Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,51
her field kit to remove several hairs from the body, bagged those, took swabs of blood, bagged those, bagged the cat, labeled the bags. She put the sack and note in another.
Taking the boxes, she boxed, sealed, and labeled.
“You’re going to take the body to the morgue, tagged for Morris.”
“You want the ME to autopsy a cat?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The jacket, the hair, the blood, and the bag and note go to the lab. The hair is tagged for Harvo, the rest for Berenski. They’re priority. All the fuck of them are priority. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re on foot?”
“Yes, sir.”
She pulled out her comm again, ordered a cruiser to pick up the beat cops.
“Do you want someone to stand by the gates, keep the scene secured?”
“No.” No point, she thought. No real point in the sweepers, either, but she’d cover all the bases.
She stowed her field kit, got behind the wheel.
Summerset offered her a spotless white handkerchief.
“You have blood on your hands.”
She wanted to snarl, but took it. No point, either, in smearing dead cat blood all over the steering wheel.
Later, she’d think just how upset Summerset had to be not to object when she balled up the bloody cloth, stuffed it in her jacket pocket.
Instead, he folded his own hands as she drove through the gates.
“As you know,” he began, “the gate security reads your vehicle ID. I became concerned when the gates opened and closed, but your vehicle didn’t appear on the monitor in a timely fashion so I could remote it to the garage. I then checked the gate monitor, and became only more concerned at seeing your empty vehicle, the bag.”
“So you open the damn gates and stand there like some scarecrow waiting for the crows to shit on your shoulders and peck your eyes out.”
“I was hardly—”
“What if he’d doubled back? He had a damn crosstown block on me when he ran into the park. He could’ve doubled back and gutted you.”
His stiff neck managed to swivel enough for him to glare at her. “I’m not without my own resources.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your resources. What the hell would I say to Roarke if I’d come back and found you bleeding out beside that dead cat?”
“I’m armed,” Summerset said as she slammed to a stop in front of the house. “And I’ll remind you I survived worse than this thug during the Urban Wars. And beyond.”
“The Urbans weren’t on my watch.” She shoved out of the car.
He shoved out of the other side. “And what the hell would I say to Roarke if I hadn’t bothered to check, and he came home to find you dead beside that poor cat?”
“I’m a cop.”
“That makes you invincible?”
“It makes me trained.”
“As I am, as I have been longer than you’ve been alive.”
“And you figure being old means you can outrun and outmaneuver a professional killer?”
Summerset took a mini blaster out of his pocket. “I believe this would compensate for age.”
“Jesus, that’s illegal!”
“Arrest me,” he suggested. “But at this moment, I need a drink. We both need a drink.”
When he walked to the door, she pulled viciously at her own hair. Then went in after him, because she damn well did want a drink.
Galahad trotted to Summerset, did his wind and rub, then went to Eve. For a moment, the three of them stood in the grand foyer.
Summerset cleared his throat. “I saw the note on the bag. Despite the poor spelling, the message was clear. I knew our boy here was safe, but you didn’t.”
She stripped off her jacket, tossed it on the newel post. “I want a really big drink.”
With a nod, Summerset walked into the parlor. He poured her a generous glass of wine, and himself three fingers of whiskey.
“When did you start carrying a blaster in your damn pocket?”
“Since Liam Calhoun got past my guard and into the house, and you stepped in front of a stream meant for me. Lorcan Cobbe will not get into the house.”
Because he found the entire incident upsetting, Summerset sat.
“How the hell did he know we have a cat?”
And because he’d had time to think of that, Summerset sighed over his whiskey. “He may have used an amplifier when he shadowed me today.”
“He—What? When?” She didn’t want to tear her hair out now. She wanted to tear Summerset’s out. “Why am I just hearing this? Where?”
“Oh, sit down, girl, instead of pacing about.” Summerset drank some whiskey, rubbed his temple. “I told Roarke, and