by J. D. Robb
“But you don’t think they know Nixie’s here.”
“I think your average CPS rep would spill data out like a gushing pipe under torture. And I wouldn’t hold it against her. Best I can speculate, she doesn’t know the witness is here, but knows I took her and bypassed regs. They could put it together. I would.”
“Taking a civilian witness into your personal residence isn’t usual, or even standard procedure. But yes, they might put it together. And you also assume that under extreme duress, I would also gush like a broken pipe.”
“It’s not a reflection on your standards or your integrity.”
“No.” Mira brushed back a wave of hair the breeze blew across her cheek. “And I don’t take it as such. I imagine you’re right. While I’d like to think I’d suffer torture and painful death to protect another, it’s much more likely I’d succumb. So you have me and my home under surveillance and security. Sensible of you, and I apologize for objecting.”
“I had you under security before, and Palmer got to you.”
Mira as psychologist and profiler and Eve as primary had helped put Palmer away. His revenge spree after his prison escape the previous winter had nearly cost Mira her life. Could have cost both of them, Eve remembered, when he’d abducted Mira and caged her in a basement to lure Eve to his sick New Year’s Eve celebration.
“He didn’t serve you a tea party, either, and you stood up.”
“He just wanted me to suffer and die. In this case . . . where is Nixie?”
“I’ve got Trueheart riding her. I didn’t know where you wanted to set up with her.”
“Where do you think she’s most comfortable?”
Eve stared, blank. “Ah, I don’t know. She did okay in the parlor last time.”
“A stunning room, and certainly comfortable. But maybe a little intimidating for a child used to less opulence. Where does she spend most of her time?”
“I don’t know that either, exactly. She hangs with Summerset a lot, but he’s all over the damn house. Like termites. She and Trueheart were hanging out in the game room before.”
“Game room?”
“Roarke’s got a damn room for everything. Fancy toys, you know, arcade stuff.” She gave a shrug, though she had to admit, privately, she got a charge out of the deal. “A lot of classic game stuff.”
“Child friendly, then. That sounds very good.”
“Okay.”
When Eve didn’t turn back to the door, Mira asked, “How do you feel she’s coping?”
“Had a nightmare last night. A real screamer. Thought they were coming for her, hiding in the closet, under the bed.”
“Natural enough. I’d be more concerned if she wasn’t afraid. If she was repressing.”
“Like I did.”
“You coped in your own way.” And because they’d come quite a distance in the last two years, Mira touched a hand to Eve’s arm. “And still do. This child has a firm foundation, which has been broken out from under her. But that foundation will mean she’ll most likely have an easier time regaining her footing. With counseling, with care, and a return to normalcy.”
Eve gathered herself. “There’s a thing. The situation she’s in, the one I was in, they’re nothing alike. Not even close. But—”
“A young traumatized child.”
“She had murder done around her. I did murder.”
“Why do you call it murder?” Mira’s voice sharpened. “You know very well it was nothing of the kind. You were a child fighting for her life. If one of those men had found Nixie, and through some miracle she’d been able to kill him, save herself, would you call it murder? Lieutenant.”
“No.” Eve closed her eyes, bore down before the image could form. “No. I know I did what I had to, like she did what she had to. I killed, she hid.”
“Eve.” Her tone gentle now, Mira laid a hand on Eve’s cheek. “Eve. You had nowhere to hide.”
“No, I had nowhere.” She had to step away from that touch, from that quiet understanding, or dissolve. “It’s good she did. Good she was smart enough to do what she did, strong enough to crawl through blood to survive.”
“And so did you, so were you smart enough and strong enough. And terrified enough. You can’t help seeing yourself, as you were, when you deal with her.”
“I did see myself. When I found her, huddled in that bathroom, blood all over her. For a minute, I saw myself in that fucking freezing room in Dallas. And I nearly walked away from her. Hell, I nearly ran away from her.”
