Page 21 of Random in Death

“Right.” He’d have looked frosty anyway, she decided. “I’m going to check with the sweepers—they should be about done. When the last kid’s out, I need to do a run-through.”

As the sweepers packed up, she got a report.

No sign of the syringe inside the club, in the recycler, in the alley. They’d analyze the puke and work on the scuff mark. The Queen of Hair and Fiber would take the bits of fabric retrieved from the window frame.

No other evidence collected.

When she came back, McNab and Peabody sat at a table drinking fizzies. Roarke, with his sparkling water, joined them.

She walked back to the kitchen.

“I could use those lights, the music, too.”

She went out to the table.

“They’re going to cue up a recording of the song they were playing when Jenna said she got jabbed. And set up the lights, so I can see how it looked. You can both write your reports in the morning. Peabody, yours after we talk to Morris. Morgue, eight sharp.”

“Nothing like starting the day at the morgue.”

“How it goes,” McNab said. “When somebody kills you to death, a murder cop gets no rest.”

“Ha,” Eve said, and walked out on the dance floor.

Lightning white-and-blue streams crisscrossed the stage. In the club, the lights dimmed to blue as the music blasted out with a manic guitar riff.

She’d seen Avenue A play, so envisioned the setup. Drums back some and centered, the three guitars in front. One left, one right, another center.

Keyboard thing a bit to the side, and the one playing that switched off now and then, grabbed some other instrument.

All but the drummer moved around the stage a lot, she recalled, switching places, dancing around, playing to each other, playing to the crowd.

On the dance floor, under those blue lights, movement. Feet, hips, arms. Bodies brushing, bumping.

That smell of candy and sweat and teenage lust notes.

He’s watching her while she dances with her friends, surrounded by other bodies in motion.

Did he know her? Maybe, maybe not.

A pretty girl in a tiny skirt, bare midriff, hair flying, eyes bright.

Why her when there were so many others?

He knew her, or… he had to pick one, and she drew the short straw.

The lights shift from blue to red.

Onstage, Jake looks out at the dancers. All those young faces, those young bodies, caught up in the music. She looks at him, and he smiles.

And oh, her heart jumps. Her skin goes electric.

She squeals out the thrill, babbles to her friends, can barely find her breath.

He saw her!

Then, a quick, sharp pain in her arm.

Seeing it, feeling it, Eve closed her hand over her own.

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