The In Death Collection 06-10 (14 page)

“He said . . .” the boy closed his eyes and recited, “ ‘It’s the third but not the last. You’re quick but not too fast. No matter how much flash, no matter how much cash, no bastard son of Eire can ever escape his past. Amen.” ’ He
opened his eyes and grinned. “I got it right, told him I would.”

“Good for you. You stay right here and I’ll give you another two. Peabody.” She waited until they’d reached the landing. “Take care of the kid. Call Child Protection Services, then see if you can get any kind of description out of him. Roarke, you’re with me. Third victim, third floor,” she said to herself. “Third door.”

She turned to the left, weapon raised, and knocked hard. “There’s music.” She cocked her head to try to catch the tune.

“It’s a jig. A dance tune. Jennie liked to dance. She’s in there.”

Before he could move forward, Eve threw up an arm to block him. “Stand clear. Do it.” She opened the locks and went in low.

The barmaid who had liked to dance was hanging from a cord from the stained ceiling. Her toes just brushed the surface of a wobbling stool. The cord had cut deep into her throat so that blood trickled down her breasts. It was still fresh enough to carry that copper penny smell, still fresh enough to gleam wet against white skin.

Her right eye was gone, and her fingers, bruised and bloodied from dragging at the cord, hung limp at her sides.

The music played, bright and cheerful, from a small recorder disc under the stool. The statue of the Virgin stood on the floor, her marble face turned toward violent death.

“Fucking, filthy bastard. Bloody motherfucking son of a whore.” Roarke’s vision went black with rage. He bulled forward, shoving Eve aside, nearly knocking her to her knees when she fought to muscle him back. “Get out of my way.” His eyes were sharp and cold as a drawn sword. “Get the hell out of my way.”

“No.” She did the only thing she could think of, and, countering his weight, knocked him back against the wall
and rammed his elbow to his throat. “You can’t touch her. Do you understand me? You can’t touch her. She’s gone. There’s nothing you can do. This is for me. Look at me, Roarke. Look at me.”

Her voice barely punched through the thick buzzing in his head, but he dragged his eyes away from the woman hanging in the center of the room and stared into the eyes of his wife.

“You have to let me try to help her now.” She gentled her tone but kept it firm, as she would with any victim. She wanted to hold him, to lay her cheek against his, and instead kept her elbow pressed lightly to his windpipe. “I can’t let you contaminate the scene. I want you to go outside now.”

He got his breath back, though it burned his lungs. Cleared his vision, though the edges of it remained dark and dull. “He left the stool there. He stood her on the stool so that she could strain just enough to reach it with her toes. She could stay alive as long as she had the strength to reach the stool. She’d have been choking, her heart overworked, the pain burning, but she could stay alive as long as she fought for balance. She’d have fought hard.”

Eve lowered her elbow, laid her hands on his shoulders. “This isn’t your fault. This isn’t your doing.”

He looked away from her, forced himself to look at an old friend. “We loved each other once,” he said quietly. “In our way. We had a careless way, but one gave the other what was needed, for a time. I won’t touch her. I’ll stay out of your way.”

When Eve stepped back, he moved to the door. He spoke now without looking at her. “I won’t let him live. Whether you find him or I do, I won’t let him live.”

“Roarke.”

He only shook his head. His eyes met hers, once, and
what she read in them chilled her blood. “He’s already dead.”

She let him go, promising herself she would talk him down as soon as she could. With her eyes tightly shut, she trembled once, hard. Then she pulled out her communicator, called it in, and signaled for Peabody to bring up her field kit.

When Roarke stepped outside the building, he saw Peabody had the field kit gripped in one hand and the kid’s arm gripped in the other. Roarke thought she was wise to keep him in tow. From the look on his face he’d be unlikely to hang around now that he had four in credits in his pocket. At least he’d be unlikely to hang with a uniformed cop.

