The In Death Collection, Books 1-5

by J. D. Robb

  “Eve,” he murmured as she started up the stairs. “She believes in you, too. There’s good reason for it.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Bracing herself, she continued up, walked slowly down the corridor to Mavis’s room, and knocked.

  “Come on in, Summerset. I told you I’d come down for the cake. Oh.” Surprised, Mavis leaned back from the computer where she’d been struggling to write a new song. To cheer herself up, she’d worn a skin suit of bright sapphire and had dyed her hair to match. “I thought it was Summerset.”

  “And cake.”

  “Yeah, he buzzed in and told me the cook had baked a triple chocolate fudge cake. Summerset knows I’ve got this weakness. I know the two of you don’t get along, but he’s really sweet to me.”

  “That’s because he keeps imagining you naked.”

  “Whatever works.” She began to tap her tricolored nails on the console in a quick, nervous tattoo. “Anyway he’s been great. I guess if he thought I had my eye on Roarke, it’d be different. He’s like totally devoted. You’d think Roarke was his first and only born or something instead of his boss. That’s the only reason he gives you grief—Well, and you being a cop doesn’t help. I think Summerset has this block about cops.”

  She broke off, trembled visibly. “I’m sorry, Dallas, I’m babbling. I’m so scared. You found Leonardo, didn’t you? Something’s really, really wrong. He’s hurt, isn’t he? He’s dead.”

  “No, he’s not hurt.” Eve crossed the room and sat on the foot of the bed. “He came into the cop shop this morning. He had a cut on his arm, that’s all. The two of you had pretty much the same idea last night. He got tanked and headed for your place, ended up cutting his arm on an empty bottle he dropped before he keeled.”

  “He was drunk?” Mavis sprang up at that. “He hardly ever drinks. He knows he can’t. He told me how he does things he can’t remember if he drinks too much. It scares him, and . . . To my place,” she said, eyes softening. “That’s so sweet. Then he came to see you because he couldn’t find me.”

  “He came to see me to confess to the murder of Pandora.”

  Mavis reared back as if Eve had struck her. “That’s impossible. Leonardo wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s just not capable of it. He was just trying to protect me.”

  “He didn’t know anything about your involvement at that time. He believes he must have argued with Pandora, fought with her, then killed her.”

  “Well, that’s absolutely wrong.”

  “So the evidence indicates.” Eve rubbed her weary eyes, kept her fingers pressed there for a moment. “The cut on his arm came from a piece of the broken bottle. None of his blood was found at the scene, none of Pandora’s was on the clothes he’d been wearing. We haven’t pinned down his movements precisely as yet, but we don’t have anything on him.”

  Mavis missed a beat, caught up. “Oh, then it’s all right. You didn’t believe him.”

  “I haven’t decided that, but the evidence, at this point, keeps him clear.”

  “Thank God.” Mavis slid down onto the bed beside Eve. “When can I see him, Dallas? Leonardo and I have to work things out between us.”

  “That may take a little time.” Eve squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, made herself look at Mavis. “I have to ask you for a favor, the biggest anyone’s ever asked you.”

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Yeah.” Eve watched Mavis’s attempt at a smile fade away. “I have to ask you to trust me to take care of you. To believe that I’m so good at my job that nothing, however small, will get past me. I have to ask you to remember you’re my closest friend, and that I love you.”

  Mavis’s breath started to jerk. Her eyes stayed dry, burning dry. The saliva evaporated from her mouth. “You’re going to arrest me.”

  “The lab reports came in.” She caught Mavis’s hands, held them hard in hers. “They weren’t a surprise, because I knew someone had set things up. I was expecting this, Mavis. I hoped I could find something—anything—before it did, but I haven’t been able to. Feeney’s working on it, too. He’s the best, Mavis, trust me here. And Roarke’s already lined up the top defense lawyers known to man. It’s just procedure.”

  “You have to arrest me for murder.”

