Portrait In Death

Chapter 18

It took some doing, asking for favors, fighting the urge to triple check every detail she'd already double checked.

It took blocking every natural instinct and putting her travel arrangements into Summerset's hands.

She went home to pack a light bag, reminding herself she could be reached anywhere, at any time. That she could, if necessary, fly home as quickly as she was flying away. And that she could run an op by remote control. She had a capable team.

She wasn't the only cop on the NYPSD. But she was Roarke's only wife.

Still, she paced the plush confines of his fastest jet shuttle as it careened across the Atlantic in the dark. She reviewed her notes, reread the files and witness statements.

Everything that could be done was being done. She'd ordered round-the-clock surveillance on the garage and the van. EDD had installed a homer on the van as backup.

If he came for it, they'd move in and have him in custody before he could finish keying in the ignition code.

All the trace evidence was being matched. Within twenty-four hours, forensics would have eliminated anything from Ernestine and her church group, the garage employees, the victims. What was left would be the killer's.

They'd have DNA, and a solid case.

She had men in the data club, men at the universities, Louise on the medical front. Something would break, and soon.

She tried to sit, relax. But couldn't.

That was all cop stuff. She knew what she was doing as a cop.

But where she was headed was wife territory. She'd learned some of the ground, and considered she'd figured how to negotiate it fairly well. But this sector was uncharted.

If he didn't want her there, was she going to make things worse?

She plugged a disc into her PPC and played back the message he'd left on her home office 'link while she'd still been at Central clearing the way to leave.

"Well, I hope you're sleeping." He smiled, but he looked so tired, she thought. Worn out tired. "I should've called before. Things got… complicated. I'm about to go to bed myself. It's late here. Early, more like. I can't seem to remember the time change-imagine that. I'm sorry I haven't spoken with you today-yesterday. What the hell."

He gave a half-laugh, pinched the bridge of his nose as if to relieve some pressure. "I'm punchy, need a couple hours down, is all. I'm fine, no need to worry. Things aren't what I expected here. Can't say what I expected. I'll call you after I've slept a bit. Don't work too hard, Lieutenant. I love you."

He wasn't supposed to look so tired, she thought on a sudden spurt of anger. He wasn't supposed to look so befuddled, so damn vulnerable.

Maybe he didn't want her there, but he was just going to have to deal with it.

Dawn was shimmering over the hills when Roarke stepped outside. He hadn't slept long, but he'd slept well, tucked up into a pretty, slanted-ceiling bedroom on the top floor, one with old lace curtains on the windows and a lovely handmade quilt on the wide, iron bed.

They'd treated him like family. Almost like a prodigal son returned home, and they'd served roast kid and pandy as the Irish version of fatted calf.

They'd had aceili, packed with food and music and stories. People, so many people gathering around to talk of his mother, to ask of him, to laugh. To weep.

He hadn't been quite sure what to make of it all, or them, the uncles and aunts and cousins-grandparents for God's sake-that had so suddenly come into his life.

The welcome had humbled him.

He was still unsteady. This life they lived, and the world in which they lived it, was more foreign to him than the moon. And yet he'd carried a part of it, unknowing, in his blood throughout his life.

How could he resolve, in a matter of days, something so enormous? How did he understand the truths buried more than thirty years under lies? And death?

With his hands in his pockets, he walked beyond the back gardens with their tidy rows of vegetables, their tangled cheer of flowers, and fingered the little gray button he carried.

Eve's button. One that had fallen off the jacket of a particularly unattractive suit the first time he'd seen her. One he'd carried like a talisman ever since.

He'd be steadier if she were here, he was sure. Christ, he wished she were here.

He looked across a field where a tractor hummed along. One of his uncles or cousins would be manning it, he supposed. Farmers. He sprang from farmers, and wasn't that a kick in the ass?

Simple, honest, hard-working, God-fearing-and everything the other half of him wasn't. Was it that conflict, that contradiction, that went into the making up of what he was?

It was early enough that the mists snaked up from the green, softening the air, softening the light. A snippet of Yeats ran through his head-where hill is heaped upon hill.And so it was here. He could see those hills rolling back to forever, and smell the damp of dew on grass, the loamy earth beneath it, the wild rambling roses above.

And hear the birds singing as though life was a singular joy.

All of his life-certainly all of it after he'd escaped the bastard who'd sired him-he'd done as he wanted. Pursued the goal of success and wealth and comfort. He didn't need a session with Mira to tell him he'd done so to compensate, even defeat, the years of misery, poverty, and pain. And so what?

