Suite 606 by J. D. Robb

you know where they were going?”
    “Ah, just something casual. Dinner and vid, maybe a club. What happened? Can you tell us what happened? The reports don’t make any sense, and when we call for information, we can’t get any. We’re all—”
    She stepped aside as the door opened. He was an imposing man, maybe six-two, lean as a whip with a sharply chiseled face. His eyes were green with a touch of gold, his hair a deep bronze.
    “Dr. Slone, this is . . . I’m sorry, I’m so turned around. I didn’t get the names. The police.”
    “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”
    “Yes, of course. Leah, see to Sarah, will you? She should go home.” He went to his desk, sat behind it. “What happened to Ava?”
    “She was murdered.”
    “Mutilated, the reports say. The word was ‘mutilated.’ ”
    “That would be accurate.”
    He breathed slowly in, slowly out. “In a hotel room. I find it hard to believe Ava would go to a hotel room with Jack on a first date. With anyone for that matter.”
    “She was a young healthy woman. Young healthy women often go to hotel rooms on a date.”
    “She was shy, and what I’m sure you’d think of as old fashioned.” The flare of anger brought out the gold in his eyes. “She must have been forced to go there, and Jack would never force her, or anyone. Where is Dr. Pike?”
    “He’s in custody.”
    Now Slone rose from his seat. “You’ve arrested him? For this?”
    “I said he was in custody, not that he was under arrest.”
    Disdain tightened his face as he stared holes through Eve. “Does he have a lawyer?”
    “He hasn’t requested one.”
    “I won’t have that boy accused of this. I brought him here. Do you understand? I brought him here.”
    “You recruited him,” Eve said, thinking of Roarke’s earlier statement.
    “He’s a fine doctor, a fine young man. A healer, not a killer. I’ll personally arrange for his counsel.”
    “That’s your choice. Where were you last night, Dr. Slone?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Eve often wondered why people used that phrase when they really meant “fuck you.”
    “It’s routine. What time did you leave the clinic?”
    “I left about four, and walked home. I believe I arrived close to five.”
    “Can anyone verify that? Your wife, your staff?”
    “It was our housekeeper’s day off,” he said stiffly. “My wife was out. She got home shortly after seven. I resent the implications of this.”
    “I’m going to implicate the same to the rest of the staff and employees of the clinic. I can use your office, or conduct the implications downtown.”
    “We’ll see what my lawyer has to say about that.”
    Before he could reach for his ’link, Eve snatched Peabody’s bag, and pulled out the still of Ava at the crime scene.
    “Take a look, take a good one.” Eve slapped the photo on his desk. “Then curl your lip at my implications and call your damn lawyer.”
    He didn’t pale; he didn’t tremble. But he looked for a very long time. And when he raised his head his eyes were hard, and they were cold. “She was hardly more than a child. Use the office. I’ll notify the others. They’ll have to speak with you between patients.”
    He strode out, shut the door behind him.
    “He’s got a mean bedside manner,” Eve commented.
    “So do you, sir.”
    With a shrug, Eve dipped her hands into her pockets. “Run him. Run them all.”

Seven
    While Isis gathered what she needed, Roarke took out his ’link to contact Eve. He struggled against the resentment that burned through him at the idea he felt obligated to get clearance from his wife to enter his own property. And, he realized, resented the struggle against the resentment.
    Bloody cops, he thought, and their bloody procedure. And then, bloody hell when he was dumped straight to her voice mail.
    “Well then, if you can’t be bothered to answer your ’link, I’ll tell you that I’ve my own expert. I want her to have a pass at the crime scene, so I’ll