by J. D. Robb
And it would take at least two days to hack through the red tape for authorization. Or she could hand the problem to Roarke and have what she needed in minutes.
She could hear Stephanie Ring’s screams echoing in her head.
‘You’ll have to use the unregistered equipment. Compuguard will have an automatic block on their file.’
‘It won’t take long.’
‘I’m going to keep working on this.’ She gestured toward the screen. ‘He might have slipped up just enough to have let something identifiable come through.’
‘All right.’ But he crossed to her, framed her face in his hands. Lowering his head, he kissed her, long and slow and deep. And felt, as he did, some of the rigid tension in her body ease.
‘I can handle this, Roarke.’
‘Whether you can or not, you will. Would it hurt to hold on to me, just for a minute?’
‘Guess not.’ She slipped her arms around him, felt the familiar lines, the familiar warmth. Her grip tightened. ‘Why wasn’t it enough to stop him once? Why wasn’t it enough to put him away? What good is it if you do your job and it comes back this way?’
He held her and said nothing.
‘He wants to show me he can do it all again. He wants to take me through all the steps and stages, the way he did before. Only this time as they’re happening. “Look how clever I am, Dallas.”’
‘Knowing that, understanding that, will help you stop him a second time.’
‘Yeah.’ She eased back. ‘Get me the data so I can hammer at his parents.’
Roarke skimmed a finger over the dent in her chin. ‘You’ll let me watch, won’t you. It’s so stimulating to see you browbeat witnesses.’
When she laughed, as he’d hoped she would, he went to his private room to circumvent Compuguard and officially sealed files.
She’d barely had time to review another section of the recording before he came back.
‘It couldn’t have been that easy.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled and passed her a new data disc. ‘It could. Thomas and Helen Palmer, now known as Thomas and Helen Smith – which shows just how imaginative bureaucrats can be, currently reside in a small town called Leesboro in rural Pennsylvania.’
‘Pennsylvania.’ Eve glanced toward her ’link, considered, then looked back at Roarke. ‘It wouldn’t take long to get there if you had access to some slick transpo.’
Roarke looked amused. ‘Which slick transpo would you prefer, Lieutenant?’
‘That mini-jet of yours would get us there in under an hour.’
‘Then why don’t we get started?’
If Eve had been more fond of heights, she might have enjoyed the fast, smooth flight south. As it was, she sat, jiggling a foot to relieve a case of nerves while Roarke piloted them over what she imagined some would consider a picturesque range of mountains.
To her they were just rocks, and the fields between them just dirt.
‘I’m only going to say this once,’ she began. ‘And only because it’s Christmas.’
‘Banking for landing,’ he warned her as he approached the private airstrip. ‘What are you only going to say once?’
‘That maybe all these toys of yours aren’t a complete waste of time. Overindulgent, maybe, but not a complete waste of time.’
‘Darling, I’m touched.’
Once they were on the ground, they transferred from the snazzy little two-person jet to the car that Roarke had waiting. Of course, it couldn’t be a normal vehicle, Eve mused as she studied it. It was a sleek black bullet of a car, built for style and speed.
‘I’ll drive.’ She held out a hand for the keycode the attendant had given him. ‘You navigate.’
Roarke considered her as he tossed the code in his hand. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m the one with the badge.’ She snatched the code on its upward are and smirked at him.
‘I’m a better driver.’
She snorted as they climbed in. ‘You like to hotdog. That doesn’t make you better. Strap in, ace. I’m in a hurry.’
She punched it and sent them flying away from the terminal and onto a winding rural road that was lined with snow-laced trees and sheer rock.
Roarke programmed their destination and studied the route offered by the onboard computer. ‘Follow this road for two miles, turn left for another ten point three, then next left for five point eight.’
By the time he’d finished, she was already making the first left. She spotted a narrow creek, water fighting its way through ice, over rock. A scatter of houses, trees climbing steeply up hills, a few children playing with new airskates or boards in snow-covered yards.
