Ceremony in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

attire.”
    “We can do this naked, but you’d certainly lose another fifty.” When she snatched the robe out of his hand, he turned and took out another for himself. “This could take some time. We’ll want coffee.”
    As she went to the AutoChef to get coffee, Roarke moved behind the console. The equipment here was first flight, and unregistered. CompuGuard couldn’t track it nor block him from hacking into any system. Still, even with those advantages, finding a personal log that may or may not have existed was like separating individual grains of sand from a bucketful.
    “Engage,” he ordered. “More likely his home unit, wouldn’t you think?”
    “Anything on his unit at Cop Central would have been transferred, and official units record all logging. If he wanted to keep something to himself, he’d have used a private system.”
    “Do you have his home address? Never mind,” he said before Eve could speak. “I’ll get it. Data, Wojinski, Frank… what was his rank?”
    “Detective Sergeant, attached to Records.”
    “Data on screen one, please.”
    As it began to scroll, Roarke reached for the coffee Eve held out to him, then waved his fingers when his ‘link beeped. “Get that, would you?”
    It was the careless order of a man used to giving them. Automatically, she bristled, then just as quickly bumped aside the annoyance. She supposed the situation called for her to act as assistant.
    “Roarke’s residence. Peabody?”
    “You didn’t answer your communicator.”
    “No, I…” God knew where it was, she thought. “What’s up?”
    “It’s bad. Dallas, it’s bad.” Though her voice was steady, her face was dead white, and her eyes too dark. “Alice is dead. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t get to her. She just — “
    “Where are you?”
    “On Tenth Street, between Broad and Seventh. I called the MTS, but there was nothing — “
    “Are you in jeopardy?”
    “No, no. I just couldn’t stop her. I just watched while — “
    “Secure the scene, Officer. Relay to Dispatch. I’m on my way. Call backup as required, and stand. Understood?”
    “Yes, sir. Yes.”
    “Dallas out. Oh, Christ,” she murmured when she disengaged.
    “I’ll take you.” He was already up, his hand on her shoulder.
    “No, this is my job.” And she prayed it wasn’t her doing. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay here and get whatever data you can.”
    “All right. Eve.” He took both of her shoulders now, firmly, before she could turn away. “Look at me. This was not your fault.”
    She did look at him, and there was grief in her eyes. “I hope to God it wasn’t.”
    There wasn’t a crowd. Eve could be grateful for that. It was after two in the morning, and only a few gawkers huddled together behind the barricade. She saw a Rapid Cab tipped drunkenly on the curb and a man sitting beside it, his head in his hands, as an MT spoke with him.
    On the rain-slicked street, lit dimly by the glow of a security light with fog billowing like clouds, was Alice. Her body sprawled there, faceup, her arms and legs flung out as if in wild welcome. Blood, her own, had soaked through the filmy material of her dress and turned it to dark, doomed red.
    Peabody stood by her, assisting a uniform in the erecting of a privacy screen.
    “Officer Peabody.” Eve said it softly, waited for Peabody to turn, straighten her shoulders, and cross to her. “Your report?”
    “I followed the subject to her residence, as per your orders, Lieutenant. I watched her enter the building, and subsequently observed the light go on in the second window from the east, third floor. On my own initiative, I decided to keep watch for a period of fifteen minutes, to insure the subject remained inside. She did not.”
    Peabody trailed off, and her gaze shifted to the body. Eve sidestepped, blocked the view. “Look at me when you report, Officer.”
    “Yes, sir.” Peabody snapped back. “Subject exited building approximately ten minutes