Survivor in death by Nora Roberts & J. D. Robb

Survivor in death by Nora Roberts & J. D. Robb

Author:Nora Roberts & J. D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction:Detective
ISBN: 9780399152085
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Published: 2005-08-15T07:00:00+00:00


13

“That was just weird.” eve went straight to her desk to check any incomings the minute

Summerset led Nixie out of the office.

Roarke poured the last of the coffee from the pot into his cup before he rose. “Spending twenty minutes over breakfast is considered fairly normal in some primitive societies.”

“And now I'm behind.” She scanned the ME reports on Knight andPreston , the preliminaries on the security and electronics on the safe house. “I've got to get out of here.”

“Let me see what I've got for you first.”

“Roarke? She saw the board.”

“Bloody hell. When--”

“I told Summerset to send her up, so I can't even blame him. I wasn't thinking--was just a little annoyed that I was going to have to deal with her before I got to work. And then--” She shook her head. “By the time I thought of it, hauled ass up here, it was too late.”

He set the coffee down, forgot it. “How did she handle it?”

“She's got more spine than you'd expect from a kid. But she's not going to forget it--ever. I'll need to tell Mira.” With no other target handy, she kicked her desk. “Shit, shit,shit! How could I be that stupid?”

No need to ask how Eve was handling it, he thought. “It's not your fault, or not exclusively. It's on all of us. We're not used to having a child in the house. I didn't think of it either. She might have wandered in here last night when she was coming up to see me. I never gave it a thought.”

“We're supposed to be smarter than this, aren't we? You know, responsible?”

“I suppose we are.” And he wondered just how hard he'd be kicking himself if Nixie had come through Eve's office to come to him the night before. “Still it is a bit like diving straight into the pool without learning first how to swim a bloody stroke.”

“We need to get her with the Dysons, with people who know what they're doing with a nine-year-old girl. She's already got a cargo ship of issues she'll have to work through. I don't want to add to them.”

“You'll want them here and that's fine,” he said before she could speak. “The sooner the better, I'd say, for her sake.”

“I'll put a call through to them, ask them to meet me at Central.”

“Let me get you the search results from last night.”

He moved into his office, called for the results on screen and on disc. “Nineteen names,” he mused. “More than you might expect, I'd think. Natural causes would cut that back considerably, but...”

“A lot of names.” She turned to study the wall screen. “Five that cross with both of them. The Swishers weren't the first,” she said again. “No way I buy that. I'll take these in, give them a run.”

“I can help you out in ... later,” he decided when he checked the time. “I'm behind myself. I've work I have to get to here, then I have some meetings in midtown starting at nine.



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