In Death 06 - Vengeance in Death

repeated, "and the security label that identifies this area as the twelfth floor of the Luxury Towers. That is the floor in question?"
    "Yes." Summerset's brows drew together as he watched the recording. The elevator doors did not open, he did not walk out. A cool line of sweat dribbled down his spine as time passed. "You've doctored the disc. You tampered with it to implicate me."
    Insulting son of a bitch. "Oh, sure. Peabody'll tell you I spend half my time on a case screwing with the evidence to suit myself." Temper just beginning to brew, Eve rose again, leaned on the table. "Trouble with that theory, pal, is this is the original, straight out of the security room. I worked with a copy. I've never had my hands on the original. Peabody collected the security discs."
    "She's a cop." Summerset sneered it. "She'd do what you ordered her to do."
    "So now it's a conspiracy. Peabody, hear that? You and I tampered with the evidence just to make Summerset's life tough for him."
    "You'd like nothing better than to put me in a cage."
    "At this particular moment, you couldn't be more right." She turned away then, until she was certain her rapidly rising temper wouldn't rule her head. "Peabody, disengage disc. You knew Thomas Brennen in Dublin. What was your relationship?"
    "He was simply one of many young men and women I knew."
    "And Shawn Conroy?"
    "Again, he was one of many young people I knew in Dublin."
    "When was the last time you were in the Green Shamrock?"
    "I have never, to my knowledge, patronized that establishment."
    "And I suppose you weren't aware that Shawn Conroy worked there."
    "I was not. I wasn't aware that Shawn had left Ireland."
    She hooked her thumbs in her pockets, waited a beat. "And naturally, you haven't seen or spoken to Shawn Conroy in a dozen years."
    "That's correct, Lieutenant."
    "You knew both victims, you were on the site of the first murder on the day of Brennen's death, you have, thus far, offered no alibi that can be substantiated for the time of either murder, yet you want me to believe there is no connection?''
    His eyes locked coldly on hers. "I don't expect you to believe anything but what you choose to believe."
    "You're not helping yourself." Furious, she snagged the token she'd found on Shawn Conroy's nightstand from her pocket, tossed it on the table. "What's the significance of this?"
    "I have no idea."
    "Are you Catholic?"
    "What? No." Pure bafflement replaced the chill in his eyes. "Unitarian. Mildly."
    "How much do you know about electronics?"
    "I beg your pardon?''
    No choice was all she could think, and refused to look at Roarke. "What are your duties for your employer?"
    "They're varied."
    "And in these various duties, do you have occasion to send and receive transmissions?"
    "Naturally."
    "And you're aware that your employer has very sophisticated communication equipment."
    "The finest communication equipment on- or off-planet." There was a lilt of pride in his voice.
    "And you're very familiar with it."
    "I am."
    "Familiar enough, knowledgeable enough, to cloak or jam in- or outgoing transmissions?"
    "Of course I --" He caught himself, set his teeth. "However, I would have no reason to do so."
    "Do you like riddles, Summerset?"
    "On occasion."
    "And would you consider yourself a patient man?"
    He lifted his eyebrows. "I would."
    She nodded and, as her stomach fisted, turned away. Here was the thought, the worry, the grief that had kept her wakeful most of the night. "Your daughter was murdered when she was a teenager."
    She heard no sound behind her now, not even breath. But if pain had weight, the air grew heavy with it. "Your current employer was indirectly responsible for her death."
    "He was --" Summerset cleared his throat. Beneath the table his hands had fisted on his knees. "He was not responsible."
    "She was tortured, she was raped, she was murdered to teach Roarke a lesson, to hurt him. She was no more than a tool, is that correct?"
    He couldn't speak for a moment, simply couldn't squeeze the words past the grief that had so suddenly dug claws into his throat. "She was murdered by monsters who preyed on innocence." He took one breath, long and deep. "You, Lieutenant, should understand such things."
    When she turned back her eyes were blank. But she was cold, horribly cold, because she did understand such things all too well. "Are you patient enough, Summerset, are you clever enough and patient enough to have waited all these years? To have established the