The In Death Collection, Books 21-25

by J. D. Robb

  “That’d be good, smart ass. See you later.”

  “Lieutenant? You haven’t forgotten our Christmas party?”

  She spun around. “Christmas party? That’s not tonight. Is it? It’s not.”

  It was small of him, he could admit it. But he loved seeing that quick panic on her face as she tried to remember which day was which. “Tomorrow. So if you’ve anything you need or want to come across to pick up beforehand, it should be today.”

  “Sure. Right. No problem.” Shit, she thought as she headed downstairs. Was there anything else? Why were there all these people who had to be crossed off her pick-up-something list? Was she actually going to have to start making a list?

  If it came to that it might be best to move away altogether and start over.

  She could dump the whole business on Roarke, of course. He actually liked to come across stuff to pick up. The man shopped—something she avoided at all possible costs. But if you were going to end up with all these people in your life, it seemed you should at least spend a half a minute picking something up, personally. Plus, she thought it was another kind of rule.

  Relationships were lousy with rules, that much she’d learned. It was just her bad luck that she usually tried to play by them.

  One of the rules she enjoyed was verbally bitch-slapping Summerset on her way in or out the door. He was there—of course he was there, the skeleton in a black suit—in the foyer.

  “My vehicle better be right where I left it, Nancy.”

  His lips thinned. “You’ll find the object you call a vehicle currently embarrassing the front of this house. I require any and all additions or adjustments to your personal guest list for tomorrow’s gathering by two this afternoon.”

  “Yeah? Well, check with my social secretary. I’ll be a little busy serving and protecting the city for lists.”

  She strolled out, then hissed. List? She was supposed to have a list for this, too? What was wrong with just running into someone and telling them to come on by?

  She hunched against the nasty, freezing rain, slid into her car. The heater was already running. Summerset’s work, probably, which would have to go on the list of reasons not to strangle him in his sleep.

  At least that was a short one.

  She started down the drive, engaged the dash ’link and tagged Roarke.

  “Miss me already?”

  “Every second without you is a personal hell. Listen, am I supposed to have a list? Like a guest list for this deal tomorrow?”

  “Do you want one?”

  “No. No, I don’t want a damn list, but—”

  “It’s taken care of, Eve.”

  “Okay, good then. Fine.” Another thought wandered into her brain. “I probably have an entire outfit, down to the underwear, all picked out, too, don’t I?”

  “Showing exquisite taste—with underwear optional.”

  It made her laugh. “I never miss a trick. Later.”

  Peabody was already at her desk when Eve walked into Central. It added another little pinch of guilt. She crossed over, waited until Peabody glanced up from her paperwork.

  “Would you mind coming into my office for a minute?”

  There was a blink of surprise. “Sure. Right behind you.”

  With a nod, Eve headed into her office, programmed two coffees—one light and sweet for Peabody. That got her another blink of surprise when Peabody stepped in.

  “Shut the door, will you?”

  “Sure. Um, I have the report on . . . thanks,” she added when Eve handed her the coffee. “On Zero. The PA went in hard, Second Degree, two counts, using the illegals sale as a deadly weapon in the act of committing, with—”

  “Sit down.”

  “Jeez, am I being transferred to Long Island or something?”

  “No.” Eve sat herself, waiting, watched Peabody warily take a seat. “I’m going to apologize for walking out on you yesterday, for not doing my job, and leaving you to deal with it.”

  “We were all but wrapped, and you were sick.”

  “It wasn’t wrapped, and if I was sick, it was my problem. I made it yours. You called Roarke.”

  Eve waited a beat while Peabody got busy looking at the wall and drinking coffee. “I was going to slap you good for that,” she said when Peabody opened her mouth. “But it was probably the sort of thing a partner should do.”

  “You were in bad shape. I didn’t know what else to do. Okay now?”

