Read Online Memory in Death by J. D. Robb - Free Book Online

but Eve was pleased to see her turn her head, look directly at Celina.
    She'd remember that, too, Eve decided. She'd remember she'd stood up, and she'd looked.
    "That's my girl," McNab said the minute they were outside the courtroom. His arms went around her. "She-Body, you rocked!"
    "More like I was rocky, but I think I came around. And Jesus, I'm glad it's over." She rubbed a hand over her belly, mustered up a genuine smile. "Thanks for sticking," she said to Eve.
    "No problem." Eve checked the time. "Tour's over in two. Take off, take the personal."
    "I'm okay, I—"
    "Nothing's shaking anyway." She spotted Nadine Furst, Channel 75's on-air ace, clicking her way over the tiles in her skinny-heeled boots, her camera in her wake. "At least, nothing official."
    "There she is. How'd it go, Peabody?"
    "Okay. I think it went good."
    "You up for a quick one-on-one?"
    Eve started to object on principle, then stopped herself. It would probably be good for Peabody to have her say outside the courtroom. And she could trust Nadine.
    "I guess. Sure. I can do that."
    "It's lousy out, but it'd make better screen if we did it on the steps. Give up your girl a minute, McNab."
    "Nope, but you can borrow her."
    "Dallas, looking forward to tomorrow." They headed for the doors. "I could use a quick one from you, too. The sober, flat-eyed, 'justice is being served' kind of thing."
    "No. It's Peabody's show. Take the personal," Eve said to Peabody, and took a look up at the sky before she started down the steps.
    At the bottom, she turned, looked back. Nadine was right, it would make good screen—Peabody, damp in the drizzle, on the steps of the courthouse. It'd be something Peabody would want her family to see, how she'd stood there and talked of the job and justice.
    Since she liked seeing it herself, she watched a few moments. She turned away again, just in time to see the shove, grab, and go.
    "My purse! My purse!"
    "Oh, shit," Eve muttered. She blew out a breath, and gave chase.
    *  *  *
    Halfway down the steps, Nadine risked a broken neck by rushing. "Get on her!" she shouted to her camera. "Stay on her. Look at her go!" When Peabody and McNab whizzed by, Nadine all but danced on the courthouse steps. "Don't lose them, for God's sake."
    *  *  *
    The snatcher was about six foot, Eve judged, and looked a solid one-ninety. Most of his height was legs, and he was using them. He bowled people over like pins, leaving her to leap over the piles.
    Her coat streamed back, leather snapping in the wind.
    She didn't waste her breath shouting for him to stop, identifying herself as the police. His eyes had met hers—as Celina's had—and they'd recognized the hunt.
    He grabbed a glide-cart on the corner—operator and all—and shoved it. Soy dogs skidded onto the ground, drink tubes splatted and burst.
    She jigged away from a pedestrian he all but threw at her, then jagged from another. Judging the distance, she pumped her legs, shoved off. Her tackle took him down, sheered them both across the wet sidewalk an inch from the curb, where the brakes of a maxibus screamed like a woman.
    Her healing hip cried like a baby at the jolt.
    He managed to get one in while she was avoiding being crunched under skidding wheels. She tasted blood when the elbow jammed her jaw.
    "Now that was stupid." She yanked his arms back, slapped on restraints. "That was bone stupid. Now you've got assaulting an officer on your tab."
    "Never said cop. How'm I supposed to know? 'Sides, you were chasing me, you nearly threw me in front of a bus. Police brutality!" He shouted it, humping his body as he struggled to look for some sympathetic bystander. "I'm minding my own and you try to kill me."
    "Minding your own." Eve turned her head, spat out blood. At least her throbbing jaw took her mind off her hip.
    She tugged, pulled out the purse—and another three, along with assorted wallets. "Pretty good haul," she commented.
    He sat up, shrugged, philosophical now. "Holidays.