It's the off planet expert you asked about. She'll make time for whatever you need. She already has the sample you gave to me, but would like another. Cross-testing, I believe she called it."

"Thanks." Eve slipped the card into her pocket. "Really."

"The reports from Starlight Station – "

"Starlight Station?" It took her a moment. "Christ, I forgot I asked you. My mind's not cued."

"It has a great deal to do just now. In any case, my sources tell me Pandora did quite a bit of socializing this last trip – which is usual. There didn't seem to be anyone in particular she was interested in. At least not for more than one night."

"Shit, is it always sex?"

"With her it was a priority." He smiled when Eve's eyes narrowed and speculated. "And, as I said before, our short liaison was a long time ago. She did, however, make a number of calls, all on her pocket 'link. She never used the resort's system."

"No outside record," Eve mused.

"That would be my take. She was on assignment, and did her job with her usual flair. There's some talk about the way she bragged about a new product she was going to endorse, and a video."

Eve grunted and filed the data away. "I appreciate the time."

"Always happy to support our local police. We have an appointment with the florist at three. Can you make it?"

She shuffled obligations in her head. "If you can squeeze it in, so can I."

Not willing to risk it, he took her logbook out of her pocket and programmed the appointment himself. "I'll see you there." He lowered his head, watched her eyes shift toward the table across the room. "I doubt this will diminish your authority," he murmured, then pressed his lips softly to hers. "I love you."

"Yeah, well." She cleared her throat. "Okay."

"Poetry." Amused, he skimmed a hand through her hair, kissed her again to fluster her. "Officer Peabody, Feeney." With a nod, he stepped back into his office. The panel slid shut behind him.

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Feeney. I've got a drop-off for you." She pulled the card back out of her pocket as she went back to the table. "I need you to take a sample of the powder we took from Boomer's to this flora expert. Roarke's cleared it. She's not a police and security attache, so keep it low profile."

"Can do."

"I'll be checking in with her later today on her progress. Peabody, you're with me."

"Yes, sir."

Peabody waited until she was in Eve's car before she spoke. "I guess it's a lot of work for a cop to juggle personal relationships."

"Tell me about it." Grill suspect, lie to commanding officer, hassle lab tech. Order bridal bouquet. Jesus.

"But if you're steady, you know, careful, it doesn't have to bog down your career."

"If you ask me, cops are a bad bet. But what do I know?" In a nervous rhythm, she tapped her fingers on the wheel. "Feeney's been married since the dawn of time. The commander has a happy home. Others do it." She blew out a breath. "I'm working on it." It struck her as she drove through the gates. "You got a personal thing going, Peabody?"

"Maybe. I'm thinking about it." She rubbed her hands on her pants, linked them, pulled them apart.

"Anybody I know?"

"Actually." Peabody shifted her feet. "It's Casto."

"Casto?" Eve headed crosstown to Ninth, swung around a commuter tram. "No shit. When did this happen?"

"Well, I ran into him last night. That is, I caught him shadowing me, so – "

"Shadowing you?" Quickly, Eve rammed the car to auto. It shuddered, whined, then chugged. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He's got a good nose. He sniffed out we were digging at a lead. I was pretty steamed when I tagged him, then I had to admit, I'd have done the same thing."

Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel, thought about it. "Yeah, so would I. Did he try to pump you?"

Peabody flushed deep red, stuttered.

"Jesus, Peabody, I didn't mean – "

"I know, I know. I'm not used to this, Dallas. I mean I like men, sure." She brushed at her bangs, checked the collar of her stiff uniform shirt. "I've been around some, but men like Casto – you know, like Roarke."

"They fry the circuits."

"Yeah." It was a relief to be able to lay it out to someone who would understand. "He did try to slide some data out of me, but he took it well enough when I wouldn't give. He knows the route. The chief says interdepartmental cooperation, and we pretty much ignore it."

"You think he's got something of his own?"

"He might. He made the rounds at the club just like I did. That's how I tagged him first. Then, when I left, he followed me. I led him around for awhile, just to see what he'd do." Her smile spread. "And I backtracked him. You should have seen his face when I came up behind him and he knew he'd been nailed."

"Good work."

"We got into it a little. Territory, and all that. Then we, well, we had a drink, agreed to put the cop routine on hold. It was nice. We have a lot of common ground, outside the job. Music and films and stuff. Hell, oh Jesus, I slept with him."

"Oh."

"I know it was stupid. But, well, I did."

Eve waited a moment. "So, how was it?"

"Wow."

"That good, huh?"

"Then this morning, he said maybe we could have dinner or something."

"So, it sounds pretty normal to me."

Sober-eyed again, Peabody shook her head. "Guys like that aren't attracted to me. I know he's got a thing for you – "

Eve's hand shot up. "Hold on, playback."

"Come on, Dallas, you know he does. He's attracted to you. He admires your skill, your mind. Your legs."

"You're not going to tell me you and Casto discussed my legs."

"No, but your mind came up. Anyway, I don't know if I should take this any farther. I've got to concentrate on my career, and he's steeped in his. When this case is resolved, we'll lose the connection."

Hadn't Eve thought the same when Roarke had hit her between the eyes? It should have been true. It usually was. "You're attracted to him, you like him, you find him interesting to be around."

"Sure."

"And the sex was good."

"The sex was incredible."

"Then, as your superior, Peabody, my advice is, go for it."

Peabody smiled a little, then looked out the window. "Maybe I'll think about it."