Indulgence in Death (In Death 31)

For a few moments she sat, letting pieces settle in her mind. After updating her notes she streamlined them into a report, including both interviews, her impressions, the generalized opinion from a sex therapist, and the directions she intended to pursue.

She sent copies to Whitney and Mira.

She updated her murder book, her board, then sat with her feet on her desk, another cup of coffee in her hand, and let it all settle again.

Tonight, she thought, or tomorrow. Not much time before the next round. If the pattern she was seeing was a pattern, Moriarity would be up, which meant the vic would be connected most closely to Dudley’s past, and the lure would be through Dudley and Sons.

“And it could be anyone,” she said aloud.

No, not accurate. The anyone had to be in New York, as both Dudley and Moriarity were in New York. So the target lived here or worked here or was currently visiting here.

The target was important in his or her field—some field of service most probably. Humble beginnings? she considered. Both vics had that in common, starting low on the ladder and climbing high.

Did that play?

Still active in their field. Someone who could be hired or called in, consulted, booked.

Shit.

Someone was going to die because a couple of arrogant whacked-out assholes wanted to bond over blood, and she couldn’t prove it.

No point obsessing about what had yet to happen, she reminded herself. Better to dig into what already had. Opening the file Peabody had sent her, she began a slow, systematic search for death.

She had grids of data on-screen when Peabody stepped back in.

“Dallas.”

/>

Eve looked over in time to catch the Power Bar Peabody tossed at her.

“These are disgusting.”

“Nah. A num-nummy treat. Vending says so. Besides if you’ve generated as many missings and unsolveds as I have, you need the boost.”

“Maybe.” With some reluctance Eve tore the wrapping. Focus had smothered the low-grade headache that now made itself known behind her eyes. She took a bite, winced. “Jesus, what do they put in these things?”

“It’s really better not to know. If we’re not going to clock any more field time, I’m going to take the files home and put some time in on them.”

“Why are you going home?”

“Because it’s already past end of shift, and I want my man and real food.”

Eve scowled at her wrist unit. “Dammit.”

“I can stay if you want to work it here.”

“No. No, go. I lost track. Send whatever you’ve put together to my home unit, and I’ll . . .” She trailed off as she saw she’d lost Peabody’s attention. Her partner had shifted, was currently brushing at her hair and smiling a dopey smile.

“What’s Roarke doing here?” Eve demanded even as she heard his voice.

“Hello, Peabody. I like your hair. Cool, efficient, and feminine all together.”

“Oh.” She fussed some more. “Thanks.”

“The lieutenant working you late?”

“She’s going,” Eve snapped. “Go.”