He forced himself to block the scene he’d just left from his mind and concentrate on this one. “Got your hands full there, Peabody.”

“Yeah.” She blew out a harassed breath that fluttered her razor-straight bangs. “The CPS isn’t known for being quick on its feet.” She glanced up at the building, longingly. If Eve had called for the field kit, that meant there was a scene to preserve and investigate. And she was stuck baby-sitting. “I assume it’s inadvisable to take the minor back in, so if you wouldn’t mind taking the lieutenant her kit . . .”

“I’ll mind the boy, Peabody.”

Her eyes simply lit with gratitude. “That works for me.” With more haste than tact, she handed him over. “Don’t lose him,” she warned and hustled inside.

Roarke and the boy eyed each other with cool calculation. “I’m faster,” Roarke said, easily reading the intent.
“And I’ve got more experience.” Crouching, Roarke gave the kitten a scratch behind the ears. “What’s his name?”

“Dopey.”

Roarke felt a smile tug at his lips. “Not the brightest of the Seven Dwarfs, but the most pure of heart. And what’s yours?”

The boy studied Roarke cautiously. Most of the adults in his life only knew Snow White as an illegal happy powder. “Kevin,” he said and relaxed a little as Dopey was purring hard and loud under the man’s long scratching fingers.

“Nice to meet you, Kevin. I’m Roarke.”

The offer of the man’s hand to shake had Kevin giggling at once. “Meetcha.”

The foolish and lovely sound of a child’s quick giggle lightened his heart. “Think Dopey’s hungry?”

“Maybe.”

“There’s a cart down the block. Let’s check it out.”

“He likes soy dogs.” Kevin began to skip along beside Roarke, thrilled beyond belief with his new good fortune. The new bruise was a dark and ugly contrast under the pale gray eyes.

“The only sensible choice for the discriminating palate.”

“You talk fancy.”

“It’s a fine way to make people believe you’re saying something much more important than you are.”

He held the boy’s hand lightly, then let it go when the smoke from the glide-cart puffed into the air. Kevin raced happily ahead, bouncing on his toes when he reached the cart where soy dogs and turkey hash rolls were popping with heat.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come around here?” The operator started to shove Kevin aside, snarling when the boy danced expertly out of reach. “I ain’t got no freebies for dirty little boys.” She grabbed up a long-handled,
dual-pronged fork, jabbing with it. “Keep pestering me and I’ll chop up that ugly cat and fry its liver.”

“I got money.” Kevin clutched his kitten tighter, but stood his ground. His stomach was rolling with distress and hunger.

“Yeah, yeah, and I shit gold turds. Go beg somewhere else, or I’ll blacken your other eye.”

Roarke stepped up, laid a hand on Kevin’s shoulder and had the operator shrinking back with one stony stare. “Can’t you decide what you’d like, Kevin?”

“She said she’s going to fry Dopey’s liver.”

“Just joking with the boy.” The operator grinned hugely, showing off teeth that screamed an abhorrence for basic dental hygiene. “I’ve always got a joke and a few tater snacks for the neighborhood kids.”

“You’re a regular fairy godmother, I imagine. Box up a half dozen soy dogs, three scoops of fries, a couple of fruit kabobs, a bag of pretzel twists, two jumbo tubes of—What’s your drink, Kevin?”

“Orange Fizzy Supreme,” Kevin managed, dumbfounded by the upcoming feast.

“Two, then, and a handful of the chocolate sticks.”

“Yes, sir, right away.” The operator went to work with a vengeance as Kevin stared up at Roarke, eyes wide, mouth agape.

“Want anything else?” Roarke asked as he reached in his pocket for loose credits.

Kevin only shook his head. He’d never seen that much food in one box before. Dopey, inspired by the scents, let out a wild meow.

“Here.” Roarke pulled one of the soy dogs out, handed it to Kevin. “Why don’t you take this. Go back to the lieutenant’s car—and wait for me.”

“Okay.”

