In Death 38 - Thankless in Death

his sodden, ruined clothes.
    “It was a sad and pitiful rout,” he announced. “I’m shamed to have been a part of it.”
    “Buck up. I’m just going to sneak into my office for a few minutes, read your report, check a couple things.”
    “It’ll be dinner within the hour. If you can’t make it down, I’ll send your regrets.”
    “It shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”
    “I’ll come along myself, see what you’ve got, before I go down.”
    “Good.”
    She made her escape, went straight for Roarke’s report.
    She could tell he’d dumbed it down to layman’s terms, but it still took her time to decipher.
    Since they’d been able to regenerate some of the wiped data, they had the beginnings of routing on the accounts, and she took some satisfaction there.
    If they had some, they’d get more.
    He’d included what he and the e-team agreed was part of a sub-code, shadowed in with the other data.
    It looked like every other computer code she’d ever studied. Which meant it looked incomprehensible.
    She brought up her map on the wall screen to keep it settled in her head while she read through other reports, and went through incomings to be certain every one of the details assigned had clocked in with an A-OK.
    “Protection details, where we have them, are five-by-five,” she said when she heard Roarke come in. “I’ve read your report, but I don’t speak geek, so some of it’s lost on me. You can walk me through it, and I’ll walk you through the map I’ve got going on—”
    She looked over.
    Not Roarke, damn it. Sinead. Who stood, pale as glass, staring at Eve’s murder board.
    “Hey, listen.” Eve shoved up fast, moved over to block Sinead’s view. “You don’t need to see that. I’m coming right down.”
    Sinead merely laid a hand on Eve’s arm, shifted to the side. “This boy here—for he’s hardly more, is he? This is the one who did this?”
    “Sinead—”
    “I know violence and cruelty. It was my own sister, wasn’t it, who was murdered? My twin. And not a day goes by, not a day, I promiseyou, I don’t think of my Siobhan, and the loss of her. He killed his own parents, they say. His own ma and da.”
    “That’s right.”
    “And he did that to this young girl.” She touched a finger to Lori Nuccio’s photos—before and after. “And this to a woman who was his teacher. I know of this, as I follow what you do. And it was only one of the reasons why I was so proud today to see you and our Roarke honored. And now …”
    “You don’t need to explain.”
    Again Sinead touched her arm. “Do you wonder, ever, what makes a person capable of taking a life when there’s no threat to his own or another? What makes them end life, and so often, so very often, with real cruelty, even with pleasure.”
    “Every day. Sometimes finding out why matters. Sometimes it doesn’t mean a thing.”
    “Oh no, I’m thinking it matters always.” Voice and gaze steady, Sinead angled to look at Eve. “And matters to you. How could you face this day after day, year after year unless it mattered? I was so proud today, and thought I could never be prouder of the pair of you. But I am now. Seeing this, I am prouder yet.”
    She took a long breath. “You’d have found him, Patrick Roarke, for taking the life of our Siobhan. You’d have found him, and seen him pay for it.”
    “I’d have tried.”
    “No one ever did, you see, and that was hard and bitter. We needed someone to try.”
    On another long, slow breath, she pushed back her gilded red hair. “I can tell you from one who never found that justice, it’s needed. When someone did for him, left him dead in an alley, I wasglad of it. But it didn’t close that awful hole inside. Time did some of it, much time, and family. And then Roarke came to my door, and that gave me what I needed after all those years. I thank God for that, and him. But I’m telling you, and hope you already know, what you do, beyond the law of it, is needed.”
    “Sinead.” Roarke stepped up, pressed a handkerchief in her hand.
    “Ah well.” Sighing now, she dabbed at tears. “The world can be so dark. It’s foolish to deny it, and the Irish know the dark better than some in any case. It reminds us to hold on to the light, every minute we can, and to prize it. You’re a light to me.” She kissed Roarke’s cheeks. “Don’t ever forget it.”
    He murmured to her in Irish, made her smile, turn to Eve. “He said I showed him light when