Page 175 of Random in Death

“He didn’t let you see it. Can I arrange transportation for you?”

“No. No, thank you. I’m going to walk awhile, then call for a car.”

Shoulders tight, mind exhausted, she sat where she was a moment before sending Nadine a text.

Done. Full confession. Tell Jake Jenna got justice. I need to write it up, then I need to get away from this for a while. Jenkinson might give you a one-on-one. Don’t ask me now.

I won’t. We’re all wrung out. Dallas, thanks. From all of us, thanks.

She got up, walked to Reo and Mira.

“That was difficult,” Mira began. “It’s difficult to see such an active psychopath inside a young body. A challenge to find the key to unlock the psychopath for all to see.

“You and Peabody did an exceptional job in there.”

“Difficult to see, yeah. But the job was easier than I expected. He’s educated, he’s got intellect, but his arrogance, his narcissism blocks any actual smarts. It was never about getting laid. He could have paid for a fake ID, hit on a street LC. It was about hurting them, and showing them he could take what he wanted. And using his famed intellect to do it.”

“Yes.”

“You and Peabody made my job easy,” Reo told her. “We’re going to push for consecutive life terms, off-planet. Three consecutive life terms. And we’re going to get it. That’s a very dangerous individual.”

She gave Eve’s arm a squeeze. “I’m going to go start pushing. And you should find a horizontal space and get some sleep.”

“As soon as possible. Thanks.”

She walked to her office. Roarke stood from her desk, took the two steps toward her, and folded her into his arms.

“Oh. Well. I shouldn’t do this now. I still have to write it up and update Whitney.”

“He was in Observation long enough to know you did the job. And you need this now.”

“I guess I do.” And she could have stayed as they were for hours. “But I still have to write it up. We have to pack.”

“That’s done. Bags, such as they are, on the shuttle.”

“Okay, check that off. I need to make some stops on the way.”

“To the families, and the girls.”

“They deserve to hear it in person, not on a media report. Del will be thrilled to see you. I need to check if she’s still in the hospital.”

“She’s home. She texted me.”

“Good, then— Texted you? You gave her your contact?”

“I did.”

“Softie.”

“In this case, apparently so.”

Those eyes, he thought, so like Eve’s after a nightmare.

“Write your report, then we’ll make those stops.” He kissed her. “I’ll wait in the bullpen.”

After the report, after the stops, Roarke piloted the shuttle himself. Their just-you-and-me time began then and there. While he flew, she slept. Still in her in-charge outfit, including, he noted, her thick-soled boots, with her weapon still strapped on.

No dreams, he thought. Not now. And not, he hoped, for the few days they’d have alone together.