“But you didn’t. And what you felt is normal. What similarities you see—”
“I’m projecting. I know the term.” She felt temper rise up in her, shoved it back. “I’m handling it. I’m telling you because I figure you should know there’s a thing. Off and on.”
“And I expect you to tell me if it becomes too much to handle. For your sake as well as hers. At this point, I believe your empathy with her is helpful—for her. She senses it, and it adds to her sense of safety. You’re not just an authority figure. You’re her savior.”
Eve turned to the door, opened it. “She saved herself.”
After going back inside, Eve had to stand for a moment, orient herself and bring the location of the game room into her head.
“If you need to talk about this further—”
“I’ll let you know.” She closed the door on it. “This way. We keep her on monitor. Got a homer on her.”
“No precaution is overdone, in my opinion.”
“On authority figures, I talked with her legal guardians. Linnie Dyson’s parents. They’re still pretty torn up. I thought if you talked to them it might come easier than having a cop on their doorstep again.”
“I’ll do what I can. It would be good for Nixie, certainly, to see them, to talk to them. And it would help them as well.”
Eve paused. She could hear the beeps and bells of machines. They’d left the door to the game room open. “Listen, before you go in. Grabbing up Newman like that. It was ass covering, and a logical step. But it was strutting, too. Daylight, in front of witnesses. Pulling off something that risky, it’s going to juice you up. Coolheaded, cold-blooded, organized planners, sure, but you’re going to feel the juice.”
“Those who, even routinely, perform in risky professions or situations get the adrenaline kick. It’s part of the reason they do what they do.”
“And the more they get out of Newman, the bigger the rush.”
“Yes.”
Eve let out a deep sigh. “She’s dead, isn’t she? As soon as they determine they’ve gotten all the information out of her, there’s no reason to keep her alive.”
“Unfortunately, I agree. You couldn’t have saved her.”
“I could’ve thought ahead. I could’ve ordered this protection lockdown sooner on all connected parties. But I didn’t.” Restless, she moved her shoulders. “Hindsight doesn’t change anything, so I’ll think ahead now.”
She gestured toward the room. “They’re in there. You can tell by the insanity of noise.”
“You should come in with me. She needs to see you routinely,” Mira continued when Eve instinctively stepped back. “To remember me in connection to you, so that she’s comfortable with me. Once she’s seen you, you can go.”
“All right. Jeez.”
Nixie was standing on a stool and pushing the buttons for the flippers on a pinball machine. The one, Eve noted, with cops and robbers—Roarke’s particular favorite.
Trueheart was cheering her on, and looked about two years older than his charge.
“You got it now, you got it! Blast ’em good, Nix. In pursuit, armed suspects! You rock.”
The tiniest smile tugged at her cheeks, but her eyes were focused, her brow knitted in fierce concentration.
Eve smelled popcorn, and saw a bowl of it on one of the tables. The wall screen was on, volume up to scream, with one of Mavis’s videos blaring. Mavis Freestone herself, in little more than a sparkle of paint, cavorted on
that screen with what looked to be a number of mostly naked pirates. Black patches weren’t just worn over the eye in Mavis’s world, Eve observed.
She recognized the song—so to speak. Something about having your heart sunk and your love shipwrecked.
“I’m not sure that video, however entertaining, is appropriate for a girl Nixie’s age.”
“Huh?” Eve looked back at Mira. “Oh, well, shit. Am I supposed to turn it off?”
“Never mind.” Mira patted Eve’s hand, and waited until Nixie lost the ball.
“I still didn’t get high score.”
“Beat the pants off of me,” Trueheart reminded her.
“But I can’t beat Roarke. Maybe he cheats.”
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Eve said. “But I’ve watched him on that thing. You just can’t beat him.”
She’d hoped the casual, somewhat cheerful tone would keep Nixie in the game mood. But as soon as the kid stepped down from the stool, she stared at Eve, the question in her gaze clear.