So the fuck what?

A man who didn't do what he could to live well instead of wallowing was a fool.

He'd taken what he needed, or simply wanted. He'd fought for, or bought, or in some way acquired what made him content. And the fight itself, the hunt, the pursuit were all part of the game that entertained him.

Now he was being given something, freely, something he'd never considered, never allowed himself to want. And he didn't know what the hell to do with it.

He needed to call Eve.

He looked across the field, across the silvered mists and gentle rise of aching green. Rather than pull out his pocket-link he continued to toy with the button. He didn't want to call her. He wanted to touch her. To hold her, just hold her and anchor himself again.

"Why did I come without you?" he murmured, "when I need you so bloody much?"

He heard the muscular hum, recognized it for what it was an instant before the jet-copter broke through the mists like a great black bird breaks through a thin net.

And recognized it as one of his own as it skimmed over the field, startling cows, and causing his uncle-cousin-they were all a blur of faces and names to him yet-to stop the tractor and lean out to watch the flight.

His first reaction was a quick clutch in the gut. Eve, something had happened to Eve. His knees went weak at the thought as the copter arrowed down for a landing.

Then he saw her, the shape of her in the cockpit beside the pilot. The choppy cap of hair, the curve of her cheek. Pale, naturally. She hated riding in those machines.

The grass of the field went swimming in the displaced air as the copter set down. Then the sound died, the air was still.

She jumped down, a light pack slung over her arm. And his world righted again.

He didn't move, couldn't seem to as he was so struck by the sight of her. Striding across the green, casting a wary look at the cows over her shoulder before her eyes met his. Held his.

His heart rolled over in his chest; the most lovely sensation he'd ever known.

He walked forward to meet her.

"I was just wishing for you," he said. "And here you are."

"Must be your lucky day, Ace."

"Eve." He lifted a hand, not quite steady, skimmed his fingers along her jaw. "Eve," he said again, and his arms were around her, banded like steel as he lifted her off her feet. "Oh God. Eve."

She felt the shudder run through him as he buried his face in her hair, against the curve of her neck. And knew she'd been right to come. Whatever else there was, she'd been right to come.

"Everything's okay now." To soothe, she ran her hands over his back. "It's okay."

"You landed in a field of cows, in a jet-copter."

"You're telling me?"

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms before Unking them with hers and easing back to look at her face. "You must love me madly."

"I must."

His eyes were wild and beautiful, his lips warm and tender as he pressed them to her cheeks. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but you missed a spot." She found his mouth with hers and let him sink in. When she felt the heat, the punch, her lips curved against his. "That's better."

"Much. Eve-"

"We've got an audience."

"The cows don't mind."

"Don't talk about the cows, they creep me out." When he laughed, she nodded over his shoulder. "Two-legged audience."

He kept an arm around her waist, possessively, drawing her close to his side as he turned. He saw Sinead standing by the rambling roses, an eyebrow cocked.

"This is my wife," he told her. "This is my Eve."

"Well, I hope she's yours, the way you've got a hold of her. A tall girl, isn't she, quite handsome, too. Looks like she suits you."

"She does." He lifted Eve's free hand to his lips. "She does indeed. Eve, this is Sinead Lannigan. This is… my aunt."

Eve took the woman's measure in a slow, careful study. Hurt him, her face said clearly, deal with me. She watched Sinead's eyebrow wing higher, and a faint smile ghost around her mouth.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Lannigan."

"Sinead will do. Did you come all the way from New York City in that little thing?"

"Just the last leg."

"Still, you must be a brave and adventurous soul. Have you had breakfast then?"

"She wouldn't have, no," Roarke said before Eve could respond. "Brave and adventurous, she is, but a weak stomach for heights."

"I can speak for myself."

"I'll wager you can." Sinead nodded. "Come in then, and welcome. I'll fix you breakfast. Your man hasn't eaten either."

She walked back toward the house. Understanding his wife, Roarke gave Eve's hand a quick squeeze. "She's been nothing but kind. I'm staggered by the kindness I've found here."

"Okay. I could eat."

Still, she held her opinion in reserve as she found herself seated at the enormous kitchen table with Sinead manning the stove and the pots and skillets on it like a conductor mans an orchestra.

She was given tea, nearly as black as coffee and so strong she was surprised it didn't melt the enamel on her teeth. But it settled her as yet uneasy stomach.

