New York to Dallas

And he’s no pushover. She doesn’t mind sex with strangers, and making it rough enough to simulate rape, and is just fine with aiding in the abduction and imprisonment of a woman who helped her.”
    “Yeah, she’s a princess.” Even the thought of her made Eve vaguely ill and bitterly angry. “She’s also organized enough to pull all this, and put things together on her own until McQueen got out.”
    “In homage to our location, this isn’t her first rodeo.”
    “No. She’s been riding for a long time.”
    They stepped into the clinic, and she noted it did better business than the bar. The chairs lining the walls, more forming another backto-back line in the center of the room, were full.
    Babies squalled, kids whined. Several women sported bellies testifying they’d soon bring more squallers and whiners into the world.
    Eve walked to the counter where a woman in a floral scrub top worked feverishly on a computer.
    “I’m sorry.” The woman didn’t pause. “The waiting time is two hours. There’s another clinic—”
    “I need to talk to Dr. Hernandez.”
    “I’m sorry.” The woman didn’t sound sorry. She sounded harassed and exhausted. “Dr. Hernandez is with a patient. I can—”
    Eve palmed her badge, waved it in front of the woman’s face. “This is an urgent matter. I’ll be as quick as possible, but I need to speak with Dr. Hernandez.”
    “Give me a minute. God, what a day.”
    She popped up, scurried down a short hall, turned left, and vanished.
    “Why is everybody sick or injured?” Eve wondered. “Thieves, murderers, and lunatics, sure. That’s why we love New York. But it looks like Dallas has a plague.”
    The woman scurried back. “Listen.” She kept her voice low. “Every exam room and office is occupied. If these people who’ve been waiting so much as see a doctor, I could have a riot. Can you talk to her outside? Out the back?”
    “No problem.”
    “I’ve got to ask you to go out the front, walk around. If I take you back—”
    “Riot. Got it. Thanks.”
    “Not a plague,” Roarke said as they made the trip on foot. “More understaffed, likely underfunded, and the only free clinic for miles.”
    “Okay, probably, but I’ve seen Louise’s clinic. Free, and sure crowded, but not like that.”
    “Louise’s isn’t underfunded, thanks to you.”
    She hunched her shoulders. “It was your money.”
    “No, it was your money.”
    “Only because you gave it to me.”
    “Which, darling Eve, makes it yours.”
    “Now it’s Louise’s, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t like it here.” She rolled her shoulders when they reached the rear of the clinic. “It’s a run-down area, poor—and that’s not what I mean. It’s got a strong whiff of criminal underbelly. But you know, there’s just no sense of character, or atmosphere. You feel like if some asshole came up to mug you, he’d have that accent, or cowboy boots, maybe the hat. How is that intimidating?”
    “I do so completely adore you, and your chauvinistic New York mind.”
    A small, dark woman darted through the door. “Officer?”
    “Lieutenant Dallas. I’m working with Detectives Walker and Jones. You had a patient, claiming she’d been raped last October—outside the Circle D. Sarajo Whitehead. Those detectives caught her case, and Melinda Jones came in as counselor.”
    “Yes, I remember. Have you caught the rapist?”
    “He doesn’t exist. She faked it.”
    “I sincerely doubt—”
    “Don’t. You can check with the detectives you know. This is a very dangerous woman who is working with a very dangerous man. You know Melinda Jones.”
    “Yes, very well.”
    “They have her.” As Hernandez stared, Eve pushed on. “The faked attack was staged to make contact with Melinda, to connect. This woman lured Melinda out last night, and abducted her. We need everything you can tell us.”
    “God, oh my God. I’m going to contact Bree. I can’t just take your word.”
    “Go ahead.”
    Eve waited while Hernandez used her ’link, waited through the shocked words, the shakiness.
    “I’m going to get you her files,” Hernandez said when she clicked off. “I’ll give you everything I have. I believed her. Her injuries weren’t that severe, but her emotional state . . . I believed her.”
    “No reason you shouldn’t have,” Eve said. “She’s good at what she does.”

8
     
    F ile in hand, Eve got back into the car.
    “Back to the cop shop?” Roarke asked