In Death 20 - Survivor in Death

anger retracted, scraping those keen tips over her own gut on the way. “Okay.”
    “Knight. . . We used to flirt. Nothing serious, nothing that either of us meant to go anywhere, but we did the dance.” Her voice broke. “Preston used to show off pictures of his kid. He’s got a little boy.”
    “I know. You ought to take some time off, Nadine. A couple of days.”
    “After you get them.” She swiped her fingers over her cheeks. “I don’t know why it’s hit me this way. It’s not the first time somebody I know . . .”
    “Preston may have hit one of them. I’m telling you that friend to friend, not cop to reporter. Because you knew them. Because I knew them, and thinking he might’ve hit one of them helps me.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I’ve got to go finish up here, seal the scene, then go in,” Eve said to Roarke. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
    “Call, will you, when you do?”
    “Sure.” She thought of what he’d said earlier about the risks she had to take. And what it might be like for him to see other cops, bloody and dead.
    So despite Nadine, despite the other cops, the techs, the few gawkers who’d yet to be nudged on their way, she stepped to him, stepped into him. Laid her hands on his face, laid her lips on his.
    “I can get you a ride in one of the black-and-whites.”
    He smiled at her. “There is nothing I’d like less. I’ll take care of my own transpo. Nadine, I’ll give you a lift.”
    “If I could have a kiss like that, I’d be lifted into orbit. But I’ll settle for a ride to the station. Dallas, if you need some research on the side, another pair of hands or eyes, mine are yours. No strings on this one.”
    “I’ll keep it in mind. Later.” She strode back up the sidewalk, and back into the narrow box that smelled of death.

11
    WORD SPREAD QUICKLY WHEN COPS WENT down. By the time Eve reached Central, that word had streamed through the maze, slid into cubes and offices, and had the air thick with fury.
    She stepped into the bull pen, paused. She wasn’t much for speeches. She preferred briefings or orders. But she was rank here, and the men deserved to hear from her.
    They were at desks, in cubes, answering ‘links, writing reports. A couple were taking statements from civilians who’d either been victimized or had victimized someone else.
    There was the smell of bad fake coffee, sickly sugar substitute, sweat, and someone’s greasy dinner. And under it was that fury, a ripe, rich, dangerous odor.
    Most of the noise stopped when she came in, but one of the civilians continued to weep in soft, liquid sobs. ‘links beeped, and for the moment were ignored.
    She knew she had blood on her, and she knew every cop in the room saw it and thought of where it had come from.
    “Detectives Owen Knight and James Preston went down in the line at approximately twenty-fifteen this evening. They were murdered while doing the job. Detective Knight leaves a mother, father, and sister. Detective Preston leaves a wife, a three-year-old son, his parents, grandparents. Donations to the Survivors’ Fund can be made in their names. Detective Jannson,” Eve said, “will you coordinate?”
    The woman nodded. “Yes, sir. Can you give us the status, Lieutenant?”
    “We believe tonight’s events are connected to the Swisher homicides. Five civilians, two of them minors, were murdered. Preston and Knight, and every one of us, is charged with protecting and serving the people of New York, of seeing to their safety. Those of us here, in Homicide, are equally charged to serve those whose lives have been taken, of searching out and apprehending those who take lives. We close cases here, and we’ll close this one. For those five civilians, two of them minors, and the people they left behind. Now they’ve taken two of our own, and we will search them out and apprehend.”
    She waited a beat, and there was only silence. “Until such time any and all requests for personal time, vacation time, sick leave must be cleared by me or the ranking officer on shift. You’ll be working this case in addition to your currents, reports to be filed daily. No exceptions. At change of shift, report to the ready room for a full briefing and assignments. We’re going to hunt them down, and we’re going to take them out. That’s it.”
    She heard no complaints at the additional load as she walked into her office, shut the door.
    She got coffee, then just sat.
    A police representative and