"I know. I know." She stroked her child's hair, kissed her damp cheek. "I know. I miss him, too."
And in a strange way, one she couldn't understand herself, she spoke the pure truth.
EVE CLEARED HER MIND AND LET HERSELF SEE.
The quiet house. Familiar. Through the door, alone. She'd gone to the Center alone. Killed alone.
Back to the kitchen. Why the tray? she asked herself as she took the route she imagined the killer had used. To comfort and distract.
Someone he knew. Had he known his father's killer, hidden that?
In the kitchen, she stood a moment, gauging the ground.
"The domestic didn't put the food on a tray. It's unlikely Icove did it for himself."
"Maybe he was expecting he
r all along," Peabody suggested. "So he shut down the droids."
"Possible. But why lock down for the night? You're expecting company, why set full night security? Could have set it, shut down the droids, then been contacted by her. Came down, let her in himself. Hey, let's have a snack."
But she didn't like it.
"The way he was positioned on the couch up in the office. It's not entertaining company. It's 'I just want to lie down awhile.' Let's try it this way for now. She comes in, knows the code or has clearance. She comes back here, puts the food together. She knows he's upstairs."
"How does she know?"
"Because she knows him. She knows. Could easily verify by the house scanner if she's not a hundred percent. Probably used it, yeah. I would have. Confirm not only his location, but that he was alone in the house. Checks the droids, too, makes sure they're shut down. Carries the tray up."
She turned, walked the way she'd come.
Was she nervous? Eve wondered. Did the plate rattle on the tray, or was she calm as a sea of ice?
Outside the office door, Eve mimed holding a tray, cocked her head "If he's locked in, she'd use voice command to unlock and open. Why put the tray down to free her hands? Let's have EDD take a look, see what they see."
"Check."
Eve walked in, studied the angle. "He wouldn't have seen her, not at first. He'd have heard her if he'd been awake, but he was facing away from the door. Crosses over, sets the tray down. Did they talk? I brought you a little something. You need to eat, take care of yourself. See, that's wifely. She shouldn't have bothered with the tray. That’s a mistake."
Eve eased a hip down near the outside center of the sofa. There’d been room for that, she thought, bringing the image of Icove's body position into her mind. "If she sat like this, it blocks him from getting up and it's wifely again. It's nonthreatening. Then all she has to do is ...
Eve leaned forward, fisting her hand as if holding the handle of a blade, pressed it down.
"Cold."
"Yeah, but not entirely. The tray's the thing. Maybe the content were tranq'd, and it was backup. Otherwise it was, I don't know, maybe guilt. Give the guy a last meal. There was nothing like that the first time. Go in, do it, walk out. No frills."
She got up again. "Everything else is efficient. Lock the door behind you, take the discs, reset security. This tray keeps shouting at me."
She blew out a breath. "Roarke does stuff like that. Pushes food on me. It's an instinct with him. If I'm feeling off or upset, he's going to be shoving a bowl or plate under my nose."
"He loves you."
''That's right. Whoever did this had feelings for him. A relationship of some sort."
She took a turn around the room. "Let's go back to him. Why does he lock himself in here?"
"To work."