‘Why do people live in places like this? There’s nothing here. You see all that sky?’ she asked Roarke. ‘You shouldn’t be able to see that much sky from down here. It can’t be good for you. And where do they eat? We haven’t passed a single restaurant, glide cart, deli, nothing.’
‘Cozily?’ Roarke suggested. ‘Around the kitchen table.’
‘All the time? Jesus.’ She shuddered.
He laughed, smoothed a finger over her hair. ‘Eve, I adore you.’
‘Right.’ She tapped the brakes to make the next turn. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘Third house on the right. There, that two-story prefab, mini-truck in the drive.’
She slowed, scanning the house as she turned in behind the truck. There were Christmas lights along the eaves, a wreath on the door, and the outline of a decorated tree behind the front window.
‘No point in asking you to wait in the car, I guess.’
‘None,’ he agreed and got out.
‘They’re not going to be happy to see me,’ Eve warned him as they crossed the shoveled walk to the front door. ‘If they refuse to talk to me, I’m going to give them some hard shoves. If it comes down to it, you just follow the lead.’
She pressed the buzzer, shivered.
‘You should have worn the coat I gave you. Cashmere’s warm.’
‘I’m not wearing that on duty.’ It was gorgeous, she thought. And made her feel soft. It wasn’t the sort of thing that worked for a cop.
And when the door opened, Eve was all cop.
Helen Palmer had changed her hair and her eyes. Subtle differences in shades and shapes, but enough to alter her looks. It was still a pretty face, very like her son’s. Her automatic smile of greeting faded as she recognized Eve.
‘You remember me, Mrs Palmer?’
‘What are you doing here?’ Helen put a hand high on the doorjamb as if to block it. ‘How did you find us? We’re under protection.’
‘I don’t intend to violate that. I have a crisis situation. You’d have been informed that your son has escaped from prison.’
Helen pressed her lips together, hunched her shoulders as a defense against the cold that whipped through the open door. ‘They said they were looking for him, assured us that they’d have him back in custody, back in treatment very soon. He isn’t here. He doesn’t know where we are.’
‘Can I come in, Mrs Palmer?’
‘Why do you have to rake this all up again?’ Tears swam into her eyes, seeming as much from frustration as grief. ‘My husband and I are just getting our lives back. We’ve had no contact with David in nearly three years.’
‘Honey? Who’s at the door? You’re letting the cold in.’ A tall man with a dark sweep of hair came smiling to the door. He wore an old cardigan sweater and ancient jeans with a pair of obviously new slippers. He blinked once, twice, then laid his hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘Lieutenant. Lieutenant Dallas, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Mr Palmer. I’m sorry to disturb you.’
‘Let them in, Helen.’
‘Oh, God, Tom.’
‘Let them in.’ His fingers rubbed over her shoulder before he drew her back. ‘You must be Roarke.’ Tom worked up what nearly passed for a smile as he offered Roarke his hand. ‘I recognize you. Please come in and sit down.’
‘Tom, please�
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‘Why don’t you make some coffee?’ He turned and pressed his lips to his wife’s brow. He murmured something to her, and she let out a shuddering breath and nodded.
‘I’ll make this as quick as I can, Mr Palmer,’ Eve told him, as Helen walked quickly down a central hallway.
‘You dealt very fairly with us during an unbearable time, Lieutenant.’ He showed them into a small living area. ‘I haven’t forgotten that. Helen – my wife’s been on edge all day. For several days,’ he corrected himself. ‘Since we were informed that David escaped. We’ve worked very hard to keep that out of the center, but …’
He gestured helplessly and sat down.
Eve remembered these decent people very well, their shock and grief over what their son was. They had raised him with love, with discipline, with care, and still they had been faced with a monster.
There had been no abuse, no cruelty, no underlying gruel for that monster to feed on. Mira’s testing and analysis had corroborated Eve’s impression of a normal couple who’d given their only child their affection and the monetary and social advantages that had been at their disposal.
‘I don’t have good news for you, Mr Palmer. I don’t have easy news.’
