The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [571]
And she supposed as their marriage was approaching its second year, she’d better stop crabbing about it. Resigned, she pushed back from the desk.
“You’re still here.” Her aide, Peabody, stopped in the doorway of her office. “I thought you had some fancy dinner deal uptown.”
“I got time.” A glance at her wrist unit brought on a little tug of guilt. Okay, she was going to be late. But not very. “I just finished up on the glide diver.”
Peabody, whose summer blues defied all natural order and managed to stay crisp in the wilting heat, kept her dark eyes sober. “You wouldn’t be stalling, would you, Lieutenant?”
“One of the residents of our city, who I am sworn to serve and protect, ended up squished like a bug on Fifth Avenue. I think he deserves an extra thirty minutes of my time.”
“It must be really rough, forced to put on a beautiful dress, stick some diamonds or whatever all over you and choke down champagne and lobster croquettes beside the most beautiful man ever born, on or off planet. I don’t know how you get through the day with that weight on your shoulders, Dallas.”
“Shut up.”
“And here I am, free to squeeze into the local pizza place with McNab where we will split the pie and the check.” Peabody shook her head slowly. The dark bowl of hair under her cap swayed in concert. “I can’t tell you how guilty I feel knowing that.”
“You looking for trouble, Peabody?”
“No, sir.” Peabody did her best to look pious. “Just offering my support and sympathy at this difficult time.”
“Kiss ass.” Torn between annoyance and amusement, Eve started to shove by. Her desk ’link beeped.
“Shall I get that for you, sir, and tell them you’ve gone for the day?”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Eve turned back to the desk, took the transmission. “Homicide. Dallas.”
“Sir. Lieutenant.”
She recognized Officer Troy Trueheart’s face as it popped on-screen, though she’d never seen its young, All-American features so strained. “Trueheart.”
“Lieutenant,” he repeated after an audible swallow. “I have an incident. In response to . . . oh gosh, I killed him.”
“Officer.” She pulled his location on-screen as she spoke. “Are you on duty?”
“No, sir. Yes, sir. I don’t know, exactly.”
“Pull yourself together, Trueheart.” She slapped out the order, watched his head jerk as if he’d felt it physically. “Report.”
“Sir. I had just clocked off shift and was on my way home on foot when a female civilian shouted for assistance from a window. I responded. On the fourth floor of the building in question an individual armed with a bat was assaulting the female. Another individual, male, was unconscious or dead in the hallway, bleeding from the head. I entered the apartment where the assault was taking place, and . . . Lieutenant, I tried to stop him. He was killing her. He turned on me, ignored all warnings and orders to desist. I managed to draw my weapon, to stun. I swear I intended to stun, but he’s dead.”
“Trueheart, look at me. Listen to me. Secure the building, call in the incident through Dispatch and inform them that you’ve reported to me and I’m on my way. I’ll call for medical assistance. You hold the scene, Trueheart. Hold it by the book. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I should’ve called Dispatch first. I should’ve—”
“You stand, Trueheart. I’m on the way. Peabody,” Eve commanded as she strode out the door.
“Yes, sir. I’m with you.”
There were two black-and-whites, nose-to-nose, and a medi-van humped between them at the curb when Eve pulled up. The neighborhood was the type where people scattered rather than gathered when cops showed up, and as a result there was no more than a smattering of gawkers on the sidewalk who had to be told to stay back.
The two uniforms who flanked the entrance eyed her, then exchanged a look. She was brass, and the one who could well put one of their own rank’s balls in the