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Whitney’s admin avoided her eyes altogether. “You can go right in, Lieutenant. He’s expecting you.”

Whitney sat behind his desk of command, big shoulders, big hands. His face was somber, his dark eyes direct. “Lieutenant.”

“Sir. I believe there may be a break in the Foster homicide that connects it to the drowning death of Reed Williams.”

He sat back as she gave her report, let her complete it uninterrupted. “You opted not to bring Allika Straffo in for questioning.”

“Not at this time. We wouldn’t get anything out of her, Commander. I think pressuring Mosebly will give us more juice. While they both have motive and opportunity, it’s easier to see Mosebly helping the vic into the water—or under it. They both had something to lose, but the tone of Straffo’s statement prior to being informed of Williams’s death gives it credence. She could have used the time between the murder—”

“If it was murder.”

“Yes, sir, if it was, she could have used the time to prepare, to plan how she would deal with questioning. I’m still looking at her, but Mosebly fits more cleanly.”

“And Foster?”

“It’s possible Williams poisoned him. Williams doesn’t like being pushed, and we know Foster pushed, at least on one occasion, on the sexual activities. With this new information, that Williams had been sexual with Mosebly, and if we can verify that Foster was aware of that, it turns it. Mosebly had more to lose. Foster’s knowledge compromised her position, and her sense of authority. Nobody likes their private issues made public, particularly by those under their command.”

“True enough.” His eyes remained level with hers. “Use it, and squeeze that juice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My wife and I watched you on Nadine Furst’s new program last night.” He smiled a little. “You did very well. Your demeanor and your answers were a credit to the department. Chief Tibble has already contacted me this morning to say the same.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“It’s good public relations, Dallas, and you handled yourself. It can be…difficult to become a public figure, to maintain and handle the inevitable invasions of privacy that go hand in hand with any sort of notoriety. If you feel, at any point, that pull and tug is affecting your work, I hope you’ll speak to me about it.”

“It won’t affect my work.”

He nodded. “I’ll observe the interview with Mosebly, if possible. Otherwise, I’ll review it at the first opportunity. Dismissed.”

She started out.

“Dallas? Gossip is an ugly and insidious form of entertainment. Maybe that’s why people can’t resist it. A good cop knows it has its uses, just as a good cop knows it’s often twisted and pummeled into a different shape for the purpose of the purveyor. You’re a good cop.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Though she knew he’d meant it kindly, the sting of embarrassment plagued her all the way down the glides.

Her pocket ’link signaled a message straight to voice mail before she stepped into the bull pen. She drew it out, saw from the display it was from Roarke.

The urge to simply delete without checking made her feel small and cowardly. She cursed, and played the message.

His face filled her ’link screen, and those lethal blue eyes burned into hers. “Lieutenant. I didn’t want to disturb you. If you can carve out some time today, I’d like some of it. If it’s not possible—or you’re just too bloody stubborn to make it possible—I expect to have your time and attention tonight. At home. I’ll end by saying this much. You piss me off, and still I love you with everything I am. I’d best hear from you, Eve, or I swear I’m going to kick your ass.”

She stuffed the ’link back in her pocket. “We’ll see whose ass gets kicked, pal.”

But her heart had twisted again—in pleasure or in pain, she just didn’t know.

“Hey, Dallas.” Baxter pushed away from his desk, strode after her. “Ah, nice job with Nadine last night.”

“You got something to say to me that applies to a case, Detective?”

“Not really. I just…Listen, Dallas, you don’t want to pay attention to—”

She closed her office door in his face, but not before she saw the look of concerned