J. Robb: Conspiracy in Death

"Yes, it does. The test results and evaluation clear the lieutenant in all areas and confirm her aptitude for her position. My reports have been entered into the subject's file."

"So noted," Whitney said and turned back to Eve. She hadn't moved, hadn't blinked. "The New York Police and Security Department offers its apologies to one of its finest for an injustice done to her. I add my own personal apology to it. Procedure is necessary, but it is not always equitable."

Tibble stepped forward. "The suspension is lifted and will be expunged from your record. You will not be penalized in any way for the enforced time away from the job. The department will issue a statement to the media detailing what facts are deemed pertinent and necessary. Commander?"

"Sir." Whitney's face remained passive as he picked up her badge, her weapon, held them out. Emotion sparked in his eyes when she simply stared at them. "Lieutenant Dallas, this department and myself would suffer a great loss if you refuse these."

She remembered to breathe and lifted her gaze, met his, then reached out and took what was hers. Across the room, Peabody sniffled audibly.

"Lieutenant." Whitney offered his hand across the desk. A rare grin broke out on his face when she clasped it. "You're on duty."

"Yes, sir." She turned, looked straight at Roarke. "Just let me get rid of this civilian." Watching him, she tucked away her badge, shrugged into her harness. "Can I see you outside a minute?"

"Absolutely."

He sent the sniffling Peabody a wink and walked out after his wife. The minute they were out of view, he spun her around, kissed her lavishly. "It's nice to see you again, Lieutenant."

"Oh God." Her breath hitched in and out. "I've got to get out of here without… you know."

"Yes." He wiped a tear off her lashes. "I know."

"You have to go or I'll fall apart. But maybe you could be around later, so I could."

"Get to work." He tapped a finger on her chin. "You've been loafing long enough."

She grinned, swiped the back of her unsteady hand inelegantly under her nose as he walked away. "Hey, Roarke?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

She laughed, rushed at him, leaped, and gave him a hard, smacking kiss. "See you."

"You certainly will." He flashed her one last devastating grin before the elevator doors closed him in.

"Lieutenant Dallas, sir." Peabody snapped to attention, a dopey grin on her face when Eve turned around. "I didn't want to interrupt, but I'm ordered to return your communicator." She dashed forward, shoved it into Eve's hand, and bounced her up and down in a hug. "Hot damn!"

"Let's maintain a little dignity here, Peabody."

"Okay. Can we go out later to celebrate and get drunk and stupid?"

Eve pursed her lips in thought as they headed for the glide. "Got plans tonight," she said thinking of that last flashing grin of Roarke's, "but tomorrow works for me."

"Frigid. So look, Feeney said I should tell you we've still got some details to wrap up to close this case good and tight. International connections, the East Washington angle, a full sweep of staff at the Drake, coordinating cooperative investigations with CPSD."

"It'll take some time, but we'll clean it up. Vanderhaven?"

"Still at large." She sent Eve a sidelong look. "Waverly's out of the health center. He's cleared to be interviewed any time, and he's already singing out names hoping for leniency. We figure he'll spit out Vanderhaven's hole. Feeney figured you'd want to take the interview."

"He figured right." Eve hopped off the glide, changed directions. "Let's go kick some ass, Peabody."

"I love when you say that. Sir."