In Death 25 - Creation in Death

and instantly her eyes registered concern. “You look exhausted.”
    “Second wind blew out, I’m waiting for the third to blow in. I need a sit-down with you.”
    “Yes, I know. I’ll clear any time that works for you.”
    “I want to say now, but I need that wind before I start digging through the psychology of this. And there’s more data that needs to be factored in from your end. Peabody’s sending you a copy of the update right about now.”
    “Tomorrow, then.”
    “After the eight-o’clock briefing.”
    “I’ll come to you. Get some sleep, Eve.”
    “I’m going to factor that in, somewhere.”
    She went into her office, programmed more coffee, and considered popping one of the departmentally approved energy pills. But they always made her jittery.
    She drank, standing at her narrow office window, looking out at her slice of the city. Commuter trams were crisscrossing the sky, lights beaming against the growing dark.
    Time to go home, time to have dinner and kick back, watch a little screen.
    Below, the street was thick with traffic, with people thinking just the same as those who chugged along above their heads.
    And somewhere out there was a man who really enjoyed his work. He wasn’t thinking about kicking back.
    Did he take a dinner break? she wondered. Have a nice, hearty meal before he went back to the business at hand? When had he started on Gia Rossi? When did he start the clock?
    Forty-seven hours missing, Eve thought. But he wouldn’t start it ticking until he got down to it. Number two always started after number one was finished.
    She didn’t hear Roarke come in, he had a skill for silence. But she sensed him. “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she said. “Maybe he won’t start on her until tomorrow. We’ve got another angle to work this time, so we could get lucky.”
    “She’s gone. You know it.”
    Eve turned. He looked angry, she thought, which was probably a good thing, and just a little worn around the edges, which was a rare one. “I don’t know it until I’m standing over her body. That’s the way I’m dealing with it. We’re going home. We can work from home.”
    He closed the door behind him. “I looked her up. She’s worked for me for nearly four years. Her parents are divorced. She has a younger brother, a half brother, a stepsister. She went to college in Baltimore, where her mother and younger brother still live. Her employee evaluations have been, consistently, excellent. She was given a raise three weeks ago.”
    “You know this isn’t your fault.”
    “Fault?” He could be faulted for a great deal, he knew and accepted that. But not for this. “No. But somewhere in it, I may very well be the reason these particular women die at this particular time.”
    “Reason has nothing to do with it. You’re no good to me if you screw yourself up with misplaced guilt. You do that, you’re out.”
    “You can’t push me out,” he countered, with considerable heat. “With or without your bleeding task force, your sodding procedure, I’m bloody well in this.”
    “Fine. Waste time pissing on me then.” She grabbed her coat. “That’s helpful.”
    She started to shove by him, but he grabbed her arm, swung her around. For an instant the rage was carved into his face. Then he yanked her against him, banded his arms around her.
    “I have to piss on someone. You’re handy.”
    “Maybe.” She let herself relax against him. “Okay, maybe. But you have to think in a clear line with this. I need your brain, as well as your resources. It’s another advantage we didn’t have nine years ago.”
    “Knowing you’re right doesn’t make it easier to swallow. I’ve got to get out of this place,” he said as he eased back. “That’s God’s shining truth. I can only breathe in cop for so long without choking.”
    “Hey.”
    He tapped his finger on her chin. “Excepting one.”
    She hauled up the file bag she wanted to take with her. “Let’s go.”
    She drove primarily because she knew the battle uptown would keep her awake. A hot shower, she thought, something quick and solid in her stomach, and she’d be good to go for a few more hours.
    “Summerset would be useful,” Roarke considered.
    “As what, a hockey stick?”
    “The employee files, Eve. He can run those, generate a list of women who fit this pattern who work for me. It would free my time up for other things.”
    “All right, as long as he understands he answers to me. And that I get to