Visions In Death

CHAPTER 22

She ordered droids and dogs, a search unit, and the equipment necessary for multiple remains location, identification, and removal.

And knew it would be a very long, very difficult procedure.

She requested Morris personally, and asked that he select a team. She expected and was unsurprised when Whitney and Tibbie arranged to make the trip upstate.

For the moment, for a small window of time, they would keep the media at bay. But it would leak soon enough, she knew, and the ugly carnival would begin.

Because she wanted time to prepare, to think, without the distraction of cop chatter or questions, she traveled upstate in one of Roarke's jet-copters, with him in the pilot seat.

They flew through a steady, dreary rain. Nature's way of weighing in, she thought, to make a hideous job more so. She saw a little burst of lightning bloom on the horizon, far to the north, and hoped it stayed there.

Roarke didn't ask questions, and his silence throughout the flight helped steady her for what was to come. This sort of procedure would never be routine. Never could be routine.

"Nearly there." Roarke glanced at the comp map highlighting their destination, then nodded toward the windscreen.

"At two o'clock."

It wasn't much of a house. She could see that from the air as they started the descent. Small, ill-kept, poorly maintained, if she was any judge. It looked to her as if the roof sagged probably leaked, and the lawn fronting the steep, narrow road was weedy and littered with trash.

But the back was blocked in with trees, and in front of them ranged a high fence. The lawn, such as it was, spread up, dipped down, following the rise and fall of land.

There were other houses, and the curious would come out of them before long. None of those houses were close, not to the bumpy land back of the house. A man with a mission, she thought, a man with a job to do, could carry it out in relative privacy in such a place.

Uniforms would knock on doors and ask about the Blues, and a dark van, and any odd activities.

They set down. Roarke killed the engines.

"You feel some sympathy for him. John Blue." Through the rain, she stared at the house, the dark, dirty windows, the scabs of paint puckering its skin. "I feel some sympathy for a defenseless child tortured by a parent, by a woman who most certainly was vicious and cruel. We know what that's like." She turned her head, looked at him. "We know how it can twist and scar. What it can drive you to. And I feel a twinge, maybe more than a twinge, at the way I played the child in Interview. You saw how I went after him." "I saw you doing what needed to be done, even when it hurt you. Hurt you, Eve, as much as him. Maybe more." "Needed to be done," she agreed, and would live with that.

"Because a child didn't kill these women. A child didn't rape and beat and strangle them, mutilate their bodies. A child didn't put Peabody in the hospital. So no, when it comes down to the line, I don't feel for John Blue. We had as bad." "You had worse."

"Maybe." She breathed deep. "Maybe. And like him, I killed my tormentor." "Not like him, Eve. Nothing like him." It was that point, that vital point he'd wanted to make to her. "You were a child, in desperate terror and pain. Defending yourself, doing whatever you could to make it stop. He was a man, and had the choice of walking away. However she twisted him, he was a man when he committed these acts." "The child lives inside. I know that's shrink pap, but it's true enough. We've both got that lost child in us." "And?" "And we don't allow that lost, damaged child to strike the innocent. I know. You don't have to soothe me. I know. We use, I guess, that child to stand for the innocent. Me with my badge, you with places like Dochas. We could've gone the other way, but we didn't." "Well, I had a few detours." It made her smile, and thank God for him. "And we haven't finished the trip yet. Roarke." She touched a hand to his.

"You don't know how hard this is going to be."

"I have some idea." She shook her head, and her face was already bleak. "No, you don't. I've done this before. It's worse than you can imagine. I'm not going to ask you to go back or hang around the edges, because you won't. But I'm saying, if you need a break from it, take it. Walk away for a while. Others will, believe me. There's no shame in it." She, he thought, would never walk away. "Just tell me what you need me to do."

She had the back of the house cordoned off. While the dogs and droids were sent in, she took a team into the house. It was dank and foul inside, dark as a cave, but when she called for lights, the place illuminated like a torch.

No dark rooms for John Blue, she thought.

He'd killed them in the bedroom, the smaller of the two.

His room, Eve assumed, whenever they'd made the trip here. There were locks on the outside of the door old locks.

Locks she'd undoubtedly installed to keep the boy inside.

Lock him in the dark, as her mother had locked her.

So he'd killed her there, on the stained mattress, lying naked on the floor. Killed others there, in her image.

She saw lengths of red cord, remnants of women's clothing, and the smears and stains of blood that had dried on the mattress, on the floor.

