Obsession in Death (In Death 40)

“You’re lying.”

“What’s the point in lying? We’re past all that. You need to tell me what you want, let me try to get it for you, like you got me what I wanted.”

“I thought I could wait until midnight. It’s symbolic. But it’s too long. I need to show you who we are. Not just how we look now. That’s symbolic, too. I thought, if I did what you wanted, what you needed, you’d see, you’d know. But you didn’t. You treated me like I was just one of the faces on the board, one of the names in the murder book.”

“I had to find you.” Six feet, Eve gauged. Just six feet between her and the switch. “We couldn’t talk until I found you.”

“It felt so good to help you. It made me happy, really happy. But that was a lie, too. There’s only one way to make it right. When we die together we’ll finally be partners, be family. Be a unit.”

“Like your mother and your sister.”

Lottie’s face went rigid. “Don’t talk about them! They’re dead.”

“It’s hard, losing family.”

“They never cared about me. I was nothing. They only cared about each other. They died together so they’ll always be together. I’ll never be. But with you I could be somebody. I could be part of something important. It’ll be fast. I don’t want to hurt you. Even though you hurt me.”

“I need to know some things first. That’s fair.” Sweat ran down Eve’s back. She wasn’t going to talk this one down, she could see that. Stall. Just stall a little longer. “Justice and respect, Lottie. We owe each other that.”

Roarke bulled his way through Central as he’d bulled his way through downtown traffic, carving away the distance to Eve with single-minded focus.

He didn’t think his heart had beat since Eve’s face blinked off his ’link screen.

Barricades blocked the corridor outside Homicide, and inside those barricades cops swarmed. He’d have cut through them, every one of them, like a honed blade, but at Whitney’s command, they let him through.

“What’s the status?”

“She’s one of mine.” His face gray, Dawson rocked back and forth on his heels. “Lottie Roebuck. She’s one of mine.”

“Roebuck has an explosive vest, a dead man’s switch.” Whitney snapped out the words while Feeney, McNab, Callander worked on the eyes and ears, on the door locks. “She’s taken the entire division hostage.”

“How the hell did she get in here with explosives?” Roarke began, then cut himself off. “Never mind. Let me see the bloody locks.”

“We have to bypass the alert,” Feeney told him. “When they’re secured from inside, they’ll set off an alarm if we trigger them from out here. We can’t just cut through.”

“Reineke’s in the break room, feeding us data. Roebuck doesn’t know he’s in there.” Sweat ran down McNab’s face. “Dallas knows. He’s keeping us apprised while we work on this.”

“Apprise me,” Roarke demanded as he got to work.

“She’s got everybody facedown on the floor but Dallas. Dallas is keeping her talking, but he thinks she’s gearing up.”

“Reineke’s described the vest to the E and B team,” Feeney said quietly. “He managed to get a picture of it with his ’link—cracked the break-room door just enough for it. They said it could take out the whole room.”

“Then we’d better stop her.” Coating the hammering fear with calming ice, Roarke worked precisely. “I’m not losing my wife today. I need more shagging light here.”

“We won’t be able to rush her.” Feeney laid a hand on Roarke’s arm. “We get the lock down, we can’t rush her.”

“Eve will have thought of that.” She’d think, Roarke assured himself, step by careful step. “Does she have terms, this Roebuck?”

“She wants to die,” Mira said from behind him. “With Eve. She’ll see it as a kind of suicide pact between them. They could patch me through. I could try to negotiate, but I believe it would push her further and faster. It needs to stay between her and Eve.”

“Got it!” McNab swiped sweat off his brow. “Eyes and ears.”

Roarke glanced over at the monitor briefly, saw Eve on screen facing a woman who’d tried to make herself her twin. The hair, the eyes.

She didn’t come close, he thought, then forced himself to look away from the beat of his heart, and work to save her.

“She’s doing well,” Mira told them. “Staying calm, asking questions, using her name, keeping it personal.”