Page 156 of Obsession in Death

“It’s not on you, Dawson.”

“She’s one of mine. I worked with her. And I... didn’t see her.”

“Nobody could see her the way she wanted. Even she can’t. Don’t carry this one. Leave it to Mira, and probably a platoon of shrinks. Crazies out there, Dawson, all over the damn place.”

“Came into my house.”

Eve glanced toward the bullpen. “Mine, too. Sweep it out.”

He let out a breath, half a laugh, nodded. “Yeah. I’m going home. My wife’s going to kick my ass for being late.”

“Bet she won’t.”

She went into her office, started the report.

“Must you?” Roarke said from the doorway.

“I want it done tonight. Over, like the year. I want it out of my head—much as I can manage. It won’t take long, just a summary since it’s all on the record.”

“Then I’ll be in your bullpen having a drink with your cops.”

She froze in place. “A drink? What do you mean, a drink?”

“They’re all of them off duty, by two hours now, I’d say. And someone who won’t be named happened to have a bottle of whiskey handy.”

“Feeney,” she hissed.

“You didn’t hear it from me. Make it snappy, will you, Lieutenant? I want this out of my head as well.”

She made it as snappy as she could, but even then it took more than an hour. He’d come back in by then, settled into her awful chair with his PPC.

“Done. Finished. Gone.”

“And my abused ass here thanks you.”

“How much did you drink?”

“We all had one, and that was enough. A bit of solidarity after the war, you could say. A bit of the strange, even after all this time with you, to find myself in a cop shop, clicking a glass of Irish with a room of cops. Feeney’s going to want a bit of time with you.”

“What? Why?”

“He was shaken down to the soles of his feet, Eve. Christ. So you’ll have a meal with him, or a beer, whatever suits the pair of you, soon as you can.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“And now, you don’t actually want to go to Times Square, do you?”

“No!” The horror of it all but exploded on her face. “Jesus.”

“Ah, thank all the gods for that.” He let out a long sigh as they stepped out into the garage. “I’ll tell you what I want to do when we get home.”

“It’s what you want to do all the time, anywhere.”

“It’s not till after midnight for that, however eager you are, so we start the new year off with good luck. What I want to do when we get home is get drunk with my wife. And watch the ball drop from the quiet of our own home, with the fire going and the cat sprawled out with us. And every bit of the insanity in this world outside and away from us.”

“I could get drunk.” She nodded at the idea as she got into the car. “Not a whole lot drunk, not just a tiny bit drunk. Just the right amount of drunk.”

“The perfect amount of drunk,” he agreed. “I need another minute.”

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