"So you're a cop. One who hunts murderers." Sinead glanced back over her shoulder as she wielded a spatula. "Roarke says you're brilliant, and dogged as a terrier, with a heart big as the moon."

"He's got a soft spot for me."

"That he does. We're told you're in the middle of a difficult case now."

"They're all difficult, because someone's dead who shouldn't be."

"Of course, you're right." Intrigued, Sinead watched her as meat sizzled in the pan. "And you solve the thing."

"No. You never solve anything, because someone's dead who shouldn't be," Eve repeated. "They can't get up out of the grave, so it can't be solved. All you can do is close the case, and trust the system for justice."

"And is there justice?"

"If you keep at it long enough."

"You closed this one quickly," Roarke began, then stopped when he saw her face. "You didn't close it."

"Not yet."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the meat frying in the skillet. "Lieutenant, I wouldn't have pulled you away from your work."

"You didn't. I pulled myself away."

"Eve-"

"Why are you badgering the girl, and here she's not even had her breakfast." To settle a matter that looked to her would heat up as quickly as the bacon, Sinead heaped food on plates, set them down. "If she's as brilliant as you say, she ought to know what she's about."

"Thanks." Eve picked up a fork, exchanged her first comfortable look with Sinead. "Looks great."

"I'll leave you to it then, as I've some things to see to upstairs. Don't worry about the dishes when you're done."

"I think I like her," Eve commented when they were alone, then poked a fat sausage with her fork. "Is this from Pig?"

"Most likely. Eve, I want to be sorry you felt it necessary to leave in the middle of an investigation, but I'm so bloody glad you're here. I haven't been able to find my balance, haven't been able to settle myself since I found out about my mother. I've handled the entire business badly. Bungled it, top to bottom."

"Guess you did." She tried a bite of sausage, approved. "It's nice to know you can screw up now and again, like the rest of us mortals."

"I couldn't find my balance," he repeated, "until I stood out there in the mist of the morning and saw you. Simple as that for me, it seems. There she is, so my life's where it should be, whatever's going on around it. You know the worst of me, but you came. I think what's here, though I don't understand it all yet, haven't taken it all in, may be the best of me. I want you to be part of that."

"You went to Dallas with me. You saw me through that, even though it was about as rough on you as it was on me. You've shuffled your work and your schedule around more times than I can count to help me out-even when I didn't want you to."

He smiled now. "Especially when you didn't."

"You're part of my life, even the parts I wanted you clear of. So, same goes, Roarke. For better or worse, or all the crap that's in between, I love you." She scooped up eggs. "We straight on that?"

"As an arrow."

"Good." And so were the eggs, she discovered. "Why don't you tell me about these people?"

"There's a lot of them to start. There's Sinead, who was my mother's twin. Her husband, Robbie, who works the farm here with Sinead's brother Ned. Sinead and Robbie have three grown children, who would be my cousins, and between them, there are five more children, and two more on the way."

"Good God."

"Haven't even gotten started," he said with a laugh. "Ned, he's married to Mary Katherine, or maybe it's Ailish. I'm good at names, you know, but all these names and faces and bodies were coming down like a flood. They've four children, cousins of mine, and they've managed to make five-no I think it might be six more. Then there's Sinead's younger brother, that's Fergus, who lives in Ennis and works in his wife's family's restaurant business. I think her name's Meghan, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Doesn't matter." Already feeling crowded, Eve waved her fork.

"But there's so many more." He grinned now, and ate as he hadn't been able to do for days. "My grandparents. Imagine having grandparents."

"I can't," she said after a moment.

"Neither can I, though I appear to have them. They've been married nearly sixty years now, and they're hearty. They live now in a cottage over the hill to the west. They didn't want the big house, I'm told, when their children were grown and married, so it came to Sinead as she was the one who wanted it most."

He paused, and she said nothing. Just waited for him to finish.

"They don't want anything from me." Still puzzled by it, he broke a slice of toasted brown bread in two. "Nothing that I expected them to want. There's none of this, 'Well now, we could use a bit of the ready since you've so much and we're in the way of being family.' Or 'You owe us for all the years that've gone by.' Not even the 'Who the hell do you think you are, coming around here, you son of a murdering bastard.' I'd expected any of those things, would have understood that. Instead it's 'Ah, there you are, it's Siobhan's boy. We're glad to see you.'"