“No.” Eve spoke tersely now. “Not yet. When I get them, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Hello, Nixie.” Mira stepped up to the machine. “You may not have gotten high score, but that looks very impressive to me.”
“It’s not good enough.”
“When it’s the best you can do, it’s good enough. But maybe Roarke will play it with you sometime. Maybe he’ll show you some of his tricks.”
A spark of interest lit her face. “Do you think?”
“You can ask him and see. Hello, Officer Trueheart.”
“Dr. Mira. Nice to see you.”
“Do you know all the police?” Nixie wanted to know.
“No, not all. But quite a few. I’d like to talk to you again, Nixie, but first I wonder if you could show me how to play that machine. It looks like fun.”
“I guess. If you want.”
“I do. I’ll need to turn off the screen first.”
“But it’s Mavis. She’s the ult.”
“Oh, I think so, too.” Mira smiled at the cool suspicion in Nixie’s eyes. “I have quite a few of her discs myself. Did you know Lieutenant Dallas and Mavis are friends? Very good friends.”
“Get back!” Then she bit her lip. “Excuse me, I’m not supposed to sass adults.”
“That’s all right. You were just surprised. Eve?”
“Huh?” She’d been wondering why seeing a mostly naked Mavis, and company, on-screen was inappropriate for a kid who’d seen murder up close and personal. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, Mavis and I are pals.”
“You talk to her, in person?”
“Well, sure.”
“Does she ever come here, right to the house?”
“All the time.” Eve was treated to that long, unblinking stare again. Shifted her stance. Thought about security and procedure. Felt her bones start to burn under that stare. “Listen, if I can swing it, and she’s not busy, I’ll see if she can come by sometime. You can meet her and . . . whatever.”
“For real?”
“No, for false. Jesus, kid.”
“You’re not supposed to swear in front of me.” Nixie informed her of this, quite primly.
“Then turn around so I can swear behind you. You straight here now?” Eve asked, just a little desperately, of Mira. “I’ve got work.”
“We’re fine.”
“Trueheart, with me.”
“Yes, sir. See you later, Nixie.”
But before she got to the door, Nixie trotted up behind her. “Dallas. They all call you Dallas,” she said when Eve looked back. “Except for her. For the doctor.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Are you going away to work?”
“No, I’m going to work here for a while.”
“Okay.” She walked back to Mira. “I’ll show you how to play now.”
Awhile” was hours. McNab might’ve exaggerated about their ears bleeding, but Eve thought her eyes might. She ran search after search, waiting for names to cross. When the sun went down and the light in her office dimmed, she programmed more coffee, and kept going.
“Food.” Roarke walked in. “You’ve sent your team home for food, to recharge, to rest. Do the same for yourself.”
“There’s going to be a match. Has to be.”
“And the computer can continue the runs while you eat. We’re going downstairs.”
“Why down—oh.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Right. What are we supposed to talk to her about now?”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
“You know what? She’s a little scary. I think all of that breed is. Kids I mean. It’s like they know stuff you’ve forgotten, but they still hammer you with questions. She rocked up, though, when Mira told her I was friends with Mavis.”
“Ah.” He sat on the corner of the desk. “A Mavis fan. Considerable conversation to be mined there.”
“And she wants you to play pinball with her. She’s got a competitive streak, seems like. She’s a little bent she can’t meet your scores.”
“Really?” His smile bloomed. “I’d enjoy that. I’ll take her down for a bit after dinner. Good practice for when we have a brood of our own.”
She didn’t pale, but her eyes did go glassy. “Are you trying to wig me?”
“It’s fairly irresistible. Come on.” He held out a hand. “Be a good girl and come to dinner.”
Before she could rise, her ’link beeped. “Minute,” she said, and noted the commander’s home data on the ID. “It’s Whitney.” Without thinking about it she straightened up in the chair, squared her shoulders. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant. The safe house on Ninety-second has been hit.”
