by J. D. Robb
“How long did the medicals estimate you had left?”
“No more than two years, with the last several months extremely painful, unpleasant, and demeaning even with medication. I prefer a quiet and controlled end to my time.”
“I bet you do. But you know, you’re not going to get it. You don’t have any ST certification on record. Bob.”
“I certainly do.”
“Nope—and your fancy Brit lawyers can’t produce one either.” She laid her palms on the table, leaned over into his face. “No record means we’re under no obligation to take your word for it, under no obligation to accommodate your easy out. A couple of years isn’t as much as I’d like, but you’ll be spending it in a box. You’ll be spending some of it in pain, in distress, in despair.”
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “I have certification.”
“You’ve got nothing. And you are no longer free to apply for ST. You’ve been charged and you have willingly confessed to multiple homicides. Your out just slammed shut.”
“You’re lying.” His lips trembled. “You’re trying to upset me, to trick me.”
“You go ahead and think that. You go on thinking that for the next two years. You get to live, and every second you get to live, you’re going to suffer.”
“I want…I want my lawyers.”
“Sure. You can have an army of goddamn lawyers. They’re not going to help you.” Her eyes were fierce now, not the flat, objective eyes of the cop, but the fierce, burning eyes of justice. “You’re going to know pain. You’re going to choke out your last breath in pain.”
“No. No. It’s my time, it’s all worked out. I need my music, my pills.”
“Bob, you need to die a long, slow, agonizing death.” She straightened. “Why don’t you haul him down, Feeney. He can go cry to his lawyers before he starts learning what it’s like to live in a cage.”
“I’ve been waiting for nine years to do this.” Feeney hauled Lowell to his feet. “I’m betting on medical science,” he said as he dragged Lowell to the door. “Couple of years? They might find a fix. That would be sweet.” He glanced over his shoulder, sent Eve a strong smile. “That would be goddamn sweet.”
EPILOGUE
WHEN EVE STEPPED OUT, COPS POURED OUT OF OBSERVATION, out of the conference room where the monitors had been set up. She saw Roarke with them before Baxter elbowed through, and shocked her speechless by hauling her off her feet and planting a noisy kiss on her mouth.
“Jesus Christ, are you out of your tiny mind?”
“Somebody had to do it, and he always gets to.” He jerked his thumb at Roarke. “I’m already punchy so don’t hit me. You either,” he said to Eve as he dropped her back on her feet. “Call me a sucker, but I get emotional at happy endings.”
“I’m going to be calling you in the nearest hospital if you try anything like that again. All of you who aren’t on regular shift, go home. Dismissed, get the hell…Commander.”
“Excellent job, all of you. I suggest you follow the lieutenant’s orders. Go home, get some sleep. The department is goddamn proud of every one of you. Lieutenant.”
“Sir. I’ll have the paperwork finished and filed within the hour.”
“No, you’ll get the hell out. You’ll go home. I’ll see the paperwork is dealt with.”
“Sir—”
“That’s an order.” He took her hand, shook it. “And consider that I’m going to give you a very large break and handle the media.”
“Yes, sir.”
She didn’t object when Roarke slung an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t I drive you home, Lieutenant.”
“Yeah, you could do that. Peabody, I don’t want to see you here before ten tomorrow.”
“I am so all over that. Dallas—”
“Don’t even think about hugging me. Is there no end to the humiliation my men dole out?”
“Aw,” Peabody said, but was grinning as Eve walked away.
She dropped off like a stone the minute she was in the car. Roarke drove with one hand on the wheel, one hand over hers. Halfway home, he switched to auto and let his own exhausted mind rest.
The lights of home were like stars, shining. He took his hand from hers to press his own fingers to his eyes, then climbed out to go around and open her door. But when he reached down to lift her, she batted a hand at his arm.
“No. I can walk.”
“Thank Christ, because I think trying to haul you up at this point would have both of us on our asses in the bloody driveway. Here.” He gripped her hand, gave her a tug. And the two of them stood a moment in the cold, bleary with fatigue.
“We just have to get inside, get upstairs, and fall into bed,” she decided. “We can do that.”
“All right then. Here we go.”
They wrapped arms around each other’s waists, held each other up as they walked to the front door, and through.
“Look at the pair of you.” Summerset stood like a black cloud in the foyer. “Stumbling in like drunks, and I’d say in need of a good wash and a decent meal.”
“Up yours, fuckface.”
“As always, such a command of the language.”
“Have to stand with my wife on this one,” Roarke said. “Or fall, as may very well be the case any moment. Though the fuckface was a bit harsh. Let’s take the elevator, darling. I’m too bleeding tired for the stairs.”
Summerset shook his finger at Galahad, who stood up to follow as they passed. “I think not,” he said quietly to the cat. “Let’s leave it just the two of them, shall we? And now that the children are home safe and sound, we’ll have a little snack before bed.”
“Bed,” Eve said as they stumbled out of the elevator. “I think I can actually smell bed—but in a good way.” She began to let things fall—her coat, then her jacket, her weapon—on her way to the bed, as Roarke did exactly the same.
“I have something to say.”
“Better make it quick,” she warned, “because I think I’m already asleep.”
“I’ve worked with you before, watched, understood—to some extent—what you do. But I haven’t really gone the gamut, as with this time. Beginning to end, and most of the steps between.” He fell into bed with her. “You’re an amazing woman, Lieutenant, my darling Eve.”
“You’re not so shabby yourself.” She turned to him, and with the lights still on looked into his eyes. “I’m not going to ask how you pulled off what I asked you to pull off.”
“It’s a bit complicated to explain at the moment in any case.”
“We had him, we stopped him, and Ariel Greenfeld’s safe. But there wouldn’t have been justice, not even a shadow of real justice, if you hadn’t done it.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “We did good work.”
“So we did.” Their lips pressed together briefly. “Now let’s have ourselves an eight-hour vacation.”
“To quote Peabody,” she said, voice already slurring, “‘I’m so all over that.’”
“Lights off,” he ordered.
In the dark, with her hand on his cheek, they slid into sleep.
• • •
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