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“It’s all right. Why don’t you go sit with your daughter? Roarke, stay with them.”

“You’ll be all right with Reva for a few minutes, won’t you?” he asked Caro. “I’ll go with the lieutenant.” Ignoring the flash of irritation over Eve’s face, he gave Caro’s shoulder a comforting rub. “I won’t be long.”

“She said—Reva said it was horrible. And now she just sits there, and doesn’t say anything at all.”

“Keep her quiet,” Eve advised. “Keep her down here.” She started upstairs. She glanced at the leather jacket, ripped to shreds and tossed into a heap on the floor. “Did she tell you which room?”

“No. Just that Reva found them in the bed.”

Eve glanced at the room on the right, another on the left. Then she scented the blood. She continued down the hall, stopped at the doorway.

The two bodies were turned on their sides, facing each other. As if they were telling secrets. Blood stained the sheets, the pillows, the lacy cover that was tangled on the floor.

It stained the hilt and blade of the knife jabbed viciously into the mattress.

She saw a black bag near the door, a high-end stunner on the floor near the left side of the bed, a disordered pile of clothes heaped on a chair. Candles, still lit and wafting fragrance. Music still playing in soft, sexy notes.

“This is no walk in the meadow,” she murmured. “Double homicide. I have to call it in.”

“Will you stand as primary?”

“I’ll stand,” she agreed. “But if your friend did this, that’s not going to be a favor.”

“She didn’t.”

He stepped back while Eve drew out her communicator.

“I need you to take Caro in another room,” she told him when she was finished. “Not the kitchen,” she added with another glance at the knife. “There must be a den or a library or something like that down there. Try not to touch anything. I need to question—what was it? Reva?”

“Reva Ewing, yes.”

“I need to question her, and I don’t want you or her mother around when I do. You want to help her,” she said before he could speak, “let’s keep this as much by the book as we can from this point. You said she’s security.”

“Yes.”

“Since she’s one of yours I don’t have to ask if she’s good.”

“She is. Very good.”

“And he was her husband?”

Roarke looked back at the bed. “He was. Blair Bissel, an artist of some debatable talent. Works—worked in metal. That’s one of his, I believe.” He gestured toward a tall, seemingly jumbled series of metal tubes and blocks that stood in the corner of the room.

“And people pay for that?” She shook her head. “Takes all kinds. I’m going to ask you more about her later, but I want to get to her first, then take a closer look at the scene here. How long have they had marital problems?” Eve asked as she started down the hall again.

“I wasn’t aware they had any.”

“Well, they’re over now. Keep Caro tucked away,” she ordered, then walked to the living area to get her first look at Reva Ewing.

Caro sat with her arm around a woman in her early thirties. She had dark hair, cut short in a style nearly as careless as Eve’s. She looked to have a small, compact body, the athletic sort that showed off well in the black T-shirt and jeans she wore.

Her skin was icy white, her eyes a kind of sooty gray that was nearly black with shock. Her lips were colorless, a bit on the thin side. As Eve stepped closer, those eyes flicked up, stared blindly. They were red-rimmed and puffy, and showed none of the sharp intelligence Eve assumed she owned.

“Ms. Ewing, I’m Lieutenant Dallas.”

She continued to stare, but there was a faint movement of her head, as much shudder as nod.

“I need to ask you some questions. Your mother’s going to go with Roarke while we talk.”

“Oh, couldn’t I stay with her?” Caro’s arm tightened on Reva’s shoulders. “I won’t interfere, I promise, but—”

“Caro.” Roarke moved to stand beside her, reached down and took her hand. “It’s better this way.” Gently, he drew Caro to her feet. “Better for Reva. You can trust Eve.”

“Yes, I know. It’s just . . .” She looked back as Roarke led her from the room. “I’ll be right here. Reva, I’m right here.”

“Ms. Ewing.” Eve sat