Ceremony in Death (25 page)
Authors: J. D. Robb
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #New York (N.Y.), #Women Sleuths, #Mystery Fiction, #Police, #Romantic suspense fiction, #Police Procedural, #Political, #Policewomen, #Police - New York (State) - New York, #Dallas; Eve (Fictitious Character)
“Get the hell back,” Roarke demanded. “He’s mine.”
They rolled over in a violent tangle of limbs to discover only two of them were still conscious.
“Did he hurt you?” Roarke’s eyes were still wild when he grabbed her arms. “Did he put his hands on you?”
“No.” She had to be calm now, she realized, for he wasn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure what Roarke was capable of when he was in this state. “He never touched me. You took care of that. I’m all right.”
“You were taking care of yourself, as usual, when I got here.” He lifted her hand, stared at the blood seeping from the abrasions on her wrist, and lifted it to his lips. “I could kill him for that. Just for that alone.”
“Stop. It’s part of the job.”
He was struggling to accept that. His jacket was ruined, a bloody mess, but he took it off and wrapped it around her. “You’re naked.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I don’t know what they did with my clothes, but I’d just as soon be wearing something other than skin when the troops get here.”
She rose, discovered she wasn’t entirely steady on her feet. “They drugged me,” she explained, shaking her head to clear it as Roarke moved her away, eased her down to sit on a clear spot on the floor.
“Just get your breath back. I have to put out that fire.”
“Good thinking.” She drew a couple of cleansing breaths as he used one of the robes to smother the flames flicking along the floor. Then she shot to her feet, cried out. “No. Jamie, don’t.” She took the first running steps forward, but it was already too late.
Face white, Jamie got to his feet. The knife still wet with Alban’s blood was in his hand. “They killed my family.” His eyes were huge, the pupils pinpricks as he offered the knife to Eve. “I don’t care what you do to me. He won’t ever kill anyone else’s sister.”
She heard the footsteps rushing through the outside door, and following instinct, gripped the athame by the handle so that her own fingerprints were on it. “Shut up. Just shut the hell up. Peabody.” Eve turned as her aide rushed in, weapon drawn. “Get me something to wear, will you?”
Peabody’s breath came out in three unsteady puffs as she scanned the carnage. “Yes, sir. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Cross and Alban ambushed me, drugged me up, and got me here. They’ve both confessed to the murders of Frank Wojinski and Alice Lingstrom, Lobar, Wineburg, and conspiracy to murder Trivane. Alban killed Selina, for reasons I will detail in my report. Alban was killed during the struggle to contain him. It was confusing, I’m not sure exactly how it happened. I don’t think it matters.”
“No.” Feeney stood beside Peabody, scanned Jamie’s face, then Eve’s. And he knew. “I don’t think it matters now. Come on, Jamie, you shouldn’t be in here now.”
“Lieutenant, with respect. I think it would be best if you and Roarke went home and cleaned up. You’re a little too in tune with the season, so to speak.”
Eve glanced at Roarke, grimaced. Blood and smoke coated his face. “You look disgusting.”
“You should see yourself, Lieutenant.” He slipped an arm around her. “I think Peabody has a point. We’ll find a blanket. That should be sufficient to get you home without you freezing or getting arrested.”
She wanted a bath so desperately she could have wept. “Okay. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Dallas, it isn’t necessary for you to come back tonight.”
“An hour,” she repeated. “Secure the scene, call the ME. Get that boy an MT. He’s shocky. Contact Whitney. He’ll want to know what happened here, and I want Charles Forte released as soon as possible.”
Eve tugged Roarke’s jacket more securely around her. “You were right about him, Peabody. Your instincts were on target. They’re good instincts.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“Use them again. If that boy says anything that doesn’t jibe with my brief statement of the events, ignore him. He’s emotionally wrecked and in shock. I don’t want him questioned tonight by anyone.”
Peabody nodded, kept her eyes carefully blank. “Yes, sir. I’ll see that he’s taken home. I’ll remain on scene until you return.”
“Do that.” Eve turned, started to button the jacket.
“By the way, Dallas?”
“What, Peabody?”
“That’s a lovely tattoo. New?”
Eve clamped her teeth together, strode toward the door with as much dignity as she could manage. “See?” She jabbed a finger into Roarke’s chest as they walked down the corridor. “I told you I’d be humiliated by that stupid rosebud.”
“You’ve been drugged, slapped, tied up naked, and nearly killed, but a rose on your butt humiliates you?”
“All that other stuff’s the job. The rosebud’s personal.”
Laughing, he swung his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. “Christ, Lieutenant, I love you.”
The End
