Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“We had fruit and cereal in the kitchen.” Nixie cut a spear of asparagus neatly, and ate without complaint. “Inga fixes it. And juice. Dad had coffee, ’cause he gets to have one cup. And Coyle wanted new airskids, and Mom said no, and he said that sucked, and she gave him the look because you’re not supposed to say ‘suck,’ especially at the table. Then we got our things and went to school.”

“Did anyone use the ’link?”

“No.”

“Did anyone come to the door?”

She ate a bite of chicken in the same tidy way. Chewed and swallowed before she answered. “No.”

“How did you get to school?”

“Dad walked us, because it wasn’t too cold. If it’s too cold, we can take a cab. Then he goes to work. Mom goes downstairs to work. And Inga was going shopping because Linnie was coming after school and Mom wanted more fresh fruit.”

“Did either your mother or father seem upset by anything?”

“Coyle said ‘suck’ and didn’t finish his juice, so Mom was down on him. Can I see them even though they’re dead?” Her lips trembled. “Can I?”

It was a human need, Eve knew. Why should it be different for a child? “I’ll arrange it. It may take a little while. You do okay today with Baxter and Trueheart?”

“Baxter’s funny, and Trueheart’s nice. He knows how to play a lot of games. When you catch the bad guys, can I see them, too?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Nixie looked back down at her plate, nodded slowly. “Okay.”

I feel like I’ve been in the Interview box, getting sweated by a pro. Eve rolled her shoulders when she walked into her office.

“You handled it, and very well. I thought you’d overstepped when you asked her to go over the day before the murders, but you were right. She’ll need to talk about this. All of this.”

“She’ll think about it anyway. She talks, maybe she’ll remember something.” She sat at her desk, brooded a minute. “Now here’s something I never thought would come out of my mouth—and if you ever repeat it, I’ll twist your tongue into a square knot, but thank God Summerset’s around.”

He grinned as he eased a hip onto the corner of her desk. “Sorry, I don’t think I quite heard that.”

Her look, her voice, went dark. “I meant it about the square knot. I’m just saying the kid’s easy with him, and he seems to know what to do with her.”

“Well, he raised one of his own, then took me on besides. He has a soft spot for troubled children.”

“He has no soft spots whatsoever, but he’s good with the kid. So yay.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “I’ll be talking with the Dysons again tomorrow. Depending on how things go, we could be moving her into a safe house with them in a day or two. Tonight, I’m going to focus on the housekeeper, see where that takes me. Need to send a memo to Peabody,” she remembered. “She’s already hit the school, so she can swing by there in the morning, get the kid’s work and whatever. Listen, let me ask you, why would you want, I mean, actually want to do the school thing if you had an escape hatch?”

“On that, I have absolutely no idea. Maybe it’s like your work is to you, mine is to me. Somehow essential.”

“It’s school. It’s like prison.”

“So I always thought, too. Maybe we’re wrong.” He leaned over, traced his finger down the dent in her chin. “Want some help with this?”

“Don’t you have work?”

“A bit of this, a bit of that, but nothing I can’t do while assisting New York’s best cop.”

“Yeah, that was a good one. You know the security at the scene. Maybe you could tag Feeney at home, exchange data. See if you can figure out what kind of equipment these bastards needed to bypass. And where they might’ve come by it.”

“All right.” This time he brushed her cheek. “You’ve put in a long day already.”

“I’ve got another couple hours in me.”

“Save some for me,” he said, and walked into his own office.

Alone, she set up a second murder board, programmed a short pot of coffee, then ordered Inga’s data on-screen.