Kevin turned, took three steps, then, turning back, did
something just childish enough to warm Roarke’s heart. He stuck out his tongue at the vendor then dashed off.

Roarke hefted the box of food, ignoring the operator’s oily chatter. He tossed credits onto the pay board, then stared through the smoke. “I’m in the mood to hurt someone—too much in the mood, which is why you’re still standing. But if you ever lay hands on that boy, I’ll hear about it. And it won’t be a cat’s liver that ends up on the grill. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely. Yes.” Her fingers were already snagging up credits, but her eyes stayed warily on Roarke’s. “Didn’t know the kid had a dad. Thought he was just another street brat. They’re worse than rats around here. Scavenging, making life messy for decent folk.”

“Let’s put it this way.” Roarke clamped a hand over the woman’s wrist. It took all his control not to give in to the urge to snap it like a dry twig. “It should take me about thirty seconds to walk back to where the boy’s waiting. When I get there, I’m going to turn around. I don’t want to see you here.”

“This is my corner.”

“I’d advise you to find another.” Roarke released her and hefted the box. He’d taken no more than two strides when he heard the metallic clang of the cart being moved. It was a small satisfaction. A bigger one was seeing Kevin sitting on the hood of Eve’s unit, the cat beside him, and each of them devouring half a soy dog.

Roarke joined them, set the box between him and the boy. “Dig in.”

Kevin’s hand darted toward the box then jerked back as though he was wary of a trick. “I can have anything?”

“Whatever you can stomach.” Roarke nipped out a fry for himself and noted that the cart was gone. “Is she always so unpleasant?”

“Uh-huh. The big kids call her Snitch Bitch ’cause she’s
always calling the beat droid on them. She keeps a zapper in her cart, too. She was scared of you, though, and you didn’t even try to steal anything.”

Roarke took another fry, only lifting a brow as he watched Kevin mow through the chocolate. Life, he thought, was much too uncertain for some to risk saving the best for last.

“Tell me about the man who asked you to wait for Lieutenant Dallas.”

“He was just a guy.” Kevin dug out another soy dog, splitting it in two. Boy and cat ate with the same ferocious concentration and lack of finesse. Then Kevin froze as two black-and-whites turned the corner, sirens screaming. Behind them was an NYPSD crime scene van.

“They won’t hassle you,” Roarke said quietly.

“Are you a cop, too?”

Roarke’s huge, gut-level laugh had Kevin grinning uncertainly. He would have liked to have slipped his hand into Roarke’s again as the cops streamed by, but he was afraid to be thought of as a pussy. He contented himself by scooting just a little closer, and thought fleetingly that the man smelled good, almost as good as the food.

“I needed that.” Sighing hugely, Roarke ruffled the boy’s hair. “A good laugh after a miserable morning. What I am, Kevin, is a grown-up street brat. Here, drink some of this to wash that down before you choke.”

“ ’Kay.” Taking the tube, Kevin sucked up sparkling orange. “The guy, he talked like you.”

“How?”

“You know, like singing. The way the words go up and down.” He mashed a handful of fries into his mouth.

“You can take the boy out of Ireland,” Roarke murmured. “What did he look like?”

“Dunno. Kinda tall maybe.”

“Young, old?”

Kevin’s answer was a grunt and a shrug followed by a happy belch. “He musta been hot.”

“Why is that?”

“He had a big long coat on, and a hat, and a scarf thing and gloves. He smelled really sweaty.” Kevin held his nose, rolled his eyes, then, giggling, dug for more food.

“Close your eyes,” Roarke ordered and nearly smiled at the speed with which Kevin complied. “What kind of shoes am I wearing? No peeking.”

“Black ones. They’re shiny and they don’t hardly make any noise when you walk.”

“Good. What kind was he wearing?”

“Black ones, too, with the red swipe. Hightops, like the big kids want all the time. They were beat up some. They’re better when they’re beat up some.”

“Okay. What color are my eyes?”