  “Fine.” She studied her coffee a moment. Partnership was another thing with rules. “There was a woman in my office when we got back yesterday. Someone I knew a long time ago. It gave me a knock. A big one. She was my first foster mother—loose term on the mother. It was a rough patch, and having her come in like that, after all this time, it . . . I couldn’t—”

  No, Eve thought, you always could.

  “I didn’t handle it,” she corrected. “So I ditched. You handled the case, Peabody, and largely alone. You did a good job.”

  “What did she want?”

  “I don’t know, don’t care. I got her out. Door’s closed. If she wheedles her way through it again, she won’t be taking me by surprise. And I will handle it.”

  Rising, she went to her window, shoved it up. Cold and wet spilled in as she leaned out and tore free the evidence bag she’d fixed to the outside wall. In it were four unopened candy bars.

  “You have chocolate bars sealed and taped outside the window,” Peabody said with a mixture of awe and puzzlement.

  “I did have,” Eve corrected. She was giving up the best hiding place she’d devised from the nefarious candy thief. She unsealed the bag, handed the speechless Peabody a bar. “They’ll be somewhere else after you leave and I lock the door and find a new spot for my cache.”

  “Okay. I’m putting it in my pocket before I tell you we didn’t get Murder Two.”

  “Didn’t figure you did.”

  Not one to take chances with chocolate, Peabody shoved the bar into her pocket anyway. “PA told me we wouldn’t before we went in to pitch the deal. He wanted Zero bad, more than me, I think. Zero’s slipped through his fingers plenty, and the PA wanted to nail him.”

  Eve leaned against her desk. “I like a PA with an agenda.”

  “It helps,” Peabody agreed. “We spooked them with talk of two consecutive life sentences, off planet penal colony, made noises about eye witnesses.”

  Peabody tapped her fingers on her pocket as if to reassure herself the candy was still there. “We got ourselves a search and seize, and popped some illegals from the club and Zero’s residence. Petty stuff, really, and the claim they were for personal use might have been true, but we just kept piling it up. By the time we’d finished, Zero and his lawyer were looking at Man Two as a gift from the Higher Powers. Five to ten, and he probably won’t serve the full minimum, but—”

  “You got him in a cage, and that’s a check in the win column. He loses his license, he pays out the butt in fees and fines, his club will likely go tits up. You keep the chocolate.”

  “It was great.” And since the candy in her pocket was currently screaming her name, Peabody gave in, took it out, and unwrapped enough to break off a knuckle’s worth. “It was a rush to push it through,” she said with her happy mouth full. “I’m sorry you missed it.”

  “So am I. Thanks for covering.”

  “No problem. You can put the bag back outside. It’ll be safe from me.” At the narrowed, speculative look in Eve’s eye, she rushed on. “Ah, not that it wouldn’t be safe from me anywhere you put it. I’m not saying that I’ve ever had any part in taking any candy of any sort from this office.”

  Eve flattened the look—cop interrogating suspect. “And if we did a quick little truth test on that?”

  “What?” Peabody put a hand to her ear. “Did you hear that? Someone’s calling me from the bull pen. There may be crimes being committed even now while we lollygag. Gotta go.”

  Eyes still narrowed, Eve walked to the door, shu
t and locked it. Lollygag? What the hell kind of word was lollygag? A guilty one if she was any judge.

  She gave the bag a shake as she considered where her next candy vault might be.

  Between a meeting with the senior staff of one of his manufacturing arms and a lunch he had scheduled in his executive dining room with investors, Roarke’s interoffice ’link beeped.

  “Yes, Caro.” His brow winged up when he noted she’d engaged privacy mode.

  “The individual you mentioned this morning is downstairs, lobby level, and requesting a moment of your time.”

  He’d bet himself a half mil she’d contact him before noon. Now he went double or nothing she’d show her hand before he booted her out again.

