In Death 07.5 - Midnight in Death (7 page)

Eve spent most of the next thirty hours backtracking, searching for the step she was sure she had missed. With Peabody off-planet, she did the work herself, rerunning searches and scans, compiling data, studying reports.

She did personal drop-bys at both the safe house where Justine and her family were being kept and Mira’s home. She ran checks on their security bracelets to confirm that they were in perfect working order.

He couldn’t get to them, she assured herself as she paced her office. With them out of reach, he would have no choice but to come for her.

Jesus, she wanted him to come for her.

It was a mistake, she knew it was a mistake, to make it a personal battle. But she could see his face too clearly, hear his soft prep-school voice so perfectly.

But you see, Lieutenant Dallas, the work you do is nothing more than a stopgap. You don’t change anything. However many criminals you lock up today, there’ll be that many and more tomorrow. What I’m doing changes everything. The answers to questions every human being asks. How much is too much, how much will the mind accept, tolerate, bear, if you will, before it shuts down? And before it does, what thoughts, what impulses go through the mind as the body dies?

Death, Lieutenant, is the focus of your work and of mine. And while we both enjoy the brutality that goes with it, in the end I’ll have my answers. You’ll only have more questions.

She only had one question now, Eve thought. Where are you, Dave?

She turned back to her computer. “Engage, open file Palmer, H3492-G. Cross-reference all files and data pertaining to David Palmer. Run probability scan. What is the probability that Palmer, David, is now residing in New York City?”

Working…. Using current data the probability is ninety-seven point six that subject Palmer now resides in New York City.

“What is the probability that subject Palmer resides in a private home?”

Working…. probability ninety-five point eight that subject Palmer is residing in a private home at this time.

“Given the status of the three remaining targets of subject Palmer, which individual will he attempt to abduct next?”

Working…. strongest probability is for target Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Attempts on targets Polinsky and Mira are illogical given current status.

“That’s what you’re hoping for.”

She turned her head. Roarke stood in the doorway between their offices, watching her. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Why aren’t you wearing a tracer bracelet?”

“They don’t have one that goes with my outfit.” She straightened, turned to face him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” He crossed to her. “Or are you too close to this one? He’s gotten to you, Eve. He’s upset your sense of balance. It’s become almost intimate between you.”

“It’s always intimate.”

“Maybe.” He brushed a thumb just above her left cheekbone. Her eyes were shadowed, her face pale. She was, he knew, running on nerves and determination now. He’d seen it before. “In any case, you’ve interrupted his work. He has no one now.”

“He won’t wait long. I don’t need the computer analysis to tell me that. We’ve got less than forty hours left in the year. I don’t want to start the new one knowing he’s out there. He won’t want to start it without me.”

“Neither do I.”

“You won’t have to.” Because she sensed he needed it, she leaned into him, closed her mouth over his. “We’ve got a date.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

When she started to ease back, he slid his arms around her, brought her close. “I’m not quite done here,” he murmured, and sent her blood swimming with a hard and hungry kiss.

For a moment that was all there was. The taste of him, the feel of him pressed against her, the need they created in each other time after time erupting inside her.

Giving herself to it, and to him, was as natural as breathing.

“Roarke, remember how on Christmas Eve we got naked and crazy?”

“Mmm.” He moved his mouth to her ear, felt her tremble. “I believe I recall something of that.”

“Well, prepare yourself for a review on New Year’s Eve.” She drew his head back, framing his face as she smiled at him. “I’ve decided it’s one of our holiday traditions.”

“I feel very warmly toward tradition.”

“Yeah, and if I feel much warmer right now, I’m not going to get my job done, so…”

She jumped away from him when her ’link beeped and all but pounced on it. “Dallas.”

“Lieutenant.” Peabody’s face swam on, swam off again, then came shakily back.

“Peabody, either your transmission’s poor or you’ve grown a second nose.”

“The equipment here’s worse than what we deal with at Central.” The audio came through with a snake hiss of static. “And I don’t even want to talk about the food. When you’re planning your next holiday vacation, steer clear of Rexal.”

