"Black ones. They're shiny and they don't hardly make any noise when you walk."
"Good. What kind was he wearing?"
"Black ones, too, with the red swipe. Hightops, like the big kids want all the time. They were beat up some. They're better when they're beat up some."
"Okay. What color are my eyes?"
"They're really, really blue. Like in a picture."
"What color were his?"
"I… green, I think. Sorta green, but not like Dopey's. Maybe they were green, but they were mean. Not mean like yours were when you talked to Snitch Bitch. His were more scared mean. That's worse, 'cause they hit you more when they're scared mean."
"So they do," Roarke murmured and draped an arm around Kevin's shoulders. "That was well done. Lieutenant Dallas would say you'd make a good cop."
Kevin belched again, shook his head. "Shit work."
"Often," Roarke agreed. "Who blackened your eye, Kevin?"
He felt the boy pull back, just an inch. "Walked into something."
"I often had that problem when I was your age. Will your mother be looking for you?"
"Nah. She works late, so she sleeps mostly. She gets pissed if I'm around when she's sleeping."
Gently, Roarke took the boy's chin in his hand until their eyes met. He hadn't saved Jennie, he thought, and would have to live with that. But there were lost children everywhere.
"Do you want to stay here, stay with her?"
To Kevin, the man's face looked like an angel's. He'd seen one on screen once when he'd snuck into a vid-den. "I got no place else."
"That's not what I'm asking you," Roarke said quietly. "Do you want to stay here with her, or do you want to go with the CPS?"
Kevin swallowed hard. "The CPS, they put you in a box, then they sell you."
"No, they don't." But it would seem like that, Roarke knew. As a child he had chosen his father's fists over the system. "Would you like to go somewhere else entirely?"
"Can I go with you? I can work for you."
"One day maybe." Roarke ran a hand over the boy's hair. "I know some people you might like. If it's what you want I can see about having you stay with them. You can take some time to make up your minds about each other."
"Dopey has to go, too." Kevin would give up his mother with her unhappy eyes and quick slaps, but he wouldn't give up the cat.
"Of course."
Kevin bit his lip, turned his head to look up at the building. "I don't have to go back in there?"
"No." Not as long as money bought freedom and choices. "You don't."
When Eve came out onto the street she was surprised, and a little annoyed, to see Roarke and the boy were still there. They were a few yards up the street, talking with a woman. From the navy blue suit, side arm zapper, and sour expression, Eve pegged her as the social worker for this section of the city.
Why the hell isn't she moving the boy along? Eve wondered. She'd wanted the kid and Roarke gone before the body was brought out and transferred to the morgue.
"All the bagged evidence is stowed, Dallas." Peabody stepped up beside her. "They're bringing the victim out now."
"Go in and tell them to hold for five minutes."
She started toward them, relieved when she watched the social worker walk off with the boy. To her surprise the kid turned, flashed a killer smile at Roarke, and waved.
"CPS took their time, as usual."
"Neglected children are plentiful – and no more than a chore to some." He turned and disconcerted her by kissing her long and deep. "And some find their way alone."
"I'm on duty here," she muttered, casting a quick look over her shoulder to see if they'd been observed. "You should catch a cab, go on home. I'll be heading there shortly, but I've got some stuff – "
"I'll wait."
"Go home, Roarke."
"She's already dead, Eve. It won't be Jennie they bring down in a bag, just what once contained her."
"All right, be hardheaded." She pulled out her communicator. "Continue transport." Still, she did her best to distract him. "So, what were you huddled with the social worker about?"
"I had some… suggestions as to Kevin's foster care facility."
"Oh?"
"I thought Richard DeBlass and Elizabeth Barrister would do well by him." He watched Eve's brows draw together. "It's been nearly a year since their daughter was murdered, since they had to deal with the cancer that had eaten away at their family. Elizabeth mentioned to me that she and Richard were thinking about adoption."
It had been the DeBlass case that had first brought Eve and Roarke together. She thought of that now – the loss and the gain. "Life cycles, I suppose."
Roarke saw the morgue team roll out the body bag. "What choice does it have? The boy needs a place. His mother knocks him around – when she's around. He's seven – at least he thinks he is. He doesn't know his birthday."
"How much are you… donating to CPS?" Eve asked dryly and made him smile.
"Enough to ensure the boy gets his chance." He touched Eve's hair. "There are too many children who end up broken in alleys, Eve. We have personal experience there."
"You get involved, it's your heart that gets broken." But she sighed. "A lot of good it does to tell you when you've already made up your mind. He had a great smile," she added.
"He did."
"I'll have to interview him. Since you're going to see that he gets shipped off to Virginia, I'd better put it higher on my list."
"I don't think you'll need him. He told me everything he knew."
"He told you?'' Her mouth went grim, her eyes hot and hard. Her cop look, Roarke thought with admiration – and a surprising tug of pure lust. "You questioned him? Goddamn it, you questioned him about an open case? A minor, without parental permission or a CPS rep present? What the hell were you thinking of?"
"A young boy – and a girl I once loved."
Eve hissed out a breath and tried to pace off the worst of the heat. After two swings up and down the sidewalk, she felt more controlled. "You know damn well I can't use anything you got. And if the kid opens his mouth about talking to you, we're in hip-deep shit. The primary investigator is married to you, the prime suspect is in your employ and has your friendship and loyalty. Anything you got the kid to say is tainted."
"And well aware you would take precisely that view, I took the precaution of recording the entire conversation." From his pocket he drew a microrecorder. "You're welcome to take it into evidence, and you yourself have witnessed that I haven't had the time or opportunity to doctor it."
"You recorded your conversation, with a minor, on an open homicide case." She threw up her hands. "That caps it."
"You're welcome," he retorted. "And though you may be reluctant to take it into evidence – though I have no doubt you could get around the letter of the law there – I don't believe you're stubborn enough to ignore it."
Seething, she snatched the recorder out of his hand and jammed it into her pocket. "First chance I get, very first chance, I'm heading to midtown and horning in on one of your board meetings."
"For you, darling Eve, my door is always open."
"We'll see if you say that with a smile when I fuck up one of your billion-dollar mergers."
"If I can watch, it would be worth it." Still smiling, he took something else out of his pocket and offered it. "Here, I saved you a chocolate stick – which was, under the circumstances, no easy task."
She frowned at it. "You think you can bribe me with candy?"
"I know your weaknesses."
She took it, yanked down the wrapper, and bit in. "I'm still pissed at you."
"I'm devastated."
"Oh, shut up. I'm taking you home," she said over the next bite. "And you're staying out of my way while I talk to Summerset."
"If you'll listen to the recording, you'll see that the man Kevin described wasn't Summerset."
"Thank you for your input, but I'll just muddle along here. The chances of me getting the commander to take the word of a seven-year-old kid – who no doubt had chocolate breath – over hard evidence is just slightly less likely than me dancing naked in Times Square."