Naked In Death

"That's not precisely accurate. We didn't sleep."

Mavis let out a moan. "You didn't sleep. How long?"

Eve jerked a shoulder. "I don't know. I stayed the night. Eight, nine hours, I guess."

"Hours." Mavis shuddered delicately. "And you just kept going. ".

"Pretty much."

"Is he good? Stupid question," she said quickly. "You wouldn't have stayed otherwise. Wow, Eve, what got into you? Besides his incredibly energetic cock?"

"I don't know. It was stupid." She dragged her hands through her hair. "It's never been like that for me before. I didn't think it could – that I could. It's just never been important, then all of a sudden – shit."

"Honey." Mavis snaked a hand from under her blanket and took Eve's tensed fingers. "You've been blocking off normal needs all your life because of things you barely remember. Somebody just found a way to get through. You should be happy."

"It puts him in the pilot's seat, doesn't it?"

"Oh, that's bullshit," Mavis interrupted before Eve could go on. "Sex doesn't have to be a power trip. It sure as hell doesn't have to be a punishment. It's supposed to be fun. And now and again, if you're lucky, it gets to be special."

"Maybe." She closed her eyes. "Oh God, Mavis, my career's on the line."

"What are you talking about?"

"Roarke's involved in a case I'm working on."

"Oh shit." She had to break off and blow again. "You're not going to have to bust him for something, are you?"

"No." Then more emphatically. "No. But if I don't tie it all up fast, with a nice, tidy bow, I'll be out. I'll be finished. Somebody's using me, Mavis." Her eyes sharpened again. "They're clearing the path in one direction, tossing roadblocks in the other. I don't know why. If I don't find out, it's going to cost me everything I have."

"Then you're going to have to find out, aren't you?" Mavis squeezed Eve's fingers.

She would find out, Eve promised herself. It was after ten P.M. when she let herself into the lobby of her building. If she didn't want to think just then, it wasn't a crime. She'd had to swallow a reprimand from the chief's office for veering from the official statement during the press conference.

The commander's unofficial support didn't quite ease the sting.

Once she was inside her apartment she checked her E-mail. She knew it was foolish, this nagging hope that she'd find a message from Roarke.

There wasn't one. But what she found had her flesh crawling with ice.

The video message was u

Eve recognized the angles of the official department record, the one taken to document the site of murder and justified termination.

The audio came over it. A playback of her auto-record of the child's screams. Her beating on the door. The warning, and all the horror that followed.

"You bastard," she whispered. "You're not going to get to me with this. You're not going to use that baby to get to me."

But her fingers shook as she ejected the disc. And she jolted when her intercom rang.

"Who is it?"

"He

Eve sighed and let the image of the elderly couple flip into her mind. Quiet, friendly, television addicts. "What's the problem?"

"Mr. Finestein's dead, lieutenant. Keeled over in the kitchen while his wife was out playing mahjongg with friends. I thought maybe you could come down."

"Yeah." She sighed again. "I'll be there. Don't touch anything, Mr. He

She found the apartment quiet, with Mrs. Finestein sitting on the living room sofa with her tiny white hands folded in her lap. Her hair was white as well, a snowfall around a face that was begi

The old woman smiled gently at Eve.

"I'm so sorry to trouble you, dear."

"It's okay. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Her soft blue eyes stayed on Eve's. "It was our weekly game, the girls and mine. When I got home, I found him in the kitchen. He'd been eating a custard pie. Joe was overly fond of sweets."

She looked over at He

"That's fine. If you'd stay with her for a minute please," she said to Mr. He

The apartment was set up similarly to her own. It was meticulously neat, despite the abundance of knickknacks and memorabilia.

At the kitchen table with its centerpiece of china flowers, Joe Finestein had lost his life, and considerable dignity.

His head was slumped, half in, half out of a fluffy custard pie. Eve checked for a pulse, found none. His skin had cooled considerably. At a guess, she put his death at one-fifteen, give or take a couple of hours.

"Joseph Finestein," she recited dutifully. "Male, approximately one hundred and fifteen years of age. No signs of forced entry, no signs of violence. There are no marks on the body."

She leaned closer, looked into Joe's surprised and staring eyes, sniffed the pie. After finishing her prelim notes, she went back to relieve He

It was midnight before she was able to crawl into bed. Exhaustion snatched at her like a cross and greedy child. Oblivion was what she wanted, what she prayed for.

No dreams, she ordered her subconscious. Take the night off.

Even as she closed her eyes, her bedside 'link blipped.

"Fry in hell, whoever you are," she muttered, then dutifully wrapped the sheet around her naked shoulders and switched it on.

"Lieutenant." Roarke's image smiled at her. "Did I wake you?"

"You would have in another five minutes." She shifted as the audio hissed with a bit of space interference. "I guess you got where you were going all right."

"I did. There was only a slight delay in transport. I thought I might catch you before you turned in."

"Any particular reason?"

"Because I like looking at you." His smile faded as he stared at her. "What's wrong, Eve?"

Where do you want me to start? she thought, but shrugged. "Long day – ending with one of your other tenants here croaking in his late night snack. He went facedown in a custard pie."

"There are worse ways to go, I suppose." He turned his head, murmured to someone nearby. Eve saw a woman move briskly behind Roarke and out of view. "I've just dismissed my assistant," he explained. "I wanted to be alone when I asked if you're wearing anything under that sheet."

She glanced down, lifted a brow. "Doesn't look like it."

"Why don't you take it off?"

"No way I'm going to satisfy your prurient urges by interspace transmission, Roarke. Use your imagination."

"I am. I'm imagining what I'm going to do to you the next time I get my hands on you. I advise you to rest up, lieutenant."

She wanted to smile and couldn't. "Roarke, we're going to have to talk when you get back."

"We can do that as well. I've always found conversations with you stimulating, Eve. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, I will. See you, Roarke."

"Think of me, Eve."

He ended the transmission, then sat alone, brooding at the blank monitor. There'd been something in her eyes, he thought. He knew the moods of them now, could see beyond the training into the emotion.

The something had been worry.

Turning his chair, he looked out at his view of star splattered space. She was too far away for him to do any more than wonder about her.