"Everything bagged and tagged," she ordered. "I want a full sweep. Personal items of some of the vic's may include their identification. When it's done, I want the porta-lab and tech in here to get samples of the blood. We're going to ID every victim he brought here." "Lieutenant?" One of the team stepped up. He wore his full protective suit, but had yet to attach the mask and filter.

"We're locating them." "How many so far?" "Dogs just found number seven, and it doesn't look like they're done." "On my way." Feeney hustled over to join her. His Mrs Feeney suit was smeared with cobwebs and muck. "Found a Robo-dig in the basement. Looks fairly new. Been used." "Why use a shovel when you can use a machine? And one that makes a manly hum. Neighbors could've heard that." "I'll dispatch some uniforms, start the knock on doors." "Get it started." She pulled on her protective suit, carried her mask out into the rain.

Found seven, she thought. No, they hadn't finished yet.

She knew exactly how many more would be found.

Droids scooted along the uneven ground. One of the dogs barked, and his body went into a shiver of wagging as he snuffed along the ground. At his handler's signal, he sat, waited.

He'd done his job. And they put up the marker for number eight.

Eve walked to Whitney who stood under a wide, black umbrella. "Sir. Do you want me to begin evacuation?" "Eight." His face was set like granite as he stared out at the scene. "This is your procedure, Lieutenant."

"Evac can confuse the dogs. It would be my choice to leave that until we believe all remains are located and marked." "Do so. There's nine," he murmured.

They worked, inside the house, outside in the rain. Dozens of cops moving like ghosts in their gray gear. Dogs barked, droids signaled, and flags were marked on the ground.

"Call them off," she ordered when thirty minutes passed without an alert. "Move in the evac team. Let's have some lights," she called out as she started across the spongy ground.

"Two evac teams, one far west, one far east. Morris." "I'm with you." "I need IDs as soon as possible. Sooner." "I've got dental for the missings on the city list, and those we've culled from this area. It doesn't come up to this number." He scanned the ground where the evac units were beginning to dig. "But I've got equipment in the portable that will match the dentals for what we have. Others are going to take a little longer." "Ground's rocky under this sponge," Roarke commented.

"Muddy now as well. It'll take awhile for the robot diggers to get through this muck." "Can you operate one?" "I can, yes." "Get this man a machine," Eve shouted out, and turned to Roarke. "Start due south. Morris, assign one of your guys to Roarke. Let's get this done." She shoved on the mask, engaged the filter, and strode toward the first marker. She stood, much as the search dog had, and waited.

"Got remains," the operator announced. The robot was shut down. It was handwork now, a careful excavation with sensors beeping, reading out hair, flesh, bone beneath the thin layer of dirt.

She saw hands first, fingers laced or what was left of them. The filter couldn't mask the full impact of what death slowly does to flesh. But still she crouched, came closer, as the shell of a woman was unearthed.

Her hair was long. Longer than it had been at death, Eve thought. In one of those mysteries, hair continued to grow after life winked out. It was dark with dirt, but it would be light brown.

You're found now, Eve thought. We'll give you back your name. The one who did this to you is boxed and caged. That's all I can do.

"How long she been in there?" Eve asked Morris.

"Few months, maybe six, I'd say. I'll tell you more when we get her in." "Get her out," Eve said, and, straightening, moved to the next marker.

The false twilight the rain brought deepened toward night.

The air was cold, damp, and carried the pitiful stench of death. Tagged bodies lay bagged beside gaping holes in the earth until they could be transported. Remains lay on tarps shielded by tents while the ME's team worked to identify.

The yard took on the look of a mass grave.

Overhead, the media copters circled, spun out their lights.

Word was more reporters were camped on neighbors" lawns.

It hadn't taken them long. Even now, she assumed, the scene where she stood, the misery and horror of it was being relayed to screens all over the state the country. The damn world.

And people sat in their homes and watched. Grateful to be warm and dry and alive.

Someone brought her coffee, and she drank it without tasting it, without thought. Snagging another, she walked to Roarke.

"This is the third I've done." Absently, he wiped rain from his face. He shut down the machine, boosted it aside so the hand team could work. "And you were right. It's worse than anything I could imagine." "Take a break." She handed him the coffee.

He stepped back and shoved up the mask as she had done.

It barely helped now in any case. Beneath it his face was pale, damp with sweat. And grim as a grave.