  “Is she alone?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Keep her waiting down there another ten minutes, then escort her up. Not personally. Send an assistant, please, Caro—a young one. Keep her cooling out there until I buzz you.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Would you like me to buzz you again a few minutes after she’s in your office?”

  “No.” He smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant. “I’ll get rid of her personally.”

  He was looking forward to it.

  After checking the time, he rose, walked to the wall of glass that opened his office to the spires and towers of the city. It was just rain now, he noted. Dreary and gray and dull, shitting down on the streets from an ugly sky.

  Well, he and Eve knew all about being shit on. Life hadn’t dealt either of them a pretty hand, and had given them no stake to play it. What they’d done—each in his own way—was make a win out of it. Bluffing, bulling, and at least in his case, cheating their way to the pot at the end of the day.

  But there was always another game to be played, always another player willing to do all manner of nasty things to take a share. Or take it all.

  Well, come on, then, he thought. He wasn’t just willing, but more than able to do all manner of nasty things himself.

  He couldn’t go back, more’s the pity, and beat her bastard of a father into a gibbering, bloody pulp. He couldn’t make the dead suffer, as Eve suffered still. But here, fate had dropped a pale substitute right into his hands.

  A live one. Plump and pink and prime for skinning.

  Trudy Lombard was in for a very unpleasant surprise.

  He imagined the last thing that would be on her mind when she crawled out again would be to slither her way around Eve.

  He turned, glanced around his office. He’d made it what it was. Needed to. He knew what she would see when she came in, out of the cold and the gray. She’d see power and wealth, space and luxury. She’d scent the money, though if she wasn’t brainless, she’d have some idea of the pot on his table.

  An idea that would be considerably short, come to that, he mused. He may have been legal now, but that didn’t mean he felt the need to make public what was in all his pockets.

  He kept books in his private office at home, updating quarterly. Eve had access to them, should she ever have any interest. Which she wouldn’t, he thought with a faint smile. She was easier with his money than she’d once been, but he was still a faint embarrassment to her.

  He wished he knew the name of the gods who’d looked down on him the day he’d met her. If he could stack everything he owned, had done, had accomplished, on one side of a scale, it still wouldn’t outweigh the gift of her.

  As he waited for time to pass, he slid a hand into his pocket, rubbed the button he carried, one that had fallen off her suit jacket the first time he’d met her.

  And as he thought of her, he wondered how soon her mind would clear and snap back. How soon she’d realize why she’d encountered this ghost from her past.

  Once she did, he mused, and closed his hand over the button, she was going to be right pissed.

  Judging the time was right, he walked back to his desk, sat, buzzed his admin.

  “Caro, you can bring her in now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  While he waited those last moments, he chained up what was inside him. What wanted the taste of blood and bone.

  She was what he’d expected from his research of her. What in some circles was called a handsome woman—big and bony, her hair freshly done, her face not unattractive and carefully enhanced.

  She wore a purple suit with bright gold buttons and a knee-length skirt. Good, sensible heels. Her scent was strong and rosy.

  He got to his feet, and though he remained in a position of power behind his desk, he offered a polite smile and his hand.

  “Ms. Lombard.” Smooth, he thought when her hand was in his. Soft and smooth, but he wouldn’t have said weak.

  “I so appreciate you taking a few minutes out of what I know must be a very busy schedule.”

  “Not at all. I’m always interested in meeting one of my wife’s . . . connections? Thank you, Caro.”

  He knew the brisk tone told his admin not to offer refreshment. She simply inclined her head, backed out. Shut the doors.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her voice and her eyes were bright. “I wasn’t sure if little Eve—sorry, I still think of her that way—if Eve had mentioned me.”

  “Did you think she wouldn’t?”

  “Well, you see, I feel terrible, just terrible, about the way I handled things yesterday.” She pressed a hand to her heart.

  Her nails, he noted, were long, well manicured, and painted boldly red. There was a ring on her right hand, a thick gold band around a sizable amethyst.