With a shake of his head, he set the toast down again. "What do you do with that?"

"I don't know. I never know how to act, or feel, when somebody loves me. I always feel inadequate, or just stupid."

"We never had much practice at it, did we, you and I?" He covered her hand with his, rubbed it as though he needed the feel of her skin against his. "Two lost souls. If you're done there, I'd like to show you something."

"I'm overdone." She pushed the plate away. "She made enough food for half the residents of Sidewalk City."

"We'll walk some of it off," he said and took her hand.

"I'm not going back with the cows. I don't love you that much."

"We'll leave the cows to their cow business."

"Which is what, exactly? No, I don't want to know," she decided as he pulled her out the door. "I get these weird and scary pictures in my head. What's that thing out there?" she asked, pointing.

"It's called a tractor."

"Why's that guy riding around with the cows? Don't they have remotes, or droids, or something?"

He laughed.

"You laugh"-and it was good to hear it-"but there are more cows than people around here. What if the cows got tired of hanging around in the field and decided, hey,we want to drive the tractor, or live in the house, or wear clothes for a while. What then?"

"Remind me to dig outAnimal Farm from the library when we get home, and you'll find out. Here now." He took her hand in his once more, wanting the link. "They planted this for her. For my mother."

Eve studied the tree, the lush green leaves and sturdy trunk and branches. "It's… a nice tree."

"They knew, in their hearts, she was dead. Lost to them. But there was no proof. Trying to find it, to find me when I was a baby, one of my uncles was almost killed. They had to let go. So they planted this for her, not wanting to put up a stone or marker. Just the cherry tree, that blooms in the spring."

Looking at it again, Eve felt something click inside her. "I went to a memorial for one of the victims last night. This job, you go to too many memorials and funerals. The flowers and the music, the bodies laid out on display. People seem to need that, the ritual, I guess. But it always seems off to me. This seems right. This is better."

He watched her now as she studied his mother's tree. "Is it?"

"The flowers just die, you know? And the body gets buried or burned. But you plant a tree and it grows, and it lives. It says something."

"I can't remember her. I've searched back, making myself half-mad trying, somehow thinking if I could remember something, some small thing, it would make it better. But I can't. And that's that. So this tree here, it's something solid, and more comforting to me than a stone marker. If there's more than whatever time we have bumbling around here, then she knows I came. That you came with me. And that's enough."

When they went back in, Sinead was in the kitchen clearing breakfast away. Roarke walked to her, touched a hand to her shoulder.

"Eve needs to go back. I need to go with her."

"Of course." She lifted her hand, touched his lightly. "Well then, you'd best go up and get your things. I'll have just a moment here with your wife, if she doesn't mind."

Trapped, Eve slid her hands into her pockets. "Sure. No problem."

"I'll only be a minute."

"Ah…" Eve searched for something appropriate to say when she was alone with Sinead. "It means a lot to him that you let him stay."

"It means a lot to me, to us, to have had this time with him, however short. It was difficult for him to come, to tell us what he'd learned."

"Roarke's no stranger to doing the difficult."

"So I gather, and neither would you be, if I'm a judge." She wiped her hands on a cloth, set it aside. "I was watching him from the window before, sort of gathering up pictures of him you might say. Ones I can share with Siobhan when I speak with her. I talk to her in my head," Sinead explained at Eve's blank look. "And right out loud now and then when no one's about. So I'm gathering up my pictures, and there's one I'll never forget. The way he looked-the change in his face, in his body, in the whole of him when he saw it was you. The love was naked on him when he saw it was you, and it's one of the loveliest things I've ever seen. It's a fine picture to have in my head, for he's my sister's child, grown man or no, and I want what's good for him. You seem to be."

"We seem to be good for each other, God knows why."

She smiled now, bright and pretty. "Sometimes it's best not to know all the reasons. I'm glad you came, so I had a chance to look at you, and see the two of you together. I want more chances with him, and you'll be a large part of letting that happen, or preventing it."

"Nobody prevents Roarke."

"Nobody," Sinead said with a nod, "but you."

"I wouldn't do anything to get in the way of something he needed. He needed to come here. He'll need to come back. Maybe you weren't looking in the right place when he introduced me to you, when he looked at you. He already loves you."

"Oh." Her eyes filled up before she could stop them, and she blinked, wiping at them quickly when she heard him coming back in. "I'll fix you some food for the journey."

