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“Nadine, I can’t.”

Undaunted, Nadine helped herself to coffee, sat in Eve’s battered visitor’s chair, crossed her legs. “The public has a right to know, and I, as media representative, have a responsibility to—”

“Save it. We can go through the dance, but you’ve brought me these nice doughnuts and I don’t want to waste your time.” Giving Nadine a moment to stew, Eve licked sugar off her thumb. “I’m going to issue a press release, give a statement, and you’ll have it along with the other media reps within the hour. But I can’t give you a head start, or agree to a one-on-one. I need to pull back a little—”

Nadine was finished stewing and ready to cut to the core. “What makes this case different? If there’s to be some sort of media shutdown—”

“Stop. Shift out of reporter mode for one goddamn minute. You’re a friend of mine. I like you, and beyond that I think you do a good job, a responsible one.”

“Great, fine, and right back at you, but—”

“I’m not shutting you out. The fact is, I’m treating you as I would any other media rep.”

Except, Eve thought, for the doughnut gorging and private chat. “My tendency to show favoritism toward you is one of the reasons you were pulled into the Stevenson case last month.”

“That was—”

“Nadine.” It was the quiet patience in Eve’s tone—something rarely heard—that had Nadine subsiding again. “There were complaints. And there’s speculation of the sort that could bring us both grief if I don’t throttle back on the cop/ reporter relationship a bit. So I can’t feed you this time. I need the rumbles to quiet down before I start to be known as Furst’s pet, or you as mine. Enough reporters get together and start crying foul and favoritism, it’s not going to be good for either of us.”

Nadine hissed through her teeth. She’d heard the complaints, and the speculation, and had already weathered some resentment among her own rank and file. “You’re right, and that’s a pisser. Doesn’t mean I won’t hound you, Dallas.”

“Goes without saying.”

The battle light shone in her eyes again, and matched the sharp little smile. “Or bribe your men.”

“I like brownies, especially the ones with those chunks of chocolate in them.”

Nadine set the coffee down, got up. “Listen, if you need to leak something, give Quinton Post a try. He’s young yet, but he’s good, and the work matters to him as much, maybe even a little more, than the ratings. That won’t last,” she added cheerfully. “But you might as well get him while he’s fresh.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Alone, Eve refined her official statement, then ran it through channels. Carting the bakery box back into the bull pen, she dropped it on the communal AutoChef.

All movement stopped. Silence fell.

“Peabody,” she said into the breathless hush, “with me.”

She’d barely hit the doorway when the riot of rushing feet and clamor of voices erupted behind her.

Cops and doughnuts, she thought. A well-honored tradition that almost brought a sentimental tear to the eye.

“I bet there were jelly-filled. I bet there were,” Peabody muttered as they muscled onto an elevator.

“Some of them had those little colored sprinkle things on top. Like edible confetti.”

Peabody’s square and sturdy jaw wobbled with emotion. “All I had time for this morning was reconstituted banana slices on a stale bagel.”

“You’re breaking my heart.” At garage level, Eve strolled off the elevator. “Carmichael’s first stop. We’re catching him between his morning aqua therapy and daily skin treatment.”

“You could’ve saved me one. One little doughnut.”

“I could have,” Eve agreed as they climbed in her vehicle. “I could have done that. In fact . . .” She rummaged around in her pocket, pulled out an evidence bag. Inside was a jelly doughnut. “I believe I did.”

“For me?” Overjoyed, Peabody snatched it, sniffed through the bag. “You saved me a doughnut. You’re so good to me. I take back everything I was thinking—you know, how you’re a cold, selfish, doughnut-hogging bitch and all that.