In Death 19 - Visions in Death

wringer, take away my control, because maybe possibly it'll make things better." "If you want to find out more, and you're not comfortable with hypnosis, there are other ways, Eve." "You could dig details out of my past for me, the way you dug them out for yourself." She picked up the water again.
    "I've thought about it. I'm not sure I want to go there either.
    But I'll think about it some more. I guess finding out what we did before, about Homeland surveilling him, knowing about me, knowing what he was doing to me, and letting it happen to preserve the integrity of their investigation--" Roarke said something particularly vile about Homeland and integrity. Something, she thought with dark humor, that didn't belong in snooty French restaurants.
    "Yeah, well. It's played on my head some, finding out other people knew. And it's made me ask myself, would I sacrifice a civilian for a collar?" "You would not." "No, I wouldn't. Not knowingly, not willingly. But there are people out there, people who consider themselves solid citizens who would. Would, and do, sacrifice others to get what they want or need. Happens every day, in big ways, in little ways. For the greater good, for their good, for their interpretation of someone else's good. By action, by omission of action, people sacrifice other people all the damn time."
    --==**==--
    Peabody stepped off the subway and stifled a yawn. It was still shy of eleven, but she was beat. At least she wasn't hungry on top of it, as Feeney had been as happy as she to break for food. Her belly was nicely full of fried chicken strips at least it had been billed as chicken, and she didn't want to question what else might have been inside the batter.
    Dipped into some sort of bright yellow sauce, they hadn't been half bad.
    Of course, they'd crapped out on everything else, but that was life with a badge.
    She flipped out her palm-link as she trudged up the steps to street level.
    "There she is." McNab's face, split by a big, welcoming grin filled the screen. "Heading home yet?" "Just a couple blocks away. We covered a lot of ground, didn't pick anything up." "That's the way it goes." "You said it. Did you get any more packing done?" "Baby, you're going to give me a really big sloppy one when you walk in the door. It's done, and we're ready to rock and roll out of here." "Really? Really?" She did a little skip-step on the sidewalk.
    "There was a lot left, you must've worked the whole time." "Well, I had the really big sloppy one as incentive." "You didn't throw out any of my--" "Peabody, I want to live. I didn't ditch anything, including your little stuffed bunny." "Mister Fluffytail and I go back. I'll be there in five. Be prepared for the sloppy one." "When it comes to sloppy ones, I'm a fricking Youth Scout." She laughed, stuffed the "link back in her pocket. Life was really good, she thought. Her life was really good. In fact, just at the moment it was absolutely mag. All the little nerves about moving into a new place, with McNab signing a lease, blending lives, furniture, styles, sharing a bed with the same guy for ... well, possibly forever were gone.
    It felt right. It felt solid.
    It wasn't as if he didn't irritate her cross-eyed sometimes.
    It was that she got he was supposed to. It was part of their thing, their style.
    She was in love. She was a detective. She was partnered with the best cop on the NYPSD possibly the best cop anywhere. She'd actually lost three pounds. Okay, two, but she was working off number three even now.
    As she walked, she looked up, smiled at the lights glowing in her apartment her old apartment, she corrected. McNab would probably come to the window any minute, to look out, wave, or blow her a kiss a gesture that might've looked silly on another guy, but gave her such a nice little rush when it came from him.
    She'd blow one back, and wouldn't feel silly at all.
    She slowed her pace, just a bit, to give him time to come to the window, fulfill the fantasy.
    She never saw him coming.
    There was a blur of movement. He was big bigger than she'd imagined and he was fast. She knew, in that finger-snap of time that she saw his face eyes obscured by black sunshades that she was in trouble. Terrible trouble.
    Instinct had her pivoting, reaching for the weapon she wore at her hip.
    Then it was like being rammed by a stampeding bull. She felt the pain crazy pain in her chest, in her face. She heard something break, and realized with a kind of sick wonder that