He opened his mouth, shut it again. "I can't discuss departmental business with you, Dallas. You know that."
"No, you can't discuss shit with me, but I can speculate." She pushed out of the chair and began to pace. "Taking my badge doesn't mean they took my goddamn brain. If somebody wanted to cause me trouble, they didn't have to look far. Bowers fell right into their laps. Push her obsession, or whatever the hell it was she had for me, twist her up with it, then take her out in a brutal manner so the finger can point in my direction. I'm not only off the case, I'm out. I'm out," she repeated. "There's a new investigation, and the department's in the middle of a media frenzy screaming corruption, sex, and scandal that can't help but bog down the works and give whoever's slicing out parts of people time to cover more tracks."
She whirled back to him. "You want to close your case, Baxter, then look at the one I had to leave behind and find the link. There's a goddamn link, and Bowers was nothing more than a handy tool, easily disposed of. She meant nothing to me," she said, and for the first time, there was some pity in her voice. "She meant less to whoever had her killed. I was the target."
"The investigation is ongoing," Baxter reminded her. "Feeney's got your load."
"Yeah." Considering, she nodded slowly. "They miscalculated there."
The rest was form, and they both knew it. Standard questions with standard responses. She agreed to make herself available for truth testing the following afternoon. When Baxter left, she put the unpleasantness of that upcoming event out of her mind.
"You handled that very well," Roarke commented.
"He went easy on me. His heart wasn't in it."
"Perhaps I should have apologized for punching him." Roarke smiled. "But my heart wouldn't have been in it."
She laughed a little. "He's a good cop. I need good cops right now." And thinking of them, she engaged the 'link and put a transmission through to Peabody's personal porta-link.
"Dallas." Peabody's square face glowed with relief, then immediately a cloud of concern and guilt darkened her eyes. "You okay?"
"I've been better. Does your schedule allow for a meal today, Peabody?"
"A meal?"
"That's right. This is a personal call on your personal unit." Eve spoke carefully, trusting Peabody to read between the lines. "And a request, if time and inclination permit, for you to join me at home for a meal. You're free to bring a couple of dates. If you can't fit this in, I understand."
Barely three seconds passed. "It so happens I'm hungry right now. I'll just round up my dates. We'll be there in less than an hour."
"It'll be good to see you."
"Same goes," Peabody murmured and broke transmission.
After a moment's hesitation, Eve turned to Roarke. "I need data, as much as I can get, on Bowers: her personal info, all job records, and reports. I need to access Baxter's case files and bring up all he has so far on her murder. I need the ME's findings, the sweepers' reports, any and all interview records pertaining."
While Roarke watched, she strode around the room. "They wiped my case log at Central and here. I want that data back, and whatever Feeney's gathered since I got kicked. I don't want to ask him to copy it to me. He would, and I'm already going to ask him for more than I have a right to. I need everything I can dig on Westley Friend's suicide and who his closest associates were at the time of his death."
"It so happens I already have that information, or most of it, for you." Roarke grinned at her when she turned around and stared at him. "Welcome back, Lieutenant." He held out a hand to her. "You've been missed."
"It's good to be back." She went to him, took his hand. "Roarke, however this turns out, the department may consider it more efficient damage control to… they may not reinstate me."
His eyes on hers, he brushed his fingers through her hair, rubbed them firm and steady over the tension at the base of her neck. "That would be their very great loss."
"Whatever happens, I have to do this. I have to finish what I started. I can't walk away from the faces I see in my sleep. I can't turn my back on the job that saved me. If, after it's done, it's still over for me…"
"Don't think that way."
"I have to prepare for it." Her eyes were dark and steady, but he could see fear riding in them. "I want you to know I'll get through it. I won't fall apart on you again."
"Eve." He cupped her face in his hands. "We'll make this right. Trust me."
"I am trusting you. For God's sake, Roarke, I'm going rogue. And I'm taking you with me."
He laid his lips firmly on hers. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"You'll probably enjoy the hell out of this," she muttered. "Okay, we'd better get started. Can you do something to the computer in my office to confuse CompuGuard?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" With a laugh, he slid an arm around her waist and started toward the connecting doors.
It took him under ten minutes. She tried not to be impressed, but the simple fact was, it baffled her just how quickly those clever fingers of his could seduce electronics and make them hum.
"You're clean and clear," he told her.
"You're sure CompuGuard won't click to it when I run NYPSD data on here?"
"If you're going to insult me, I'll just go play with my own toys and leave you alone."
"Don't be so sensitive. I could do a lot of time in a cage for this, you know."
"I'd visit you every week."
"Yeah, from the cage next door." When he only grinned at that, she shifted close. "How do I access the data?" she began, only to have him slap her hand away before she could touch the keyboard.
"Please, you're such an amateur." He danced his fingers over the keyboard. The machine hummed cooperatively, lights blinking. When a husky female computer-animated voice announced, "Transfer complete," Eve raised her eyebrows.
"What happened to the default voice on this?"
"If I'm going to be working on this unit, I get to pick who talks to me."
"You're awfully simple at times, Roarke. Now, get out of my chair. I've got work to do before they get here."
"You're welcome," he said just a bit testily, but before he could rise, she grabbed his shirt, yanked, and crushed her mouth to his in a long, hard kiss.
"Thanks."
"You're very welcome." He patted her butt as they shifted positions. "Coffee, Lieutenant?"
"A couple of gallons would be a good start." She managed a smile. "Computer, print out stills of all crime scene photos, all pertaining files. On-screen, autopsy results on Bowers, Officer Ellen."
Working…
"Yeah," Eve said under her breath. "We're working."
Within thirty minutes, she had hard copies of specific data tucked in a drawer and had scanned reports to bring herself up to date. She was ready when Feeney arrived with Peabody and McNab.
"I've got one thing to say," Feeney began before Eve could speak. "We're not letting it go down this way. I've said my piece to Whitney, official and personal."
"Feeney – "
"Just shut up." His usually rumpled face was tight with anger, his voice clipped. When he jabbed his finger at a chair, Eve sat automatically without even the thought of protesting. "I trained you, goddamn it, and I got a right to say what I've got to say about one of mine. You let them kick you around this way, I'll fucking kick you harder. You got a raw deal, no question. Now it's time to get your own back. If you haven't filed legal protest papers, I want to know why the hell not."
Her brow knit. "I didn't think of it."
"What? Your brain go on holiday?" He stabbed a finger at Roarke. "What the hell's the matter with you, with all your fancy lawyers and your pile of credits? You gone soft in the head, too?"
"The papers have been drawn up and are waiting for her signature, now that she's finished…" He shot Eve a bland smile. "Whining."
"Bite me," she suggested, "both of you."