Authors: J. D. Robb
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery Fiction, #New York, #New York (State), #Police, #Suspense, #Police Procedural, #Suspense Fiction, #Crimes against, #Political, #Policewomen, #Policewomen - New York (State) - New York, #Dallas; Eve (Fictitious Character), #Police - Crimes Against
Promises in Death (24 page)
B
ack in the car, Roarke deactivated the recorder built into his cuff link. He considered removing the microstunner inside his boot, then left it where it was. You just never knew.
ack in the car, Roarke deactivated the recorder built into his cuff link. He considered removing the microstunner inside his boot, then left it where it was. You just never knew.
Both were prototypes currently in development, made of materials undetectable by even the most sensitive scanners currently available. He knew, as his company was also developing the scanner that would detect them.
Always cover both ends of the game, he thought.
Part of him regretted he couldn’t tell Alex that he wasn’t Eve’s prime suspect. Or even a suspect in her mind at this point. But that, too, was up to the lieutenant. But he could regret. He’d had a mother, too. A mother who’d loved him, and who his father had killed. Outlived her usefulness, hadn’t she? Become an annoyance. Yes, he could feel for Alex there.
He could feel even as he wondered at the man’s lack of awareness. A man who’d let love walk away rather than give ground, or try at least to find the middle of it. And now, Roarke mused, couldn’t see what was staring him square in the face.
His ’link signaled. His lips curved when he read
Darling Eve
on the display. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
Darling Eve
on the display. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
“Hey. I’ve got a favor. Can—where are you?”
“I’m in transit at the moment. I had a meeting.”
“Is that . . . you had a meeting on Coney Island?”
“I did. A pity it was so early in the day and I couldn’t treat myself to the roller coaster. We’ll have to come back, you and I, and make up for it.”
“Sure, when I’ve lost my mind and want to rush screaming through the air in a little car. Never mind. Favor. I need to—”
“Answer a question first, and I promise to grant whatever the favor might be.”
Suspicion narrowed her eyes. He loved that look.
“What kind of question?”
“A yes or no for now. Question, Lieutenant. Is Max Ricker behind Detective Coltraine’s murder?”
“What, do you have me wired? Have Whitney’s office bugged?”
Roarke glanced at his cuff link. “Not at the moment. I take that as a yes.”
“It’s not yes or no. I suspect, strongly, that Max Ricker is behind it.”
“That’s good enough for me. What’s the favor?”
“I need your fastest off-planet transpo. New York to Omega Colony.”
“We’re going to Omega?”
“No, Callendar and another e-detective will be. I think Ricker’s pulling some strings up there, believe his communication and visitation records have been wiped or doctored. I want to know who he’s been talking to. It can take twenty-six hours or more to get to Omega by regular means.”
“I can cut that by more than a third. I’ll arrange it, and get back to you with the details.”
“Okay. I owe you.”
“A roller-coaster ride, at least.”
“No, I don’t owe you that much.”
He laughed when she clicked off. After arranging the flight, passing the information back, Roarke settled down and thought of Max Ricker.
T
ime had to stop, Eve thought, as she changed into dress blues. The dead deserved their moment, she supposed that was true enough. But in her mind, memorials were for the living left behind. So time had to stop, for Morris. She might do Coltraine a hell of a lot more good in the field, or working her way to getting Alex Ricker in the box. But there were other duties.
ime had to stop, Eve thought, as she changed into dress blues. The dead deserved their moment, she supposed that was true enough. But in her mind, memorials were for the living left behind. So time had to stop, for Morris. She might do Coltraine a hell of a lot more good in the field, or working her way to getting Alex Ricker in the box. But there were other duties.
She pulled on the hard black shoes, stood and squared her uniform cap on her head.
She walked out of the locker room to take the glides down to the bereavement center.
She thought of Callendar and some bulky e-geek named Sisto, preparing to be flung like a couple of stones from a slingshot toward the cold rock of Omega. Callendar, Eve recalled, had appeared seriously juiced at the prospect of her first off-planet assignment.
It took all kinds.
This time tomorrow they’d be there, be digging in. They’d mine those logs and find what she needed. They’d damn well better find what she needed. Because every inch of her gut said Max Ricker had ordered the hit. She’d get to the why; she’d get to the how. But the e-team had to get her Ricker and his contact.
