New York to Dallas - J. D. Robb [31]
“No.” Mira spoke quietly now. “I expect you to go, to do your job, to find him, and to stop him.”
“You just wanted me to break down first?”
“Yes, exactly. I care about you, Eve. You’re so much more to me than another case file. I care about you as I do about my own children, and am perfectly aware those feelings can and do make it difficult for both of us from time to time.”
She let out a sound, a mix of sorrow and regret. “A mother protects her child above all. She also has to let her go, but not without being sure her child is prepared and armed and ready. If you couldn’t admit to yourself and to me those fears, those doubts, you couldn’t be ready. Now I can let you go, even wishing I could stop you.”
“I don’t want to go.” The breath Eve let out scraped at her throat like nails. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”
“I know. He’ll use whatever he knows about your history, like salt in a wound. He’ll play mind games, prodding where you’re most vulnerable. I need you to promise you’ll contact me if you need help.”
Eve walked back, sat. “It makes it difficult from time to time, on my end, because my memories of a mother are twisted and ugly. She hated me. That’s the foremost memory I have of her. The hate in her eyes when she looked at me. So I don’t know how to respond when the offer of, I guess, a maternal type of affection and support is . . . pure or whatever.”
“I understand that. It’s something we can delve into deeper when you’re ready.” Mira laid a hand over Eve’s. “Promise you’ll let me know if you need my help.”
“I do. I will.”
Rising, Mira started for the door, stopped. “You’re stronger than you were, and you were always strong. You’re smarter than you were, and you were always smart. You have more because you let yourself give and take more. He hasn’t changed since you stopped him. You have. Use that,” she said, and opened the door.
“Commander,” Mira said when Whitney came back in. “In my opinion, Lieutenant Dallas is clear for this assignment.”
“The choice is yours, Lieutenant.”
“You know I’ve made it, sir.”
“Very well. Lieutenant Ricchio has cleared you as well, and to take another investigator at your discretion. If you want Peabody, I’ll have it done.”
“Peabody’s needed here, Commander. She’s studied the case files, already has the research and data on the partner. As well as a suspect in custody for accessory who may have more information. I want her to continue to work the case from here. To work it as primary.”
“That’s your call.”
“I’ll brief her. I’ll take Roarke, as expert consultant, civilian, if he’s available.”
“Make whatever arrangements you deem best, and contact me when you’re in the air.” He drew a disc from his pocket. “Data on Ricchio, Detective Jones, the other detectives and officers you’ll most likely work with.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s . . . thorough.”
“I know my cops,” he said briefly. “It’ll save you from running them. Good hunting, Lieutenant.”
She hurried back to Homicide. She’d have time to think, review, plan on the trip, but for now she had to move fast.
She spotted Peabody eyeing the dubious choices at Vending outside the bullpen. “Peabody, with me.”
She went straight through into her office.
“I’ve got Stibble holding. I was just going to grab some lunch, then—”
“Grab it later. McQueen’s in Dallas. He grabbed Melinda Jones, one of his former vics, last night.”
“Is she alive?”
“Assumed. He left a message for her twin sister. I’ve been invited down there to play with him.”
“To—” Peabody broke off, shut the door. “Does he know what happened to you there?”
“Undetermined.” As she spoke, Eve