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“Give me the name of the tourist.”

“I can’t do it.” She pushed impatiently at her mane of hair. “Dallas, even if I knew, I couldn’t do it. A source is a source.”

“Is this your story?”

“No.”

“Then he’s not your source.”

Nadine shook her head. “I’ll only go so far over, same as you. If you’re thinking this guy was a plant, I don’t see how he could’ve been. But I’ll look into it. I will promise if I smell a setup, I’ll spill.”

Satisfied, Eve nodded. “Tell me one thing. How much they shell out for this?”

“Dallas—”

“Off the record, Nadine. For both of us. I’m just curious.”

“One cool mil for twenty seconds of feed.”

“I guess he really hit the jackpot. I know you didn’t have to do this. I won’t forget it.”

“So, you owe me one.”

“I don’t like to owe. Something’s going to bust,” she said after a moment. “Likely within the next day or two. Don’t bother to ask any questions, I won’t answer. When it goes down and I’m cleared to talk about it, I’ll give you an exclusive.”

“Within an hour after it goes down.”

“I can’t promise that. At the first possible opportunity.”

“Good enough. I’ve got to go. And I was never here.”

When the door was closed again, Eve slid in the new disc, ordered a run.

She saw Greene’s balcony, saw the door swing open. He came out fast, he came out bloody. The image bobbled as the operator jerked at what he saw through his viewer, and she heard his gasping oath. But he was cool enough to zoom in.

Yes, he looked like a monster, Eve thought. Blood literally dripping from his fingers, his hair. His mouth was wide, his eyes wild and red as a demon’s. He hacked at the air with the knife, beat a fist against his own head.

He raced from one end of the terrace to the other, batting at the air as if swatting at insects. Then gripping the knife in both hands, he threw back his head. And plunged it into his own chest.

“Holy shit.” Jamie stood in the doorway leading to Roarke’s office. His jaw was slack, his gaze riveted to Eve’s view screen.

“Goddamn it. End run. That door was closed.”

“Sorry. Roarke asked me to. . . I was just getting something for him and wanted to ask you—doesn’t matter.” He took a steadying breath, scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “That’s the guy from yesterday, right? Yesterday’s homicide.”

“You should be in the lab.”

“I’m part of this team.” His chin came up. “My grandfather was a cop, and I’m going to be one. I’ve seen blood before. I killed a man.”

“Shut up.” She snapped it out, striding over to close the door behind him. “There’s an official report, with my name on it, that states Alban was killed during the struggle to disarm and arrest. You want to fuck me over, Jamie, you keep saying you killed a man.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to mess you up.” Something of what he felt for her, the core of love he tried to bury under a blanket of teenaged cool, surfaced on his face. “I’d never do that, Dallas.”

Because she saw it, she eased back before it embarrassed them both. “Okay.”

“This is between you and me. I know you kept me out of the briefing yesterday, and I can figure why. You didn’t think I should see something like that.” He nodded toward the screen. “The new guy, Trueheart, he’s what? Three years older than me? Maybe four. What’s the difference?”

“He’s wearing a uniform.”

“So will I.”

She studied his face. Something in those gray eyes was already half-cop. “Yeah. Yeah, you will. Look, I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. There’s a lot of bad shit out there. You see too much of it too soon, it can swallow you up before you get started.”

“I’ve already seen a lot of it.”

“There’s more that’s just as bad. There’s more that’s worse. You get through the Academy, you put on the uniform. That’s soon enough to start dealing with it.”

“Okay.”

“Now scram. And do me a favor. I’ve got a meeting, a private meeting in a few minutes. Keep everyone the hell out of here.”

“Sure.” He grinned and looked terrifyingly young. “Trueheart’s got a little thing for you.”

“Get out.”

As he laughed, she gave him a shove and shut the door in his face. She went back to