In Death 04 - Rapture in Death

was like a bee buzzing in her ears, and Eve simply shook her head.
    On the roof, Peabody stared down and fought against the nausea rising into her throat. All she could see now was that Eve was pressed on the ledge, white as a sheet, and one careful move would send her after the woman she'd tried to save. Taking a deep breath, Peabody trained her voice to sharp, professional tones.
    "Lieutenant Dallas, you're needed here. I require your recorder for a full report."
    "I hear you," Eve said wearily. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she reached behind to grip the edge of the roof. As a hand locked over hers, she got to her feet. Turning her back to the fall, she looked dead into Peabody's eyes, read the fear. "The last time I thought about jumping, I was eight." Though her legs shook a bit, she swung back onto the roof. "I won't go that way."
    "Jesus, Dallas." Forgetting herself for a moment, Peabody gave Eve a hard hug. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought she was going to pull you off."
    "So did I. She didn't. Get a grip here, Peabody. The press is having a field day."
    "Sorry." Peabody pulled back, coloring a bit. "Sorry."
    "No problem." Eve looked over to where the shrink was standing at the edge, one hand to his heart in a pose for the busy cameras. "Asshole," she muttered. She dug her hands into her pockets. She needed a minute, just another minute, to settle. "I couldn't stop her, Peabody. I couldn't find the right button to push."
    "Sometimes there isn't one."
    "There was one that switched her onto this," Eve said quietly. "There had to be one to switch her off."
    "I'm sorry, Dallas. You knew her."
    "Not really. Just one of the people who walk past a corner of your life." She pushed it away, had to push it away. Death, however it came, always left responsibilities. "Let's see what we can do here. Did you tag Feeney?"
    "Affirmative. He locked on her 'links from EDD and said he would head over personally. I downloaded data on the subject, didn't take time to scan it."
    They walked toward the office. Through the glass, Rabbit could be seen sitting with his head between his knees. "Do me a favor, Peabody. Pass that limp rag off to a uniform for a formal statement. I don't want to deal with him right now. I want her office secured. Let's see if we can figure out what the hell she was doing that set her off."
    Peabody marched in, had Rabbit up and out with a uniform in seconds. With wicked efficiency, she cleared the room, sealed the outer doors. "It's all ours, sir."
    "Haven't I told you not to call me sir?"
    "Yes, sir," Peabody said with a smile she hoped would lift the heavy mood.
    "There's a smart-ass lurking under that uniform." Eve blew out a breath. "Recorder on, Peabody."
    "Already on."
    "Okay, here she is. She's in early, pissed off. Rabbit says she was hyped about some litigation. Get data on that." As she spoke, Eve wandered the room, absorbing details. Sculptures, mostly mythological figures in bronze. Very stylized. Deep blue carpet to match the sky, the desk in rose tones with a mirror gloss. Office equipment sleek and modern and tinted that same flowery shade. A huge copper urn exploded with exotic blooms, and Eve noticed a pair of potted trees.
    She crossed to the computer, took her master pass out of her field kit, and called for the last use report
    Last use, 8:10 AM., call for file number 3732-1 legal, Custler v Tattler Enterprises.
    "That'd be the lawsuit she was pissed about," Eve concluded. "Jibes with Rabbit's earlier statement." She glanced down at a marble ashtray loaded with a half dozen cigarette butts. Using tweezers, she picked one up, examined it. "Caribbean tobacco. Web filter. Pricey. Bag these."
    "You think they might be laced with something?"
    "She was laced with something. Her eyes were wrong." She wouldn't forget them, Eve knew, for a long, long time. "We can hope there's enough left of her for a tox report. Take a sample of those coffee dregs, too."
    But Eve didn't think they would find what she was looking for in the tobacco or the coffee. There had been no chemical trace in any of the other suicides.
    "Her eyes were wrong," Eve repeated. "And her smile. I've seen that smile before, Peabody. A couple of times now."
    As she tucked the evidence bags away, Peabody glanced up. "You think this is connected with the others?"
    "I think Cerise Devane was a successful, ambitious woman. And we'll go through procedure, but I'm willing to lay odds we won't find a motive for