Max Ricker wouldn’t pay for killing a cop. What more could be done to a man who would live the rest of his miserable life in a cage? But others could and would pay, and that would have to be enough.
She hoped it would be enough.
The doors of the room Morris had chosen stood open so the music flowed through them. The bluesy sort he and the woman he’d loved had enjoyed. She caught the scent of flowers—the roses—before she stepped into the room crowded with cops.
Red roses, Eve noted, and photographs of the dead. Casual, candid shots of Coltraine smiling mixed with formal ones. Coltraine in uniform looking polished and serious, in a summer dress on some beach laughing. Small white candles burned a soft, soothing light.
With some relief she saw no casket—either closed or open—no clear-sided box currently in vogue that displayed the body. The photographs were enough to bring her into the room.
She saw Morris through the crowd standing with a man in his late twenties. Coltraine’s brother, Eve realized. The resemblance was too strong for anything else.
Peabody broke away from a group and moved to Eve’s side. “It’s a big turnout. That’s a good thing, if there can be a good thing. It feels weird being in blues again, but you were right about that.” She tugged her stiff jacket more perfectly into place. “It’s more respectful.”
“Not all her squad thought so.” Eve’s gaze tracked over. Coltraine’s lieutenant and Detective O’Brian wore the blue, but the others in her squad elected to remain in soft clothes.
“A lot of the cops stopped in from the field, or came in before they had to head out again. There’s not always time to change.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s hard seeing Morris like this. Seeing him hurt.”
“Watch the cops instead,” Eve suggested. “Watch her squad. Make sure you speak to every one of them. I want impressions. I’ll be doing the same.”
But for now, Eve thought, she had to take the hard, and speak to Morris.
13
EVE BRUSHED BY O’BRIAN FIRST, DELIBERATELY, then stopped. “Detective.”
“Lieutenant.” He met her eyes, then looked away to the roses and candles. “Morris did right here. It’s the right way. For her, for us. It’s the right way.”
“The cop way?”
He smiled, just a little. “Some of that. But the rest? It shows who she was. You can see her here.”
“It’s hard for you, losing one of your squad.”
“I see her desk every day. Somebody else’ll be sitting there before much longer, and you’ll get used to it. But it’s hard not seeing her there. Harder knowing why. My wife just came in. Excuse me.”
He moved off, working his way toward a woman who stood just inside the doors. She held out a hand, and O’Brian took it.
Eve turned away. She waited until a group of people speaking to Morris stepped off. Then went to him.
“Dallas.” Now it was Morris who held out a hand, and she who took it.
“You did right here,” she said, echoing O’Brian.
Morris’s fingers tightened on hers briefly. “It’s all I could do. Lieutenant Dallas, this is July Coltraine, Ammy’s brother.”
Concentration narrowed in July’s gaze. “You’re the one in charge of . . .”
“Yes. I’m very sorry for your loss, for your family’s loss.”
“Li says there’s no one better. Can you tell me . . . Is there anything you can tell me?”
“All I can tell you now is your sister has all my attention, and that of every officer assigned.”
Shock and grief dulled eyes the same deep blue as his sister’s. Eve saw his chest move as he struggled to breathe his way to composure. “Thank you. I’m taking her home tonight. We felt, my family and I, we felt someone should be here for this memorial, and to bring her home. So many people here. So many came. It matters. It means a great deal.”
“She was a good cop.”
“She wanted to help people.”
“She did. She helped a lot of people.”
“It’s not the time to ask, not the place, but I’m taking her home tonight. When my parents—I need to tell them. I need that. You’re going to find who took her away?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Excuse me.”
Morris took Eve’s hand again as July hurried off. “Thank you. For the dress blues, for what you said to him.”
“I told him the truth as I know it. She was a good cop, everything I find confirms that. And I will find who killed her.”
“I know you will. It helps me get from moment to moment.”
He wore a simple and elegant black suit, with a black cord winding through his long, meticulous braid. And she thought his face looked thinner than it had even the day before. As if some of the flesh had been carved away.
It worried her.
“Her brother was right,” she told him. “It matters that so many people are here.” She glanced over, spotted Bollimer, and the owner of the Chinese restaurant where Coltraine had ordered her last meal. “She mattered to a lot of people.”
