Reunion in Death

The job had been her home, her life, her single defining purpose before Roarke. Now even with him, or maybe because she had him, it remained an essential part of who and what she was.

Once she'd been a victim helpless, used, and broken. Now, she was a warrior.

She swung into the detectives' bullpen, ready to fight whatever battle lay ahead.

Detective Baxter glanced up from his work, let out a low whistle. «Whoa, Dallas. Hubba-hubba.»

«What?» Baffled, she looked over her shoulder, then realized Baxter's leering grin was for her. «You're a sick man, Baxter. It's reassuring to note some things don't change.»

«You're the one who's all slicked up.» He pushed himself up, skirted around desks. «Nice,» he added, rubbing her lapel between his thumb and finger. «You're a frigging fashion plate, Dallas. Put the rest of us to shame.»

«It's a jacket,» she muttered, mortified. «Cut it out.»

«Got yourself tanned, too. Would that be a full-body job?»

She bared her teeth in a fierce smile. «Do I have to kick your ass?»

Enjoying himself, he wagged a finger. «And what's that on your ears?» As she reached up, confused, he blinked as if in surprise. «Why, I believe those are called earrings. And they're real pretty, too.»

She'd forgotten she had them on. «Did crime suddenly stop dead while I was gone so that you have time to stand around here critiquing my wardrobe?»

«I'm just dazzled, Lieutenant. Absolutely dazzled by this fashion presentation. New boots?»

«Bite me.» She swung away on the sound of his laughter.

«And she is back! » Baxter announced to the sound of applause.

Morons, she thought as she marched toward her office. The New York Police and Security Department was peopled by a bunch of morons.

Jesus, she'd missed them.

She walked into her office, then just stood, one step over the threshold, goggling.

Her desk was clear. More, it was clean. In fact, the whole place was clean. Like someone had come along and sucked out all the dust and grime and then shined up what was left behind. Suspicious, she ran a thumb down the wall. Yes, that was definitely fresh paint.

Eyes narrowed, she continued into the room. It was a small space with one stingy window, a banged-up and now scrubbed desk, and a couple of chairs with bad springs. The file cabinet, also sparkling, had been cleared off. A green plant that appeared to be thriving stood on top of it.

With a little yelp of distress, she leaped to the file cabinet, yanked open a drawer.

«I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Bastard hit me again.»

«Lieutenant?»

Snarling, Eve glanced back. Her aide stood in the doorway, as shipshape as the room in her starched summer blues.

«Goddamn sneaking candy thief found my cache.»

Peabody pursed her lips. «You had candy in the file cabinet.» She angled her head. «Under M?»

«M for Mine, damn it.» Annoyed, Eve slammed the drawer shut. «I forgot to take it out before I left. What the hell happened in here, Peabody? I had to read the name on the door to be sure this was my office.»

«Since you were gone it seemed like a good time to have it cleaned and painted. It'd gotten pretty dingy in here.»

«I was used to it. Where's all my stuff?» she demanded. «I had some backlog, and some fives, and the ME's and a sweeper's reports on the Dunwood case should've come in while I was away.»

«I took care of it. I did the fives and caught up with the backlog, and filed the reports.» She offered a smile that danced laughter into her dark eyes. «I had some time on my hands.»

«You did all the paperwork?»

«Yes, sir.»

«And arranged to have my office overhauled?»

«I think there were multicelled organisms breeding in various corners. They're dead now.»

Slowly Eve slipped her hands into her pockets, rocked back on her heels. «This wouldn't be your way of telling me that when I'm around I don't give you time to take care of daily business.»

«Absolutely not. Welcome back, Dallas. And I have to say that, wow, you look really terrific. Snappy outfit.»

Eve dropped into the chair at her desk. «What the hell do I usually look like?»

«Is that a rhetorical question?»

Eve studied Peabody's face the square, sturdy looks topped with a dark bowl of hair. «I'm trying to think if I missed your smart mouth. No,» she decided. «Not a bit.»

«Aw, sure you did. Great tan. I guess you spent a lot of time soaking up the sun and stuff.»

«I guess I did. Where'd you get yours?»

«My what?»

«The tan, Peabody. You go in for a flash?»

«No, I got it in Bimini.»

«Bimini, like the island? What the hell were you doing in Bimini?»

«Well, you know, vacationing same as you. Roarke suggested that, since you were heading out, maybe I should take a week off, too, and-«

Eve shot up a hand. «Roarke suggested?»

«Yeah, he thought McNab and I could use a little downtime, so-«

Eve felt the muscle just under one eye start to twitch. It had a habit of doing that whenever she thought too hard about Peabody and the fashion dish from the Electronic Detective Division as an item.