Page 115 of Random in Death

“As soon as,” he agreed, and drove through the gates.

“Gonna work the private school angle hard,” she muttered. “I’m going to know him when I see him. I really think I’ll know him. And maybe we’ll get a picture tomorrow. Yancy’s gold, so maybe.”

“Will he try again? Not with Kiki, with another.”

“He has to.” She slid out of the car. “Tonight was a failure. Scientific mind, right?”

As they walked into the house, Roarke slid an arm around her waist.

“Of the mad variety, I’d say.”

“I sucked at science, but even I know when an experiment or project hits a snag, you go over it step-by-step, maybe make some tweaks. Then you do it again.”

“Maybe he’ll take a few days to do that going over and tweaking.”

As they walked into the bedroom, she shook her head. “He’s still a teenage boy. They’re impatient. They want gratification, and they want it now. Add in the rest, the craving, the misogyny, the arrogance, all that?”

She stripped off her jacket, her weapon harness. Sat and thought about drumming up the energy to take off her boots.

When Roarke did it for her, she smiled.

“I could go for some hot, sweaty sex with you, but I don’t think I’ve got a round in me.”

“Happily, I’m not a teenage boy, and can wait for that gratification.”

“Appreciate it. And add to all I said, he’s already got the next time and place picked. He’s scoped it out, done his research, his calculations. He’s not going to let some stupid little bitch who couldn’t hold still for two seconds ruin all his work.”

Knowing her preference when she only wanted sleep, he handed her a nightshirt.

“Thanks. I’ll bang you like a marching band on the island.”

“A marching band?”

“They got drums, right? Lots of drums. Bang, boom, bang. And Jesus, McNab was right. The brain can sizzle.”

“In you go now.”

When she rolled into bed, the cat rolled, then padded his way up to turn a couple lazy circles before settling again.

“He’s awake now,” she murmured when Roarke slipped in beside her. “Staring at the ceiling, going over those steps, considering those tweaks. And under the fear, because it’s there, the fear, he aches. He aches like an addict jonesing for a hit. Because he missed, and instead of gratification, instead of release and pleasure, there’s that craving. Eating away.”

She curled herself against Roarke as the cat curled himself against her back.

“Sleep now.”

“Oh yeah,” she agreed, and dropped right out.

Someone else didn’t sleep, but lay, just as she’d imagined, staring at the ceiling. Aching in the dark.

He’d done everything right, everything according to plan.

All he’d found from the media flashes told him she’d been transported to a hospital. Not even her name, not that he gave a good damn about her name. But it was the one he’d chosen, the redhead. The media said an incident at the theater, the opening of the idiotic vid.

She’d die at the hospital then. Even the partial dose should take her down. They wouldn’t know why—just some trampy girl going down—so how could they treat her in time to counteract what he’d gotten into her?

Life support maybe, but brain-dead.

The jacket, that must’ve done it.