She rubbed her eyes, thought it through. "But that says to me that the subject could, and likely would, behave out of pattern. Suicide would be out of pattern for these two men."
"True enough," Roarke agreed. Leaning back against the console, he crossed his legs at the ankles. "But so would dancing naked in church or kicking elderly matrons off a sky walk. Why did they both choose self-termination?"
"That's the question, isn't it? But this gives me enough, once I figure out how to spin it to Whitney, to keep both cases open. Download data to disc, print hard copy," she ordered, then turned to Roarke. "I've got a few minutes now."
His brow quirked, a habitual gesture she secretly adored. "Do you?"
"Which laws did you have in mind to break?"
"Several, actually." He glanced at his watch as she stepped forward to unbutton his elegant linen shirt. "We have a premiere in California tonight."
Her fingers stopped, her face fell. "Tonight."
"But I think we have time for a few misdemeanors first." With a laugh, he scooped her off her feet and laid her back on the console.
Eve was tugging on a floor-length, siren-red sheath and complaining bitterly about the impossibility of wearing so much as a scrap of underwear under the clinging material when her communicator beeped. Naked to the waist, with the flimsy bodice hanging to her knees, she pounced.
"Peabody?"
"Sir." Several expressions passed over Peabody's face before it went carefully blank. "That's a lovely dress, Lieutenant. Are you premiering a new style?"
Baffled, Eve looked down, then rolled her eyes. "Shit. You've seen my tits before." But she set the communicator down and struggled the bodice into place.
"And may I say, sir, they're quite lovely."
"Sucking up, Peabody?"
"You bet."
Eve stifled a chuckle and sat on the edge of the sofa in the dressing room. "Report?"
"Yes, sir. I… ah…"
Noting that Peabody's eyes had shifted and glazed over, Eve glanced over her shoulder. Roarke had just walked into the room, damp from his shower, tiny beads of water glistening on his bare chest, a white towel barely hitched at his hips.
"Stay out of view, will you, Roarke, before my aide goes brain dead."
He looked toward the communicator screen, grinned. "Peabody, hello."
"Hi." Even over the unit, her swallow was audible. "Nice to see you – I mean, how are you?"
"Very well, and you?"
"What?"
"Roarke." Eve heaved a sigh. "Give Peabody a break, will you, or I'll have to block video."
"You don't have to do that, Lieutenant." Voice rusty, Peabody deflated as Roarke slipped out of view. "Jesus," she said under her breath and grinned foolishly at Eve.
"Settle your hormones, Peabody, and report."
"Settling, sir." She cleared her throat. "I've untangled most of the bureaucratic tape, Lieutenant. Just a couple more snags. At this juncture, we should have the requested data by oh nine hundred. But we have to go to East Washington to view it."
"I was afraid of that. All right, Peabody. We'll catch the shuttle at oh eight hundred."
"Don't be foolish," Roarke said from behind her while he critically studied the lines of the dinner jacket he held. "Take my transport."
"It's police business."
"No reason to squeeze yourselves into a tuna can. Traveling in comfort doesn't make it less official. In any case, I've some business I can see to in East Washington myself. I'll take you." He leaned over Eve's shoulder, smiled at Peabody. "I'll have a car sent for you. Seventy forty-five? Is that convenient?"
"Sure." She wasn't even disappointed that he was now wearing a shirt. "Great."
"Listen, Roarke – "
"Sorry, Peabody." He cut Eve off smoothly. "We're running a bit late here. See you in the morning." Reaching over, he manually disengaged the communicator.
"You know, it really pisses me off when you do that kind of thing."
"I know," Roarke said equably. "That's why it's irresistible."
"I've spent half my life on one sort of transport or another since I met you," Eve grumbled as she settled into her seat in Roarke's private Jet Star.
"Still cranky," he observed, and signaled the flight attendant. "My wife needs another dose of coffee, and I'll join her."
"Right away, sir." She slipped into the galley with silent efficiency.
"You really get a bang out of saying that, don't you? My wife."
"I do, yes." Roarke tipped her face up with a fingertip and kissed the shallow dent in her chin. "You didn't sleep enough," he murmured, rubbing his thumb under her eye. "You so rarely turn off that busy brain of yours." He flicked a glance up at the flight attendant as she set steaming coffee on the table in front of them. "Thank you, Karen. We'll take off as soon as Officer Peabody arrives."
"I'll inform the pilot, sir. Enjoy your flight."
"You don't really have to go to East Washington, do you?"
"I could have handled it from New York." He shrugged, lifted his coffee. "Personal attention always has more impact. And I have the added benefit of watching you work."
"I don't want you involved in this."
"You never do." He lifted her cup, handed it to her with an easy smile. "However, Lieutenant, I'm involved with you, and therefore you can't shut me out."
"You mean you won't be shut out."
"Precisely. Ah, here's the redoubtable Peabody now."
She came aboard pressed and polished, but spoiling the effect with her jaw hanging open as she swiveled her head right and left in an attempt to see everything at once.
The cabin was as plush and sumptuous as a five-star hotel, with deep, cushy seats and gleaming tables, the glint of crystal holding flowers so fresh they gleamed with dew.
"Stop gaping, Peabody, you look like a trout."
"Nearly finished, Lieutenant."
"Don't mind her, Peabody, she woke up surly." Roarke rose, disconcerting Peabody until she realized he was offering her a seat. "Would you care for coffee?"
"Well, ah, sure. Thanks."
"I'll fetch it and leave you two to discuss your work."
"Dallas, this is… ultra."
"It's just Roarke," Eve muttered into her coffee.
"Yeah, like I said. Ultra."
Eve glanced up as he came in with more coffee. Dark and gorgeous and just a bit wicked, she thought. Yeah, she supposed, ultra was the word all right. "Well, strap in, Peabody, and enjoy the ride."
The takeoff was smooth, and the trip was short, providing Peabody with just enough time to fill Eve in on the details. They were to report to the office of the Chief of Security for Government Employees. All data would be viewed in house, and nothing could be transferred or transported.
"Fucking politics," Eve complained as they jumped into a cab. "Who are they protecting, for Christ's sake? The man's dead."
"Standard CYA procedure. And there are always plenty of asses to cover in East Washington."
"Fat asses." Eve eyed Peabody consideringly. "Been to East Washington before?"
"Once, when I was a kid." Peabody moved her shoulders. "With my family. The Free-Agers staged a silent protest against artificial insemination of cattle."
Eve didn't bother to muffle a snort. "You're full of surprises, Peabody. Since you haven't been here in a while, you may want to take in the scenery. Check out the memorials." She gestured as they whizzed by the Lincoln Memorial and its throng of tourists and street hawkers.
"I've seen plenty of videos," Peabody began, but Eve lifted her brows.
"Check out the scenery, Peabody. Consider it an order."
"Sir." With what on another face might have been considered a pout, Peabody turned her head.
Eve nipped a card recorder out of her bag and tucked it under her shirt. She doubted security was so tight it would involve X rays or a strip search. And if it did, she'd simply claim she always carried her spare on her person. Eve flipped a glance at the driver, but the droid had her eyes bland and on the road.