Random in Death (In Death, #58)

by J.D. Robb

“Nothing you could’ve done, once he put that needle in her arm, would’ve have saved her. That doesn’t just come from me, but from the chief medical examiner. But because of you, she didn’t die alone.”

“What the hell is a dooser?” Eve demanded. “Oh, a cross between a dick and a loser.”

“What language are you speaking?” Roarke asked as he approached the gates. “Teenage.

“If you walked by and saw a sidewalk sleeper with his ass parked against one of your buildings while he played the harmonica, what would you do?” “I’d give him a bit of the ready for the song and his situation. Why?” “No reason.” He would do exactly that, she thought. She’d seen him do exactly that. Because people weren’t invisible to him.

She wondered if he dressed with such stylish formality for himself, for his position, or out of respect for the dead. And decided all three.

“He did this drama pause, said like, ‘Now it begins.’”

Because the fear’s always there, under it all. And the need,” he added, “to prove they’re in charge.”