“I know. They’ll cremate her tomorrow, and hold a memorial in a few days. I’ll go to Atlanta for that, where there will be more people she mattered to. I know, in the odd way of these things, I’ll find some comfort. But knowing you’ll find who killed her gets me from moment to moment. Will you speak to me later, tell me what you know?”
“Yes.”
Morris squeezed her hand again, then his gaze shifted over her shoulder. Eve turned to see Mira and her husband.
Mira moved naturally, simply put her arms around Morris and held him. When he dropped his head on Mira’s shoulder, Eve looked away.
Dennis Mira rubbed Eve’s arm, and made her throat burn. “When death strikes home,” he said in his quiet way, “it’s harder, I think, for those who face it every day.”
“I guess maybe it is.”
Something about him, Eve thought—his gangly frame in his oddly formal black suit—was as comforting as she imagined Mira’s hug would be. “It’s the knowing how it works, and what it leaves behind.”
He studied one of the photographs. “She was very lovely, very young.” And looked at Eve. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in uniform before. Have I?” His eyes took on that vague, distracted look that appealed to her. “In any case, you look formidable.”
“I guess I am.”
He smiled at her, then stepped up to Morris. Eve slipped away.
She took Clifton next, winding her way toward the detective where he stood with a group of cops. She caught a snippet of conversation, centering around baseball.
Meant nothing, Eve admitted. People talked about all matter of things at memorials.
“Detective.”
It took him a half a beat, Eve noted. The uniform threw him, she thought. “Lieutenant.” He shifted away from the others. “Any word?”
“We’ve got a couple of leads. We’re on them. Any thoughts of your own?”
“I told you what I know, and from what I hear you should be watching your back.”
“Should I?”
“Heard the killer sent you her badge and weapon, then tried to take you out. Smells like a cop killer who targets female officers.”
“Well. You’d be safe then.”
She watched temper kindle in his eyes. “I didn’t pick up a badge to be safe.”
“No? Did you pick it up so you could tune up suspects?”
“I get the job done.”
“You’ve got some interesting rips in your jacket, Detective.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just making conversation.”
“You homicide cops. You come in after it’s over. We’re the ones out in it every day, trying to keep assholes from killing each other.”
“Gee, I guess if you did a better job, I’d be out of one.”
He edged in on her with a little tough guy move—quick roll of the shoulders, curl of the lip. “Look, bitch, you don’t have a clue what a real cop does.”
“Oh? Then why don’t you educate me?”
The lip curl went to a sneer.
“Dak.” Cleo Grady strode up. “Newman’s looking for you. He got a bang on the Jane Street case.”
Clifton gave Eve the hard eye for another few seconds. “School’s out. I’ve got to go do some real cop work.”
“Good luck with that,” Eve said pleasantly, then turned to Cleo. “Was that true, or a way to keep your squadmate from taking a shot at a superior officer?”
“It’s true, the other part’s just good luck. We’re all wound a little tight these days, Lieutenant.”
“My impression is Clifton’s always wound a little tight.”
Cleo only shrugged. “We feel shut out some, on top of the rest. We come in here, and it hits us in the face. Somebody took her out, and we’re not part of the investigation. We don’t know you, but we know you’re looking at us. You don’t expect some resentment?”
“Resentment doesn’t bother me, Detective Grady. Murder? That just pisses me off. If Newman got a bang, why didn’t he tag Clifton instead of looking for him in the crowd?”
“You’d have to ask him,” Cleo said coolly. “But maybe to show some respect.”
“When one of you gets a bang on an ongoing when you’re off shift or separated, how do you tag each other?”
“Depends on the circumstances.”
“I’d say communicator if you’re soloing in the field. But if one of you was, say, at home, a ’link tag makes more sense. A lot of cops stash their communicators along with their weapon, their badge, and so on.”
“That’s what I’d do. If you’re asking.”
“Me, too. But I’d try the house ’link first. Hanging at home, why have your pocket on you? Except then that tag would be on the ’link. You tag the pocket, well, all you have to do is take it with you.”
“Goddamn it,” Cleo said under her breath. “You
are
looking at us.”
are
looking at us.”
“I’m looking at everybody.”
“Look all you want, while whoever did this to Ammy walks away. What kind of cop drags other cops through the blood?”
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