In Death 28 - Promises in Death

helpful to talk with this priest. Do you believe there’s more, after death?”
    “Yes,” Eve answered without hesitation. “No way we go through all this crap, then that’s it. If it is, I’m going to be seriously pissed off.”
    “Exactly. I feel them, and I’m sure you do, too. Sometimes when they come to me, it’s done. They’ve gone, and all I have is the shell of what they were. Others, there’s more. It lingers awhile. You know?”
    “Yeah.” It wasn’t something she easily expressed, or shared. But she knew. “It’s harder to take when it lingers.”
    “For me, it’s hopeful. She was gone when I saw her. I wanted, selfishly, to feel her. But she’d gone, wherever she needed to go. I needed to be reminded of that, I think. That she’s not gone, not from me, because I can see her. And that she’s somewhere she needs to be. Yes, Father Lopez may help me come to terms. But so can you.”
    “What do you need?”
    “Bring me in. Tell me what you know, all of it, everything. Not just what you think I should know, but everything. And give me something to do, some part of it. However mundane. Fact-checking or follow-ups, buying fucking doughnuts for the team. I need to be involved. I need to have some part in finding the person who did this.”
    She studied his face. Yes, the need was there. The intensity of it nearly burned a hole in her heart. “You have to tell me this, tell me straight. Respect her, respect me, and tell me the truth.”
    “I will.”
    “What do you want when we find him? What do you want done?”
    “You’re asking if I want to kill him, to take his life?”
    “That’s what I’m asking.”
    “I thought of it, even imagined it. There are so many ways, and in my position a lot of avenues to take. I did think of it. It would be for me, and not for her. It wouldn’t be what she wanted. I would . . . disappoint her. How could I do that? I want what she would want.”
    “What is that?”
    “Justice. There are a lot of colors there, though, a lot of degrees and levels. We know that, too.” His gaze skimmed to Roarke. “All of us know that. I want his pain, and I want his pain to last a very long time. Death ends—at least this part of us. I don’t want his death, and I’ll promise you on hers that I’ll do nothing to end him. I want him in a cage, years, decades in a cage. Then I want him in whatever hell might exist when death ends that. I want a part of making that happen.”
    He reached across the table now, gripped her hand. “Eve. I won’t betray her, or you. I swear to you.”
    “Okay. You’re in.” She picked up her coffee. “I’m going to start by telling you she was clean. There’s no evidence that she was on the take or in anybody’s pocket. All evidence is to the contrary. She ended her relationship with Alex Ricker in Atlanta. Her only connection to him was friendship.”
    “Did he kill her?”
    “It’s not tipping that way. It’s reading like she was killed because of him, but not by him, and not with his knowledge, not through his orders, his wishes. I think Max Ricker ordered it done to punish the son, to screw with him.”
    “He killed her to . . . Yes, I can see that.” When he picked up his coffee, Morris’s hand remained steady. “I can easily see that now.”
    “To do it, he’d need someone close to Alex, and someone close to Col—to Ammy,” she corrected. “I have two e-detectives on their way to Omega now. I think Ricker’s got someone up there covering his visitor and communication log. I think he’s been in touch, and he’s been orchestrating this—maybe more than this. I’m going to see Alex in the morning—but more, I’m going to see his personal assistant. That’s the guy I’m looking at. Nobody’s closer to Alex than this guy, this Rod Sandy. On the other part, I’m looking at her squad.”
    “One of her squad?” Morris set his cup down again. “Jesus. Jesus.”
    “It was an inside hit—inside her world, inside Alex Ricker’s. I know it.”
    For a long moment, he stared at the fire. Stared in silence.
    “I didn’t think you were so close. I didn’t believe you’d gotten this far. I should’ve known better. What can I do?”
    “You can spend some time tonight thinking about anything she told you about the people she worked with. Little things: comments, observations, complaints, jokes. Anything you remember. Anything you observed personally when you went to see her at work, when you joined her