Visions in Death (In Death, #19)

by J.D. Robb

‘When people talk about Roarke’s cop over their cocktails and canapes, they say she’s a little scary, a little mean, and very relentless. Would that be a fair description?’ ‘Close enough.’ ‘Good. Good.’ Deann held out her hand, took Eve’s firmly. ‘Because you’re my cop now, too.’

People get pissed that something didn’t work out the way they wanted, and they sue.’ ‘People sue the clouds if it rains on their picnic.’

We’re only a few blocks from the shelter. We’ll ask Louise about the witch.’ ‘Sensitives aren’t necessarily witches, just as witches aren’t necessarily sensitives. Hey, a glide-cart!’ ‘Wait, wait!’ Eve pressed a hand to her temple, stared at the sky. ‘I’m getting a vision. It’s you stuffing a soy dog in your mouth.’

‘Overcoming and getting over are two very different things.’ Mira spoke briskly now because she wanted to get up, to go over, to draw Eve into a hug that wouldn’t be appropriate, or understood. ‘Yes, you should strive to overcome. To survive, have a life, to be happy, to be productive. You’ve done all that, and a great deal more. But no, you’re not required to get over it. To get over being beaten and abused and raped and tortured. You ask more of yourself, Eve, than you ask of anyone else in the world.’

‘Jesus Christ, Feeney. What’re you wearing?’ The look he sent her was that of a man bearing up under a hideous emotional weight. ‘Wife said I needed to start wearing color. Bought this getup then hung over me, nagged my ears off until I put it on.’ ‘You look . . . you look like a manager for street LCs.’ ‘Tell me. Look at these pants.’ He shot out a leg so Eve was treated to the sight of that skinny limb wrapped in modified skin-pants in the same electric shade as the tie. ‘God. I’m sorry.’ ‘Boys out there think I look iced. What’re you going to do?’ ‘I don’t honestly know.’

Can’t you at least take that noose off?’ He tugged at the tie. ‘You don’t know the wife like I do. She’ll call. She’ll be doing a damn spot-check on me all through shift to make sure I’m suited up. It’s got a jacket, Dallas.’ ‘You poor bastard.’

Ah, you know somebody could spill coffee on that getup. Wouldn’t be your fault.’ He sent her a pitying look. ‘She’d know. Ain’t nobody more psychic than a wife.’

Celina lived in a section of SoHo that ran to high-end art, trendy restaurants, and tiny one-room boutiques. It was the land of young, well-heeled, well-dressed urbanites who liked to hold intimate, catered brunches on Sunday mornings, voted Liberal Party, and attended esoteric plays they only pretended to understand, much less enjoy.

She bit righteously into chocolate, dropped down at her desk, and engaged her computer. Your authorization code and password are not recognized. Access denied. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ She gave the machine a quick boot with the heel of her hand. ‘Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.’ She read off her badge number for authorization, repeated her password. The computer gave a cheerful little beep, then a long grinding buzz. The screen flickered. ‘Don’t you start on me. First my vehicle, now this. Don’t you even start.’ Acknowledged. Operations shutting down. ‘No! Damn it, you bitch, you son of a bitching bastard whore, you know that’s not what I meant.’ She smacked it again, set her teeth, and repeated the start-up process.

‘You ever skip around parks when you were a kid?’ ‘Sure.’ Glad the storm had passed, Peabody sat beside her. ‘Free-Agers, you know. I was a regular nature girl. You?’ ‘No. Couple of stints in what you could call summer camp.’ Run by state-hired Nazis, Eve thought, who regulated every breath. ‘This one’s not so bad. You know it’s still in the city, so it’s okay.’ ‘Not looking to make nature girl?’ ‘Nature’ll kill you, just for the hell of it.’