"I won't be put in the ground when my time comes," he said, quietly. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, whatever the hell, I won't make that transition in the bloody dirt. I'll take the fire, quick and clean." "Maybe you can bribe God and live forever. You've got more money than He does." He managed a small smile to please her. "It's worth a try in any case." He drank coffee, and looked, was unable not to look at the horror surrounding him. "Sweet Jesus, Eve," "I know. His personal cemetery." "I was thinking his private holocaust." And she stood with him for a moment, in silence, listening to the mournful sound of rain pattering on the bags.

"Morris has ID'd a few, through dental. Marjorie Kates, Breen Merriweather from the city. Lena Greenspan -thirty-year-old mother of two from three miles away. Sane Parker, twenty-eight, adult ed instructor, worked at the local school. Some of them are going to be street people, or LC's.

But we'll ID them all. However long it takes, we'll ID them all." "It matters, who they were, where they came from, who loved them. You have to make it matter or they're just rotting flesh and bone after all. They're only what he made them.

Isn't that so?" "Yeah." She watched as another was bagged. "And they're more. Much more than he made them."

When it was done, as much as could be done then and there, Eve stripped off her gear, tossed it into the pile for sanitizing and disposal. She wanted a shower. She wanted hours in hot water, as hot as she could stand, then more hours in oblivion.

But she wasn't finished. Not yet.

She dug in her pocket for another Stay-Up, dry-swallowing it as she walked to the copter where Roarke waited.

"I'm going to ask you for one thing," he began.

"You're entitled to more than one after the night you put in. Above and beyond, Roarke." "We see that differently, but I will ask for one thing from you. When this is done, when you've closed it down, I want two days. Two days away from this, from all of it. We can stay at home, or go anywhere you like, but I want that time for both of us. To I'd say to get this out of our system, but we never will. Not really." He pulled off the leather strap he'd used to tie back his hair. "To rebalance ourselves, I'll say." "It's going to take some time yet. I need to be around until Peabody's on her feet." That goes without saying." "Yeah." Because she understood it did, she pointed, then walked to the other side of the copter. Maybe it was silly to need it as a shield, but there were still a lot of cops on scene.

She'd given her official statement to the media, though a few lingered, hoping for more.

They'd get no more from her tonight, and she wanted private moments to stay private.

She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his. "Let's just hold on here a minute." "Gratefully." "It shakes me. You can never get yourself ready for something like this. No matter what. And you know they'll never be enough payment made for it. There can't be. I'm sick.

I'm sick in every part of myself." She turned her head so it rested on his shoulder. "So yeah, I'll give you two days and take them. Somewhere away, Roarke. Away, where it's just us. Let's go to the island." She tightened her grip, tried to envision the sugary sand, the blue water, and erase the vision of the muddy ground and body bags. "We don't even have to take any clothes." With a small sigh, he rested his head on top of hers. "I can't think of anything more perfect." "I got to finish up tonight's work. A couple days more, maybe after that. Then we'll get the hell out." He gave her a boost into the copter. "You sure you're up to the rest of this tonight? You're running on chemicals." "I sleep better when I tie off the ends." She strapped in, then used the "link to check on Peabody while the copter rose into the rain.

Celina opened the gate to the elevator in her loft. "Dallas, Roarke. You both look exhausted." "You're not wrong. I know it's late. I'm sorry." "Don't worry about that. Come in and sit." She gestured them in. "Let me get you something. Have you eaten?" "Not thinking about food for some time yet. But wouldn't say no to a chair."

"And some tea, I think." "She could use it," Roarke said before Eve could speak.

"We both could." "Just give me a minute." She hurried away on bare feet with her lounging robe floating around her ankles. "Peabody?" she asked from the kitchen.

"She's pretty good, considering. In a regular room well in the hospital palace Roarke finagled for her. She'll need a couple more days in anyway, then maybe she can switch to at-home care until she's a hundred percent again." Tm so glad to hear it. I don't know if you've talked to Mira, but we made more progress today, and I think I could work with a police artist tomorrow." She carried a tray back in, hesitated when she saw Eve's face. "What?" "We ID'd him this afternoon. We got him." "My God." Celina set the tray down with a little thunk and rattle. "You're sure? I can't believe it." "We're sure. It's one of the reasons we came by. Guess you haven't had the screen on." "No, I haven't. Clearing the mind, and all that. How? When?" "I figured I'd left you out of the loop, but everything moved fast once it started moving." "That's not even an issue. He's locked up? It's done." She breathed out slowly, then reached for the teapot. "I don't even know how to think, or feel. It's such a relief. How did you find him?" "Witnesses who saw him assault Peabody got a decent look at him, and his ride. We worked from there. Picked him up.