  “It’s murder two. That’s a small break. I know it doesn’t sound like one, but the PA’s office isn’t going to try to block bail. I’ll have you back here eating cake in a few hours.”

  But her mind was replaying one segment, over and over. It’s murder two. It’s murder two. “You have to put me in a cage.”

  Eve’s lungs were burning, and the sensation was rapidly moving toward her heart. “Not for long. I swear it. Feeney’s working right now to get the preliminary hearing up and running. He’s got plenty of markers he can pull in. By the time we’ve got you through booking, you’ll have the hearing, the judge will set bail, and you’ll be back here.”

  Wearing an ident alarm to track her movements, Eve thought. Trapped in the house to avoid the stalking media. The cage would be plush and friendly, but it would still be a cage.

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It’s not going to be easy, but it’ll be easier if you remember you’ve got a couple of top cops on your side. Don’t waive any of your rights, okay? Any of them. And once we start this, you wait for your lawyers. Don’t say anything to me you don’t have to say. Don’t say anything to anyone. Understand me?”

  “All right.” Mavis drew her hands away, rose. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Hours later, when it was done, Eve stepped back into the house. The lights were low. She hoped Mavis had taken the tranq Eve had recommended and gone to sleep. Eve already knew she wouldn’t do the same.

  She knew Feeney would have followed her request to pass Mavis personally over to Roarke. There had been other work to do. The press conference had been particularly hideous. As expected, questions about her friendship with Mavis had been brought up, conflict of interest hinted at. She owed the commander a great deal for the appearance he’d put in and his statement of absolute faith in his primary investigator.

  The one on one with Nadine Furst had been a little easier. All you had to do, Eve thought glumly as she climbed the stairs, was save a person’s life, and they were happy to take your side. The blood lust for the story might have been in Nadine’s heart, but so was a sense of debt. Mavis would get fair treatment from Channel 75.

  Then Eve had done something she had never believed she would do. She had voluntarily called the police psychiatrist and made an appointment to talk with Dr. Mira.

  Could still cancel it, she reminded herself and rubbed her gritty eyes. Probably will cancel it.

  “You’re quite late, Lieutenant, after an eventful day.”

  She dropped her hands and saw Summerset step silently out of a room to her right. He was, as usual, dressed in his stiff black, his stern face set in disapproving lines. Hating her seemed to be something he did with almost as much seamless skill as he ran the household.

  “Don’t hassle me, Summerset.”

  He stepped directly into her path. “I had believed, though you have countless flaws, you were, at least, a competent investigator. I see now, you are not, any more than you are a competent friend to one who depended on you.”

  “You really think after what I’ve been through tonight that you can say anything to touch me?”

  “I don’t believe anything touches you, Lieutenant. You’re without loyalty and that makes you nothing. Less than nothing.”

  “Maybe you’ve got a suggestion of how I could have handled it. Maybe I should have had Roarke fire up one of his JetStars and shoot Mavis off planet to some remote little hideaway. Then she could be on the run for the rest of her life.”

  “At least then she might not have wept herself to sleep.”

  The arrow pierced, directly under the heart where it had been aimed. Pain shimmered through fatigue. “Get out of my way, you bastard, and keep out of my way.” S
he shoved by him, but stopped herself from running. She walked into the master bedroom just as Roarke was replaying her press conference on screen.

  “You did well here,” he said and rose. “Under tremendous pressure.”

  “Yeah, I’m a real pro.” She walked into the bathroom, then stood staring at herself in the mirror. She saw a woman, pale face, dark, shadowed eyes, grim mouth. And she saw beyond it to helplessness.

  “You’re doing everything you can,” Roarke said quietly from behind her.

  “You got her good lawyers.” Ordering water cold, she leaned down, splashed it liberally over her face. “They juggled me through Interview. I was tough. Gotta be tough. But they’ve got some moves on them. Next time I’ve got to grill a friend, I’ll be sure to sign them up.”

