The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [369]
Alex let out a half laugh. “That’s something.” He turned, offered Roarke his hand. “Thank you.”
They were close to the same age, Roarke mused, and both started their lives with men who enjoyed spilling blood. Alex as the prince, and himself as the pauper.
Despite some of the basic similarities, and for all of Alex’s polish and his background of privilege, Roarke sensed the naive.
“Something your father wouldn’t have told you,” he began. “Taking blood, it leaves a mark on you. No matter how it’s done, or how it’s justified, it leaves a mark that goes in deep. Be sure you’re willing to wear that mark before you take the blood.”
Back in the car, Roarke deactivated the recorder built into his cuff link. He considered removing the microstunner inside his boot, then left it where it was. You just never knew.
Both were prototypes currently in development, made of materials undetectable by even the most sensitive scanners currently available. He knew, as his company was also developing the scanner that would detect them.
Always cover both ends of the game, he thought.
Part of him regretted he couldn’t tell Alex that he wasn’t Eve’s prime suspect. Or even a suspect in her mind at this point. But that, too, was up to the lieutenant. But he could regret. He’d had a mother, too. A mother who’d loved him, and who his father had killed. Outlived her usefulness, hadn’t she? Become an annoyance. Yes, he could feel for Alex there.
He could feel even as he wondered at the man’s lack of awareness. A man who’d let love walk away rather than give ground, or try at least to find the middle of it. And now, Roarke mused, couldn’t see what was staring him square in the face.
His ’link signaled. His lips curved when he read Darling Eve on the display. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
“Hey. I’ve got a favor. Can—where are you?”
“I’m in transit at the moment. I had a meeting.”
“Is that . . . you had a meeting on Coney Island?”
“I did. A pity it was so early in the day and I couldn’t treat myself to the roller coaster. We’ll have to come back, you and I, and make up for it.”
“Sure, when I’ve lost my mind and want to rush screaming through the air in a little car. Never mind. Favor. I need to—”
“Answer a question first, and I promise to grant whatever the favor might be.”
Suspicion narrowed her eyes. He loved that look.
“What kind of question?”
“A yes or no for now. Question, Lieutenant. Is Max Ricker behind Detective Coltraine’s murder?”
“What, do you have me wired? Have Whitney’s office bugged?”
Roarke glanced at his cuff link. “Not at the moment. I take that as a yes.”
“It’s not yes or no. I suspect, strongly, that Max Ricker is behind it.”
“That’s good enough for me. What’s the favor?”
“I need your fastest off-planet transpo. New York to Omega Colony.”
“We’re going to Omega?”
“No, Callendar and another e-detective will be. I think Ricker’s pulling some strings up there, believe his communication and visitation records have been wiped or doctored. I want to know who he’s been talking to. It can take twenty-six hours or more to get to Omega by regular means.”
“I can cut that by more than a third. I’ll arrange it, and get back to you with the details.”
“Okay. I owe you.”
“A roller-coaster ride, at least.”
“No, I don’t owe you that much.”
He laughed when she clicked off. After arranging the flight, passing the information back, Roarke settled down and thought of Max Ricker.
Time had to stop, Eve thought, as she changed into dress blues. The dead deserved their moment, she supposed that was true enough. But in her mind, memorials were for the living left behind. So time had to stop, for Morris. She might do Coltraine a hell of a lot more good in the field, or working her way to getting Alex Ricker in the box. But there were other duties.
She pulled on the hard black shoes, stood and squared her uniform cap on her head.
She walked