Fantasy in Death - J. D. Robb [96]
“Fine. I’ve got plenty to say.”
As Roarke took her out, Eve gave them a moment. It was just enough time for Benny to elbow his way through the crowd.
“What’s going on? What did you say to her?”
“Very little. She needs to blow off some steam. It’ll be better blown outside where it doesn’t upset anyone else.”
“God.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, then watched, as Eve did as Cill paced and pointed, threw up her hands. And Roarke stood, listening. “She’s better off mad,” Benny said at length. “I’d rather see her pissed off at you, at everything, then so damn sad.”
“Does she know you’re in love with her?”
“We’re friends.” His shoulders stiffened.
“It would be hard working with someone every day, as closely as you work together, and having those feelings. It’s a lot to hold in.”
“We’re friends,” he repeated. “And that’s my personal business.”
“Lieutenant Dallas.” Tight-lipped, Var strode up. “This isn’t right. You can’t come here now and interrogate us, anyone. This is for Bart.
His parents deserve ... What’s Cill doing out there with Roarke?”
“Blowing off some,” Benny said. “No, come on.” He took Var’s arm as Var turned toward the door. “Let her work it out. Let’s not do this today, okay? Let’s just not do this today.”
“You’re right. Okay, you’re right.” Var closed his eyes, dragged both hands through his skullcap of hair. “Look, can’t you leave us alone today?” he asked Eve. “Just leave us alone while we get through this. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”
“I’m not here to hassle you. I came to pay my respects to Bart’s parents as I was the one who had to tell them he was dead.”
“Oh hell.” Benny let out a long breath. “Sorry. I guess ... sorry.”
“We’re the ones who have to be here for them now, and for each other. We get you’re doing what you have to do. Well, Benny and I do,” Var corrected with another glance through the glass. “It’s going to take Cill a little longer. It’s personal for her. It’s routine for you, we get that.”
“Murder’s never routine.” She glanced back at the screen, at Bart. “It’s always personal. He’s mine now, every bit as much as he’s yours. Believe me when I say I’ll find who killed him. Whatever it takes.”
She walked away thinking she’d planted the seeds. Now she’d see how long it took them to sprout.
She went out to her car, leaned against it and watched Roarke and Cill. He was doing the talking now. Or most of it. Cill shook her head, turned away with her hands pulling at her hair until the tidy plait frayed.
But she was winding down, Eve judged, and within a few moments was weeping against Roarke’s chest.
Eve waited them out, wished fleetingly for coffee as she started a search for property using the warehouse and the four apartments to triangulate. She glanced up as Roarke walked to her.
“So, how’s your day so far?” she asked him.
“Up and down. You’re still a bitch, by the way. But she’s decided I’m not a heartless fuck using Bart’s death for my own gain.”
“Good thing I pride myself on my bitchery. I don’t know how many things light her fuse, but once it’s lit, it’s short.”
“Yes. I should tell you I felt obliged to let her know we had a project nearly ready for marketing that’s similar to theirs.”
“I bet she loved hearing that.”
“I always considered you champion of creative swearing, but I believe she’d give you a run.” Like Eve, he studied the building, the shapes and movements behind the glass. “When I managed to cut through some of the blue, I gave her some details. You wouldn’t understand,” he added. “It’s technical.”
“And I don’t speak geek. Why? Why did you tell her?”
“When I was in, we’ll say, the habit of stealing, I didn’t mind being accused of it. My people have worked very hard on this project, and don’t deserve to have that work diminished. She’s a very bright woman, and with the details I gave her understands full well we’re ahead of their curve, not only on timing, but on certain elements. That doesn