Divided in Death

“I’d say HSO didn’t give a damn about the cops.”

“Okay.” She could focus on that, pinpoint some of the rage on that. “They’d consider Ricker the prime directive. The Atlanta operation was major, but it wasn’t the whole ball. Maybe they were too focused on bringing down Ricker, crushing his network and doing the victory dance that they didn’t figure a small cog like Patrick Roarke was going to screw all sides. But it’s unconscionable they’d let cops die that way.”

“They knew about you.”

“What?”

“They knew there was a child in that bloody room with him. Female, minor child. The bastards knew.”

When her eyes went glassy, he cursed. Shoving the table away, he pushed her head between her knees. “Take it slow, breathe slow. Christ, Christ, I’m sorry.”

His voice was a buzz in her ears. His beautiful voice, murmuring in Gaelic now as his control wavered. She could hear it wavering, feel it in the quiver of his hand on the back of her head. He was kneeling beside her, she realized. Suffering as much, if not more, than she was herself.

Wasn’t that strange? Wasn’t that miraculous?

“I’m okay.”

“Just give it a minute more. You’re trembling yet. I want them dead. Those who knew you were trapped with him and did nothing. I want their blood in my throat.”

She shifted enough to rest her cheek on her knee and look at him. At the moment, he looked every bit like a man who could rip out another’s throat. “I’m okay,” she said again. “It’s not going to matter, Roarke. It’s not, because I survived, and he didn’t. I need to read the file.”

He nodded, then just laid his head on hers.

“If you’d blocked this from me”-her voice was thick but she didn’t try to clear it-”it would’ve set me back. It would’ve set us back. I know this isn’t easy for you either, but telling me… Trusting us to get through it, that’s going to make it better. I need to look at some of this data.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“No, I’ll go with you. We’ll look at it together.”

They went back in his private room, and read what he brought up on screen together.

She didn’t sit. She wasn’t going to let her legs go weak on her again. Not even when she read the field operative’s report.

Sexual and physical abuse involving minor female purported to be subject’s daughter. No recorded data on minor, no birth mother or surrogate registered. Intervention is not recommended at this time. If subject becomes aware he is being observed, or if any social or law-enforcement agency is informed of the situation with minor female, subject’s value would be compromised.

Recommend nonaction re minor female.

“They let it go.” Roarke spoke softly, too softly. “I hate fucking cops. Saving your presence,” he added after a moment.

“They’re not cops. They don’t give a rat’s ass about the law, much less about justice. They sure as hell don’t give a damn about an individual. It’s all big picture to them, always was, from the moment they formed at the dawn of the Urban Wars, it was big picture and fuck the people in it.”

She packed away her rage, her horror, and continued to read. It wasn’t until she came to the end that she had to reach out, lay her hand on the console for balance.

“They knew what happened. They knew I killed him. My God, they knew, and they cleaned up after me.”

“For security, my ass. To cover their own culpability.”

“It says… it says the listening devices planted were defective and shut down that night. What are the chances?” she drew a deep breath and read the section again.

Surveillance returned at seven hundred and sixteen hours. No sound or movement recorded on premises for six hours. Assumption that subject had moved on during dark period caused field agent to risk a personal check of room. Upon entering, agent observed subject DOS. Cause of death determined to be multiple stab wounds inflicted with small kitchen knife. Female minor child could not be located on premises.

No data on premises pertaining to Ricker or Roarke. On orders from Home, area was cleaned. Body disposal team notified.

Minor child, female, believed to be subject’s daughter, located under medical observation. Severe physical and emotional trauma. Local authorities investigating. Minor has no identification and will be assigned a social caseworker.

Subsequently local authorities unable to identify minor child, female. Minor subject unable to remember and/or relate name or circumstances. No co

Case file Troy is closed.

“Is there a file on me?”

“Yes.”

“Did they make the co

“I didn’t read it.”

“Aren’t you just full of willpower?” When he didn’t speak, she turned away from the screen, and took a step toward him.

He took one back. “Someone will pay for this. Nothing will stop me. I can’t kill him, though God, I’ve dreamed of it. But someone will pay for standing by, standing back, and letting this happen to you.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“Aye, by God it will.” Some part of the fury he’d held inside him since reading the reports lashed out. “There are balances, Eve. You know it. Checks and balances, that’s what makes your precious justice. I’ll have my own on this.”

She was cold, already so cold, but his words, the look of him now all but numbed her. “It’s not going to help me to think about you going off and hunting up some spook assigned to this over twenty years ago.”

“You don’t have to think about it.”

A little bubble of panic rose in her throat. “I need you focused on the work-do what you promised to do.”

He stepped around the console, up to her. His eyes were blue ice as he took her chin in his hand. “Do you think I can or will let this go?”

“No. Do you think I can stand back and let you hunt someone down and mete out your personal sense of justice?”

“No. So we have a problem. In the meantime, I’ll give you whatever you need from me on this case. I won’t fight with you over this, Eve,” he said before she could speak. “And I won’t ask or expect you to change your moral ground. I only ask you do the same when it comes to me.”

“I want you to remember something.” Her voice wanted to shake. Her soul wanted to tremble. “I want you to think about this before you do something you can’t take back.”

“I’ll do what I have to do,” he said flatly. “And so will you.”

“Roarke.” She gripped his arms, and was afraid she could already feel him slipping away from her. “Whatever happened to me back in Dallas, I came out of it. I’m standing here because of it. Maybe I have everything that matters to me, including you, because of it. If that’s true, I’d go through it all again. I’d go through every minute of the hell to have you, to have my badge, to have this life. That’s enough balance for me. I need you to think about that.”

“Then I will.”

“I need to get ready for the morning briefing.” To think about something else-anything else. “So do you. This has to be put away for now. If you can’t put it away, you’re no good for me, or your friend.”

“Eve.” He said it gently, as he’d loved her gently, and he brushed the tear she hadn’t been aware of shedding from her cheek.

She broke when his arms came around her. And because they did, she burrowed into him and let herself weep.