In Death 22 - Memory in Death

Christmas
    cookies around here.”
    “Appreciate it.” He peeked inside, nearly smiled again. “Really. The food’s fairly crappy around here.”
    He’d brought her food once, and now she’d returned the favor. She thought that made them even, or wanted to think it.
    Eve checked with her uniforms, assured Bobby his wife would be there shortly.
    Then she let it all shuffle around in her mind during the long, ugly drive uptown.
    Her pocket ‘link signalled, causing her to fumble a moment as she interfaced it with the unfamiliar system on the all-terrain so her hands stayed free to fight the fight. “Dallas, and this better be good because I’m stuck in lousy traffic.”
    “I’m not!” Peabody’s voice shot out thrills and excitement completely in contrast with the icy rain. On
    the dash screen, her face glowed like a damn candle. “I’m in Scotland, and it’s snowing. It’s snowing in big, fat, mag flakes.”
    “Yippee.”
    “Aw, don’t be that way. I just had to tell you we’re here, and it’s so beyond frosty. The McNabs have
    this amazing house, kinda like a really big cottage, and there’s a river and mountains. McNab’s dad has
    a burr.”
    “Well, why doesn’t he pull it out?”
    “No, no, the accent. It’s total. And they like me, Dallas. I mean, they just slathered, like, all over me.”
    “Again, I repeat: Yippee.”
    “I don’t know why I was so nervous and freaky. It’s just piles of fun on top of more. The shuttle ride
    was so uptown, and then, wow, the scenery is so completely mag. It’s like a vid or something, and”
    “Peabody, I’m glad you’re having a good time. Seriously. But I’m trying to get home here, so I can
    grab a little Christmas cheer myself.”
    “Sorry, sorry. Wait, first, did you get the presents I left on your desk?”
    “Yeah, thanks.”
    “Oh.” Peabody’s face went through several expressions, ending on a pout. “You’re welcome.”
    “We didn’t open them yet.”
    “Oh! Oh, okay.” The pout turned into a nervous grin. “You want to wait until tomorrow. I just
    wondered. So, well… Anything I should know on the case?”
    “Nothing that can’t wait until you get back. Go eat somewhat is ithaggis.”
    “I might. I’ve already had a really big whiskey, and it’s dancing in my head. But I don’t care! It’s Christmas. And last year you and I were mad at each other, and now we’re not. I love you, Dallas,
    and Roarke, and every bony inch of McNab. And his cousin Sheila. Merry Christmas, Dallas.”
    “Yeah, you bet.” She cut off before Peabody could get started again. But she was smiling as she rolled through the gates toward home.
    The house was lit as if it were night, and an icy mist rolled over the ground, sparkled just a little in the lights. She could see trees shimmering, candles glowing, and heard the patter of that cold, hard rain
    on the roof of her vehicle.
    She stopped, just stopped in the middle of the drive. Just to look, and to think, and remember. Inside
    was warmth, fires burning with the crackle of real wood. Everything in her life had somehow navigated her here. Whatever the horrors had been, the pain and blood, whatever dogged her dreams like a hound, had brought her here. She believed that.
    She had this because she’d survived the other. She had this because he’d been waiting on the other side
    of the road. Navigating his own trenches.
    She had home, where the candles were lit and the fires were burning. It was good, she thought, to take
    a moment to remember that, and to know, whatever else she faced, this was here.
    And if she couldn’t just enjoy it for twenty-four hours, what was the point?
    She dashed into the house, shook rain from her hair. For once, Summerset wasn’t lurking in the foyer,
    but even as she tugged off her coat, Roarke strolled out of the parlor.
    “And there you are.”
    “Later than I thought, sorry.”
    “I only got in a few minutes ago myself. Summerset and I are having a drink by the fire. Come, sit down.”
    “Oh, well.” Summerset. They’d have to be civil to each other. It was like a holiday law. “I have to take care of something first.” She concealed a small bag behind her back. “Need a few minutes.”
    “Secrets.” He wandered over to kiss her. And to peek over her shoulder. She shifted, poked a finger
    in his belly.
    “Cut it out. I’ll be down in a minute.”
    He watched her go up, then walked back into the parlor to sit by the fire with Summerset and