J. Robb - Survivor in Death

“I'd hoped… well, it may be for the best on all sides. She would remind them of their loss, and they of hers.”

“It's not best for her to end up a ward of the court. I may have another possibility. I know some people who'd qualify to take her on. I was thinking maybe we could contact Richard DeBlass and Elizabeth Barrister.”

“It's a good thought.”

“They took that kid, the boy, we found on a murder scene last year.” Eve shifted, not entirely comfortable with the role of family planner. “I figure they decided to foster him because their daughter was murdered. Though she was an adult, and-”

“Your child is always your child. Age doesn't factor.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I guess they wanted another chance to… whatever. I know Roarke waded in with that kid, ah, Kevin. Gave them a little nudge to take him in. From what I know, it worked out okay, and like I said, they're qualified. Maybe they'd consider taking in another.”

“I think it's a very good idea. You'll talk to them.”

Boggy area, Eve thought. “Ah… I need to talk to Roarke because he knows them better. I'm the cop who closed their daughter's murder case-and uncovered some ugly family secrets. He's their friend. But if this pans out, I'm going to need you to add your weight with GPS.”

“You've given this considerable thought.”

“No, but it's the best thought I've had on it since Mrs. Dyson dropped the boomer on me this morning. She's been kicked around enough. I don't want her kicked around by the system that's supposed to protect her.”

“Once you've talked to Roarke, let me know. We'll work to get what's best for Nixie. I should go up to her now.”

“Ah, just one more thing.” Eve got out the photograph Dave Rangle had given her. “Her father's partner sent this for her. Swisher kept it on his desk. His partner figured Nixie would want it.”

“What a lovely family,” Mira said as she took the photograph. “Yes, she'll want this. And it couldn't come at a better time. She'll see this, remember this, and imagine them this way rather than as they were at the morgue.”

She looked back at Eve. “Wouldn't you like to give this to her yourself?” When Eve only shook her head, Mira nodded. “All right, then. I'll take it to her.”

Mira turned toward the steps, stopped at the base. “She doesn't know how hard that was for you, to stand with her while she said good-bye to her family. But I do.”

Upstairs, Summerset sat with Nixie in his lap. “They didn't look like they were sleeping,” she said, with her head on his chest, his heart beating in her ear. “I thought maybe they would, but you could tell they weren't.”

His long, thin fingers stroked through her hair. “Some people believe, as I do, that when we die the essence of ourselves-the spirit or the soul-has choices.”

“What kind?”

“Some of those choices might depend on how we've lived our lives. If we've tried to do our best, we might then decide to go to a place of peace.”

“Like angels on a cloud.”

“Perhaps.” He continued to stroke her hair as the cat padded into the room, then leaped up to join them on the arm of the chair. “Or like a garden where we can walk or play, where we see others who made this same choice before us.”

Nixie reached out, petted Galahad's wide flank. “Where Coyle can play baseball?”

“Yes. Or we might decide to come back, live again, begin a new life at the very start of it, inside the womb. We may decide to do this because we want to do better than we did before, or right some wrong we may have done. Or simply because we're not quite ready to go to that place of peace.”

“So maybe they'll decide to come back, like babies?” The idea made her smile a little. “Would I know them if I got to meet them some time?”

“I think you would, in some part of your heart. Even if you don't realize it, you recognize in your heart. Do you understand?”

“I guess. I think so. Did you ever recognize somebody who had to die before?”

“I think I have. But there's one I keep hoping I might recognize one day.” He thought of his daughter, his beautiful, lost Marlena. “I haven't found her yet.”

“Maybe she made the choice to go to the garden.”

He bent to touch his lips to Nixie's hair. “Maybe she did.”

Summerset waited nearly an hour, monitoring Eve's office until he sawPeabody leave the room. He hoped whatever task she'd been sent to perform took long enough for him to finish what he had to do.

When he stepped into Eve's office, she was just coming out of the kitchen with another mug of coffee. Her hand jerked slightly, lapping hot liquid over the rim.

“Oh, fuck me. Consider this area police property and restricted to tight-assed fuckwits I don't want around. Which is you.”

“I only need a moment of your time. I would apologize.”

“You would what?”

His voice was as stiff as hers and only went more rigid. “I would apologize for my remarks earlier. They were incorrect.”

“As far as I'm concerned, your remarks are always incorrect. So fine. Now make tracks. I'm working.”

He would damn well finish swallowing this hideous crow. “You brought the child here for safe-keeping, and you've seen that she's been safely kept. I'm aware that you're working diligently to identify and capture the people who killed her family. It's visibly apparent that you're giving this considerable time and effort as you have circles under your eyes and your disposition is even more disagreeable than usual due to lack of proper rest and nutrition.”

“Bite me.”

“And your clever repartee suffers as a result.”

“How's this for clever repartee?” She jabbed her middle finger into the air.

“Typical.” He nearly turned and left. Very nearly. But he couldn't forget that Nixie had told him Eve stood with her when she'd said good-bye to her mother.

“She had a very hard day, Lieutenant. Grieving. And when I coaxed her to take a nap, she had another nightmare. She asked for you, and you wouldn't… couldn't,” he corrected, “be here. I was overwrought when you arrived, and I was incorrect.”

“Okay. Forget it.”

When he turned to leave, she took a deep breath. She didn't mind giving as good as she got, when it came to cheap shots. It was harder to give as good when it was conciliatory. But if she didn't, it would itch at her and distract her from the work.

“Hey.” He stopped, turned. “I brought her here because I figured it was the safest place for her. And because I figured I had someone on site who'd know how to take care of a nine-year-old girl. Knowing she's comfortable with you gives me the space I need to do what I have to do.”

“Understood. I'll leave you to do it.”

It's about time somebody did, Eve thought as he left. Then she sat down, propped her feet on her desk, sipped her coffee. And studied her murder board while the computer ran the next search.

EVE MADE NOTES FROM SEARCH RESULTS, RAN probabilities, continued her notes. She was tired of riding a desk on this one. She wanted action. Needed to move.

Instead, she rolled her shoulders, went back to her notes.

Kirkendall v. Kirkendall to Moss.

To Duberry. To, most likely, Brenegan.

To Swisher, Swisher, Swisher, Dyson, and Snood.

To Newman.

To Knight andPreston.

Kirkendall to Isenberry.

Isenberry to Tully and Tully to Rangle.

No harm to Tully or Rangle, with countless opportunities.

Target specific.

And all circling back to Kirkendall v. Kirdendall.

“What time is it inNebraska?”

“Ah.”Peabody blinked her tired eyes, rubbed them. “Let's see, it's five-twenty here, so I think it's an hour earlier there? Do they do daylight savings? I think. An hour. Probably.”