The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [403]
“I can handle it.”
“Surely as someone who was victimized, and so intimately, by this very plot, Ewing can’t be blamed for the actions of a man who used and deceived her.”
Reva offered the irate Tokimoto a weak smile. “Sure I can. It’s the way of the world.”
“Some of that backlash may come sooner than later,” Eve continued. “Bissel’s body is missing.”
She watched, watched carefully. Reva’s face went blank as if she’d just heard a phrase in an unknown language. Beside her, Tokimoto jerked in his chair, then reached out without looking and closed his hand directly over Reva’s.
So, Eve surmised, Roarke was right again. She should never bet against the house.
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Reva spoke carefully. “I don’t think I understand.”
“I’ve spoken with the ME, who informed me that Bissel’s body is no longer in the morgue. We’ll proceed on the assumption that it was removed.”
“But . . . why would anyone take . . .” Reva’s hand came up, rubbed at her throat as if pushing the words out of a clog. “I just can’t follow this.”
“It’s my job to follow it. Can you verify your whereabouts last night?”
“You’re cruel,” Tokimoto said softly.
“I’m thorough. Reva?”
“Yes. Yes. Um. We had dinner in. My mother and I. We watched screen. Her idea, all comedies. We ate popcorn, drank wine. I had a lot of wine.” She sighed. “We sat up until about one. I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up about four. She’d covered me up. I just rolled over and went back to sleep. Best sleep I’ve had in days.”
“All right. I need the civilians to go back to the lab.” She looked directly at Roarke. “I’d like a complete progress report by fourteen hundred.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would.” He walked to Reva, offered her a hand to bring her to her feet. “Would you like some air first, or a moment to yourself?”
“No. No, I’m fine. Let’s get to work. Let’s just get to work.”
Eve waited until Roarke shut the door, after one last cool look at her.
“Wow.” McNab gave a mock shudder. “Chilled down in here.”
“Button it, moron,” Peabody said under her breath. “Sorry, Lieutenant, the five hundred tiny little braids have cut off the circulation to his brain.”
“Hey.”
“Let’s move on. I’ve run numerous probabilities, none of which has been satisfactory or particularly enlightening. It all depends on how I input the data. But what it comes down to is we don’t yet know what we’re dealing with. Covert operations, a rogue agent, family violence. What we do know is we have three murders, one missing body, a connection in Jamaica.
“Chloe McCoy was killed for what she knew or had in her possession. The autopsy confirmed that she had inserted birth control. She was expecting a lover. The only lover who has come to light is Blair Bissel.”
“Who’s dead, and among the missing,” Feeney put in.
“There’s little doubt she believed she was expecting Blair Bissel. This was a naive, theatrical, and gullible young woman. Play it right and she would’ve believed her lover had risen from the dead and was coming over to play—to tell her all, to seek her help, to ride off into the sunset with her. The killer had only to gain access to her apartment, keep her calm, induce her to drink the drugged wine. I’m Blair’s friend, associate, brother. He asked me to explain everything to you. He’ll be here as soon as it’s safe.”
“She’d have let him in,” Peabody agreed. “She’d have loved the excitement of it.”
“She certainly would have let him in if it was Blair Bissel.”
McNab stifled a snort. “Risen from the dead.”
“He wouldn’t have to, if he’d never died at all. If he’d set it up.”
“The body was identified, Dallas,” Peabody said. “Prints, DNA, the whole shot.”
“He was HSO, so I’m not ruling out falsified identification. But McCoy throws it off for me. If she had something, knew something, why not take care of it before you perform the main act? Then there’s motive. Why die—taking your lover, setting up your wife? There’s nothing in his files to indicate he was in any trouble with Homeland. From all appearances, he had it locked. Sexy secret