would anyone want to hurt her? I don’t understand, this is a very safe area. She was only going a few blocks. She carries a panic button. Who did this to her? Who did this?”
He dropped his hand. Though he hadn’t managed to work up tears, he did well enough with distress.
“We haven’t yet identified the attacker. We’re analyzing the security discs. You weren’t aware she intended to go to the park?”
“The park?” He looked away. “She said the gym. I don’t know why she went to the park. I suppose she might have wanted the air. I don’t know.”
“You weren’t aware she intended to go to the park to meet someone?”
“To meet someone? Who? Is that who killed her?”
“No, the person she intended to meet isn’t a suspect. Were you aware your wife had an affair, Mr. Tween?”
“That’s a disgusting thing to say!” Fury flooded his face, ate away even the pretense of distress. “You’re insulting my wife, the mother of my child.”
“We have substantial evidence of the affair. Are you stating you were unaware?”
“You dare to sit there, minutes after you tell me my wife’s been murdered, and call her a whore?”
“That’s an unfortunate choice of words, Mr. Tween, and not one I used.” But, Eve thought, I bet it’s how you thought of her. “How would you describe the state of your marriage?”
“I will not discuss my marriage with you.” He pushed to his feet. “I want you to leave.”
“This is a difficult time, but these are routine questions. Questions we ask to help us find the person who took your wife’s life, who took the life of your child’s mother.”
“Could I get you some water?” Peabody used her sympathy voice, and the puppy dog eyes. “You’ve had a terrible shock, sir. Is there someone we can contact for you?”
“No. No. I need privacy. I need time to cope. I need you to leave me alone.”
“Of course.” Sliding easily into the good, understanding cop, Peabody rose. “Before we do, it would be helpful if we had a copy of your security feed so that we can pinpoint exactly when Ms. Modesto left the house tonight. Every piece of information helps us find the person responsible.”
“All right, all right.” He yanked his ’link out of his pocket, keyed in a code. “I’ve alerted the maintenance droid. He’ll show you the security station, take care of this. Then he’ll show you out.”
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Eve told him. “And again, we’re sorry for your loss. If you think of anything that might help in our investigation, please contact us.”
As she spoke, Eve took a casual glance around the room. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Tween, and your wife’s love of her homeland comes through. That’s a wonderful painting.”
She stepped toward Stowe’s work, and saw not fury, not jealousy, but satisfaction flicker into Tween’s eyes.
The first thing Roarke did when he walked into the house was check on Summerset. He went directly to the house comp. “Where is Summerset?”
Good evening, Roarke. Summerset is in his quarters.
Satisfied, and having spent the trip home contacting those he felt he needed to contact, he went upstairs.
He bypassed his office and Eve’s, continued up to his private office.
He used his palm print, the voice ID to open the secure doors.
“Lights on,” he ordered, and in them, with the city spread outside the privacy-screened window, he poured himself a whiskey.
He gave himself a moment, just a moment to settle.
Eve could and would handle herself. Although …
He couldn’t dwell on althoughs, not now.
Summerset remained safe in his quarters, and they’d have a discussion in the morning.
He’d ordered some of his best security people to keep watch on his family in Ireland.
If Cobbe didn’t know about them before tonight, he’d make it his business to learn about them now.
He had other key people he’d inform and address in the morning, but for now, he had some digging to do.
He went to the command center of his unregistered equipment, equipment CompuGuard couldn’t detect. He placed his palm on the plate.
“Roarke. Open operations.”
The lights switched on, glowing like jewels against the black.
Operations open …
He sat with his whiskey.
“Open and display on wall screen all files on Cobbe, Lorcan.”
Acknowledged. Accessing. Displaying …
He’d kept track. A careful man, and one with the means, kept track of enemies. Roarke might have believed Cobbe too careful to try for him at this point. If that was a mistake, it wasn’t one he’d perpetuate.
He scrolled and scanned, refreshing himself on data gathered on