In Death 20 - Survivor in Death by J. D. Robb

Author:J. D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

While Roarke showed Nixie how a river was built on an off-planet colony, Eve met with Yancy.

“Give me good news.”

“How about cautiously good?”

He was young, and what Peabody would have called a cutie. And he was the best Ident artist in the city. Eve tracked him down in his domain, a generous cube filled with comp screens, portables, paper sketch-pads, and pencils.

“How cautiously?”

“Your wit’s enthusiastic, and she’s got a good eye. Our favor. She’s also prone to what I call dramination. She’s rocking on the drama, and using her imagination to juice it all up. I can work with that, and we’re making progress.”

“Where is she?”

“In the crib. Hey, Peabody.”

“Just settled her in,” Peabody said as she joined them. “Got her an entertainment screen, extra pillows, a meal, a brew.”

“A brew?” Eve demanded.

“You said within reason,” Peabody reminded her. “Not within regs. She’s happy, though she squawked some about having to give up her pocket ’link, and not having access to another. Anyway, she’s down, and I’ve got Invansky babysitting.”

“I wonder—just a thought that passes through my mind—why our wit is watching screen and drinking brew instead of giving us a picture of a couple of stone murderers.”

“My call, Lieutenant.” Yancy held up a hand. “She was tapped for the night. She’s given us a good start, but she was starting toward hyperbole. She comes back to what we’ve got fresh, it’s a better chance other details will spring for her.”

“Okay, okay.” Eve raked both hands through her hair, at war with her own impatience. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“Split screen,” he ordered, scooting over. “Current images.”

Eve looked at rough sketches—rougher, she noted, than usual when working with Yancy. Both were of square-faced, square-jawed men she’d judge to be in their early forties to early fifties. The eyebrows were straight and pale, the mouths grim but sensuously full. Dark watch caps were pulled low over both foreheads, and most of their upper faces were concealed by them and the dark, wraparound shades.

“You’ve got to ditch the shades. I need best probability on the eyes.”

“I will. I’m going to work some from these, but I’ve got a better chance of hitting it closer after I have another session with Ophelia.”

“I can’t go out with this, Yancy.”

“Give me until tomorrow. She’s got a good eye, like I said, but it’s more impressionistic, more big-picture. It’ll take a little more work for me to finesse the details out of her.”

“Just how much is she going to forget while she’s slurping down a brew and watching vids? I’ve got two cops in the fucking morgue.”

“I know what I’m doing.” For the first time in her memory, Yancy shoved up and into her face. “Just because I never worked with Knight or Preston doesn’t mean I’m stringing this out. You want results, get off my ass.”

She could have slapped him down for it. Nearly did. God knew she wanted to take a swing at someone. Close ranks, she thought, and sometimes you end up taking a bite out of one of your own.

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