Random in Death (In Death, #58)

by J.D. Robb

They’re really cute together.” In the elevator, already squeezed in with other cops, Eve turned to Peabody. “Put that in my head, I’ll kill you in your sleep.” “I don’t sleep at Central.” “I’ll break into your apartment.” “McNab’s right there with me.” “I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake. I’ll kill you, quick and quiet, then plant evidence that implicates McNab. You’ll be dead; he’ll be in a cage for life.” “It could work,” the uniform crowbarred in behind them speculated. “Oh,” Eve said, “it’ll work. And after I allow a single tear to slide poignantly down my cheek at her memorial, I’ll go home and drink an entire bottle of celebrational wine and never, ever think about what a pair of teenagers are doing with and to each other.” “I just said ‘cute,’ ” Peabody mumbled. Eve swiped a finger across her throat. “Quick and quiet.” “Our floor.” The uniform muscled by her. “Use a knife out of their kitchen.” “Of course. Who’s cute now?” Eve demanded. “Nobody.” Peabody hugged her elbows. “Absolutely nobody will ever be cute again.”