Tags:
Fiction,
Mystery & Detective,
Women Sleuths,
Mystery Fiction,
Police,
Political,
Police Procedural,
New York (N.Y.),
Policewomen,
Romantic Suspense Fiction,
Police - New York (State) - New York,
Dallas; Eve (Fictitious Character)
help you.”
She whirled and ran out, leaving Eve cursing.
“That seemed remarkably unsuccessful,” Roarke commented as he came up behind her.
“The girl’s whacked out, but she’s terrified.” Eve heaved a long breath and rose. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” She signaled Peabody, then headed for the door.
Outside, a thin fog crept along the ground, stealthily, like twining gray snakes. Rain, thin and chilly, was just beginning to slick the street.
“There she is,” Eve murmured when she caught sight of Alice rushing around the corner. “Headed south. Peabody, tail her, make sure she gets home safe.”
“Got her.” Peabody headed off at a half trot.
“That kid’s a mess, Roarke. They’ve fucked with her in every way possible.” Disgusted, she dug her hands into her pockets. “I probably could’ve handled it better, but I don’t see how it would help to encourage her delusions. Spells and curses and shape shifters. Jesus.”
“Darling Eve.” He kissed her brow. “My own practical cop.”
“The way she tells it, she was practically the bride of Satan.” Grumbling, Eve started for the car, turned on her heel, and paced back. “I’ll tell you how it went, Roarke. She wanted to play, wanted to dabble in the occult, and she ran into real bad news. She’s a naive, pretty girl, and it doesn’t take a crystal ball to see it. So she went to one of their meetings, or whatever the hell you call them, and they drugged her. Then they gang-raped her. Bastards. She’s drugged and in shock and vulnerable to suggestions, and it’s easy for a couple of professional cons to convince her she’s part of their cult. Pull a couple of magic tricks out of their hat and fascinate her. Use sex to keep her in line.”
“She got to you,” Roarke murmured and touched her hair, brushing away the wet.
“Maybe she did. Damn it, did you look at her? She’s well-named. Looks like that kid in the fairy story. Probably believes in talking rabbits, too.” Then she sighed, struggled to put her emotions back into place. “But we’re not in a fairy story here. She claims she walked in on a ritual murder. A little boy, she said. I’ve got to get her in to Mira. A shrink will be able to sort out the fact from fiction. But I believe that murder was fact, and if they killed one child, they’ve killed more. People like them prey on the helpless.”
“I know.” He reached out to rub the tension in her shoulders. “Close to home?”
“No. It’s not like what happened to me. Or you.” But there were enough echoes to unnerve her. “We’re still here, aren’t we?” She laid a hand on his but frowned into the shadows. “Why didn’t Frank make a log of what she’d told him? Why the hell did he go solo on this?”
“Maybe he did make a log. A private one.”
She blinked, stared at him. “God, how could I be so slow!” She clapped her hands on either side of his face and kissed him hard. “You’re brilliant.”
“Yes, I know.” He jerked her back as a figure darted out of the shadows and over the ramp. “Black cat,” he said, simultaneously uneasy and amused at himself. “Bad luck.”
“Yeah, right.” She started up the ramp, cocked her head as the cat sat at the side of Roarke’s car, watching her out of bright and glittering green eyes. “You don’t look hungry, ace. Too sleek and glossy for an alley cat. Too perfect,” she realized. “Must be a droid.” Still, she crouched, reached out to stroke. The cat hissed, arched, and swiped. Eve would have found her palm laid open if she hadn’t been quick enough to dodge. “Well, that’s friendly.”
“You should know better than to offer your hand to strange animals — or droids.” But he stepped in front of Eve to uncode the car and kept his eyes on the gleaming green of the cat’s. When Eve was in the car, he spoke softly. The cat’s fur bristled, its tail switched, then it leaped nimbly from the ramp to the street, and it was
Matt Christopher, Daniel Vasconcellos, Bill Ogden