“I’m sure you can. No more than two in the room at once. But it’ll be good for her to know someone’s there. She will know,” Louise promised. “She’ll know.”
Eve took her turn, stepping in with Roarke while McNab hovered just outside the room in ICU. She’d prepared herself, but it wasn’t enough.
Nothing would’ve been enough to brace her for that first look.
Peabody lay on the narrow bed, tethered by more tubes than Eve cared to count. Maybe the steady hum and beep of monitors was supposed to be reassuring, but they made her jittery.
But she could have taken that. She’d visited hundreds of victims, fellow cops, perps in hospital rooms, and knew what to expect.
But none of them had been Peabody lying utterly still with her face so bruised it was barely recognizable.
The sheet covered her to the neck, but Eve imagined there were many other bruises under it. Strapping, bandaging, suturing, and God knew what under that white sheet.
“They’ll treat the bruising,” Roarke said from behind her. “It wouldn’t have been a priority.”
“He broke her face. The son of a bitch.”
“And he’ll pay for it. Look at me. Eve.” He turned her, gripped her arms tight. “She’s mine almost as much as she’s yours. I’m in this until the end of it. I want my chance at him as well.”
“It can’t be personal. That’s the primary rule on any investigation. And that’s bullshit.” She stepped away from him, stepped toward the bed. “That’s just raging bullshit, because it’s as personal as it gets. He doesn’t get by doing this to her. So yeah.” She looked up, met his eyes, then turned her icy gaze to Peabody. “We’re both in it, till the end.”
She leaned over, spoke quiet and clear. “I’m going to kick his ass for you, Peabody. You’ve got my word on it.” She reached out, then hesitated, unsure where to touch. In the end, she laid her hand on Peabody’s hair. “We’ll be back.”
She waited as Roarke bent to touch his lips to Peabody’s bruised cheek, then her lips. “Soon. We’ll be back soon.”
They went out to where McNab and Feeney waited.
“He messed her up bad.” McNab’s eyes looked hollow, like caves of anger and anguish.
“Yeah, yeah, he did.”
“I want to be there when you take him down. I want to be there, Lieutenant, but . . . I can’t leave her. I can’t leave until . . . until she wakes up.”
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s your primary assignment.”
“I could do some work from here, while I was sitting with her. If I had the equipment, I could do runs or data searches, anything. We’re still trying on the Transit discs. I could keep punching that.”
“I’ll get your work,” Eve promised.
“And I’ll get you what you need to do it.” Feeney laid a hand on his shoulder. “You go on, son, sit with her. I’ll bring you what you need.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I’d’ve made it through tonight if . . . thanks.”
Feeney drew a long breath when they were alone, and his eyes were bright and fierce. “We’re going to burn this bastard.”
“Damn right,” Eve promised.
She’d start at home, shower off the night, marshall her thoughts and resources. The moment they walked in, Summerset was there.
“Detective Peabody?”
He might be an asshole, Eve thought, but right now he looked like an asshole who hadn’t slept, and who was carrying a load of worry.
“She came through it. She looks like somebody tossed her in front of a train, but she came through.”
“She’s in ICU,” Roarke continued. “She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but they’re hopeful. McNab’s with her.”
“If I can be of any help.”