He broke in Interview in less than an hour." "You must be not only exhausted but very pleased." She passed cups of tea around. "It came down to straight cop work, after all." "And some luck."

"I guess I didn't contribute much, at the end of things." "Not so. You did quite a bit." "You have a gift," Roarke continued. "You've utilized it." "It's not something I have a choice over." "Oh, I disagree." Eve sipped tea. "You certainly chose to use it when you murdered Annalisa Sommers." "What?" Celina's cup rattled in her saucer. "What did you say?" "You must've been watching John Blue visioning him or months. Did you see him kill his mother, Celina? Did it go back that far? Is that when you started to plan how you could get rid of your competition?" As she stared, her face went stark white. "This is horrible.

This is hideous and horrible. You're accusing me of murder? Of killing poor Annalisa? You have the man responsible. How could you say this to me?" "I have the man responsible for murdering fifteen women.

Fifteen, Celina. He had their eyes on display. Over the past few hours we've been disinterring bodies from the backyard on his mother's place upstate. Bet you know about that place, too. We have thirteen bodies. Thirteen including his mother whose remains have been positively ID'd. Thirteen women he practiced on." Eve's face wasn't pale. It was hard as stone, cold as ice, but a faint flush of rage tinged it. "Did you watch him kill them, too? Add Elisa Maplewood, add Lily Napier, and you've got your fifteen." Celina's hands fluttered up, crossed over her breasts. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. I think you must have pushed yourself over some edge." "Right up to it, but not over. If I'd gone over, I'd be breaking your face right now, the way Blue broke my partner's." "You'd accuse me, after I came to you, after I've tried to help, because you have one too many bodies to fit your case? For God's sake. I want you to leave my house. I want you-" When she started to rise, Roarke simply reached out, shoved her back into place. "You want to sit quietly, Celina." And his voice was deathly calm. "We've both had a miserable few hours and may be less courteous than you're accustomed to. So I'd sit still if I were you." "Now you're threatening me. I'm calling my lawyer." "Haven't read you your rights yet, so you don't get any.

I'll read them to you, Celina, and you can call your lawyer, but right now, we're just having a conversation." "I don't like the tone of this conversation." "You know what I don't like? I don't like being used. I don't like being hosed by some selfish bitch with a sixth sense so she can kill her boyfriend's new woman." "Listen to yourself! I was at home, all night, when she was killed. I took a tranq. I never left the house." "Not at all true," Roarke commented. "Oh, you've got the security discs that'll prove you didn't go out the front, use the elevator. But interestingly enough, you've no tenants down below and haven't for the last few months." Summerset's little contribution, Eve thought. "You didn't renew their lease." "It's certainly my choice-" "And that made it very simple," Roarke went on. "You went out the door there where you shut down the security cams down the stairs, into 1-A, and out the emergency evac. I checked it myself, and you didn't think to seal up first. We've your prints on the door, on the window, on the evac mechanism." "It's my property." But her hands were moving restlessly now, from her lap, to her throat, to her hair. "My fingerprints might be anywhere." "Annalisa didn't fit. She was close," Eve considered. "In the ballpark, but she didn't quite fit Blue's vision. Hair's too dark, too short. Then there's the kitten. He didn't use props with the others. But you needed that moment of distraction.

You're not a two-hundred-eighty-pound man. You needed to distract her, to get her down so she didn't have time to fight." Tor heaven's sakes. He raped her. In whatever fantasy you've dreamed up, for whatever reason, you can hardly accuse me of raping another woman." "Couldn't have been pleasant for you. What appliance did you use? They make all kinds. Some of them are so realistic, you can hardly tell them from the real McCoy." "Please." Eve patted Roarke's knee. "Sorry." "You'll never prove this." "Oh, Celina, I will." Eve leaned forward so Celina could look directly into her eyes. "You know I will. Just like you knew I'd get John Blue, with or without you. You wanted me to, just not before Annalisa. You have the right to remain silent," she began.

