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Mavis caught up to him in the hall, tugged on his arm until he stopped and turned. “Listen, I know what you’re feeling. Been there, you know.” She offered a quick, crooked smile. “When I was scared, when they put me in a cage and part of me thought they’d just leave me there, forever, you know, I got through it because I knew Dallas wouldn’t let it happen. I knew she’d do it for me, no matter what it took.”

“Her affection for you is one of her finest qualities.”

“And you figure because the two of you don’t rub smooth she’ll let things slide?” Her eyes, colored to match her hair were round and sad. “That’s jerk thinking, Summerset. Dallas’ll work till she drops to do right by you, and I figure you know it. If somebody came after you, she’d step between and take the hit, because that’s who she is. I figure you know that, too.”

“I’ve done nothing.” He spoke stiffly now, refusing to acknowledge any shame. “I would expect an efficient detective to deduce that, whatever her personal feelings.”

“You’re down,” Mavis said gently. “You want to ventilate sometime, just give me a call.” She teetered onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll bring the brew.”

“Your young man is very fortunate in you,” Summerset managed then hurried down the hallway and disappeared through an open door.

“That was well done, Mavis.” Roarke continued down the steps now and crossed to her to take her hands.

“He’s bummed flat. Who can blame him?”

“And who could stay flat with you around?”

“It’s like my mission to bubble things up. Let’s see what we can do with the group in the parlor.” She slid a smile up at him. “Am I staying for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Despite the company, Eve managed to slip away long enough to dismiss McNab and Peabody, gather their reports and file them for later view. She cornered Summerset and, after a nasty little conversation, convinced him it would be in his best interest to report to Dr. Mira’s office at eleven A.M. for testing.

At the end of it, her head throbbed badly enough for her to resort to a dose of painkiller. Roarke found her in the bathroom, scowling at the pills palmed in her hand.

“It must be unbearable, for you to even consider a pill.”

“It’s been a long day,” she said with a shrug, and dumped the pills back into their tube. “But I can handle it.”

“We’ll run a bath. You need to relax.”

“I’ve got work.”

“Eve.” Firmly, he took her arms, turned her to face him. “This is the part of your job I hate most. The shadows it puts under your eyes, and in them.”

“I don’t have a lot of time on this one.”

“Time enough to take an hour for yourself.” Still watching her, he began to rub at the knots in her shoulders.

“I have to read the reports, extrapolate from them for the official record. I keep hitting walls.” There were nerves in her voice, and hearing them irritated her. “I haven’t been able to trace the tokens at all, and you hit it on the statue. Thousands of them available at God shops all over the known universe. Even at five hundred credits a pop, she’s a popular lady.”

She started to pull back, but his hands held her still. “I have to give Whitney something by tomorrow. I told Mira everything.”

His hands paused, a fraction of a moment, then continued kneading her muscles. “I see.”

“Maybe I should have asked you first, but I did what I felt was necessary.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing.” This time she shrugged him off. “I’m saying.” She stalked into the bedroom. Even excellent coffee could start to burn a hole in the gut. Despite it, Eve jammed at the AutoChef to program a pot. “I’m doing what needs to be done, and one of those duties is to advise you to increase your personal security until this case is closed.”

“I believe my security is more than adequate.”

“If that was the case, this bastard wouldn’t have slipped through it to shoot transmissions from this house, to arrange for hotel rooms with one of your credit accounts, to draw a woman over from Ireland in your name.”

Roarke angled his head,