Page 113 of Passions in Death
“I like color,” she began. “I do like color, but if they’d never invented it, getting dressed in the morning would be a hell of a lot easier. Creepy,” she realized as she strapped her weapon on. “It would probably be creepy, and make it harder to identify a fleeing suspect.”
“Boring, and creepy. That said, you look respectful and formidable in your full black.”
“I want to intimidate the hell out of my top two suspects.”
“My money’s on you, always.”
Rising, he walked to her, kissed her. “Take care of my formidable cop.”
“Plan to.” She kissed him again, added a quick, hard hug. “Yeah, it’s nice being married. See you later.”
She started out. And it flashed into her brain, just leaped inside and stuck. She turned around and went back.
“It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a goddamn mistake. It was deliberate.”
“The case?”
God, it was amazing to have someone who got her, who got it.
“The case, yeah, the frigging case, and what was in it. Not a mistake to leave it there, a deliberate shot. At Shauna. The big dream, forever ruined. Her dream, and one Erin wanted to give her, was going to give her.”
Eve started to pace. “The killer doesn’t have to take the case, the tickets, the costume, those pink shoes to the D&D, but they do. Okay, maybe cover—that’s a benefit. ‘Oh, it’s a surprise. Shh.’ But they left them for a purpose.
“To destroy the dream.”
“That’s damn right—not stupid after all. Mean, vindictive, and purposeful.”
Behind them, a dome crashed to the floor. Roarke turned to see the cat busily licking syrup from a plate.
“Bloody hell.”
“Knock it off,” Eve snapped. “Down. Now!”
When the cat leaped down, slunk away, Roarke snarled.
“Now I’m insulted. That fecking cat. That’s insulting he cowers off when you tell him to.”
“Never mind that. It’s a twofer. Erin’s dead, but Shauna not only loses her, she loses this dream she’s had. Not only loses it, but knows she was just this close to having it. Now it’s gone, it’s all gone. It was fucking deliberate, Roarke. I didn’t see it was on purpose.”
“You do now, don’t you? And I say you’re right on it. It makes a miserable sort of sense, doesn’t it then? Punish them both.”
“Not a mistake,” Eve said again, “so smarter than I gave them credit for initially. The half-assed robbery? No real choice. Have to ditch the ’link. Something on there that relates, so have to get it gone—and the rest is window dressing.”
On her next pass, she scooped up the dome, tossed it back on the table.
“A first kill—I’m sure of that, the first kill. But not as stupid as I figured. Impulse maybe—opportunity knocked, but always planned out. Always with the purpose of taking a slap at Shauna along with it. She had to pay, too.”
“Does it tell you who? As, not being a cop, I don’t see.”
“I am a cop, and I’m not sure. It works for both Lopez and Barney. In a twisted, selfish, bitchy way. But it changes things up a little. Looks like that dream wasn’t a waste of time after all.”
“I’d so much rather you come to these conclusions without scaring the life out of me.”
She stepped to him, kissed him one more time. “I’ll see what I can do going forward. The cat made a mess out of the table. See you later.”
“Good hunting,” Roarke said, and looked back at the table.
She wasn’t wrong there, he noted.
