• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

It was like Ms. Hallywell said about being on stage. If someone forgets a line or says the wrong one, you have to be able to think, in character, and keep going.

She kept her eyes closed and smiled inside when she heard her father.

“My wife is fighting for her life.”

“Your wife tried to take her life. I’m sorry.” The lieutenant’s voice was calm. “I hope she makes it. Sincerely.”

“So you can charge her with two murders? Allika could never hurt anyone.”

“But herself? Look, again, I’m sorry. I’m not saying we’re going to charge her. I’m telling you now, as a favor, that we have to weigh this act in. If and when she’s able to talk, I’m going to have to question her. It’s hard on you, and God knows it’s hard on your kid. I’m trying to give you some time to prepare.”

“Just go. Just go and leave me alone with my family.”

“I’m leaving. I’ll be back if she comes out of it. Oliver…take care of yourself and your daughter. The kid’s been through more than any kid should have to handle.”

Rayleen kept her eyes closed as she felt her father sit down beside her. As he gently, gently stroked her hair. And she kept them closed when she heard him begin to quietly weep.

She wondered how long she’d have to wait to get pizza and a fizzy.

Eve pulled her communicator out as she headed down. It signaled in her hand before she could use it to tag Peabody.

“Dallas.”

“You clear?” Peabody asked.

“Yeah, heading out. Allika’s critical, on life support. Chances slim. I got a guard on her door and another with med training inside her room. Louise was on.”

“Handy.”

“Yeah. I heard her tell Straffo he should spend as much time as possible in her room with her, talking to her, telling her to fight. Might help. Who the hell knows? The kid’s playing it out perfectly, but she didn’t stump Mira, not this time. So we’re getting some weight.”

“We’ve got more. I found the diary.”

Eve had to stop herself from doing a victory dance as she pushed out the hospital doors. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“You’re damn straight. Took freaking hours.”

“Where?”

“In the kitchen recycler. I went over every damn inch of this place, kept the uniforms on to help. Why the hell didn’t I think of the recycler first?”

“How much is left?”

“All, I’d say, as it’s inside a fancy metal box embossed with her name. I can tell there’s a book inside it—the weight, and it thumps around when I shake it. Only went through one cycle, I think. Banged up. Locked tight, too. Lock’s too small for a master, and it’s caved in. Probably have to cut through it.”

“I’m swinging by to get it. Roarke will beat the lock.”

“Mag. I’ll touch on McNab, tell him to put Valentine’s on hold.”

“No.” Eve climbed into her vehicle. “It’s going to take time to put all this together. Fucking tricky business. I’ll take the diary, log it in and out of evidence.”

“Already logged it in by remote.”

“Even better. For now, you go home, have a drink, have sex with McNab if you must.”

“I must,” Peabody concurred. “I must.”

“Be sure to block video if I tag you later. I don’t wish to be struck blind. We’re going to put this together, and we’re going to lock it down.”

She clicked off. “Rayleen, you little shitbag,” she mumbled. “I got you.”

While Eve drove, contacting both Whitney and Mira to update, Roarke selected the champagne he wanted for dinner.

He’d worked most of the day, and very soon, he hoped, both he and Eve would put their responsibilities aside. And just enjoy each other.

He knew she’d be pleased, and get a good laugh out of his choice for the meal. For their intimate, at-home dinner for two, he’d chosen pepperoni pizza. A personal favorite of hers.

He’d also selected what could loosely be called lingerie for her dinner attire. She’d laugh at that, too. And he would certainly enjoy seeing his wife in the red silk chemise trimmed with white ermine.

As she hadn’t contacted him to tell him she’d gotten hung up, he thought the chances were good they’d make that dinner at eight. He’d decided they’d dine in Prague,