The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [196]
“Bastard.” Tears dried up in eyes gone hard. Her mouth tightened to the width of a scalpel blade. “Just strolls right in to work.”
“Jesus. Jesus Christ. My head. My head.” Eve cradled it in her hands a moment. “Okay. I was going to do this later.” She dug into her pocket, pulled out a small wrapped box. “Take it now.”
“My Christmas present? That’s nice. But I’m not really in the mood to—”
“Open the goddamn thing or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
“Sir! Opening it.” She ripped the paper, stuffed it hurriedly in her pocket, and pulled off the lid. “It’s a key code.”
“That’s right. It’s to the ground transpo that’ll be at the airport over in that foreign country. Air transpo’s been arranged, for two, on one of Roarke’s private shuttles. Round trip. Merry fricking Christmas. Do what you want with it.”
“I—you—one of the shuttles? Free?” Peabody’s cheeks went pink as a summer rose. “And—and—and—a vehicle when we get there? It’s so . . . It’s so seriously mag.”
“Great. Can we go now?”
“Dallas!”
“No. No. No hugs. No hugs. No. Oh, shit,” she muttered as Peabody threw her arms around her and squeezed. “We’re on duty, we’re in public. Let me go or I swear I’ll kick your ass so hard that extra five pounds you’re whining about will end up in Trenton.”
Peabody’s response was incoherent and muffled against Eve’s shoulder. “Get snot on my coat, and I’ll strangle you with that scarf after I kick your ass.”
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” Sniffling, Peabody drew back. “It’s the ult. Thanks. Man. Oh boy, thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“I guess I’ve got to go now.” Peabody stared down at the box. “I mean, the main part of the excuse—reason. I meant reason. The main part’s flipped, so . . . Gosh.”
“Whatever.” She’d been feeling pretty good, Eve remembered. And now a frustration headache was circling just over the crown of her skull. “Do you think, maybe, we could go spend just a couple minutes on murder now? Will that fit into your schedule?”
“Yeah. I can shuffle it in. I’m good now. Thanks, Dallas. Really. Thanks. God, I have to go now. I actually have to go.”
“Peabody,” Eve said, darkly, as they entered the building. “Ice is thinning.”
“I’m nearly finished obsessing. Just another minute.”
The same droid manned the desk. Eve didn’t bother to flash her badge, but started up the steps as Peabody muttered to herself. Something about packing, a red sweater, and five pounds.
Ignoring her, Eve checked the seal on the crime scene, found it undisturbed, then continued down the hall. “Once they’re out of the room and gone, I want sweepers. Full sweep,” she added. “Cover the bases.”
She knocked, and seconds later Bobby opened the door. His face looked gaunt, as if grief had carved away some of the flesh. He smelled of soap, and indeed she could see the open bathroom doorway behind him, and the faint sheen of steam still on the mirror over the sink.
There was a murmur from the entertainment screen, as the on-air reporter recounted the morning’s headlines.
“Come in. Ah, come in. I thought you were Zana. That maybe she’d forgotten her key.”
“She’s not here?”
“She went out to get some coffee, some bagels and stuff. I thought she’d be back by now. We packed last night,” he said when Eve glanced at the two suitcases standing by the door. “We wanted to be ready to go. We just don’t want to stay here.”
“Why don’t we sit down, Bobby. We can get some of this out of the way before Zana gets back.”
“She should’ve been back by now. The message said she’d only be twenty minutes.”
“Message?”
“Um . . .” He looked around the room, one hand raking distractedly through his hair. “She set a message alarm for me. She does things like that. Said she woke up early and wanted to go down to this deli she’d seen a few blocks from here, get some stuff so you’d have coffee when you got here. I don’t like her being out there, alone. After what happened to Mama.”
“Probably a line at the