Apprentice in Death (In Death 43)

It felt like years had passed.

“You should go home,” she told him, “and sleep.”

Reaching into her pocket, he pulled out the snowflake cap, pulled it over her head. “Did you miss the memo, where I sleep when you do?”

“Then you should go home, buy a couple planets. Seriously, you must have work you’ve shuffled aside for this.”

“I can work at Central.”

She blew out a second breath, met those gorgeous blue eyes again. “We’re going to have to get you a damn office at the shop.”

“Tempting.” He smiled. “But thanks all the same. That makes it just a bit too official for the likes of me.”

“The likes of you helped bring her down. Don’t forget it. Those people over there? The ones who don’t have murder in their lives every day, and are really hoping to see some blood, maybe a DB? Any one of them, Roarke. Any one of them could have been next, and they don’t get that. They’ll talk over a brew later about being this close to a killer. They’ll be able to talk about it because you helped bring her down.”

“Yet I’m not the one with a six-inch gash on my hand, a black eye—and I suspect bruises elsewhere.”

“Yeah.” She shifted her aching shoulders. “We’ll get to the elsewhere later.”

“Ah, my personal bonus.”

“Well.” She flicked her good hand over the cap, nodded. “If you’re going to work at Central, let’s get moving. Peabody! How about you drive?” she said to Roarke. “I’ve got some things to set up.”

She started setting them up as they circumvented the barricade, ignored the crowd, and headed back to the car.

Nadine came first.

“You fed me false information,” Nadine said immediately, with some serious rancor.

“No, I didn’t. I just didn’t give you all the information. Why does your face look like that? What’s wrong with your left eye?”

“Nothing! I’m trying to get camera ready between lightning bulletins.” And she continued to expertly line her left eye as she ranted. “You weren’t anywhere near Lexington Avenue.”

“Not personally, but there was an op in place there, as I told you.”

“But you and Willow Mackie weren’t in that place, in that operation. Now I’ve got to get my ass into the station, go on air, and spin all my earlier bulletins so I don’t look like an ass, while New York–One happened to have a damn reporter half a block from where you took that bitch down, and has already done live remotes right on scene.”

“Well, you could do that,” Eve said as Roarke drove. “Or you could get your half-camera-ready self down to Central and broadcast a one-on-one exclusive with the primary who led the op and took that bitch down. If you take option two, you’d better get there fast.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Nadine said and cut Eve off.

“Peabody, arrange for Willow Mackie to be brought into an Interview room as soon as she’s medically cleared. And find out if she’s asked for a lawyer. Reo,” she said into her ’link. “Willow Mackie’s been taken into custody.”

“So I heard—New York–One’s all over it. I’m on

my way into Central.”

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Did you get your face banged up in the arrest?”

“Yeah, there was a little . . . scuffle.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” Reo smiled sweetly. “Put some ice on it. I’ll see you there.”

Eve spent the rest of the drive contacting Mira, then Whitney.

The minute Roarke pulled into her slot in Central’s garage, Eve hopped out. “Peabody?”