Kindred in Death by J.D. Robb Page A

other most of the morning about one thing or the other. Peace Day, my ass,” she said with weary bitterness. “Their father’s golfing. Bastard,” she added with the smallest hint of a smile. “Maybe you could just arrest them, then I could have five minutes of peace !”
    She shouted the last word, aiming for the stairs. It didn’t make a dent in the noise.
    “Mrs. Jennings we’re not here about a complaint.” Why didn’t she tell them to shut the hell up? Eve wondered. “We’re Homicide.”
    “I haven’t killed anyone. Yet. Was there an incident in the building?”
    “No, ma’am. We’re here about Deena MacMasters?”
    “Deena? Why would you . . . Deena ?”
    Eve watched it sink in, but pushed through. “She was killed early this morning. We understand she and your daughter, Jo, were friends.”
    “Deena?” she repeated, backing up. “But how?” She reached up as if to push at her hair. It was already pulled back in a tail, and her fingers stayed at her temple. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “We understand this is a shock, Mrs. Jennings,” Peabody said. “If we could have a few minutes with Jo, it might help us.”
    “Jo. Jo doesn’t know anything. Jo’s been home all morning, fighting with her brother. She doesn’t know anything.”
    “She’s not in any trouble,” Peabody assured her. “We’re talking with all of Deena’s friends. It’s routine. You knew Deena for some time?”
    “Yes. Yes. They’ve been best friends since they were eight. She’s—they—oh God. My God. What happened?”
    “If we could speak with Jo,” Eve interrupted. “You’re free to remain in the room.”
    “All right. Yes. All right.” She walked to the base of the stairs, gripped the banister until her knuckles went white. “Jo! Jo! I need you down here. Right now. Do I tell her? Should I—”
    “We’ll tell her.” Eve heard the clump that translated into resentful feet, then a girl with an explosion of brown curls and violently angry brown eyes appeared. She wore knee-length black shorts and, in a fashion that baffled Eve, had layered a trio of tanks so the blue peeked out from the red, and black peeked out from the blue.
    “Why is it always me?” Jo demanded. “He started it. He won’t . . .” She trailed off, flushing deeply when she spotted Eve and Peabody. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
    “Jo, baby—”
    “I’m Lieutenant Dallas. This is my partner, Detective Peabody.”
    “Police? Are you going to haul that freak off?”
    “You’re the freak.” A boy, curly brown hair shagging in the current style, eyes just as violent as his sister’s, snarled as he stormed down the steps.
    “Stop! Both of you! Now!”
    At last, Eve thought. Obviously stunned by the tone and the order, both kids stopped and stared at their mother as they might a two-headed alien.
    Eve stepped up, pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
    “Am I in trouble? I haven’t done anything. I swear.”
    “Freak,” the boy muttered under his breath, then visibly shrunk under Eve’s frigid stare.
    Eve turned back to Jo. “I’m sorry to inform you that Deena MacMasters was killed this morning.”
    “Huh?” It was knee-jerk disbelief. “What?” And the tears welled and spilled instantly. “Mom? Mom? What is she saying?”
    Though Eve preferred to leave weepers to Peabody, she sat across from Jo, kept their faces level as the mother squeezed into the chair to put her arms around her daughter.
    “Someone killed her. Someone she knew. A boy she’s been seeing secretly. What’s his name?”
    “She is not dead . We went shopping on Saturday with Hilly. Why are you saying that?”
    The brother moved to her other side, all anger forgotten.
    “She let someone into the house while her parents were away. Who was she dating?”
    “Nobody.”
    “Lying doesn’t help her now.”
    “Lieutenant, please. Can’t you see how upset she is? We all are.”
    “Her parents are upset, too. They came home and found their