J. Robb - Survivor in Death

But life was full of the ludicrous that ended in bloody murder.

She acknowledged Roarke when he came in. “Nothing jingles my bell on this one.” She nodded toward the screen. “Still a lot of legwork to do to cover the bases, but I think she's going down as innocent bystander.”

“Feeney and I are of the same opinion regarding the bypass equipment. It could have been homemade by someone expert in the field, with access to prime materials. If it was purchased, it had to come from military, police, or security sources. Or black market. It's not something you'd find in your local electronics store.”

“Doesn't narrow the field much, but it jibes.”

“Let's shut it down for the night.”

“Nothing much more I can do.” She ordered her machine to save, file, close. “I'm going to start here tomorrow, then leave Baxter and Trueheart on wit duty.”

“I'll take it to some of my R amp;D people tomorrow, see if anybody in my brain trust comes up with something more specific on the security system.”

“None of the vies had any military or security training-or as far as I've found, any connections thereto.” She pushed it around in her head as they walked toward their bedroom. “I can't find any link with organized crime, with paramilitary. As far as my data shows, they didn't gamble, fool around, were not overly political. The closest to an obsession I can get is the woman's devotion to nutrition.”

“Maybe something had come into their possession, even by accident, that had to be reclaimed.”

“Then if you're so damn good at B amp;E, you go in when the house is empty and you take it. You don't go in, kill everybody. The only thing taken from the house was lives. The Swishers are dead because someone wanted them dead.”

“Agreed. What do you say we have a glass of wine and relax for a bit?”

She nearly refused. She could just think, let it all wind around in her head awhile. Pace and let it play until something jiggled loose, or she was too damn fried to do anything but pass out for a few hours.

Their lives would never be like the Swishers'. She didn't want them to be, didn't think she could handle trying to navigate something quite that straightforward. But they did have a life. And lives deserved attention.

“I'd say you've got a pretty good idea. I've got to let it simmer.” She tapped the back of her head. “Since boiling it up front isn't doing the job.”

“How about this for a better idea?” He shifted so they faced each other and a dip of his head had his teeth closing lightly over her jaw.

“Getting me naked is your usual idea.”

“But with variation, and that's the key.”

It made her laugh. “Sooner or later even you have to run out of variations.”

“Now there's a challenge. Why don't we take that wine down to the pool, have a little water sport?”

“I'd say your ideas get better and-” She broke off, and sprinted when she heard Nixie scream.

SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHICH ROOM, SO COULD ONLY race toward the sounds of a child screaming. At a turn in the corridor, Roarke passed her. She kicked in so together they shot through an open door.

The bedroom was washed by soft light. The bed was a four-poster with a mountain of pillows and a lacy white spread. Someone- Summerset, she imagined-had placed yellow flowers, cheerful and bright, on a table by the window. As she bolted in, Eve nearly tripped over the cat, who was either in retreat or on guard.

In the middle of the sumptuous bed, the little girl sat, her arms lifted and crossed over her face as she shrieked as if someone was whaling on her with a hammer.

Roarke reached Nixie first. Later Eve would think it was because he was used to dealing with a female in the grip of nightmares, while she was simply used to having them.

He plucked Nixie straight up and into his arms, holding her, stroking her, and saying her name even when she struggled and slapped at him.

Eve had yet to speak or decide what best to do, when the elevator on the far wall whizzed open, and Summerset strode out.

“Natural,” he said. “Expected.”

“Mommy.” Exhausted from the fight, Nixie let her head drop on Roarke's shoulder. “I want my mommy.”

“I know, yes, I know. I'm sorry.”

Eve saw him turn his head to brush his lips over Nixie's hair. That, too, seemed natural. Expected.

“They're coming to get me. They're coming to kill me.”

“They're not. It was a dream.” Roarke sat, Nixie curled in his lap. “A very bad dream. But you're safe here, as you can see. With me, and the lieutenant and Summerset.”

He patted the bed, and the cat gathered his porky self and leaped up nimbly. “And here, here's Galahad as well.”

“I saw the blood. Is it on me?”

“No.”

“We'll get a soother in her.” Opening a wall panel, Summerset pressed buttons on a mini AutoChef. “She'll be the better for it. Here now, Nixie, you'll drink this for me, won't you?”

She turned her face into Roarke's shoulder. “I'm afraid in the dark.”

“It's not very dark, and we'll have more lights if you like.” Roarke ordered them up another ten percent. “Is that better, then?”

“I think they're in the closet,” she whispered, and her fingers dug into his shirt. “I think they're hiding in the closet.”

That, Eve thought, was something she could do. She went directly to the closet, opened it, did a complete search while Nixie watched her.

“Nobody can get into this place,” she spoke flatly. “Nobody can get past us. That's the way it is. It's my job to protect you. That's what I'll do.”

“What if they kill you?”

“A lot of people have tried. I don't let them.”

“Because you're a major butt-kicker.”

“You bet your ass. Drink the soother.”

She waited, watched, while Nixie drank, while Summerset took over. He sat on the bed, talking to the child in a quiet voice until her eyes began to droop.

And waiting, watching, Eve felt raw and scraped inside. She knew what it was to be chained in nightmares where something unspeakable came for you. The pain and the blood, the fear and the agony.

Even after it was over, the dregs of it stained the edges of your mind.

Summerset rose, stepped away from the bed. “That should help her. I have her room on monitor, should she wake again. For the moment, sleep is the best thing for her.”

“The best thing is me finding who did this,” Eve stated. “Yeah, her parents will still be dead, but she'll know why, and she'll know the people who did it are in a cage. That happens, it'll be better than a soother.”

She walked out, straight to her own bedroom. Cursing, she sat on the arm of the sofa in the sitting area to drag off her boots. It relieved a little tension to heave them across the room.

Still, she was glaring at them when Roarke came in.

“Will she have them all of her life?” Eve pushed off the sofa. “Will she relive that in her dreams all her life? Can you ever get rid of the images? Can you cut them out of your head like a fucking tumor?”

“I don't know.”

“I didn't want to touch her. What does that say about me? For Christ's sake, Roarke, a little kid, screaming, and I didn't want to touch her, so I hesitated. Just for a minute, but I hesitated, because I knew what was in her head, and knowing it, put him in mine.” She yanked off her weapon harness, tossed it aside. “So I'm standing there, looking at her and seeing my father, and the blood. All over me.”

“I touched her, and you showed her there were no monsters in the closet. We each do what we do, Eve. Why ask yourself for more than you can do?”

“Goddamn it, Roarke.” She whirled around, spun by her own demons. “I can stand over a body and not blink. I can grill witnesses, suspects, and not break stride. I can wade through blood to get where I need to go. But I couldn't cross the room to deal with that kid.” It sat in her belly like lead. “Am I cold? God, am I that cold?”