Promises in Death by Nora Roberts & J. D. Robb

Author:Nora Roberts & J. D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction:Detective
ISBN: 9780399155482
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2009-02-24T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

IT WAS HARD, BUT EVE RESISTED HITTING lights and sirens and smoking it all the way downtown. She didn’t resist doing a seat dance while she threaded through traffic, skimmed around maxibuses, beat out the competitive Rapid Cabs at lights.

Schooling the elation out of her voice, she contacted Webster. She knew the minute he came on the sweet new dash screen of her sweet new ride, she’d rousted him from sleep.

“IAB’s got choice hours.”

He shoved the heel of his hand in his eye. “I’m not on the damn roll today.”

“Like I said. Are you alone?”

“No, I’ve got six strippers and a couple of porn stars in here with me.”

“I’m not interested in your pitiful dreams. I’m pursuing another line. I need to know if any of Coltraine’s squad’s under, or was under, IAB watch.”

“You want me to violate the privacy of an entire squad so you can pursue a line?”

Eve nearly made a snide comment about IAB and privacy, but decided against it. “I have to consider the victim didn’t leave the house with her weapon and clutch piece to have a drink with friends. I have to consider she considered herself on duty at that time. I have to consider, from her profile, she wasn’t going on duty alone.”

“Consider’s just a fancier word for guess.”

“She was a team player, Webster. She was part of a squad. I have to consider one or more members of that squad killed her, or set her up for it. If so, I have to consider that individual or individuals may have caught the interest of IAB in the past.”

“You could go through channels on this, Dallas. It’s a legitimate line of inquiry.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that one.”

“Shit. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“Use privacy mode if and when,” she told him, then cut him off. Her next move was to contact Whitney’s office and request an appointment to brief and update her commander.

Once she arrived at Central, she went straight to her office, intending to pick her way through new theories. She wanted to run several probabilities—hopefully with information pried out of Webster—before her meeting with Whitney. A second consult with Mira, she thought, pushing on the in-squad connection could add weight.

She got coffee first, then saw the report disc from Baxter on her desk.

She plugged it in, ran it while she drank her coffee. And weighing the information, sat back and mulled it over with more coffee.

She’d started the probabilities without Webster when Peabody came in.

“They announced Coltraine’s memorial,” Peabody told her. “Today at fourteen hundred, in Central’s bereavement facilities.”

“Yeah, I got that from Morris. Get a divisional memo out, will you? Anyone not actively in the field or prevented from attending by duty needs to put in an appearance. No time lost. Dress blues preferred.”

“Sure. I’ll just—”

“Hold on. Question. What would you say to the fact that Alex Ricker paid one visit, and one only, to his father on Omega eight months ago. And there’s been no correspondence of any kind recorded between them during the father’s incarceration?”

“Well .

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