“They’re really, really blue. Like in a picture.”

“What color were his?”

“I . . . green, I think. Sorta green, but not like Dopey’s. Maybe they were green, but they were mean. Not mean like yours were when you talked to Snitch Bitch. His were more scared mean. That’s worse, ’cause they hit you more when they’re scared mean.”

“So they do,” Roarke murmured and draped an arm around Kevin’s shoulders. “That was well done. Lieutenant Dallas would say you’d make a good cop.”

Kevin belched again, shook his head. “Shit work.”

“Often,” Roarke agreed. “Who blackened your eye, Kevin?”

He felt the boy pull back, just an inch. “Walked into something.”

“I often had that problem when I was your age. Will your mother be looking for you?”

“Nah. She works late, so she sleeps mostly. She gets pissed if I’m around when she’s sleeping.”

Gently, Roarke took the boy’s chin in his hand until their eyes met. He hadn’t saved Jennie, he thought, and would have to live with that. But there were lost children everywhere.

“Do you want to stay here, stay with her?”

To Kevin, the man’s face looked like an angel’s. He’d seen one on screen once when he’d snuck into a vid-den. “I got no place else.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you,” Roarke said quietly. “Do you want to stay here with her, or do you want to go with the CPS?”

Kevin swallowed hard. “The CPS, they put you in a box, then they sell you.”

“No, they don’t.” But it would seem like that, Roarke knew. As a child he had chosen his father’s fists over the system. “Would you like to go somewhere else entirely?”

“Can I go with you? I can work for you.”

“One day maybe.” Roarke ran a hand over the boy’s hair. “I know some people you might like. If it’s what you want I can see about having you stay with them. You can take some time to make up your minds about each other.”

“Dopey has to go, too.” Kevin would give up his mother with her unhappy eyes and quick slaps, but he wouldn’t give up the cat.

“Of course.”

Kevin bit his lip, turned his head to look up at the building. “I don’t have to go back in there?”

“No.” Not as long as money bought freedom and choices. “You don’t.”

When Eve came out onto the street she was surprised, and a little annoyed, to see Roarke and the boy were still there. They were a few yards up the street, talking with a woman. From the navy blue suit, side arm zapper, and sour
expression, Eve pegged her as the social worker for this section of the city.

Why the hell isn’t she moving the boy along?
Eve wondered. She’d wanted the kid and Roarke gone before the body was brought out and transferred to the morgue.

“All the bagged evidence is stowed, Dallas.” Peabody stepped up beside her. “They’re bringing the victim out now.”

“Go in and tell them to hold for five minutes.”

She started toward them, relieved when she watched the social worker walk off with the boy. To her surprise the kid turned, flashed a killer smile at Roarke, and waved.

“CPS took their time, as usual.”

“Neglected children are plentiful—and no more than a chore to some.” He turned and disconcerted her by kissing her long and deep. “And some find their way alone.”

“I’m on duty here,” she muttered, casting a quick look over her shoulder to see if they’d been observed. “You should catch a cab, go on home. I’ll be heading there shortly, but I’ve got some stuff—”

“I’ll wait.”

“Go home, Roarke.”

“She’s already dead, Eve. It won’t be Jennie they bring down in a bag, just what once contained her.”

“All right, be hardheaded.” She pulled out her communicator. “Continue transport.” Still, she did her best to distract him. “So, what were you huddled with the social worker about?”

“I had some . . . suggestions as to Kevin’s foster care facility.”

“Oh?”

“I thought Richard DeBlass and Elizabeth Barrister would do well by him.” He watched Eve’s brows draw together. “It’s been nearly a year since their daughter was murdered, since they had to deal with the cancer that had
eaten away at their family. Elizabeth mentioned to me that she and Richard were thinking about adoption.”

It had been the DeBlass case that had first brought Eve and Roarke together. She thought of that now—the loss and the gain. “Life cycles, I suppose.”