He folded his hands in his lap. ‘He’s dead.’
‘No.’
Tom closed his eyes. ‘God help me. I’d hoped – I’d actually hoped he was.’ He got up quickly when he heard his wife coming back. ‘Here, I’ll take that.’ He bent to take the tray she carried. ‘We’ll get through this, Helen.’
‘I know. I know we will.’ She came in, sat, busied herself pouring the coffee she’d made. ‘Lieutenant, do you think David’s come back to New York?’
‘We know he has.’ She hesitated, then decided they would hear the news soon enough through the media. ‘Early this morning the body of Judge Wainger was found in Rockefeller Plaza. It’s David’s work,’ she continued as Helen moaned. ‘He’s contacted me, with proof. There’s no doubt of it.’
‘He was supposed to be given treatment. Kept away from people so he couldn’t hurt them, hurt himself.’
‘Sometimes the system fails, Mrs Palmer. Sometimes you can do everything right, and it just fails.’
Helen rose, walked to the window, and stood looking out. ‘You said something like that to me before. To us. That we’d done everything right, everything we could. That it was something in David that had failed. That was kind of you, Lieutenant, but you can’t know what it’s like, you can’t know how it feels to know that a monster has come from you.’
No, Eve thought, but she knew what it was to come from a monster, to have been raised by one for the first eight years of her life. And she lived with it.
‘I need your help,’ she said instead. ‘I need you to tell me if you have any idea where he might go, who he might go to. He has a place,’ she continued. ‘A private place where he can work. A house, a small building somewhere in New York. In the city or very close by.’
‘He has nowhere.’ Tom lifted his hands. ‘We sold everything when we relocated. Our home, my business, Helen’s. Even our holiday place in the Hamptons. We cut all ties. The house where David – where he lived that last year – was sold as well. We live quietly here, simply. The money we’d accumulated, the money from the sales is sitting in an account. We haven’t had the heart to … we don’t need it.’
‘He had money of his own,’ Eve prompted.
‘Yes, inheritance, a trust fund. It was how he financed what he was doing.’ Tom reached out a hand for his wife’s and clasped her fingers tightly. ‘We donated that money to charity. Lieutenant, all the places where he might have gone are in the hands of others now.’
‘All right. You may think of something later. However far-fetched, please contact me.’ She rose. ‘When David’s in custody again, I’ll let you know. After that, I’ll forget where you are.’
Eve said nothing more until she and Roarke were in the car and headed back. ‘They still love him. After all he did, after what he is, there’s a part of them that loves him.’
‘Yes, and enough, I think, to help you stop him, if they knew how.’
‘No one ever cared for us that way.’ She took her eyes off the road briefly, met his. ‘No one ever felt that bond.’
‘No.’ He brushed the hair from her cheek. ‘Not until we found each other. Don’t grieve, Eve.’
‘He has his mother’s eyes,’ she murmured. ‘Soft and blue and clear. She’s the one who had to change them, I imagine, because she couldn’t look in the mirror and face them every morning.’
She signed, shook it off.
‘But he can,’ she said quietly.
Four
There was nothing else to do, no other data to examine or analyze, no other route to check. Tomorrow, she knew, there would be. Now she could only wait.
Eve walked into the bedroom with some idea of taking a catnap. They needed to salvage some of the day, she thought. To have their Christmas dinner together, to squeeze in some sense of normalcy.
The strong, dreamy scent of pine made her shake her head. The man had gone wild for tradition on this, their first Christmas together. Christ knew what he had paid for the live trees he’d placed throughout the house. And this one, the one that stood by the window in their bedroom, he’d insisted they decorate together.
It mattered to him. And with some surprise she realized it had come to matter to her.
‘Tree lights on,’ she ordered, and smiled a little as she watched them blink and flash.
She stepped toward the seating area, released her weapon harness, and shrugged it off. She was sitting on the arm of the sofa taking off her boots when Roarke came in.