“Ninety-second.” Not trusting her mental file, she flipped her fingers over the keyboard to bring up the data. “Preston and Knight.”
“They’re both down.”
Now she did pale. “Down, sir?”
“DOS.” His face was grim, his voice was flat. “Security was compromised. Both officers were terminated. Report to the scene immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Commander, the other locations—”
“Additional units have been dispatched. Reports are coming in. I’ll meet you on-scene.”
When the screen went blank, she sat just as she was. Sat just as she was when Roarke came around the desk to lay his hand on her shoulder.
“I hand-picked them. Preston and Knight. Because they were good, solid cops. Good instincts. If there was going to be a hit on one of the locations, I wanted solid cops with good instincts covering them.”
“I’m sorry, Eve.”
“Didn’t have to move a wit from that location. Didn’t have anybody there, but it was one of the addresses Newman should have known, so it had to be covered. She’s dead, too, by now. Stone dead. Tally’s up to eight.”
She rose then, checked her weapon harness. “Two good cops. I’m going to hunt them down like dogs.”
She didn’t argue when he said he was going with her. She wanted him behind the wheel until she was more sure of her control.
As she jogged down the stairs, pulled her jacket on, Nixie came out into the foyer. “You’re supposed to come to dinner now.”
“We have to go out.” There was a firestorm raging in Eve’s head she’d yet to be able to shut down to cold.
“Out to dinner?”
“No.” Roarke stepped to Nixie, brushed a hand lightly over her hair. “The lieutenant has work. I’m going to help, but we’ll be back as soon as we can.”
She looked at him, then focused on Eve. “Is somebody else dead?”
She started to fob it off, even to lie, but decided on truth. “Yes.”
“What if they come while you’re gone? What if the bad guys come when you’re not here? What—”
“They can’t get in.” Roarke said it so simply it could be taken as nothing less than fact. “And look here.” He took a small ’link out of his pocket as he crouched down to her level. “You keep
this. If you’re afraid, you should tell Summerset or one of the police we have in the house. But if you can’t tell them, you push this. Do you see?”
She moved closer, her blonde hair brushing his black. “What does it do?”
“It will signal me. You can push this, and my ’link will beep twice, and I’ll know it’s you, and you’re afraid. But don’t use it unless you really have to. All right?”
“Can I push it now, to see if it works?”
He turned his head to smile at her. “A very good idea. Go ahead.”
She pressed her finger on the button he’d shown her, and the ’link still in his pocket beeped twice. “It works.”
“It does, yes. It’ll fit right in your pocket. There.” He slipped it in for her, then straightened. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
Summerset was there, of course, hovering a few feet back in the hall. Roarke sent him their own signal as he put on his coat. “Lieutenant,” he said, turning. “I’m with you.”
When Summerset stepped forward to take Nixie’s hand, she waited until the door shut. “Why does he call her ‘Lieutenant’? Why doesn’t he call her ‘Dallas’ like most everybody else?”
“It’s a kind of endearment between them.” He gave Nixie’s hand a little squeeze. “Why don’t we eat in the kitchen tonight?”
It wasn’t rage. Eve wasn’t sure there was a word for what gripped the throat, the belly, the head, the bowels when you looked down at the slaughter of men you’d sent into battle. Men you’d sent to their death.
Going down in the line was a risk they all took. But knowing that didn’t loosen the grip, not when she’d been the one to give them their last orders.
The other cops were quiet, a silent wall. The scene had been secured. Now it was up to her.
The safe house was a post–Urban Wars construction. Cheap, never meant to last. But it had stood, a narrow box of two stories, bumped up against a few more narrow boxes that were all dwarfed and outclassed by the sturdiness of the buildings that had survived the wars, and the sleekness of those built since the hurried, harried aftermath.
She knew the city had bought this, and others, on the cheap. Maintained them on a shoestring. But the security was better than decent, with full-panning cams, alarms backed up by alarms.