  He watched her bury her face in a towel. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

  She merely shook her head. The question had no relevance. “The reporters were out for blood. Someone like me’s very juicy game. Couple of high-profile cases, I come out on top. Some of them would just love to see me take it between the eyes. Think of the ratings.”

  “Mavis doesn’t blame you, Eve.”

  “I blame me,” she exploded, heaving the towel aside. “I blame me, goddamn it. I told her to trust me, I told her I’d take care of things. How did I take care of it, Roarke? I arrested her, I booked her. Prints, mug shots, voice ident, all of it on file now. I put her through a horrible two-hour interview. I locked her in a cell until the lawyers you hired for her got her out on bail you posted. I hate myself.”

  She broke, simply broke. Covering her face with her hands, she began to sob.

  “It’s about time you let go.” Briskly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her up to the bed. “You’ll feel better for it.” He kept her cradled in his arms, stroked her hair. Whenever she cried, he thought, it was a storm, a passionate tumult. Rarely were there a few easy, quiet tears for Eve. Rarely was anything easy for Eve.

  “This isn’t helping,” she managed.

  “Yes, it is. You’ll purge some of that misplaced guilt and some of the grief you’re entitled to. You’ll think more clearly tomorrow.”

  She was down to shuddering breaths and a raging headache. “I have to work tonight. I’m going to run some names and scenarios for probability.”

  No, he thought quite calmly, she won’t. “Take a minute. Get something to eat.” Before she could protest, he was shifting her aside and moving to the AutoChef. “Even your admirable system needs fuel. And there’s a story I want to tell you.”

  “I can’t waste time.”

  “It won’t be wasted.”

  Fifteen minutes, she thought, as the scent of something glorious wafted toward her. “Let’s make it a quick meal and a short story, okay?” She rubbed at her eyes, not sure if she was ashamed or relieved to have let the cork pop and spew out the tears. “Sorry I blubbered on you.”

  “I’m always available for blubbering.” He came toward her with a steaming omelette and a cup. He sat down, stared into her swollen, exhausted eyes. “I adore you.”

  She flushed. It seemed he was the only one who could bring embarrassed color to her cheeks. “You’re trying to distract me.” She took the plate and a fork. “That kind of stuff always does, and I can never get my tongue around what I should say back.” She sampled the eggs. “Maybe something like you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “That’ll do.”

  She lifted the cup, started to sip, then scowled. “This isn’t coffee.”

  “It’s tea, for a change. A soothing blend. I imagine you’re overloaded on caffeine.”

  “Maybe.” Because the eggs were fabulous and she didn’t have the energy to argue, she took a sip. “It’s nice. Okay, what’s the story?”

  “You’ve wondered why I keep Summerset, even when he’s . . . less than solicitous to you.”

  She snorted. “You mean even though he hates my fucking guts. Your business.”

  “Our business,” he corrected.

  “Anyway, I don’t want to hear about him right now.”

  “It’s actually more about me, and an incident that you might find correlates with what you’re feeling right now.” He watched her drink again, calculated he had just enough time to tell the tale. “When I was very young, and still in Dublin on the street, I hooked up with a man and his daughter. The little girl was, well, an angel, gold and rose with the sweetest smile on either side of heaven. They ran confidence games, superbly. Short cons for the most part, bilking foolish marks and making a reasonable living. At that time, I was doing somewhat the same myself, but I liked variety, and enjoyed picking pockets and organizing floating games. My father was still alive when I met Summerset—though he didn’t go by that name then—and his daughter, Marlena.”

  “So, he was a con,” she said between bites. “I knew there was something shifty about him.”

  “He was quite brilliant. I learned a lot from him, and I like to think he from me. In any case, after one particularly enthusiastic beating from my dear old da, he happened to find me unconscious in an alley. He took me in. He took care of me. There was no money for a doctor, and I didn’t have a medical card. What I did have was a few broken ribs, a concussion, and a fractured shoulder.”

  “I’m sorry.” The image brought back others, ones that dried up the spit in her mouth. “Life sucks.”

