Memory In Death by J.D. Robb

Author:J.D. Robb [Robb, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2011-12-26T05:00:00+00:00

Have people over.

They did some of that. Sometimes. Roarke had gotten her hooked on vids, especially the old black-and-whites from the early and mid-twentieth century. There were nights, here and there, they whiled away a couple hours that way—the way, she imagined, most considered normal. If it was normal to while away a couple hours in a home theater bigger—certainly lusher—than most of the public ones.

Before Roarke had come into her life, she'd spent most nights alone, going over notes, gnawing at a case. Unless Mavis had pried her out for fun and games. She couldn't have imagined herself like this, socked in with someone. So in tune with someone despite some of their elemental differences.

Now she couldn't imagine it any other way.

With marriage on her mind, she moved to Bobby and Zana. They hadn't been married long, so the assumption would be they'd spend a good deal of their time together. They worked together, lived together. Traveled, as least on this fatal trip, together. Memory In Death – Eve Dallas 25

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Her search turned up a passport for Bobby. The last stamp four years earlier. Australia. A couple of other, earlier trips, each spaced about a year apart. One to Portugal, one to London. Vacations, she decided. Annual jaunts. But nothing that required a passport since Australia. Other travel, maybe. Starting a new business—maybe shorter, cheaper trips. No passport for Zana, maiden name or married. Well, a lot of people never left the country. She hadn't herself, before Roarke.

But she sat back, considered. Wouldn't Bobby want to take his new bride on some big trip?

Honeymoon, whatever. Show her some part of the world, especially one he'd traveled to and enjoyed.

That was one of Roarke's deals, anyway. Let me show you the world.

Of course, maybe they hadn't had the time, or wanted to spend the money. Not yet. Maybe he'd decided to start with New York once the idea was popped by his mother. It made sense enough.

But it was something to wonder about.

She poked at the other fosters again, looking for some connection, some click. One in a cage, one dead, she thought.

But what if—

"Got your manifests here."

Distracted, she glanced over. "Already?"

"One day you'll afford me the awe I so richly deserve."

"You're rich enough to afford your own awe. What about matches?"

"If you're in a hurry, you take half." He tapped keys. "There. Transferring to you. Handle it from there?"

"I know how to do a search and match," she muttered, and set it up to run. She swiveled around to look at him. "I've got these two long shots. Just plucking out of the air. One of the fosters is in a cage. Assaults, mostly. No family, no known associates in particular. Nothing in her jacket to indicate any real smarts, or connections. But maybe Trudy tried to hit her up along the line. So this career violent tendency decides to get back some of her own. Works a deal with somebody who's close, or can get close to the mark.

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