Imitation in Death

“Quick work, McNab.”

He shot out his index finger, blew on it. “Fastest EDD man in the east. Lieutenant, you look well and truly beat.”

“Nothing wrong with your vision, either. TakePeabody home. Make sure she gets a good night’s sleep, which is my delicate way of saying restrain yourself from rabbiting together half the night. She needs a clear and alert mind tomorrow.”

“You got it. You might try that good night’s sleep yourself.”

“Eventually,” she mumbled, then started the process of extraditing Fortney and arranging for local authorities to meet him when he stepped off the shuttle.

Peabodybounced in. “Lieutenant, McNab said you said-”

“I should just put in a revolving door because everybody just walks in and out as they damn well please anyway.”

“The door was open. It’s almost always open. McNab said I was relieved, but I haven’t yet contacted authorities in New L.A. re Fortney, or transmitted the warrant.”

“It’s done. They’ll pick him up, ship him back, and have promised to take just enough time to ensure he’ll spend the night in a cell. He won’t wrangle a bail hearing until morning.”

“It’s my job to-”

“Shut up,Peabody. Go home, get a meal, get some sleep. The exam starts oh eight hundred, sharp.”

“Sir, I believe it might be necessary to postpone the exam as this case is at a crucial point. Fortney-and I see that my initial instincts there were right-will have to be interviewed, and you’ll want to interview Breen and try to arrange an interview with Renquist to tie the matter up. I feel it’s inappropriate for me to take a half day, minimum, for personal business during this stage of the investigation.”

“Got the jitters?”

“Well, yeah, that, too, but-”

“You’ll take the exam,Peabody. If you have to wait another three months to take it, one of us will jump off the nearest building, or more likely, I’ll just pitch you off. I think, somehow, I can muddle through the day without you.”

“But I think-”

“Report at Exam Room One, oh eight hundred, Officer. That’s an order.”

“I don’t believe you can actually order me to take…” She trailed off, swallowed hard whenEve lifted her gaze. “But, ah, I understand the spirit of the statement, sir. I’m going to try not to let you down.”

“Jesus,Peabody, you’re not going to let me down whatever you do on the exam. And you’ll be-”

“Stop.”Peabody squeezed her eyes closed. “Don’t say anything that’ll jinx it. Don’t say it, or any sentence with the word luck in it.”

“You’d better go take a pill.”

“I might.” She gave a shaky smile. “Don’t wish me the ‘L’ word, okay, but maybe you could do like a signal or a sign. You could do this.”Peabody showed her teeth in a grin, widened her eyes to show enthusiasm, and punched out her fist with her thumb sticking up.

Leaning back,Eve cocked her head. “What is that? I’m supposed to signal you to stick your thumb up your ass?”

“No! It’s thumbs-up. Jeez,Dallas. Thumbs-up. Never mind.”

“Peabody.” Eve rose, halting her aide before she could stalk out of the office. “Commencing at oh eight hundred hours, I expect you to kick exam butt.”

“Yes, sir. Thanks.”

Chapter20

WhenEve dragged herself home, there was one thought uppermost in her mind. To get herself horizontal on a flat surface for one blessed hour.

Fortney was on his way back toNew York, under wraps, and by God he could stew in a cage for a few hours. She’d deal with Breen in the morning, and Renquist. ThoughSmith was down on her list, he’d be watched for the next little while. But she couldn’t watch anyone with eyes that felt like a couple of burnt cinders stuck in her face.

She just needed to stretch out, she told herself, give her head a chance to clear. She walked through a fog of fatigue into the cool and gorgeous quiet of the house.

The fog shimmered and tore apart. And Summerset stepped through it.

“You are, as usual, late.”

She stared for a moment while her numbed brain struggled to process. Tall, bony, ugly, a

It was amazing how much better the act made her feel.

“How’d you get through airport security with that steel pike up your ass?” Ordering herself not to stagger, she bent to pick up the cat who was busy threading himself between her legs. She stroked Galahad’s head. “Look, it’s back. Didn’t I tell you to change the security code?”

“The disgrace you call a vehicle does not belong in front of the house, nor,” he added, picking up her jacket with two thin fingers, “is this the proper place for articles of clothing.”

She started up the stairs, stifling a yawn. “Bite me.”

He watched her go, smiled thinly at her back. It was good to be home.

She went straight to the bedroom, managed to make it up to the platform, where she dumped the cat on the bed seconds before she fell facedown onto it herself.

She was asleep before Galahad padded his way over and curled up on her butt.

– -«»--«»--«»--

Roarke found her there, as he’d expected from the brief report from Summerset. “Finally hit the wall, have you?” he murmured, noting she hadn’t removed her weapon harness or boots. He gave the cat an absent scratch between the ears, then settled down in the sitting area to work while she slept.

She didn’t dream, not at first, but simply lay at the bottom of a dark pool of exhaustion. Only when she began to surface did the dreams come, in vague shapes and muffled sounds. A hospital bed, with a pale figure on it.

MarleneCox, then herself as a child. Both battered, both helpless. Then the darker shapes that swirled around the bed. The cop she was, staring down at the child she’d been.

There were questions to be answered. You have to wake up and answer the questions or he’ll do it again, to someone else. There’s always another victim.

But the figure in the bed didn’t stir. The face changed: from her own to Marlene’s, toJacie Wooton’s, toLois Gregg’s, then back to her own.

Something began to rise up inside her that was both anger and fear. You’re not dead, not like the others. You have to wake up. Damn it, wake up and stop him.

One of those swirling shapes coalesced, stood on the opposite side of the bed. The man who’d battered the child, and haunted the woman.

It’s never really over. His eyes were bright with humor in his bloody face. It never ends. There’s always going to be another, no matter what you do. You might as well sleep, little girl. Better to sleep than to keep walking with the dead. Keep walking, and you’ll be one of them.

He reached over, pressed his hand over the child’s mouth. Her eyes opened, full of pain, full of fear.Eve could only stare, unable to move, to protect, to defend. Only stare into her own eyes as they glazed over, and died.

She woke with a strangled gasp, and in Roarke’s arms.

“Ssh. You’re just dreaming.” His lips pressed against her temple. “I’m right here. Hold on to me. Only a dream.”

“I’m okay.” But she kept her face buried against his shoulder until she got her breath back. “I’m okay.”

“Hold on to me anyway.” For he wasn’t, never really was, when she wandered through nightmares.

“No problem.” She could already feel her pulse begin to level off and the ugly smear of terror over her mind fade. She could smell him-soap and skin, and there was the lovely brush of his hair against her cheek.

Her world steadied.

“What time is it? How long was I out?”

“It doesn’t matter. You needed to sleep. Now you need food, and more sleep.”

She wasn’t going to argue. She was starving. More, she recognized that tone in his voice, and it meant he’d find a way to pour a soother down her throat if she gave him the smallest opening.