"Don't trouble." Roarke touched her shoulder again. "There's plenty of it on the shuttle. I've made arrangements to have the car I drove here picked up."

"Well that'll be sad news for my Liam, who thinks it's as fine and fancy a machine as ever built. I've something for you." She reached in her pocket, closing her fingers over the treasure as she turned to him. "Siobhan didn't take all her things when she went to Dublin. She was going to come back and get them, or send for them, but, well, one thing and another."

She pulled out a thin chain and the rectangle of silver that dangled from it. "It's just a trinket, but she wore it often. You see this is her name, in Ogham script. I know she'd want you to have it."

Sinead pressed it into Roarke's hand, closed his fingers around it. "Safe journey then, and… ah, damn it."

The tears beat her, plopped onto her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him. "Come back, will you? Come back sometime, and keep well until you do."

"I will." He closed his eyes, breathed her in. Vanilla and wild roses. He murmured in Gaelic as he pressed his lips to her hair.

She gave a watery laugh, pulled back to swipe at her cheeks. "I don't have that much of the Gaelic."

"I said thank you for showing me my mother's heart. I won't forget her, or you."

"See that you don't. Well, be off then before I start blubbering all over you. Good-bye to you, Eve, keep yourself safe."

"It was a pleasure to meet you." She took Sinead's hand in a firm grip. "A genuine pleasure. The shuttle runs both ways, if you decide to come to New York."

Roarke pressed a kiss to her temple as they walked to the field, and the waiting copter. "That was well done."

"She's a stand-up."

"That she is." He looked back toward the house, and the woman who stood in the back doorway to wave them off.

"You should get some sleep," he said to her when they were settled on the shuttle.

"Don't start poking at me, pal. You're the one who looks like he's been on a week's bender."

"Might stem from the fact that I've consumed more whiskey in the past two days than I have in the past two years, altogether. Why don't we both stretch out for a bit?"

She jiggled her foot, checked the time, did the math. "Too early to call Central and check in. I'll be back in a couple hours anyway, won't even have missed any time."

"Just missed sleep." He engaged the mechanism that turned the wide sofa into a wide bed.

"Too revved to sleep."

"Is that so?" Some of the light she loved was back in his eyes. "Well, what can we do to pass the time, help you relax? Cribbage, perhaps?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Cribbage? Is that some perverted sexual activity?"

He laughed, and grabbing her, tossed her onto the bed. "Why not?"

But he was gentle, and so was she. Tender, as she was. They watched each other as they touched. So she could see the shadows that had haunted him these last days lift away, and leave that deep and vivid blue clear again.

Love, she thought, the act of it, could chase away ghosts for a while, tuck the dead away. Here was life, with him filling her, life as she surrounded the hard length of him, and their fingers linked, their mouths meeting.

Life, he thought, while she rose to him so he could only sink into her. Their life.

She was definitely relaxed, and not particularly sleepy when they arrived at the transport dock in New York. Then again, she figured, if a woman wasn't relaxed after an energetic session of cribbage with Roarke, something was wrong with her.

She let him take the wheel of the city vehicle she'd left in his personal parking slot for the drive home so she could use her energies to alert Central she was back, and on duty.

"No point in mentioning you could have taken a couple of hours personal time before diving back in."

"I've had more than my quota of personal time. I'm fine." She looked over at him. "We're fine now."

He closed a hand over hers as he maneuvered through the early morning traffic. "We are, yes. My head's clearer than it's been in days. I guess I'm a bit anxious to get back to things myself."

"Good deal. So before we both get back to things, is there anything else you should tell me?"

He thought of Grogin, and how close he'd come to crossing a line. Eve's line. "No. Oh wait, there is one thing. It turns out I'm a year younger than I thought I was."

"No kidding. Huh. Does it feel weird?"

"A bit, actually."

"I guess you'll get used to it." She snuck a look at the time. "Listen, I'll dump you home, then head straight downtown to… Damn." Her communicator signaled.

DISPATCH, DALLAS, LIEUTENANT EVE.

"Dallas, acknowledged."

REPORT EAST SIDE HEALTH CENTER, SECOND LEVEL UNDERGROUND PARKING FACILITY. HOMICIDE VERIFIED BY FEENEY, CAPTAIN RYAN, ON SCENE.

"On my way. Dallas out. Goddamn it, goddamn it. I thought I had more time. I have to dump you now, Roarke."

"I'll take you. Let me do this," he said before she could object. "Let me do whatever I can."