In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

off shift at three, logged her last patient at three-ten. A doctor on the next rotation found her just after four. They called it in and started work on her there."
    "What's your take on her chances?"
    "It's a damn good center. Some of the equipment looks like it should be at NASA II. She's had a fleet of doctors in and out of her room. We've got a uniform on the door twenty-four / seven." She finished off the coffee. "I heard the nurses saying that she's young and strong. Her heart and lungs are prime. The brain scans haven't shown anything to worry about yet. But you can tell they want her to come out of it. The longer she stays under, the more worried they look."
    "I have to ask you to call me if there's any change. I need to know."
    "You don't have to ask. I should get back."
    "Yeah. Tell Feeney I'm working on a couple of angles. I'll pass along anything that looks worthwhile."
    "Will do." She started out, hesitated. "I think you should know: Word is the commander's been dogging the chief. He's taken some pokes at IAB, and he's breathing down Baxter's neck to close off on Bowers. He's been over to the one-six-two to do some digging on her on his own. Basically, he's busting his ass to get you reinstated."
    Unsure how to feel, she simply stared. "I appreciate you telling me."
    "One more thing: Rosswell's personal account showed regular deposits over the last two months of ten thousand a pop. All E-transfers." Her lips curved when Eve's eyes narrowed and gleamed. "He's dirty. Feeney's already sicced Webster on him."
    "Times in nicely with Spindler's murder. Nice work." Roarke waited until she was alone before he came back in. He found her sitting on the arm of a sofa, staring down at her hands. "You've had a long day, Lieutenant."
    "Yeah." She rubbed her hands on her knees, shook off the mood, then looked at him. "I was thinking about topping it off with something special."
    "Is that so?"
    "How about a little nighttime B and E?"
    His grin flashed. "Darling. I thought you'd never ask."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
    "I'm driving."
    Roarke's hand paused as it reached for the car door, and his brow winged up. "It's my car."
    "It's my deal."
    They studied each other a minute, crowded together at the driver's side door. "Why are you driving?"
    "Because." Vaguely embarrassed, she dug her hands in her pockets. "Don't smirk."
    "I'll try to resist. Why?"
    "Because," she said again, "I drive when I'm on a case, so if I drive, it'll feel like -- it'll feel official instead of criminal."
    "I see. Well, that makes perfect sense. You drive."
    She started to climb in while he circled around to the passenger side. "Are you smirking behind my back?"
    "Yes, of course." He sat, stretched out his legs. "Now, to make it really official, I should have a uniform. I'll go that far, but I refuse to wear those amazingly ugly cop shoes."
    "You're a real joker," she muttered and jerked the car into reverse, did a quick, squealing spin, and shot out of the garage.
    "Too bad this vehicle doesn't have a siren. But we can pretend nothing works on it, so you'll feel official."
    "Keep it up. Just keep it up."
    "Maybe I'll call you sir. Could be sexy." He smiled blandly when she glared at him. "Okay, I'm done. How do you want to play this?"
    "I want to get into the clinic, search for the data I sent Louise in for, and anything else interesting, then get out. Without getting caught by some beat droid. I figure with your light and sticky fingers, it should be a walk."
    "Thank you, darling."
    "That's sir to you, ace."
    She streamed through the smoke of a corner glida grill and headed south. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be crazy. I must have lost my mind. I keep crossing lines."
    "Think of it this way. The lines keep moving. You're just keeping up."
    "I continue keeping up this way, I'll end up wearing security bracelets. I used to go by the book. I believe in the book. Now I just rewrite the pages."
    "Either that or go back to bed and pull the covers over your head."
    "Yeah, well... we make choices. I've made mine."
    She found a second-level spot four blocks north of the Canal Street Clinic and tucked the car between a sky scooter and a dented utility truck. If anyone bothered to look, she mused, Roarke's elegant two-seater would stick out like a swan among toads, but it wasn't against the law to drive a hot-looking car in this sector.
    "I don't want to park any closer. This thing has anti-theft and anti-vandalism features, right?"
    "Naturally. Engage