“And it was top of my list. What have you got for me?”

“I think we just caught a break. We’ve tracked down at least one unit Palmer had access to. It’s in the chapel. He convinced the padre he’d found God and wanted to read Scripture and write an inspirational book on salvation.”

“Glory hallelujah. Can McNab access his files?”

“He says he can. Shut up, McNab.” Peabody turned her head. The fact that her face became a vivid orange could have been temper or space interference. “I’m giving this report. And I’m reporting, sir, that Detective McNab is still one big butt ache.”

“So noted. What does he have so far?”

“He found the files on the book Palmer used to hose the preacher. And he
claims
he’s working down the levels. Hey!”

The buzzing increased and the screen blurred with color, lines, figures. Eve pressed her fingers to her eyes and prayed for patience.

McNab’s cheerful, attractive face came on. Eve noted that he wore six tiny silver hoops in one ear. So he hadn’t decided to tone down his look for a visit to a rehabilitation center.

“Dallas. This guy knows his electronics, so he took basic precautions with his personal data, but—take a hike, She-Body, this is my area. Anyway, Lieutenant, I’m scraping off the excess now. He’s got stuff tucked under his praise-the-Lord hype. It won’t take me long to start picking it out. The trouble, other than your aide’s constant griping, is transmitting to you. We’ve got crap equipment here and a meteor storm or some such happy shit happening. It’s going to cause some problems.”

“Can you work on the unit on a transport?”

“Ah…sure. Why not?”

“Confiscate the unit, catch the first transpo back. Report en route.”

“Wow, that’s iced. Confiscate. You hear that, She-Body? We’re confiscating this little bastard.”

“Get started,” Eve ordered. “If they give you any grief, have the warden contact me. Dallas out.”

Eve drove into Cop Central, making three unnecessary stops on the way. If Palmer was going to make a move on her, he’d do it on the street. He’d know he would never be able to break through the defenses of Roarke’s fortress. But she spotted no tail, no shadow.

More, she didn’t feel him.

Would he go for her in the station? she wondered as she took the glide up to the EDD sector to consult with Feeney. He’d used a cop’s disguise to get to Carl. He could put it to use again, slip into the warrenlike building, blend with the uniforms.

It would be a risk, but a risk like that would increase the excitement, the satisfaction.

She studied faces as she went. Up glides, through breeze-ways, down corridors, past cubes and offices.

Once she’d updated Feeney and arranged for him to consult with McNab on the unit en route, she elbowed her way onto a packed elevator to make the trip to Commander Whitney’s office.

She spent the morning moving through the building, inviting a confrontation, then she took to the streets for the afternoon.

She recanvased the houses she and Peabody had already hit. Left herself in the open. She bought bad coffee from a glide cart, loitered in the cold and the smoke of grilling soydogs.

What the hell was he waiting for? she thought in disgust, tossing the coffee cup into a recycling bin. The sound of a revving engine had her glancing over her shoulder. And she looked directly into Palmer’s eyes.

He sat in his vehicle, grinned at her, blew her an exaggerated kiss. Even as she leaped forward, he hit vertical lift, shot up and streaked south.

She jumped into her car, going air as she squealed away from the curb. “Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. All units, all units in the vicinity of Park and Eighty respond. I’m in ground-to-air chase with murder suspect. Vehicle is a black new-issue Booster-6Z, New York license number Delta Able Zero-4821, temporary. Heading south on Park.”

“Dispatch, Dallas. Received and confirmed. Units dispatched. Is subject vehicle in visual range?”

“No. Subject vehicle went air at Park and Eighty, headed south at high speed. Subject should be considered armed and dangerous.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Where’d you go, where’d you go, you little son of a bitch?” Eve rapped the wheel with her fist as she zipped down Park, shot down cross streets, circled back. “Too fast,” she muttered. “You went under too fast. Your hole’s got to be close.”

She set down, did her best to bank her temper, to use her head and not her emotions. She’d let the search run another thirty minutes, though she’d already decided it was useless. He’d had the vehicle tucked away in a garage or lot minutes after she’d spotted him. After he’d made certain she’d spotted him.

