He managed a small smile to please her. “It’s worth a try in any case.” He drank coffee, and looked, was unable not to look at the horror surrounding him. “Sweet Jesus, Eve.”
“I know. His personal cemetery.”
“I was thinking his private holocaust.”
And she stood with him for a moment, in silence, listening to the mournful sound of rain pattering on the bags.
“Morris has ID’d a few, through dental. Marjorie Kates, Breen Merriweather—from the city. Lena Greenspan—thirty-year-old mother of two from three miles away. Sarie Parker, twenty-eight, adult ed instructor, worked at the local school. Some of them are going to be street people, or LC’s. But we’ll ID them all. However long it takes, we’ll ID them all.”
“It matters, who they were, where they came from, who loved them. You have to make it matter or they’re just rotting flesh and bone after all. They’re only what he made them. Isn’t that so?”
“Yeah.” She watched as another was bagged. “And they’re more. Much more than he made them.”
When it was done, as much as could be done then and there, Eve stripped off her gear, tossed it into the pile for sanitizing and disposal. She wanted a shower. She wanted hours in hot water, as hot as she could stand, then more hours in oblivion.
But she wasn’t finished. Not yet.
She dug in her pocket for another Stay-Up, dry-swallowing it as she walked to the copter where Roarke waited.
“I’m going to ask you for one thing,” he began.
“You’re entitled to more than one after the night you put in. Above and beyond, Roarke.”
“We see that differently, but I will ask for one thing from you. When this is done, when you’ve closed it down
, I want two days. Two days away from this, from all of it. We can stay at home, or go anywhere you like, but I want that time—for both of us. To—I’d say to get this out of our system, but we never will. Not really.”
He pulled off the leather strap he’d used to tie back his hair. “To rebalance ourselves, I’ll say.”
“It’s going to take some time yet. I need to be around until Peabody’s on her feet.”
“That goes without saying.”
“Yeah.” Because she understood it did, she pointed, then walked to the other side of the copter. Maybe it was silly to need it as a shield, but there were still a lot of cops on scene. She’d given her official statement to the media, though a few lingered, hoping for more.
They’d get no more from her tonight, and she wanted private moments to stay private.
She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his. “Let’s just hold on here a minute.”
“Gratefully.”
“It shakes me. You can never get yourself ready for something like this. No matter what. And you know they’ll never be enough payment made for it. There can’t be. I’m sick. I’m sick in every part of myself.”
She turned her head so it rested on his shoulder. “So yeah, I’ll give you two days—and take them. Somewhere away, Roarke. Away, where it’s just us. Let’s go to the island.”
She tightened her grip, tried to envision the sugary sand, the blue water, and erase the vision of the muddy ground and body bags. “We don’t even have to take any clothes.”
With a small sigh, he rested his head on top of hers. “I can’t think of anything more perfect.”
“I got to finish up tonight’s work. A couple days more, maybe after that. Then we’ll get the hell out.”
He gave her a boost into the copter. “You sure you’re up to the rest of this tonight? You’re running on chemicals.”
“I sleep better when I tie off the ends.” She strapped in, then used the ’link to check on Peabody while the copter rose into the rain.
Celina opened the gate to the elevator in her loft. “Dallas, Roarke. You both look exhausted.”
“You’re not wrong. I know it’s late. I’m sorry.”