New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

“This barely qualifies as food. Give me some of that candy.”

“Get your own candy.” But she pulled credits out of her pocket, plugged them in. “There.” She ordered it, offered it, and gave him a genuine smile. “You look like a really well-dressed pirate carting around an ugly treasure chest. Thanks for lunch.”

18

Annalyn started to step on the elevator as Eve and Roarke got off.

She moved back.

“I was just on my way in. I’ve been splitting time between Melinda and Darlie, Darlie’s parents, Bree, her parents, the doctors.” She rubbed her eyes. “You see it, you see it in this job. You never get used to it.”

“Good cops don’t,” Eve said, and had Annalyn dropping her hands.

“Well, I’m a damn good cop today.”

“Do they still want to talk to me?”

“Yeah. Melinda convinced Darlie she should. She’s made you out to be the monster slayer. It’s a good thing,” she added when Eve winced. “It’s helping the kid. The idea there are slayers, since she knows monsters are real. Melly’s ambulatory. They want her in bed, resting, but she’s in and out of the kid’s room. That helps, too. It’s helping them both.”

She raised her eyebrows at the box Roarke held. “If that’s a gift, it’s really sparkly.”

“It’s evidence. We found it at the duplex.”

“What? Where? I didn’t see anything like that on the evidence list. I’ve been keeping in touch.”

“She had a hide in the bedroom closet. I played a hunch,” Eve added. “And we got lucky.”

“We could use some luck. Missing that son of a bitch today, losing Malvie.” She looked back down the hall. “I keep reminding myself we got Melly and the girl back safe. But Malvie’s dead, and McQueen’s in the wind.”

“She’s got some correspondence from McQueen in here.”

“No shit?”

“None, and some names, some data. If you’re going in, you can start the runs. There’s a photo of him, too. She took it while he was sleeping. There’s a champagne bottle in it. My source here tells me it’s pretty special.”

“There’s only two outlets for that label and vintage in Dallas,” Roarke told her. “Vin Belle and Personal Sommelier.”

“And he may get a yen for more.” Annalyn reached for the box. “I’ll get this in. If we hit anything, you’ll be the first.”

“My people are working on some of the New York data in there. You can connect with Detective Peabody.”

“Will do.” She called for the elevator again, glanced back as she got on. “You’re a good cop,” she said to Eve. “So the kid’s going to break your heart.”

“I’m going to take Melinda first,” Eve told Roarke as she walked toward the nurses’ station. “She’ll be okay with you in there if you want to be. With the kid, it’s better if you stay out.”

“If you don’t need me, I’ll find a spot, see if Feeney and I can make any progress.”

“Better yet.” She offered her badge at the station. “Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Yes, you’re cleared. Melinda—Ms. Jones—would like you to see her first. She’s in six-twelve. We arranged for Darlie to be across the hall.”

“Thanks.”

She started down the corridor. She hated hospitals, hated the memory of being in one, in this city, broken and traumatized like the child across the hall from Melinda. And the cops asking questions she couldn’t answer, the sorrowful sympathy the medicals couldn’t hide when they worked on her.

She hesitated outside Melinda’s door. Should she knock? she wondered. Instead she shifted to look through the small window, saw both sisters in the narrow hospital bed. Oddly it was the cop who slept, an arm around her sister’s waist.

Eve eased the door open.