Judgment in Death

Avenging a loss or betrayal, Mira had said. Not revenge, avenge. And the difference was, in Eve's mind, another key. Scouring off the badge with blood to purify it.

A fanatic? she wondered. On a parallel line with Bayliss. One who tossed the rules aside when it suited his agenda.

She scouted out a parking place, pleased to find one on street level less than half a block from the Kohli residence.

Even as she pulled in, a car rolled up beside her. Distracted, she glanced over. As the doors of the blocking car swung open, her instincts kicked in. She was out of her vehicle on a forward roll and came up with her weapon drawn.

There were four of them, and she saw with one sweeping glance they were better and more heavily armed than the ones Ricker had sent after her the first time.

"No point in making a fuss here, Lieutenant." The man on the far left spoke politely and held his long-nosed laser pistol just under the open flap of a natty spring topcoat.

Out of the corner of her eye, Eve saw the one on the far right begin to circle. She considered trying for a stun-sweep; her finger all but quivered on the trigger.

And a boy of about ten zipped behind the group of men on a dented street bike. One of them plucked him off. The bike skidded down the street, and while the boy yelped, the man nudged his stu

"Him or you."

It was said almost offhandedly, and it enraged her.

"Let him go." Deliberately, she clicked the power up on her weapon.

The boy's eyes were wide and terrified. He made sounds like a small cat being choked. She couldn't risk looking at him.

"Get in the car, Lieutenant. Quietly and quickly, before i

She had a choice to make and made it fast. The weapon seemed to leap in her hand as she fired it, struck the man holding the boy between the eyes. She saw the kid fall, heard with sweet relief his screams of terror and, diving for cover, fired again.

She rolled under the car, grabbed the boy by the foot, and scraped off a few layers of his skin when she dragged him under. "Stay. Shut up."

Even as she rolled again to block his body with hers and come out on the other side, she heard the whine of another weapon.

"Drop it! Drop it, fucker, or what's left of your brains'll be leaking out of your ears."

Webster, she thought, then came out from under the car like a lightning bolt, hit her target mid-body with a full tackle, and sent him crashing to the street. She lifted his head, bounced it smartly off the pavement, then looked up to see that Webster had the only remaining problem standing, unarmed, with his hands lifted.

"You trailing me again, Webster?"

"I needed to talk to you."

She got to her feet, winced a little, and glanced down to see a long, nasty gash in her knee. "You sure run off at the mouth a lot lately. You got that one?"

"Yeah." He smiled a little at the sound of sirens. "There's the backup. I took the liberty of calling for some."

She limped over, picked up weapons, sca

The kid had shut up, she gave him that. And big, fat tears ran down his freckled face. "Come on out. It's okay."

"I want my mom."

"Can't blame you. Come on."

He crab-walked out, swiped his hand under his nose. "I wa

"Okay, in a minute. You hurt much?"

"No." His lip trembled. "Did I wreck my bike?"

"I don't know. We'll get somebody to look at it for you."

"I'm not supposed to ride in the street. My mom said."

"Yeah, well, next time, listen to your mother." She gestured to a uniform the minute the black and white pulled up. "Send somebody after the kid's bike. Give your name to this policeman," she told the boy. "He's going to take you home. If your mom wants to talk to me…"

She dug in her pockets, mildly surprised when she discovered she'd remembered her cards. "Tell her to call me at this number."

" 'Kay." He sniffed again, studying her with more interest than fear now. "Are you a policeman, too?"

"Yeah." She pulled her restraints out of her back pocket. "I'm a policeman, too."

She rolled the first man over, checked for a pulse, lifted one of his eyelids. She wasn't going to need restraints for this one.

"You couldn't risk a stun," Webster said from behind her. "You had to take a kill shot to insure the safety of the civilian."

"I know what I had to do," she said. Bitterly.

"You'd been slower, less accurate, or if you'd lowered your weapon, that kid wouldn't be going home to his mother."

"I know that, too. Thanks for the help here."

He nodded, then stood back and waited while she organized the scene and had one of the uniforms disperse the small crowd that had gathered.

The MTs rolled up, and right behind them a cab. He saw Peabody leap out, rush to her lieutenant. To his surprise, she shook her head when Eve gestured her aside. What appeared from his viewpoint to be a short, snarly argument took place. In the end, Eve threw up her hands, then hobbled over to one of the MTs to have her leg treated.

Amused, he wandered up to Peabody. "How'd you manage that?"

She was surprised to see him, and it showed, but she shrugged. "I threatened her with Roarke."

"What do you mean?"

"Reminded her that if she went home without having that gash seen to, he'd be pissed, treat it himself. And pour a pain blocker into her. She hates that."

"So, he handles her."

"They handle each other. It works for them."

"I noticed. Will you give me a minute with her?"

"It's not up to me." But Peabody walked away to oversee the transportation of the suspects.

Webster strode over to the medi-van, crouched down, and studied the gash being treated. "Not so bad, but those pants will never be the same."

"It's a scratch."

"Got grit in it," the MT stated.

"Got grit in it," she mimicked and scowled at him as he closed the cut. "I hate you guys."

"Oh, we know. My partner paid me twenty so I'd treat you instead of him." He finished the job while she sat and stewed, then stepped back. "There now. Want a lollitape?"

Because her lips quivered she didn't risk cursing him but simply got to her feet. "Easiest twenty you ever made, pal."

She walked away, still limping a little, and Webster fell into step beside her. "Now that we've had our little party, can I have a minute?"

"I've got a follow-up to do, then I've got to go in and hammer these guys, write a report…" She sighed. "What do you want?"

"To apologize."

"Okay. Accepted." But before she could walk away he took her arm. "Webster."

"Just a minute." Cautiously, he removed his hand, put both in his pockets. "I was way over the line last night, and I'm sorry for it. I put you in a bad spot. I was pissed, at myself a lot more than you, but it gave me an excuse to… Okay truth, goddamn it. I never got over you."

He could probably have given her a quick roundhouse kick in the face and shocked her less. "What? What was to get over?"

"Well, ouch. That should have my ego limping for the next couple of weeks. Let's just say I got hung up. It's not like I thought about you every waking minute for the past few years, but there were moments. And when that shit came down on you last winter and we had a few face-to-faces, it got stirred up again. It's my problem, not yours."

She considered, strained for something, but her mind stayed blank. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Nothing. I just wanted to clear it up, get it out of my gut. Roarke has every right to kick my teeth in." Experimentally, Webster ran his tongue around them now. "Which he damn near did. Anyway." He tried a shrug. "I'd like to set that aside if it's just the same to you."