"This is insane," Celina said when Eve finished the Revised Miranda. "Why would I come to you, to help?" "Always better to be in the inner circle, closer to data, if you can. That was clever of you." "I'm going to call a lawyer." "Go ahead." Eve gestured toward the "link. "Once you do, I'll make it my mission in life to take you down harder. I'm tired. I want to close this down. Because I'm tired, I'm inclined to work with you on this, see what we can manage." She saw speculation, just an instant of it, flicker over Celina's face. "Blue's got no reason to lie, Celina. He knows how many women he killed, and what he did to and with every one of them. The number is fifteen. He wasn't in Greenpeace Park the night Annalisa was killed. He's alibied." "Then it was-"

"Someone else?" Eve suggested. "Yes, it was. Someone who knew the details, details not released to the media.

Someone who could use them, copy them. But that someone wasn't a man. Because there was no man that night. Only you. He left you. Lucas left you, and ended up with her." "We left each other, and he wasn't seeing her when we were together." "No, he wasn't. Decent guy, honest guy. He didn't two-time you. But he'd met her before you split. He confirms that, by the way. He'd met her, and he'd felt something click.

I bet you knew he was interested, maybe before he really knew it himself. I bet you read him every chance you got." "I told you I don't intrude." "You're a liar. Up till now, your gift's been more a game to you than anything else. Entertaining, interesting, lucrative.

You told me once you were shallow, and that's one absolute truth. Lucas wasn't in love with you anymore, he was pulling away. Had to save your pride and make it seem amiable. And now, look at this, his new lady meets with a terrible death, and there you are, arms open to comfort. Did you weep a few tears when you went over to comfort him this afternoon?" "I had every right to see Lucas. Decency-" "Don't tell me about decency." The whip of Eve's voice had Celina's head snapping back. "You knew what John Blue was, where he was, what he was doing long before you came to my office. You watched him kill, over and over again. And you used them, used him, used me. One of the clerks uptown you were smart to go uptown at a craft shop remembers you, Celina. You're a striking woman, and she remembers you coming in four months ago. Four months ago, and buying three yards of red corded ribbon." Her cheeks weren't pale now. They were going gray. "That that doesn't prove-"

"You think it's all circumstantial, and maybe. But it adds up so nice. Means, motive, opportunity." She flipped out three fingers. "You knew the victim, you knew the details of the other murders, you had the murder weapon in your possession.

We can trace it back to that uptown shop. It'll take a little time, but we can do it. When we do, it's as good as around your neck." She waited a beat to let that factor sink in. "You're the only one who could have killed her. You're boxed. Stand up to it, Celina. One thing you're not, is weak." "No, I'm not." She picked up her tea, wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I'd rather a brandy, I think. Would you mind?" She gestured vaguely. "On the shelf by the kitchen. A double." Roarke obliged her, walked across the room.

"You love him very much," Celina said to Eve. "We could say outrageously." "You can say whatever you like." "What would you do, how would you survive if he fell out of love with you? If you knew you'd become an obligation, a duty he didn't quite know how to avoid, because being a decent man, he didn't want to hurt you. To hurt you. How could you stand it?" "I don't know." "I let him go." She closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them again they were clear. Steady. "I tried to let him go, to be reasonable and sophisticated. But it hurt." She pressed a fist to her heart. "So much. Unbearably. Worse when he fell in love with her. I knew he'd never come back to me, there was no chance he'd love me again as long as he loved her." She looked up at Roarke as he brought her the brandy. Then enslave us, even when they don't mean to. I sought the first vision. I was grieving, and I sought it out. I don't know what I intended to do, but I was so unhappy, so angry, so lost, and I opened myself up. And I saw him, as clearly as I see you. John Blue. I saw what he did." She swirled brandy, sipped. "It wasn't his mother. It wasn't the first. I didn't know how many before. It was Breen Merriweather. I didn't see him take her from the city. But I saw him lifting her out of a van. It was dark. Very dark. Her hands and feet were bound and she was gagged. I could see her fear. He took her inside, and all the lights, so many lights came on. So I saw everything he did to her in that horrible room, and I saw him bury her in the backyard." "And you started to plan." "I don't know. That's sterling. I didn't know what to do, what I would do. I almost went to the police. It was my first instinct, I swear it. But I… didn't, and I wondered who he was and how he could do the things he did," "So you watched him," Roarke finished. "To find out." "Yes. I was fascinated and repelled, but I was able to link to him, and I… studied him. And I wondered: Why doesn't he kill Annalisa? Everything would be the way it should be again, if he'd kill Annalisa. I wondered if I could pay him to do it, but that was too risky. And he's mad, so he might've hurt me. And I realized, maybe, there'd be a way for me to do it. Then he killed Elisa Maplewood. Right here in the city, and I knew how it could be done." She let her head fall back. "I didn't just come to you for information," she said to Eve. "I needed to know how you would handle the investigation, how quickly you would find him, what you thought of me. And a part of me, I swear to you, a part of me hoped you'd find him quickly, before I… But you didn't. I gave you information hoping, in some part of myself, that you'd find him, stop him, before…" "So you could put the blame on the investigation, on me, when you killed her."

