anything I can do?”
You just did it, she thought, by asking. “I’m trying to fit the pieces together. One of them is Jamie.”
“Jamie? How?”
“They were friends.”
“Surely you don’t think—”
“No, I don’t think. I’ll check out his alibi simply because I don’t want to leave any blanks, but he’s not a suspect. She had a secret boyfriend—one it’s looking like targeted her, laid all the groundwork. I’m on my way to the morgue to see if some of the pieces in my head fit the evidence. After that, I’m hitting the lab.”
She saw a minute break in traffic, gunned it, flipped her vertical, soared over—she loved this new ride—and swung west.
“I asked Whitney to order Morris in today. Then I’m convening a briefing at Central. We need to run like crimes, go through the electronics, start a sweep on her areas of interest, so—”
“I believe I’ll come down and watch you work.”
“Look—”
“I can stay out of the way if that’s what you want. But you won’t keep Jamie out. I may be some help there. You’ve said her parents—one a police captain—returned home to find her dead. But you don’t mention security discs or the system. One assumes a veteran cop would take all necessary means, including strong security, to protect his family. There’s some e-work here.”
“That’s Feeney’s aegis.”
“I’ll be contacting him then.”
Knew you would. “Wouldn’t you like a nice quiet Sunday at home?”
“I would, if I had my wife here. But she’s having a different sort of day.”
“Suit yourself. Question. Why didn’t you tell me you were supplementing Jamie’s scholarship?”
“Busted.” He looked mildly disconcerted.
“It’s not a crime.”
“Well now I’m not altogether sure, as you’d see it as a bribe, wouldn’t you, to lure him into one of my companies?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Damn right, and a fine one, too. But the boy’s determined to be a cop. If he’s still of that mind when he’s finished at university, your gain is my loss. He’s bloody brilliant.”
“As good as you?”
Those wild blue eyes sparkled. “No, but a good deal more honest. I’ll see you at Central.”
“Don’t take Fifth. Jesus! I wish you could see this. There’s some asshole dressed like a peace sign. He’s a big yellow circle, with naked limbs. People are so damn weird. I’ll see you later.”
She’d known he’d come, just as she’d come to know how useful it was to have a thief—former—help analyze the bypassing of locks and codes.
Deena might have given her killer the passcode for the control room, if she’d had it. But if he’d shut down the cameras, wiped the hard drive, accessed the discs, he’d needed more than the code. He’d needed excellent e-skills.
And there her thief—former—was unsurpassed.
“Bloody brilliant,” she muttered, using Roarke’s own term.
A skeletal holiday shift manned the morgue, and those who remained behind to deal with the dead wore colorful shorts under lab coats. Music danced jauntily out of offices and cutting rooms.
She doubted the residents cared overmuch one way or the other.
She paused long enough to scowl at Vending. She wanted a tube of Pepsi, and didn’t want any bullshit from the damn machine.
“You!” She jabbed a finger at a passing tech, and the gesture had his face going as white as his bony legs. “Two tubes of Pepsi.” She pushed credits at him.
“Sure, okay.” Dutifully, he plugged them in, made her request. Even as the tubes plopped into the slot, and the machine began the soft drink’s current jingle, Eve snatched them out.
“Thanks.” She strode away.
The first sip was shockingly cold, and exactly what she was after. She continued down the white tunnel, chased by the echo of her own boots and the sticky hints of death that clung to the air under the blasts of citrus and disinfectant wafting out of the vents.
She paused outside the double doors of
You just did it, she thought, by asking. “I’m trying to fit the pieces together. One of them is Jamie.”
“Jamie? How?”
“They were friends.”
“Surely you don’t think—”
“No, I don’t think. I’ll check out his alibi simply because I don’t want to leave any blanks, but he’s not a suspect. She had a secret boyfriend—one it’s looking like targeted her, laid all the groundwork. I’m on my way to the morgue to see if some of the pieces in my head fit the evidence. After that, I’m hitting the lab.”
She saw a minute break in traffic, gunned it, flipped her vertical, soared over—she loved this new ride—and swung west.
“I asked Whitney to order Morris in today. Then I’m convening a briefing at Central. We need to run like crimes, go through the electronics, start a sweep on her areas of interest, so—”
“I believe I’ll come down and watch you work.”
“Look—”
“I can stay out of the way if that’s what you want. But you won’t keep Jamie out. I may be some help there. You’ve said her parents—one a police captain—returned home to find her dead. But you don’t mention security discs or the system. One assumes a veteran cop would take all necessary means, including strong security, to protect his family. There’s some e-work here.”
“That’s Feeney’s aegis.”
“I’ll be contacting him then.”
Knew you would. “Wouldn’t you like a nice quiet Sunday at home?”
“I would, if I had my wife here. But she’s having a different sort of day.”
“Suit yourself. Question. Why didn’t you tell me you were supplementing Jamie’s scholarship?”
“Busted.” He looked mildly disconcerted.
“It’s not a crime.”
“Well now I’m not altogether sure, as you’d see it as a bribe, wouldn’t you, to lure him into one of my companies?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Damn right, and a fine one, too. But the boy’s determined to be a cop. If he’s still of that mind when he’s finished at university, your gain is my loss. He’s bloody brilliant.”
“As good as you?”
Those wild blue eyes sparkled. “No, but a good deal more honest. I’ll see you at Central.”
“Don’t take Fifth. Jesus! I wish you could see this. There’s some asshole dressed like a peace sign. He’s a big yellow circle, with naked limbs. People are so damn weird. I’ll see you later.”
She’d known he’d come, just as she’d come to know how useful it was to have a thief—former—help analyze the bypassing of locks and codes.
Deena might have given her killer the passcode for the control room, if she’d had it. But if he’d shut down the cameras, wiped the hard drive, accessed the discs, he’d needed more than the code. He’d needed excellent e-skills.
And there her thief—former—was unsurpassed.
“Bloody brilliant,” she muttered, using Roarke’s own term.
A skeletal holiday shift manned the morgue, and those who remained behind to deal with the dead wore colorful shorts under lab coats. Music danced jauntily out of offices and cutting rooms.
She doubted the residents cared overmuch one way or the other.
She paused long enough to scowl at Vending. She wanted a tube of Pepsi, and didn’t want any bullshit from the damn machine.
“You!” She jabbed a finger at a passing tech, and the gesture had his face going as white as his bony legs. “Two tubes of Pepsi.” She pushed credits at him.
“Sure, okay.” Dutifully, he plugged them in, made her request. Even as the tubes plopped into the slot, and the machine began the soft drink’s current jingle, Eve snatched them out.
“Thanks.” She strode away.
The first sip was shockingly cold, and exactly what she was after. She continued down the white tunnel, chased by the echo of her own boots and the sticky hints of death that clung to the air under the blasts of citrus and disinfectant wafting out of the vents.
She paused outside the double doors of
Similar Books
