New York to Dallas

her in bed, resting, but she’s in and out of the kid’s room. That helps, too. It’s helping them both.”
    She raised her eyebrows at the box Roarke held. “If that’s a gift, it’s really sparkly.”
    “It’s evidence. We found it at the duplex.”
    “What? Where? I didn’t see anything like that on the evidence list. I’ve been keeping in touch.”
    “She had a hide in the bedroom closet. I played a hunch,” Eve added. “And we got lucky.”
    “We could use some luck. Missing that son of a bitch today, losing Malvie.” She looked back down the hall. “I keep reminding myself we got Melly and the girl back safe. But Malvie’s dead, and McQueen’s in the wind.”
    “She’s got some correspondence from McQueen in here.”
    “No shit?”
    “None, and some names, some data. If you’re going in, you can start the runs. There’s a photo of him, too. She took it while he was sleeping. There’s a champagne bottle in it. My source here tells me it’s pretty special.”
    “There’s only two outlets for that label and vintage in Dallas,” Roarke told her. “Vin Belle and Personal Sommelier.”
    “And he may get a yen for more.” Annalyn reached for the box. “I’ll get this in. If we hit anything, you’ll be the first.”
    “My people are working on some of the New York data in there. You can connect with Detective Peabody.”
    “Will do.” She called for the elevator again, glanced back as she got on. “You’re a good cop,” she said to Eve. “So the kid’s going to break your heart.”
    “I’m going to take Melinda first,” Eve told Roarke as she walked toward the nurses’ station. “She’ll be okay with you in there if you want to be. With the kid, it’s better if you stay out.”
    “If you don’t need me, I’ll find a spot, see if Feeney and I can make any progress.”
    “Better yet.” She offered her badge at the station. “Lieutenant Dallas.”
    “Yes, you’re cleared. Melinda—Ms. Jones—would like you to see her first. She’s in six-twelve. We arranged for Darlie to be across the hall.”
    “Thanks.”
    She started down the corridor. She hated hospitals, hated the memory of being in one, in this city, broken and traumatized like the child across the hall from Melinda. And the cops asking questions she couldn’t answer, the sorrowful sympathy the medicals couldn’t hide when they worked on her.
    She hesitated outside Melinda’s door. Should she knock? she wondered. Instead she shifted to look through the small window, saw both sisters in the narrow hospital bed. Oddly it was the cop who slept, an arm around her sister’s waist.
    Eve eased the door open.
    “Lieutenant Dallas.” Melinda spoke quietly, smiled. “She’s so tired. I don’t think she slept since . . . Our parents just went to get us both some fresh clothes, some things. They really want to see you again, to thank you again.”
    “There are a lot of people to thank. I’m surprised Detective Price isn’t hovering.”
    A pretty little light came into Melinda’s eyes. “I said something about pizza. My favorite place is over in our neighborhood. He went to get me some—wouldn’t take no.”
    “It helps to have something to do.”
    “I know. Just as I know Bree and Jayson will go back to work when they’re sure I’m all right. I’m all right, but they’re not sure.”
    “I can come back later. No point waking her up.”
    “I’m awake.” Bree’s eyes fluttered open. “Sorry, I went out for a minute.” She sat up, took her sister’s hand.
    It was like looking at slightly altered dupes, Eve thought. Not exact, not identical, but damn near.
    “It’s like a replay,” Bree began. “It’s not, not even close for the two of us. But you came in the hospital room before.”
    “And the two of you were in the same bed. I remember. You were asleep that time,” Eve said to Melinda.
    “It was weeks before I could sleep without Bree holding on to me. You look tired.”
    “I guess we all are.”
    “Would you sit? We can get you some coffee, something to eat.”
    “I grabbed something.” But she sat on the side of the bed as Melinda indicated. “Do you want to go over it again?”
    “Darlie needs to. I used you and Bree, over and over, to give her hope, to give her something to hold on to. He didn’t rape me. He only hit me once in anger, and that was almost an afterthought. They kept me drugged at first, but I stopped drinking the water. He killed his partner. I