Divided in Death

“So?”

“I won’t work in the dark, Eve. If you want my help you can’t give me tasks to perform one moment, then close me out the next. I expect you to trust me with the details.”

“You know all you need to know. When you need to know more, I’ll tell you more.”

He grabbed her arm, spun her around. “Is this your way of slapping at me because I refuse to stand on the same elevated moral ground as you?”

“If I slap at you, pal, believe me, you’ll feel it. This, and that, are two separate issues.”

“Bollocks.”

“Oh, fuck you and the big-ass dick you rode in on.” She jerked away from him and lost control long enough to shove him back.

She saw his eyes fire, but he didn’t shove back, didn’t touch her. She hated herself for resenting that he could keep that violence in line when she couldn’t.

“This is my work, goddamn it, and I don’t have the time or the luxury to think about anything else right now. You don’t like the way I’m ru

“You’ve just made my point. I’ve some concerns, reasonable concerns, about having my wife go up against the HSO. This isn’t just a murderer, or even organized crime. It isn’t some wild-eyed group of terrorists. This is one of the most powerful organizations in the world. If they’re involved in this, as it seems they must be in some aspect, it logically follows that they’d have little compunction about harming a New York City cop who got in their way. Personally or professionally harming that cop. My cop.”

“Deal with it. That’s part of the package you took on. You want to keep my ass out of the sling on this, get me the information. That’s what you can do. That’s all you can do.”

“It’s part of the package I took on,” he agreed in a tone that was dangerously soft. “You’d do well to remember the whole of the one you took on. The whole of it, Eve. You have to live with that, or without it.”

She stood, shocked to the bone, when he turned and walked away from her. Her skin went cold with it, and her stomach cramped and twisted as she rushed down the stairs out of the house. Something of it must have shown on her face as Peabody turned to her when she climbed into the car.

“Dallas? You okay?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could get out words. Her throat was burning. Punching the accelerator, she sent the car speeding down the drive, which was flanked by lovely trees and bushes begi

“Men are tough nuts,” Peabody said. “The more I’m around them, the tougher they get. It seems to me that one like Roarke would be tougher than most.”

“He’s pissed that’s all. Really pissed.” She had to press a hand to her troubled stomach. “So am I, goddamn it, so am I. But he got under my guard. He’s really good at getting under your guard. The son of a bitch.” Her breath wanted to hitch so she sucked it in, sucked it in hard. “He knows just where to jab.”

“The more somebody loves you, the better their aim.”

“Christ, he must really love me. I can’t do this now. He knows I can’t do this now.”

“Never a convenient time for relationship upheaval.”

“Who the hell’s side are you on?”

“Well, since I’m sitting beside you, and you punch really hard, I’m on yours. You bet.”

“Gotta put it away.” But she was afraid the sickness in her belly was going to plague her throughout the day. Still, she engaged the dash ‘link and took the next step.

“Nadine Furst.”

“I can’t make lunch. We’ll have to reschedule. As soon as possible.”

“All right.” Nadine didn’t bat a carefully groomed lash. “I’ll clear some time and let you know.”

“Looking forward to it.” Eve signed off.

“What the hell was that?” Peabody demanded.

“Spooks aren’t the only ones who can be covert. That was me telling Nadine to break the story that Blair Bissel was HSO, with a few selected details to confirm and expand upon. We’re going to see whose ass is red by the end of the day.”

“Roarke’s not going to be the only one who’s really pissed.”

“Thanks.” Eve managed a weak smile. “That makes me feel considerably better.”

Morris had done exactly as instructed. Because it took ten full minutes to clear her and Peabody into the morgue, she decided he was more than a little a

“What time did you get here this morning?” Eve asked his rigid back.

“Around seven. Early, as I was doing a cop a favor, or had intended to do one by coming in ahead of schedule and ru

He used his pass and a voice command to open the secured doors on one of the storage/viewing areas.

“Was this door locked?”

“It was.”

“I’ll have Crime Scene check it for tampering,” Peabody said.

“Bissel’s slot was empty,” Morris continued, and approached the wall of stainless steel refrigerator drawers. He opened one and it let out a whoosh of air and chilly white vapor. “Initially I was a

“I’ll need to speak with her.”

“She’s in her office, waiting. We ran a thorough search. His data is still here, his body is not.”

“How many bodies do you have in at this time?”

“Twenty-six. Four came in last night. There was a vehicular accident logged in at two-twenty.”

“You’ve checked all storage areas?”

Insult flashed over his face. “Dallas, this isn’t my first day on the job. When I tell you a body isn’t here, it isn’t here.”

“Okay. So you only had twenty-two before the new ones checked in at two-twenty?”

“No, we had twenty-three. Two were scheduled for disposal-city expense. Two sidewalk sleepers, unclaimed.”

“Disposal.”

Now, fresh irritation layered over the insult and made his voice an icy slash. “You know the damn drill. Unclaimed, indigent, the city cremates after forty-eight hours. We deal with them during the night shift, send them out to a crematorium.”

“Who goes with them?”

“Driver and orderly.” Because he saw where she was heading, he set his teeth. “They wouldn’t have taken Bissel by mistake, if that’s what you’re thinking. We don’t run a damn comedy hour around here. It’s serious and sensitive work to care for the dead.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, Morris.” Her own temper was begi

“Fine. There’s a staging area. Bodies slated for transfer and disposal would be logged out from storage-and the records checked-by the AME on duty, and those records would be crosschecked to avoid any mistakes. The transfer team would take them to the staging area, log them out through another series of checks. This isn’t a matter of someone mistakenly slating Bissel for disposal and leaving one of the city jobs behind. I’ve got a damn body missing. The count’s wrong.”

“I’m not thinking it was a mistake. Contact the crematorium first. See how many they did for you last night. And I want the names of the ones who transported the bodies. Are they still on site?”

“Different shifts.” Looking more worried than angry now, Morris led the way out, resecured the door. “They’d have been off by six.” He walked quickly toward his office. He called up the previous night’s schedule even as he engaged his ‘link.