That meant canvases of every parking facility in three sectors. Public and private. And with the budget, it would take days. The department wouldn’t spare the manpower necessary to handle the job any quicker.

She stayed parked where she was, on the off chance that Palmer would try another taunt. After aborting the search, she did slow sweeps through the sectors herself, working off frustration before she drove home through the dark and the snarling traffic.

She didn’t bother to snipe at Summerset, though he gave her ample opportunity. Instead, scooping up the cat, which circled her legs, she climbed the stairs. Her intent was to take a blistering-hot shower, drink a gallon of coffee, and go back to work.

Her reality was to fall facedown on the bed. Galahad climbed onto her butt, kneaded his way to comfort, curled up, and went on guard with his eyes slitted on the door.

That’s how Roarke found them an hour later.

“I’ll take over from here,” he murmured, giving the cat a quick scratch between the ears. But when he started to drape a blanket over his wife, Eve stirred.

“I’m awake. I’m just—”

“Resting your eyes. Yes, I know.” To keep her prone, Roarke stretched out beside her, stroked the hair away from her cheek. “Rest them a bit longer.”

“I saw him today. The son of a bitch was ten feet away, and I lost him.” She closed her eyes again. “He wants to piss me off so I stop thinking. Maybe I did, but I’m thinking now.”

“And what are you thinking, Lieutenant?”

“That I’ve been counting too much on the fact that I know him, that I’ve been inside his head. I’ve been tracking him without factoring in one vital element.”

“Which is?”

She opened her eyes again. “He’s fucking crazy.” She rolled over, stared at the sky window and the dark beyond it. “You can’t predict insanity. Whatever the head shrinkers call it, it comes down to crazy. There’s no physical, no psychological reason for it. It just is. He just is. I’ve been trying to predict the unpredictable. So I keep missing. It’s not his work this time. It’s payback. The other names on the list are incidental. It’s me. He needed them to get to me.”

“You’d already concluded that.”

“Yeah, but what I didn’t conclude, and what I’m concluding now, is he’s willing to die, as long as he takes me out. He doesn’t intend to go back to prison. I saw his eyes today. They were already dead.”

“Which only makes him more dangerous.”

“He has to find a way to get to me, so he’ll take risks. But he won’t risk going down before he’s finished with me. He needs bait. Good bait. He must know about you.”

She sat up now, raking her hair back. “I want you to wear a bracelet.”

He lifted a brow. “I will if you will.”

A muscle in her cheek jumped as she set her teeth. “I phrased that incorrectly. You’re
going
to wear a bracelet.”

“I believe such things are voluntary unless the subject has committed a crime.” He sat up himself, caught her chin in his hand. “He won’t get to you through me. That I can promise. But if you expect me to wear NYPSD accessories, you’ll have to wear a matching one. Since you won’t, I don’t believe this conversation has a point.”

“Goddamn it, Roarke. I can slap you into protective custody. I can order taps on all your communications, have you shadowed—”

“No,” he interrupted, and infuriated her by kissing her lightly. “You can’t. My lawyers will tap-dance all over your warrants. Stop.” He tightened his grip on her chin before she could curse him again. And this time there was no light kiss, no flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You leave here every day to do a job that puts you in constant physical jeopardy. I don’t ask you to change that. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you. Who you are, what you do, why you do it. I don’t ask you to change,” he repeated. “Don’t you ask me.”

“It’s just a precaution.”

“No, it’s a capitulation. If it was less, you’d be wearing one yourself.”

She opened her mouth, shut it again, then shoved away and rose. “I hate when you’re right. I really hate it. I’m going to take a shower. And don’t even think about joining me and trying anything because I’m not too happy with you right now.”

He merely reached out, snagged her hand, and yanked her back onto the bed. “I dare you to say that again in five minutes,” he challenged and rolled on top of her.

She didn’t say anything in five minutes, could barely speak in thirty. And when she did finally make it to the shower, her blood was still buzzing. She decided it was wiser not to comment when he joined her there. It would only appeal to his competitive streak.