What in hell was it about him? Eve thought again as Roarke rose and slanted a smile at her.
"Lieutenant Dallas," he said in that faint and fascinating Irish lilt, "a pleasure, as always."
"You might not think so when I'm finished."
He lifted a brow. "Why don't you come the rest of the way in and get started? Then we'll see. Coffee?"
"Don't try to distract me, Roarke." She walked closer. Then, to satisfy her curiosity, she took a brief turn around the room. It was as big as a heliport, with all the amenities of a first-class hoteclass="underline" automated service bar, a padded relaxation chair complete with VR and mood settings, an oversize wall screen, currently blank. To the left, there was a full bath including whirl tub and drying tube. All the standard office equipment, of the highest high-tech, was built in.
Roarke watched her with a bland expression. He admired the way she moved, the way those cool, quick eyes took in everything.
"Would you like a tour, Eve?"
"No. How do you work with all this… " Using both hands, she gestured widely at the treated glass walls. "Open."
"I don't like being closed in. Are you going to sit, or prowl?"
"I'm going to stand. I have some questions to ask you, Roarke. You're entitled to have counsel present."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Not at the moment."
"Then we'll save the lawyers until I am. Ask."
Though she kept her eyes level on his, she knew where his hands were, tucked casually in the pockets of his slacks. Hands revealed emotions.
"Night before last," she said, "between the hours of eight and ten P.M. Can you verify your whereabouts?"
"I believe I was here until shortly after eight." With a steady hand he touched his desk log. "I shut down my monitor at 8:17. I left the building, drove home."
"Drove," she interrupted, "or were driven?"
"Drove. I keep a car here. I don't believe in keeping my employees waiting on my whims."
"Damned democratic of you." And, she thought, damned inconvenient. She'd wanted him to have an alibi. "And then?"
"I poured myself a brandy, had a shower, changed. I had a late supper with a friend."
"How late, and what friend?"
"I believe I arrived at about ten. I like to be prompt. At Madeline Montmart's townhouse."
Eve had a quick vision of a curvy blond with a sultry mouth and almond eyes. "Madeline Montmart, the actress?"
"Yes. I believe we had squab, if that's helpful."
She ignored the sarcasm. "No one can verify your movements between eight-seventeen and ten P.M.?"
"One of the staff might have noticed, but then, I pay them well and they're likely to say what I tell them to say." His voice took on an edge. "There's been another murder."
"Lola Starr, licensed companion. Certain details will be released to the media within the hour."
"And certain details will not."
"Do you own a silencer, Roarke?"
His expression didn't change. "Several. You look exhausted, Eve. Have you been up all night?"
"Goes with the job. Do you own a Swiss handgun, SIG two-ten, circa 1980?"
"I acquired one about six weeks ago. Sit down."
"Were you acquainted with Lola Starr?" Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out a photo she'd found in Lola's apartment. The pretty, elfin girl beamed out, full of sassy fun.
Roarke lowered his gaze to it as it landed on his desk. His eyes flickered. This time his voice was tinged with something Eve thought sounded like pity.
"She isn't old enough to be licensed."
"She turned eighteen four months ago. Applied on her birthday."
"She didn't have time to change her mind, did she?" His eyes lifted to Eve's. And yes, it was pity. "I didn't know her. I don't use prostitutes – or children." He picked up the photo, skirted the desk, and offered it back to Eve. "Sit down."
"Have you ever – "
"Goddamn it, sit down." In sudden fury, he took her shoulders, pushed her into a chair. Her case tipped, spilling out photos of Lola that had nothing to do with sassy fun.
She might have reached them first – her reflexes were as good as his. Perhaps she wanted him to see them. Perhaps she needed him to.
Crouching, Roarke picked up a photo taken at the scene. He stared at it. "Christ Jesus," he said softly. "You believe I'm capable of this?"
"My beliefs aren't the issue. Investigating – " She broke off when his eyes whipped to hers.
"You believe I'm capable of this?" he repeated in an undertone that cut like a blade.
"No, but I have a job to do."
"Your job sucks."
She took the photos back, stored them. "From time to time."
"How do you sleep at night, after looking at something like this?"
She flinched. Though she recovered in a snap, he'd seen it. As intrigued as he was by her instinctive and emotional reaction, he was sorry he'd caused it.
"By knowing I'll take down the bastard who did it. Get out of my way."
He stayed where he was, laid a hand on her rigid arm. "A man in my position has to read people quickly and accurately, Eve. I'm reading you as someone close to the edge."
"I said, get out of my way."
He rose, but shifting his grip on her arm, pulled her to her feet. He was still in her way. "He'll do it again," Roarke said quietly. "And it's eating at you wondering when and where and who."
"Don't analyze me. We've got a whole department of shrinks on the payroll for that."
"Why haven't you been to see one? You've been slipping through loopholes to avoid Testing."
Her eyes narrowed.
He smiled, but there was no amusement in it.
"I have connections, lieutenant. You were due in Testing several days ago, standard department procedure after a justifiable termination, one you executed the night Sharon was killed."
"Keep out of my business," she said furiously. "And fuck your connections."
"What are you afraid of? What are you afraid they'll find if they get a look inside of that head of yours? That heart of yours?"
"I'm not afraid of anything." She jerked her arm free, but he merely laid his hand on her cheek. A gesture so unexpected, so gentle, her stomach quivered.
"Let me help you."
"I – " Something nearly spilled out, as the photos had. But this time her reflexes kept it tucked away. "I'm handling it." She turned away. "You can pick up your property anytime after nine A.M. tomorrow."
"Eve."
She kept her eyes focused on the doorway, kept walking. "What?"
"I want to see you tonight."
"No."
He was tempted – very tempted – to lunge after her. Instead, he stayed where he was. "I can help you with the case."
Cautious, she stopped, turned back. If he hadn't been experiencing an uncomfortable twist of sexual frustration, he might have laughed aloud at the combination of suspicion and derision in her eyes.
"How?"
"I know people Sharon knew." As he spoke, he saw the derision alter to interest. But the suspicion remained. "It doesn't take a long mental leap to realize you'll be looking for a connection between Sharon and the girl whose photos you're carrying. I'll see if I can find one."
"Information from a suspect doesn't carry much weight in an investigation. But," she added before he could speak, "you can let me know."
He smiled after all. "Is it any wonder I want you naked, and in bed? I'll let you know, lieutenant." And walked back behind his desk. "In the meantime, get some sleep."
When the door closed behind her, the smile went out of his eyes. For a long moment he sat in silence. Fingering the button he carried in his pocket, he engaged his private, secure line.