Inside the lights blazed, and the recording system had been switched on to play bouncy Christmas tunes. Though the privacy screens had been pulled tight over the windows, the Christmas tree glowed in front of the glass.
She pointed toward the left. On the route to the bedroom she noticed small things. The smears and smudges the sweep would have left had been polished away. The air smelled of flowers and disinfectant.
There was a faint haze of steam over the spa. The water was still hot.
The bedroom was tidied, the bed made, the spills mopped up.
Eve tugged up the spread, swore under her breath. "He put on fresh sheets. The bastard slept in the bed where he raped her." With fury edging along her stomach, she yanked open the closet. There among the flowing styles Rudy and Piper preferred, several shirts and slacks were neatly hung.
"Making himself right at home." She crouched down and opened the trim black suitcase lying on the closet floor. "The rest of his props." Heart thudding, she nudged through the jewelry, muttering the numbers and lyrics. "All the way to twelve -- this hair clip with a dozen guys drumming. They're all here except number five. He's got that with him." She rose. "He took himself a nice relaxing bath, dressed in his suit, packed up his tools, and went out. And he's planning on coming back."
"So, we wait."
She wanted to agree. More than she could stand to admit she wanted to be the one to take him down, to look in his face when she did. To know she'd beaten him, and that part of herself she faced in nightmares.
"I'm calling it in. We'll have a few slobs who'd've drawn duty tonight. I'll need some men on the building, some inside. It'll take an hour or so to set it up. Then we'll go home."
"You don't want to turn this over to someone else, Eve."
"No, I don't. Maybe that's why I need to. And..." She turned back to him, thinking of Mira's words. "I'm entitled to the life I've started to carve out for myself. With you."
"Then make the calls." He reached out to touch her cheek. "And let's go home."
* * *
Peabody filed the last of her paperwork, let out a long, self-pitying sigh, then caught sight of McNab in the doorway. "What?"
"Just passing by. I told you Dallas said you're off duty."
"I'm off when my reports are finished and filed."
He smiled blandly as her machine reported filing complete. "Then I guess you're off. Hot date with Mr. Slick?"
"You're really ignorant, McNab." Peabody pushed away from the desk. "You don't spend Christmas Eve with a guy you've only dated once." Besides, she thought, Charles had already been booked for the evening.
"Your family's not around here, are they?"
"No." Stalling, willing him to leave, she fussed around the desk.
"Couldn't get home for Christmas?"
"Not this year."
"Me either. This case has eaten away at my social life. I got no plans, either." He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. "What do you say, Peabody, want to call a truce, like a Christmas moratorium?"
"I'm not at war with you." She turned to get her uniform coat from a hook.
"You look a little down."
"It's been a long day."
"Well, if you're not going to spend Christmas Eve with Mr. Slick, why don't you spend it with a fellow cop? It's a bad night to be alone. I'll buy you a drink, some dinner."
She kept her head lowered as she buttoned her coat. Christmas Eve alone, or a couple of hours with McNab. Neither were very appealing, but she decided alone was worse. "I don't like you well enough for you to buy me dinner." She looked up, shrugged. "We split the check."
"Deal."
* * *