"What are you talking about?" Zeke pulled the bloody rag from her, tossed it back on the hearth. "For God's sake, Clarissa, what have you done?"
"I had the droid take him." Her eyes were wild, as with fever. "I had the droid take him out, put him in the car. He'll throw the body into the river. We'll clean up the blood. And we'll run away. We'll just go away and forget this ever happened."
"No, no, we won't."
"I won't let them put you in prison." She reached out, grabbed his shirt. "I won't let them lock you away for this. I couldn't bear it." She lowered her head to his chest, clung. "I couldn't stand it."
"It has to be faced." He gentled his hands on her arms. "If I don't face it, I couldn't live with myself." When she sagged against him, he took her back to the chair."
"You'll call the police," she said dully.
"Yes."
– =O=-***-=O=-
They'd finally made it to the bed. Peabody wasn't altogether sure how they'd managed to get from the elevator to his apartment to his bed without killing each other, but that's where they were. The sheets were hot and tangled, and even now when McNab rolled weakly off her, her body pumped heat like a furnace.
"I'm not done yet," he said in the dark with a voice that hitched.
Peabody snorted, then began to laugh like a loon. "Me, neither. What are we, crazy?"
"A couple of more times, we'll probably burn it all out of our systems."
"A couple of more times, we'll be dead."
He reached out to stroke her breast. He had long, bony fingers, and she was becoming very fond of them. "Game?"
"Looks like."
He rolled over, replaced his fingers with his tongue. "I love your tits."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I mean… ummm." He began to suck, slowly now, bringing an odd liquid flutter to her belly. "I really love your tits."
"They're mine." She could have bitten her tongue, and was grateful for the dark that concealed the flush as he chuckled against her. "I mean, I didn't like buy them or anything."
"I know, Dee. Believe me, nothing improves on Mother Nature."
God, she wished he hadn't called her Dee. It made it all personal, and well, intimate, when it was – it had to be… otherwise. She started to tell him so, but his hand was sliding, not rushing this time, just lazily sliding down her rib cage.
"Man, you are so… female." He had an urge to kiss her, long and slow and deep. As he lifted his head, started to order lights so he could see her when he did, a 'link beeped.
"Shit. Lights. Yours or mine?"
All at once, they were both cops. She dived for her coat pocket. "Mine, I think. It shouldn't be from Dispatch, it's my palm-link. Block outgoing video," she ordered, shoving the hair back from her face. "Engage. Peabody."
"Dee." Zeke's face filled the miniscreen. By the time he'd drawn a breath, let it out, her heart had stopped. She'd seen that stunned and glazed look in too many other eyes.
"What's happened? Are you hurt?"
"No. No. Dee, I need you to come. I need you to call Dallas and come to Clarissa Branson's house. I just killed her husband."
– =O=-***-=O=-
Eve finished reading the printout Roarke had given her and sat back in the chair at her desk. "So, Lamont's been stealing material from Autotron, bits and pieces at a time, for the last six months."
"He covered his tracks well." It burned, oh, it burned to know he'd been paying the son of a bitch all along. "He had some autonomy, his requisitions would hardly be questioned. He just ordered a bit more than he required for the work, then obviously smuggled out the extras."
"Which were handed over to Fixer, I'd guess. This is enough to nail him on theft of hazardous material, anyway. And that's enough for me to haul his butt into interview and cook him."
Roarke studied the glowing tip of his cigarette. "I don't suppose you could hold off on that long enough for me to fire him. Personally?"
"I think I'll save myself the trouble of getting you out of assault charges and dump him in a cage out of your reach. I appreciate the help."
"Excuse me?" He turned back to her. "If you'd let me get my memo book, then repeat that for the record."
"Ha ha. Don't let it go to your head." Absently, she rubbed at a headache brewing in her temple. "We have to find the next target. I'll have Lamont brought in tonight, let him stew in a cage, but it's not likely he knows the where and when."
"He's bound to know a few of the whos." Roarke moved around the desk, stood behind her, and began to massage the tension from her shoulders. "You need to put this aside for a while, Lieutenant. Give your mind a chance to clear."
"Yeah, I do." She let her head fall forward as his hands worked magic. "How long can you keep that up?"
"A lot longer if we were naked."
She laughed and amused him by starting to unbutton her blouse. "We'll just see about that. Hell." She did up the buttons quickly when her communicator sounded.
"Dallas?"
"Jesus, Dallas. God."
"Peabody." She got to her feet quickly.
"It's my brother. It's Zeke. It's my brother."
Eve clamped a hand over Roarke's, squeezed hard, and forced her voice into a command. "Tell me. Say it fast and straight."
"He says he killed B. Donald Branson. He's at that address now. I'm on my way."
"I'll meet you there. Hold it together, Peabody. Don't do anything. Do you copy this? Do nothing until I arrive."
"Yes, sir. Dallas – "
"I'll be there in five minutes." She broke the connection and bolted for the door.
"I'm going with you."
She started to refuse, then remembered the terrified look in Peabody's eyes. "We'll take one of your cars. It'll be faster."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eve wasn't surprised to arrive on scene ahead of Peabody, but she was grateful. One look at the parlor, the blood smeared on the hearth, and the possessive and protective way Zeke kept his hand on Clarissa's shoulder had her stomach sinking.
Oh shit, Peabody, she thought. What a hell of a fix.
"Where's the body?"
"I got rid of it." Clarissa started to her feet on legs that were visibly shaking.
"Sit down, Clarissa." Zeke said it softly while easing her back into the chair. "She's in shock. She should have medical attention."
Shoving sympathy aside, and for the moment doing no more than filing the bruises on Clarissa's face away, she stepped forward. "Got rid of it?"
"Yes." She drew a deep breath, locked her hands together. "After – after it… I sent Zeke out of the room, asked him to get me some water."
She glanced toward the glass still sitting untouched on an inlaid table, the water that had sloshed out of it ruining the finish. "When he was gone, I got one of the droids to carry – to carry it out, drive it away. I programmed the droid. I – I know how. I instructed it to throw the body in the river. Off the bridge and into the East River."
"She was upset," Zeke began. "She wasn't thinking. It all happened so fast and I – "
"Zeke, I need you to sit down. Over there." Eve indicated the sofa.
"She didn't do anything. I did. I pushed him. I didn't mean… he was hurting her."
"Sit down, Zeke. Roarke, would you take Mrs. Branson in another room? She should lie down for a few minutes."
"Of course. Come on, Clarissa."
"It wasn't his fault." She began to weep again. "It was my fault. He was just trying to help me."
"It's all right," Roarke murmured. "Eve will take care of it. Come with me now." He sent his wife a long, silent look as he led Clarissa away.
"We're not on record yet, Zeke. No," she continued with a quick shake of her head. "Don't say anything until you listen to me. I have to know everything, every detail, every step. I don't want you to even think about leaving anything out."