Eternity in Death (In Death 25.50)

“What are you on, Kendra?” Eve asked.

“I don’t need to be on anything but Dorian.” She rose on her toes, whispered something in Dorian’s ear. He laughed, a low rumble, then shook his head.

“That’s rude. Why don’t you go back in, wait for me. I won’t be long.”

“Kendra,” Eve said as the blonde started back toward the bedroom. “Did he promise you’d live forever?”

Kendra looked over her shoulder, smiled. Then shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” Dorian

asked. “I hate to keep a beautiful woman waiting.”

“This might hold up.” She set the document down. “Or it may not. Either way, we’re not done. You shouldn’t have used Gregor Pensky’s DNA, because I’m going to link you to him.” She stepped closer, ignoring the tickle at the back of her throat as those dark eyes pierced hers. “We’ll talk again real soon, Dorian.”

He grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips. She told herself she hadn’t yanked it away to prove a point. But she wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Watching him, she dipped a finger in his cup, sucked the liquid off her finger. “Tasty,” she said as his eyes blurred with what she recognized as excitement.

She walked out, down the stairs. With an effort she kept her expression cool as he once again materialized in front of her, in the mists that now clouded the club.

“I always escort my guests to the door. Safe travels, Lieutenant. Until we meet again.”

“How’d he do that?” Even as her eyes tracked the tunnels, Peabody stuttered out the question. “How’d he do that?”

“Elevator, false doors. Smoke and fucking mirrors.” It irritated Eve that he’d nearly made her jump, disturbed her so that her skin crawled as if he’d run his fingers over it.

She had to remind herself she’d bearded him in his own den, and she hadn’t cracked. Her pulse wasn’t steady, but she hadn’t cracked.

“Damn good trick though,” Baxter commented from the rear. “Did you get a load of the blonde? I might try a little blood sucking if you score that kind of action.”

“She’s an idiot, and a lucky one,” Eve tossed back. “He needs to keep her alive, unless he’s bone stupid.”

“She was using. You were right on that one, Lieutenant.” Trueheart’s voice was just a little breathy. “I saw plenty of zoners and chemi-heads when I did sidewalk sleeper detail. She was zoned to the eyeballs.”

“Okay, so he likes his women toked, and plays magic tricks. Not so scary,” Peabody decided. “And the stuff he was drinking? Syrup, right? Just red syrup.”

“No.” Eve avoided a smear of some unidentifiable substance on the tunnel floor and aimed for the dim light ahead. “That was blood.”

“Oh.” Peabody gripped the cross at her neck. “Well.”

On the street, Eve snapped out orders as she moved to her vehicle. “Baxter, I want you and Trueheart to find me a connection, any connection between Vadim and Pensky. Use EDD, if necessary, and see if you can pin Vadim in the area Pensky was killed. I’ll get you the data I have. Peabody, push harder on the jewelry from the first vic. Turning the glitters liquid may be too hard to resist. We need to run this Kendra moron. My money says she’s got a deep well. His pattern is to bilk rich women. However he’s escalated, whatever the game, that’s his base.”

She shoved her way into traffic. “I’m going to the PA. I need a damn warrant, and I want to shatter his religious shield into a lot of tiny pieces.”

But an hour later, Eve stood, stunned and furious, in APA Cher Reo’s office.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m giving it to you straight.” Reo was smart, savvy, and ambitious, a small blonde dynamo. And she tossed up her hands. “I’m not saying we couldn’t have the order overturned, I’m saying it’s a tricky business, and one that would take time and a lot of taxpayer dollars. The boss won’t move on it, not with what you have. Bring us evidence, even a real glimmer of probable cause on the homicides, and we’ll start the war. And war is the word. The courts don’t like to mess with religious objections and predilections, even when they’re obvious bullshit.”

“This guy bled two women to death.”

“Maybe he did. You say he did, I’m going to agree with you. But I can’t give you a warrant for his residence, his place of business, on what you’ve got. I can’t break down his objection to daylight hours with what you’ve got. Worse, the DNA you took—the vial with your initials on it, doesn’t match.”

“He switched them.”