In Death Collection: Books 30-32 by J.D. Robb Page A

nine-three-oh, out at five. Or close. Maybe five-thirty? ’Cause I was buzzing with Jingle for a while after outs.”
    â€œDid you go out, for a break, for lunch, leave the building before you finished for the day?”
    â€œNot yesterday. Full plate. Yeah, full plate with second helpings.”
    â€œBut you took breaks, had some lunch?”
    â€œYeah, sure. Sure. Gotta fuel it up, charge it up. Sure.”
    â€œSo, did you contact anybody? Tag a pal to pass the time with on a break?”
    â€œAh ...” His gaze skidded left. “I don’t know.”
    â€œSure you do. And you can tell me or I’ll just find out when we check your comp, your ’links.”
    â€œMaybe I tagged Milt a couple times.”
    â€œAnd Milt is?”
    â€œMilt’s my ... you know.”
    â€œOkay. Does Milt your You Know have a last name?”
    â€œDubrosky. He’s Milton Dubrosky. It’s no big.” A little sweat popped out above his upper lip. “We’re allowed.”
    â€œUh-huh.” She pulled out her PPC and started a run on Milton Dubrosky. “So you and Milt live together?”
    â€œKinda. I mean, he still has a place but we’re mostly at mine. Mostly.”
    â€œAnd what does Milt do?”
    â€œHe’s an actor. He’s really good. He’s working on his big break.”
    â€œI bet you help him with that? Help him study lines.”
    â€œSure.” Shoulders jiggled again; toes tapped. “It’s fun. Kinda like working up a game.”
    â€œBeing an actor, he probably has some good ideas, too. Does he help you out there?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œBeen together long?”
    â€œNine months. Almost ten.”
    â€œHow much have you told him about Fantastical?”
    Every ounce of color dropped out of his face, and for an instant, he was absolutely still. “What?”
    â€œHow much, Roland? Those little bits and bytes, or more than that?”
    â€œI don’t know about anything like that.”
    â€œThe new project? The big top secret? I think you know something about it. You’re in research.”
    â€œI just know what they tell me. We’re not allowed to talk about it. We had to sign the gag.”
    Eve kept an easy smile on her face, and a hard hammer in her heart. “But you and Milt are, you know, and you help each other out. He’s interested in what you do, right?”
    â€œSure, but—”
    â€œAnd a big project like this, it’s exciting. Anybody’d mention it to their partner.”
    â€œHe doesn’t understand e-work.”
    â€œReally? That’s odd, seeing as he’s done time, twice, for e-theft.”
    â€œNo, he hasn’t!”
    â€œYou’re either an idiot, Roland, or a very slick operator.” She angled her head. “I vote idiot.”
    She had the protesting and now actively weeping Roland escorted to Central, then sent a team of officers to scoop up Dubrosky and take him in.
    His criminal didn’t show any violent crimes, she mused, but there was always a first time.
    She finished her interviews, calculating it would give Roland time to stop crying and Dubrosky time to stew. She found two more who admitted they’d talked about the project to a friend or spouse or cohab, but the Chadwick-Dubrosky connection seemed the best angle.
    She broke open a tube of Pepsi while she checked in with the sweepers and added to her notes. She looked up as the door opened, and Roarke stepped in.
    He changed the room, she thought, just by being in it. Not just for her, but she imagined for most. The change came from the look of him, certainly, long and lean with that sweep of dark hair, the laser blue eyes that could smolder or frost. But the control, the power under it demanded attention be paid.
    Even now, she thought, when she could see the sorrow on that wonderful face, he changed the room.
    â€œThey said you’d finished with your share of