In Death 11 - Judgment in Death

man in IAB... he's got one there, too. His man there was supposed to make sure all this shaded data sort of fell in the second cop's lap. I guess it worked."
    Vernon had the good sense to take the excitement off his face. "I figured when Kohli got hit, and it came around he got hit by another cop, I figured Ricker'd worked it."
    "What's the name in IAB?"
    "I don't know. Swear to God," he said when her eyes narrowed. "We don't all know each other. Mostly we found out, but not every one, every time. Probably Bayliss, right? Bayliss is dead. Come on, Dallas. I've given you close to twenty names. You put a fire under some of them, you'll get more."
    "Yeah, I'll get more." She got to her feet. "But I can't stomach any more from you. McNab, get this thing into a safe house. Two guards at all times, on eight-hour shifts. Feeney, can you hand-pick them."
    "Can do."
    "I gave you a hell of a lot, Dallas. You could go to bat for me on the new ID."
    She didn't so much as look at him. "Peabody, with me."
    "Dallas, hey!"
    "Count your blessings, jerk," Feeney muttered as Eve walked out. "You only got your balls bruised. Another little while in here with you, if she didn't cut them off, I would have."
    "I can't even get mad." Peabody stood in the hallway, turned away from Interview. "I'm too sick to my stomach to get mad. I love being a cop, and he's made me ashamed of it."
    "That's the wrong take. He's beyond shame. You just do the job, day after day, and you've got nothing to be ashamed of. I need you to make a copy of that record and get it to Tibble. That's going to be his problem, thank Christ. I've got another meet at noon. I'll fill you in on it when I get back."
    "Yes, sir. What about Canarde?"
    "We hold there. I'm saving him for later."
    "Do you want the results of the search and scan and probability you had me run?"
    "Is it enough to pick him up?"
    "Probability's under seventy-six percent with known data. But -- "
    "But," Eve repeated, "the computer doesn't count grief or mind games. Or Ricker playing cop against cop. We'll bring him in. We'll do it quiet, when I get back."
    "He may try another hit."
    "No, he gave his word. He won't break it."

CHAPTER TWENTY
    Eve marched into the house, emitted a low, rumbling growl at a hovering Summerset, and headed straight up the stairs. She had a great deal to say and intended to get started immediately.
    The growl came again, a quiet threat, when she noted her office was empty. But the door leading to Roarke's was open. Rolling her shoulders, she started toward it, and heard the impatience in his voice as she approached the door.
    "It's neither possible nor is it convenient for me to make the trip at this time."
    "But, sir, the situation requires your personal attention. With Tonaka dragging their feet over this acquisition, and the delays in the environmental clearance on the tropical sector, we can't hope to meet deadline without your immediate intervention. Cost overruns and penalties will -- "
    "You're authorized to deal with it. I pay you to deal with it. I'm unable to make the trip to Olympus for the next several days, perhaps longer. If Tonaka is dragging feet, cut them off at the knees. Understood?"
    "Yes, sir. If I could have any sort of estimate as to when you might clear the time to survey on site, it would -- "
    "I'll let you know when I know."
    Roarke cut transmission, sat back, closed his eyes.
    And two things occurred to Eve: First, that he had a complicated, vital, and demanding life apart from hers, one she too often took for granted.
    Second, and more important, he looked tired.
    He never looked tired.
    The temper she'd hoarded like gold slipped away, unneeded. Unwanted. Still, instinct moved her into the room and kept a scowl on her face.
    He sensed her instantly, his eyes opening. "Lieutenant."
    "Roarke," she said in exactly the same cool and measured tone. "I have a number of things to say to you."
    "I'm sure you do. Would you prefer your office?"
    "We can start right here. First, in my own fumbling way, I've managed to narrow my investigation -- my homicide investigation -- to one suspect. This suspect will be brought in, detained, and questioned before end of day."
    "Congratulations."
    "Premature. Questioning is not an arrest. At the same time, through another source and through police procedure, I've tied Ricker -- loosely, but tied him -- to those homicides and hope to charge him with conspiracy. It's a stretch, but it could work and will certainly be enough