  “It did. Summerset was a man of many talents. He had some medical training. He often used an MT disguise in his work. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he saved my life. I was young and strong and used to it, but he certainly kept me from suffering needlessly.”

  “You owe him.” Eve set the empty plate aside. “I understand. It’s all right.”

  “No, that’s not it. I owed him. I paid him back. There were times he owed me. After my father met his unmourned end, we became partners. Again, I wouldn’t say he raised me, I took care of myself, but he gave me what might be considered a family. I loved Marlena.”

  “The daughter.” She had to shake her head to clear it. “I’d forgotten. Hard to picture that dried up old fart as a father. Where is she?”

  “She’s dead. She was fourteen. I was sixteen. We’d been together, more or less, for about six years. One of my gambling projects was turning a tidy profit, and it came to the attention and the disapproval of a small, particularly violent syndicate. They felt I was cutting into their territory. I felt I was carving out my own. They threatened. I was arrogant enough to ignore them. Once or twice they tried to get their hands on me, to teach me respect, I imagine. But I was difficult to catch. And I was gaining power, even prestige. I was certainly making money. Enough that between us we were able to buy a small, very decent flat. And somewhere along the way, Marlena fell in love with me.”

  He paused, looking down at his own hands, remembering, regretting. “I cared for her a great deal, but not as a lover. She was beautiful, and unbelievably innocent, despite the life we led. I didn’t think of her romantically, but as a man—because I was a man already—might think of a perfect piece of art: romantically. Never sexually. She had different ideas, and one night she came into my room and rather sweetly, and terrifyingly, offered herself to me. I was appalled, furious, and scared to the bones. Because I was a man, and therefore, tempted.”

  His lifted his gaze to Eve’s again, and there was storm in them. “I was cruel to her, Eve, and sent her away shattered. She was a child, and I devastated her. I’ve never forgotten the look on her face. She trusted me, believed in me, and I, by doing what was right, betrayed her.”

  “The way I betrayed Mavis.”

  “The way you’re thinking you did. But there’s more. She left the house that night. Summerset and I didn’t know she was gone until the next day, the next morning when the men who wanted me sent word that they had her. They sent back the clothes she’d been wearing, and there was blood on them. For the first time in my life, and the last, I saw Summerset unable to function. I
would have given them anything they demanded, done anything. I would have traded myself for her without hesitation. Just as you, if you could, would trade places with Mavis now.”

  “Yes.” Eve set the empty cup aside woozily. “I’d do anything.”

  “Sometimes anything comes too late. I contacted them, told them we would negotiate, begged them not to hurt her. But they had already hurt her. They had raped her and tortured her, this delightful fourteen-year-old girl who had found so much joy in life, and who was just beginning to feel what women feel. Within hours of that first contact, her body was dumped on my doorstep. They had used her as no more than a means to an end, to make a point to a competitor, an upstart. She wasn’t even human to them, and there was nothing I could do to go back and change what had happened.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” She reached out and took his hands. “I’m sorry. So sorry, but it wasn’t your fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It took me years to believe that, to understand and accept that. Summerset never blamed me, Eve. He could have. She was his life, and she had suffered and died because of me. But he never once blamed me.”

  She sighed, closed her eyes. She knew what he was telling her, by repeating a tale that had to be a nightmare for him to relive. Neither was she to blame. “You couldn’t stop what happened. You could only control what happened after, the way I can only do everything I can to find the answers.” Wearily, she opened her eyes again. “What did happen after, Roarke?”

  “I hunted down the men who had done it, and I killed them, in as slow and as painful a method as I could devise.” He smiled. “We each have our own way of finding solutions and justice, Eve.”

  “Vigilantism isn’t justice.”

  “Not for you. But you’ll find the solution and justice for Mavis. No one doubts it.”

  “I can’t let her stand trial.” Her head lolled; she snapped it back. “I have to find . . . I need to go . . .” She couldn’t even lift her weighted arm to her head. “Damn it, Roarke, damn it, that was a tranq.”