In Death 29 - Kindred in Death

her in, held her. The warmth finally came back to her bones. “I’m sorry. I had to take care of this.”
    “At five-thirty in the morning? Or earlier, since you looked to be way into it when I got here.”
    “It’s twelve hours later in Beijing. I’d hoped to be done before you woke up.” He drew her back. “No point asking if you’d get a bit more sleep.”
    “Pot, kettle,” she repeated. “I’m going to grab a swim. That and the coffee should set me up.”
    “All right then. We’ll have breakfast when you’re done. I’ve got a few things I can see to.”
    “It’s still shy of six in the morning.”
    He smiled. “Not in London.”
    “Huh. That always strikes me weird.” She stepped back. “How much of this stuff do you do when I’m conked?”
    “It depends.”
    “Strikes me weird,” she repeated, and used his elevator to ride down to the pool.
    By seven, she was fueled, dressed, and ready for the briefing. It didn’t surprise her to find a buffet set up in her office. Roarke, she knew, insisted on feeding her and her cops as well. She wondered why, and decided to ask Mira one of these days.
    She poked her head in Roarke’s office through the adjoining door. “I’m going to close this. You’re already up-to-date.”
    He made some sound of agreement as he scanned his comp screen. “Tell Feeney I should be clear by two, and can give him some time.”
    “All right.”
    She shut the door as she heard Peabody, McNab, and Jamie chattering their way down the hall.
    “Get what you’re going to get,” she ordered, “and don’t dawdle.”
    “I smell meat of pig.” McNab shot to the buffet like a neon bullet with Jamie on his heels.
    Peabody sighed. “I’m on a diet.”
    “There’s a bulletin.”
    “No, really. We’re going to try for the beach next day off. I hate bathing suits. I hate me in bathing suits. And yesterday, there was pizza. I think it’s still in my thighs.” She sighed. “I hope there’s fruit, maybe a few low-calorie twigs.”
    Peabody shuffled toward temptation as Feeney came in. “Baxter and his boy are right behind me, so I better get over there first. McNab, stop hogging the hog.”
    “Told you there’d be food,” Baxter said, and pointed. “Get your share and mine,” he told the young, slightly seasoned Trueheart. Then he crossed to Eve.
    As was his habit, Baxter wore a very slick suit. But there was no smart-ass on his handsome face this morning.
    “We’re up-to-date, or up-to-date on the last data you sent. I didn’t know the kid, but I know MacMasters. I worked out of the same squad with him when I was a rook and he was a detective on his way to LT. He’s as good as they come. If you hadn’t pulled us in, I’d have angled for it. If budget gets to be a problem, we’ll kick any OT off the books.”
    “It won’t be a problem, but the offer’s noted and appreciated.”
    “There’s not a man in the division who wouldn’t do the same. We’re going to get the fucker, Dallas.”
    “That’s right. Stuff your faces,” she told the room in general, “but kill the chatter. We’re nearly twenty-four hours in. We don’t have time to waste.”
    “Where’s your man?” Feeney asked her.
    “He’s got work of his own. After two he’ll be your man. Okay, let’s round it up. Screen on.” She stopped as Whitney stepped into the room. “Sir.”
    “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’d like to sit in on the morning briefing. And to tell you that Captain MacMasters will be available to you, here, at nine hundred. I felt meeting here would be less complicated for him than Central.”
    “Yes, sir. Ah . . . if you’d like anything that hasn’t already been greedily consumed . . .”
    “Coffee would do it, thanks. Please, go ahead.”
    “You’re all aware of the case, and the early steps of the investigation. You’re all aware that this is a cop’s daughter, and that we believe she was target specific. We believe she knew her killer, and had been set up for the events of Saturday night and early Sunday morning. Other data and other lines of investigation have come to light, which I’ll brief you on shortly. Feeney, status on EDD.”
    “Slow. I know that’s not what any of us want to hear. The virus used to wipe and corrupt the hard drive is effective. We’re piecing it back together one damn byte at a time, and half of those bytes are useless. None of the D and C units in the residence contain anything useful. As far as we can determine,