In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

rhythm, you know. And I wondered if I should let her make me or not."
    With some effort, Eve adjusted her line of thought. "Stay in uniform, let her make you. It'll keep her off-balance."
    "And I'm going to try to talk to a couple of the people who gave statements about the homicide, people who knew all three subjects. It won't hurt if she hears about it?"
    "Goes to keeping her shaky, wondering what's up. She'll be primed when you bring her in."
    "I want to wait until you're back from Texas before I bring her in. In case I screw up."
    "Wait until I'm back, but you're not going to screw up. I don't work with screwups," she added, and made Peabody smile as they parted ways in the bullpen.
    In her office, Eve took a moment to steady herself, bit off a chunk of the candy bar and decided it was pretty much a yummy-tummy treat. With Roarke's schedule in her head, she put in a call to his midtown offices.
    "I know you've got a meeting in five," she began when he came on. "Christ knows how you stand meeting all those people every day of your life."
    "I'm just a people person, Lieutenant. An amiable soul."
    "Yeah, right. How much hassle is it going to be for you to ditch all those meetings tomorrow?"
    "What's the point of being master of all you survey if you can't ditch meetings when it suits you? What do you need?"
    "I want to leave for Dallas in the morning. First thing."
    "All right, I'll take care of it."
    "I don't know how long it'll take, but we should be able to get it done and get back all in the same day. An overnight at the most."
    "Whatever it takes. Eve, you're not alone anymore."
    She nodded, and though it felt foolish, touched her fingers to his face on the screen. "Neither are you."

CHAPTER 10
    probability roarke is next target is fifty-one-point-five-eight percent....
    Eve stood, staring out her skinny office window. The fifty-fifty chance given in the computer's soulless tones didn't comfort her.
    "Where will she come at him?"
    insufficient data for probability....
    "I wasn't asking you," she grumbled and pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Think," she ordered herself. "Think, think. What's in her head?"
    More impact, Eve decided, if Julianna went for Roarke when his cop was close. At home then, or at a public or private social event they'd both attend. She called his schedule back on-screen and studied it. Again.
    She didn't know how any one person managed that many meetings, deals, conversations, and contacts in one day and stayed sane. But that was Roarke.
    All those people, she thought, that he brushed against in any given day. Business associates, staff, employees, waiters, assistants, and assistants to assistants. However brilliant his security, there was always a crack to slither through.
    But he was aware of that, she reminded herself, on the most elemental level. The way a tiger would be aware of both predator and prey in his own jungle.
    And if she allowed herself to worry into fear over him, she'd miss something.
    She sat again, cleared her mind.
    In the first wave of Julianna Dunne's killings, she had assumed the role of society princess. A young, glamorous butterfly who'd flitted among the abundant blooms of the wealthy. As one of them, Eve mused.
    Her new pattern was efficient employee. Smart, Eve conceded. People rarely took full notice of those who served them. She would stick with that, Eve thought. Almost certainly stick with that level. Server, clerk, domestic.
    Whoever the next target, she would likely find her way into his business or his home through his company.
    Preferred method, poison. Old-fashioned poison, Eve added. Why? You didn't get your hands dirty that way, and most usually had the opportunity to watch it work. See the shock, confusion, pain. The victim understood a blaster or a blade when it came for him. But poison was subtle, even elegant. And it confused.
    But you didn't bop into your local 24/7 and pick up a bottle of cyanide. It was time to track down the source.
    Before she did, there was a little business to clear up. She put in a call to Charles Monroe.
    The handsome licensed companion picked up on his pocket-link. Eve could hear the murmuring of voices, the quiet clink of china and crystal of a classy restaurant as his face filled the screen.
    "Lieutenant Sugar." He beamed. "What a nice surprise."
    "You got company?"
    "Not quite yet. Client's late, she usually is. What can I do for my favorite avenger of the law?"
    "Have you got any professional pals or