Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“She got dead.”

Nixie dropped her head to her drawn-up knees. “They won’t let me go back to my house. They won’t let me go to school. And I don’t know where Virginia is, exactly.”

“We have a big yard, and we have a puppy. Sometimes he pees on the floor. It’s pretty funny.”

She sighed, rested her cheek on her knees. “I want to ask Dallas if I have to go to Virginia.” She swiped at her cheeks, rose, and used the house scanner. “Where is Dallas?”

Dallas is in Roarke’s office.

“You have to keep this.” Carefully, she unpinned the homer from her shirt, pinned it on Kevin’s. “It’s how Summerset knows where I am. I just want to talk to Dallas and nobody else, so you have to stay here and play games until I get back.”

“Okay. When you come back, we can look Virginia up on a map, then you can see.”

“Maybe.”

She knew the house, or at least the parts of it Summerset had shown her. To avoid the parlor, she took the elevator up a floor, then dashed down the corridor, and used the steps.

Part of her wanted to run away. But where would she go? She didn’t want to be alone. She knew kids were sometimes. Coyle had told her there were places like Sidewalk City where kids nobody wanted lived in boxes and had to beg for food.

She didn’t want to live in a box, but it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair that they were going to send her away. No one even asked.

Creeping past a door, she paused to listen.

She heard nothing inside, so eased around to look. It was Dallas’s office, and no one was there.

She crept to the next door.

“Gonna nail those sons of bitches. Look at the tenant list, two blocks from the Brenegan murder scene, and we’ve got a fucking revolving door.”

There was a sound in Dallas’s voice, Nixie thought. Kind of mean, and kind of excited, too. Like she’d heard one of the bigger kids sound at free-time in school when he talked about punching another kid.

“Two of those names are known aliases for Cassandra disciples. And one of them’s a face sculptor—a dead one. Bet your excellent ass he’s the one who did the work on Kirkendall and Clinton. The other’s off planet doing life. I’m going to have to go squeeze him, and I hate going off planet.”

“We get lucky here, you won’t have to. Every property or company I find is one away from pinning their base. Just give us some room here, Lieutenant.”

“Right, right.”

Nixie heard footsteps, crouched.

“And stop pacing about. It’s annoying. Why don’

t you leave me to this for a half hour, go downstairs—or at the very least go hound someone.”

“I sent my team home. You’re what’s left for me to hound.”

“Just my lucky day.”

There was a beeping, an oath that would have gotten Nixie grounded for a month if she’d so much as thought it.

“Dallas.”

Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Compromised police seal, main front entrance, Swisher murder scene.

“Goddamn kids.”

Patrol dispatched. Acknowledge you have been informed of compromise.

“Acknowledged. Have the patrol hold at scene. Have officers in light armor as precautionary measure. I want to check it out myself. ETA, ten minutes.”