Page 40 of Bonded in Death

She shut down, walked into the bullpen.

Since she didn’t see Quilla or Nadine, she figured the interviews there were done. For now.

“That’s a smart kid, Dallas. Got a head on her shoulders,” Jenkinson added.

“Where else would it be?”

“Plenty have theirs up their asses.”

She had to nod. “They sure as hell do. I’m working from home,” she told him, then turned to Peabody. “I’m going to talk to Summerset, and Ivanna Liski if possible.”

“That’s a good angle. They both lived through it. I’ve got your consult with Mira on your schedule.”

“If you get anything more, send it.”

“Will do. I figure to see if McNab can dig any deeper than I am.”

“Do that. I’ve got an angle there. I’ll let you know if it comes to anything.”

She headed out, risked the elevator first.

Summerset would be looming in the foyer, as always, she expected. She could push there straight off. Too early for Roarke to be home, most likely, so her angle there would wait.

If Ivanna would talk to her, she could go to her, if necessary.

Clearer picture, bound to be, of what was going on in 2026 in Europe than she’d get from any research. Even firsthand accounts were secondhand by the time you read about them.

Summerset had lost his wife during the wars. She didn’t know when, only that she didn’t survive them.

She knew Ivanna had lost her husband. And had two sons from that marriage.

She knew that in the secondhand way of research once Ivanna moved to New York, and started—was it dating? Not thinking about that, Eve thought, absolutely not.

Renewed her friendship with Summerset.

That settled more smoothly.

When it occurred to her she’d already put in twelve hours and intended to put in more, she just shrugged.

Nadine wasn’t wrong. She was a hard case.

Chapter Six

The rain started as she drove out of the garage at Central.

Drivers immediately lost twenty percent of their IQs, as if rain just washed part of their brains away.

At least their driving brains.

The wet didn’t stop the ad blimps from blasting out aboutStep into Fallsales.

“It’s still summer, you freaks! It’s eighty degrees!”

She glanced at her dash.

“Eighty-three! That is not goddamn sweater weather no matter what you say.”

And they did say it, repeatedly.

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