The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [3]
She took one look at the scene at the bottom of the stairs and said, “Oh, shit.”
“Don’t move. Don’t try to move,” Roarke murmured as he checked Summerset for injuries.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Eve crouched. Summerset’s always pale face was bone-white and already going clammy. She read shock in his eyes, along with considerable pain.
“It’s my leg,” he managed in a voice gone reedy. “I’m afraid it’s broken.”
She could see that for herself by the awkward angle it took below the knee. “Go get a blanket,” she told Roarke as she pulled out her pocket-link. “He’s shocky. I’ll get the MTs.”
“Keep him still.” Moving fast, Roarke whipped one of the tangled sheets over Summerset, then dashed upstairs. “He could have other injuries.”
“It’s just my leg. And my shoulder.” He closed his eyes as Eve called for medical assistance. “I tripped over the bloody cat.” Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes and did his best to smirk at Eve though the heat of the fall was rapidly turning to a cold that made his teeth chatter. “I imagine you think it’s a pity I didn’t break my neck.”
“Thought crossed by mind.” Lucid, she thought with some relief. Didn’t lose consciousness. Eyes a little glassy. She glanced over as Roarke came back with a blanket. “They’re on their way. He’s coherent, and pissy. I don’t think there’s any head injury. Take more than a spill down the stairs to crack that stone anyway. Tripped over the cat.”
“For Christ’s sake.”
Eve watched Roarke take Summerset’s hand, hold it. However she and the skinny baboon dealt with each other, she understood the man was more Roarke’s father than his own blood had been.
“I’ll get the gates, clear the MTs through.”
She headed to the security panel to open the gates that closed off the house, the expansive lawns, the personal world Roarke had built, from the city. Of Galahad there was no sign, nor Eve thought sourly, would there likely be for a while.
Damn cat had probably done it on purpose to spoil her good time because she hadn’t given him enough pancakes.
So they would hear the sirens, she opened the front door, and nearly staggered against the wall of heat. Barely eight, and hot enough to fry brains. The sky was the color of sour milk, the air the consistency of the syrup she’d so cheerfully consumed when there’d been joy in her heart and a spring in her step.
Have a nice trip, she thought. Son of a bitch.
Her ’link beeped just as she heard the sirens. “Here they come,” she called to Roarke, then stepped aside to take the transmission. “Dallas. Shit, Nadine,” she said the minute she saw the image of Channel 75’s top reporter on screen. “This isn’t a good time.”
“I got a tip. Seems like a serious tip. Meet me at Delancey and Avenue D. I’m leaving now.”
“Hold on, hold on, I’m not going down to the Lower East Side because you—”
“I think somebody’s dead.” She shifted so Eve could see the images on the printouts she’d spread over her desk. “I think she’s dead.”
It was a young brunette in various poses, some candid from the looks of them, others staged.
“Why do you think she’s dead?”
“I’ll fill you in when I see you. We’re wasting time.”
Eve motioned in the MTs as she scowled at the ’link. “I’ll send a black-and-white—”
“I didn’t give you a heads-up so you could fob this, and me, off on uniforms. I’ve got something here, Dallas, and it’s hot. Meet me, or I check it out alone. Then I go on the air with what I’ve got, and what I find.”
“Fucking A, what a day this is turning into. All right. Stand on the corner, get a bagel or something. Don’t do anything until I get there. I’ve got a mess to clean up here first.” Blowing out a breath she looked over to where the MTs examined Summerset. “Then I’m on my way.”
She clicked off, jammed the ’link back in her pocket. She walked back to Roarke, and couldn’t think of anything to do but pat his arm while he watched the medicals. “I’ve got a thing I’ve got to check out.”
“I can’t remember