‘Good. I was hoping you’d take a break. I’ve got some calls to make. Why don’t you let me know when you’re ready for a meal?’
She angled her head and studied him as he stood just inside the doorway. She let her second boot drop and stood up slowly. ‘Come here.’
Recognizing the glint in her eyes, he felt the light tingle of lust begin to move through his blood. ‘There?’
‘You heard me, slick.’
Keeping his eyes on hers he walked across the room. ‘What can I do for you, Lieutenant?’
Traditions, Eve thought, had to start somewhere. She fisted a hand in the front of his shirt, straining the silk as she pulled him a step closer. ‘I want you naked, and quick. So unless you want me to get rough, strip.’
His smile was as cocky as hers and made her want to sink in with her teeth. ‘Maybe I like it rough.’
‘Yeah?’ She began to back him up toward the bed. ‘Well then, you’re going to love this.’
She moved fast, the only signal was the quick flash of her eyes before she ripped his shirt open and sent buttons flying. He gripped her hips, squeezing hard as she fixed her teeth on his shoulder and bit.
‘Christ. Christ! I love your body. Give it to me.’
‘You want it?’ He jerked her up to her toes. ‘You’ll have to take it.’
When his mouth would have closed hotly over hers, she pivoted. He countered. She came in low and might have flipped him if he hadn’t anticipated her move. They’d gone hand to hand before, with very satisfying results.
They ended face-to-face again, breath quickening. ‘I’m taking you down,’ she warned him.
‘Try it.’
They grappled, both refusing to give way. The momentum took them up the stairs of the platform to the bed. She slipped a hand between his legs, gently squeezed. It was a move she’d used before. Even as the heat shot straight down the center of his body to her palm, he shifted, slid under her guard, and flipped her onto the bed.
She rolled, came up in a crouch. ‘Come on, tough guy.’
She was grinning now, her face flushed with battle, desire going gold in her eyes and the lights of the tree sparkling behind her.
‘You look beautiful, Eve.’
That had her blinking, straightening from the fighting stance and ga
ping at him. Even the man who loved her had never accused her of beauty. ‘Huh?’
It was all she managed before he leapt at her and took her out with a mid-body tackle.
‘Bastard.’ She nearly giggled it even as she scissored up and managed to roll on top of him. But he used the impetus to keep going until he had her pinned again. ‘Beautiful, my ass.’
‘Your ass is beautiful.’ The elbow to his gut knocked some of the breath out of him, but he sucked more in. ‘And so’s the rest of you. I’m going to have your beautiful ass, and the rest of you.’
She bucked, twisted, nearly managed to slip out from under him. Then his mouth closed over her breast, sucking, nipping through her shirt. She moaned, arched up against him, and the fist she’d clenched in his hair dragged him closer rather than yanking him away.
When he tore at her shirt, she reared up, hooking strong, long legs around his waist, finding his mouth with hers again as he pushed back to kneel in the center of the bed.
They went over in a tangle of limbs, hands rough and groping. And flesh began to slide damply over flesh.
He took her up and over the first time, hard and fast, those clever fingers knowing her weaknesses, her strengths, her needs. Quivering, crying out, she let herself fly on the edgy power of the climax.
Then they were rolling again, gasps and moans and murmurs. Heat coming in tidal waves, nerves raw and needy. Her mouth was a fever on his as she straddled him.
‘Let me, let me, let me.’ She chanted it against his mouth as she rose up. Her hands linked tight to his as she took him inside her. He filled her, body, mind, heart.
Fast and full of fury, she drove them both as she’d needed to from the moment he’d come into the room. It flooded into her, swelled inside her, that unspeakable pleasure, the pressure, the frantic war to end, to prolong.
She threw her head back, clung to it, that razor’s edge. ‘Go over.’ She panted it out, fighting to clear her vision, to focus on that glorious face. ‘Go over first, and take me with you.’
She watched his eyes, that staggering blue go dark as midnight, felt him leap over with one last, hard thrust. With her hands still locked in his, she threw herself over with him.