‘Before you know it, before you know it she’s going to want us to deliver the thing. They’ll want to do it here, in our bedroom or something, with cameras – live feed to her fans. And us pulling the thing out of her.’ Utter and genuine horror leaped into his eyes. ‘Stop it, Eve. Stop it now.’ ‘Yeah, live feed, that’s Mavis to the ground. And we’ll do it.’ She spun back to him. ‘We’ll do it because she’s just sucking us in. Sucking us in like some . . .’ She windmilled her arms. ‘Like some big sucking thing. Some big pregnant sucking thing.’

‘He may live there. So you start with residential, get owner and tenant lists, eliminate families, couples, single women, and fine-tune it down to men who live alone.’ ‘You should’ve been a cop.’ He shifted his gaze from the screen to her face. ‘Don’t I have enough horror in my head with potential midwifery without you heaping more in there?’

‘You know, when it comes to sarcasm, you have perfect pitch.

Jim’s Gym was a hole in the wall down a dingy flight of stairs and through a muscular iron door. Eve assumed if a prospective member couldn’t handle the door, he was laughed back up to the sidewalk where he could slink away holding his puny biceps. It smelled male, but not in a flattering sense. It was the kind of odor that hit you dead center of the face, like a fist wrapped in a sweaty jock strap.

‘I’ve got a tip.’ ‘Me, too. Let a smile be your umbrella and you’re gonna get your dumb ass wet.’ ‘Huh. I’ll remember that.

She stripped off her jacket as she hit the bedroom door. Released her weapon harness and tossed it on the sofa. Yanked off boots by hopping one-footed toward the bathroom, and had her shirt off when she heard the water running. Damn, he’d beaten her home after all. She peeled off the rest. ‘Turn that water temp up.’ ‘Done. I adjusted when I heard the graceful patter of your delicate feet stomping about in the bedroom.’

You telling me you never boinked the LC? Ever?’ ‘Charles and I were, are, friends. That’s it.’ McNab grabbed her arm, hauled her back a step. ‘You let me think you were boinking him.’ ‘No, you let you think I was.’ She poked a finger into his chest. ‘And made an ass of yourself, which is a pretty short walk, really.’ ‘You – he—’ He paced down the hall and back again. ‘Why?’ ‘Because we were friends, and because I was boinking you, moron.’ ‘But we broke up because . . .’ ‘Because, instead of asking what was going on, you accused and you ordered, and took that short walk to Assville.’ ‘And you tell me now, a minute before we walk in his door.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘That’s cold, Peabody.’ ‘Yeah.’ She patted his cheek. ‘I wait for payback, and I deliver.

Hooking an arm around his neck, she jumped so he could catch her in his arms. She calculated her weight, his, narrowed her eyes. ‘How far do you figure you can carry me?’ ‘To the bed would be my first guess.’ ‘No, I mean how far do you think you could haul me like this? Especially if I’m . . .’ She went limp, dropped her weight, let her arms dangle. She felt him shift and adjust, not quite stagger. ‘Tougher this way, right?’ ‘I still think I can manage the bed, where I certainly hope you plan to revive a bit.’

‘Say you’re shacked up with this guy.’ Her mood lifted instantly. ‘I am shacked up with a guy,’ she said, proudly. ‘Peabody.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, this is a hypothetical.’ She sulked a little more as Eve plowed through a yellow light. ‘Is he really cute and sexy, and does he bring me cookies and let me eat the last one to show his love and devotion?’ ‘Whatever. So you and this guy call it off.’ ‘Aw. I don’t like this part.’ ‘Who does?’ ‘Was it because I ate all those cookies and my ass got fat?’ ‘Peabody!’

She wanted to stay, watch the process, somehow hurry it along. She wanted to be at the hospital with Peabody, somehow bring her back. She wanted to yank and draw on every line and thread at once. ‘You can’t be everywhere, Eve.’ She glanced over at Roarke. ‘Shows? I feel like I’m running in place. Goal’s in sight, but I’m stuck in this spot. Maybe you could contact the hospital again, charm some information out of somebody. I just make them mad.’ ‘People tend to get cross when someone threatens to pull their brains out of their nostrils’