  Matching earrings, he observed, to make a well-put-together if unimaginative ensemble.

  “And how did you handle things yesterday?” he asked her.

  “Well, poorly, I confess. I realized I should have contacted her first, and instead I just jumped in head first, a habit of mine. I’m just too impulsive, especially when my feelings are engaged. Eve had such a hard, hard time back then, and seeing me, out of the blue, no warning at all, it must’ve taken her right back. I upset her.”

  Now she pressed that hand to her lips, and her eyes shimmered. “You have no idea what that poor, sweet child was like when she came to me. Like a little ghost in my house, hardly casting a shadow, and scared of even that just the same.”

  “Yes, I imagine so.”

  “And I blame myself for not thinking it through first, because I understand now that seeing me again just made her remember those terrible days before she was safe again.”

  “So, you’ve come to see me so I can pass your apologies along. I’m happy to do so. Though I think you’ve overestimated your impact on my wife.”

  He sat back, swiveled the chair lazily. “I believe she was a bit irritated by the unexpected visit. But upset? It isn’t the word I’d choose. So, please, rest your mind, Ms. Lombard. I hope you’ll enjoy your time in the city, however brief, before you return home.”

  It was a dismissal, flat and pleasant. A busy man idly brushing a speck of lint off his jacket pocket.

  He saw it register, saw that quick flick, like a snake’s tongue, flash in her eyes.

  And there she is, he thought. There’s the viper under the conservative dress and sugary accent.

  “Oh, oh, but I couldn’t go back to Texas without seeing my little Eve, without making personal amends, and being sure she’s all right.”

  “I can assure you, she’s fine.”

  “And Bobby? Why my Bobby’s fretting to see her. He was like a brother to her.”

  “Really? How odd then she’s never mentioned him.”

  Her smile was indulgent now, and just a little sly. “I think she had just a tiny little crush on him. I expect she doesn’t want you to be jealous.”

  His laugh was quick, rich and long. “Please. Now, if you’d like, you can certainly leave your name and address with my administrative assistant. If the lieutenant wants to contact you, she will. Otherwise . . .”

  “Now this just won’t do. This won’t do at all.�
�� Trudy sat up straighter, and her tone took on a little lash. “I took care of that girl for over six months, took her into my home out of the goodness of my heart. And believe me when I say she wasn’t easy. I think I deserve more than this.”

  “Do you? And what do you think you deserve?”

  “All right now.” She shifted in her chair into what he assumed was her bargaining pose. “If you think that seeing me and my boy isn’t the right thing, then—and I know I’m talking to a businessman here—I think I should be compensated. Not only for the time and the effort, and the trouble I went to for that girl all those years back when nobody wanted to take her in, but for all the inconvenience and expense it’s taken for me to come here, just to see how she’s doing.”

  “I see. And do you have a measure of this compensation in mind?”

  “This has taken me by surprise, I have to admit.” Her fingers fussed with her hair, red against red. “I don’t know how you can put a price on what I gave that child, or what it’s costing me to turn away from her now.”

  “But you’ll manage to do so, I’m sure.”

  It was temper he saw deepen the color in her cheeks, not embarrassment. He merely kept that mildly interested look on his face.

  “I’d think a man in your position can afford to be generous with someone in mine. That girl would likely be in jail instead of putting people in one if it wasn’t for me. And she wouldn’t even speak to me when I went to see her yesterday.”

  She looked away, blinking at tears he noted she could call up at will.

  “I think we’re past that now.” He allowed a sliver of impatience to come into his voice. “What’s your price?”

  “I think two million dollars wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

  “And for two million dollars . . . that’s U.S. dollars?”

  “Of course it is.” Faint irritation took the place of tears. “What would I want with foreign money?”

  “For that, you and your Bobby will happily go back to where you came from and leave my wife alone.”

  “She doesn’t want to see us?” She raised her hands as if in defeat. “We won’t be seen.”