"Maybe. I agreed to the hypnosis before Annalisa," she reminded Eve. "I volunteered for it. I asked Mira to start it right away, but she was so cautious." "Her fault, too." "It plays in, certainly. If any one factor had gone differently, it all would be different. I told myself if the information I gave you led you to him quickly, that was what was meant. If she, if Annalisa didn't walk into the park that night, I'd stop the whole thing. If she didn't take the shortcut, I'd walk away from her, that I was meant to. I'd tell you everything I saw. But she did. She did, so it seemed that was meant, and I let myself become him, in a way, so I didn't have to think about what I was doing. I let myself become him so I could stand apart and watch, with a kind of horror.

Then it was too late to go back." She shuddered, drank more brandy. "She saw me, just for an instant. And she was so confused. But it was too late to go back. I couldn't stop myself. Well." She breathed out.

"When did you know?" "When I learned her connection to Lucas Grande." "Please." She waved that away. "You're a very clever woman, but you had no idea at that point. I read you in Mira's office, and after the attack on Peabody just to cover myself." "You're not the only one who can block." Eve angled her head. "I told you Mira has a daughter who's Wiccan and a sensitive. She gave me a few pointers." "You played me." "That's right. But not well enough, not fast enough, or my partner wouldn't be in the hospital." "I didn't know he'd go after her. By the time I did, it was too late. I tried to contact you. I like Peabody." The, too. Guess you didn't have the same sensibilities about the other women he butchered."

She lifted her shoulders a little, let them fall. "I didn't know them." "I do." "I did it for love. Whatever I did, it was for love." "Bullshit. You did it for yourself. For control, for power, for selfishness. People don't kill for love, Celina, they just like to pretty up the mess they've made by saying so." Eve stood. "On your feet." "I'll make a jury understand. It was a kind of madness, that's all. And that madness took me over my gift makes me all the more susceptible until what he was got inside of me and killed Annalisa." "You go on believing that. Celina Sanchez, you're under arrest. Why don't I give you a rundown of the counts?" She nodded to Roarke who moved to the elevator. "First degree sexual assault, first degree murder, mutilation of Annalisa Sommers, a human being. Accessory to sexual assault, murder, and mutilation, before and after the fact. Fifteen counts." "Fifteen… You can't blame me for what he did." She tried to swing around when Eve snapped on the restraints.

"Oh yeah, we can. We do. And I'll bet mine against yours we'll make a jury understand why." Eve looked over as McNab and Feeney got off the elevator. "Additional counts, accessory before and after the fact, attempted murder, assault and battery on a police officer. Take her in, Detective. Book her." McNab took Celina's arm. "My pleasure." "List Detective Peabody as arresting officer, in absentia." He opened his mouth, then cleared his throat. "Thank you, sir." "Go home, kid," Feeney told her as he took Celina's other arm. "We've got it from here." Eve listened to the elevator start down. "Should get a team in here tonight, see what we can dig up. Add a few bars to her cage." Then she rubbed her tired eyes. "Screw it, we'll lock it down. Tomorrow's soon enough." "Music to my ears." He recalled the elevator. "That was well done, Lieutenant. Giving the collar to Peabody." "She earned it. I'm still buzzed." She rolled her shoulders and stepped into the elevator. "My eyes want to close, but my body's still jumping." "I believe we can fix that when we get home. You can close your eyes." He leaned down, kissed her, long and deep.

"And I'll jump your body." "Sounds like a deal." She walked outside, fixed a police seal to the door. "Rain's stopped," she commented.

"Still a bit misty yet." "I like it." "You liked her," he added.

"I did." She stood in front of the door, looking out at the street, the wash of puddles as a Rapid Cab slewed through.

"I did like her. Still do on some level, even knowing what she is." He slung an arm around her shoulders, she hooked hers around his waist. "Do you think she loves him? Lucas?" "No." She knew what love was now. "But she thinks she does." Eve dropped into the passenger seat this time, yawned comfortably when Roarke took the wheel. She leaned back, closed her eyes, trusting he'd get her home.

Yes, she knew what love was.