In Death 19 - Visions in Death

stench of death. Tagged bodies lay bagged beside gaping holes in the earth until they could be transported. Remains lay on tarps shielded by tents while the ME's team worked to identify.
    The yard took on the look of a mass grave.
    Overhead, the media copters circled, spun out their lights.
    Word was more reporters were camped on neighbors" lawns.
    It hadn't taken them long. Even now, she assumed, the scene where she stood, the misery and horror of it was being relayed to screens all over the state the country. The damn world.
    And people sat in their homes and watched. Grateful to be warm and dry and alive.
    Someone brought her coffee, and she drank it without tasting it, without thought. Snagging another, she walked to Roarke.
    "This is the third I've done." Absently, he wiped rain from his face. He shut down the machine, boosted it aside so the hand team could work. "And you were right. It's worse than anything I could imagine." "Take a break." She handed him the coffee.
    He stepped back and shoved up the mask as she had done.
    It barely helped now in any case. Beneath it his face was pale, damp with sweat. And grim as a grave.
    "I won't be put in the ground when my time comes," he said, quietly. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, whatever the hell, I won't make that transition in the bloody dirt. I'll take the fire, quick and clean." "Maybe you can bribe God and live forever. You've got more money than He does." He managed a small smile to please her. "It's worth a try in any case." He drank coffee, and looked, was unable not to look at the horror surrounding him. "Sweet Jesus, Eve," "I know. His personal cemetery." "I was thinking his private holocaust." And she stood with him for a moment, in silence, listening to the mournful sound of rain pattering on the bags.
    "Morris has ID'd a few, through dental. Marjorie Kates, Breen Merriweather from the city. Lena Greenspan -thirty-year-old mother of two from three miles away. Sane Parker, twenty-eight, adult ed instructor, worked at the local school. Some of them are going to be street people, or LC's.
    But we'll ID them all. However long it takes, we'll ID them all." "It matters, who they were, where they came from, who loved them. You have to make it matter or they're just rotting flesh and bone after all. They're only what he made them.
    Isn't that so?" "Yeah." She watched as another was bagged. "And they're more. Much more than he made them."
    When it was done, as much as could be done then and there, Eve stripped off her gear, tossed it into the pile for sanitizing and disposal. She wanted a shower. She wanted hours in hot water, as hot as she could stand, then more hours in oblivion.
    But she wasn't finished. Not yet.
    She dug in her pocket for another Stay-Up, dry-swallowing it as she walked to the copter where Roarke waited.
    "I'm going to ask you for one thing," he began.
    "You're entitled to more than one after the night you put in. Above and beyond, Roarke." "We see that differently, but I will ask for one thing from you. When this is done, when you've closed it down, I want two days. Two days away from this, from all of it. We can stay at home, or go anywhere you like, but I want that time for both of us. To I'd say to get this out of our system, but we never will. Not really." He pulled off the leather strap he'd used to tie back his hair. "To rebalance ourselves, I'll say." "It's going to take some time yet. I need to be around until Peabody's on her feet." That goes without saying." "Yeah." Because she understood it did, she pointed, then walked to the other side of the copter. Maybe it was silly to need it as a shield, but there were still a lot of cops on scene.
    She'd given her official statement to the media, though a few lingered, hoping for more.
    They'd get no more from her tonight, and she wanted private moments to stay private.
    She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his. "Let's just hold on here a minute." "Gratefully." "It shakes me. You can never get yourself ready for something like this. No matter what. And you know they'll never be enough payment made for it. There can't be. I'm sick.
    I'm sick in every part of myself." She turned her head so it rested on his shoulder. "So yeah, I'll give you two days and take them. Somewhere away, Roarke. Away, where it's just us. Let's go to the island." She tightened her grip, tried to envision the sugary sand, the blue water, and erase the vision of the muddy ground and body bags. "We