andard car boom style—which was his mistake. If he'd used a timer, well, let's just say you wouldn't be eating berries this morning, Lieutenant. He linked it to the ignition, figuring it would trigger when you engaged the engine. Fortunately for our side, you drive—or drove—a departmental joke. The electrical system, the guidance system, the ignition system, well, just about every damn system in your vehicle was flawed. My guess is when you started it up yesterday, it hiccuped a few times."
"It took me three tries to get it going."
"There you are." McNab gestured with a berry, then popped it in his mouth. "It threw the link with the boomer off, skipped over the trigger. It was primed, could have gone off at any time from there. You hit a pothole, stop short, and boom."
"I slammed the door," Eve murmured. "When those idiot cab drivers pissed me off, I got out and slammed the door."
"That's likely what did it. Nothing wrong with the boomer. I took a look at the debris myself, and I can tell you he used top-grade components. It was just waiting for the signal to trigger."
Eve drew a breath. "So what you're telling me is I owe my life to budget cuts and a departmental maintenance crew who have their heads up their butts."
"Couldn't have put it better." McNab patted her knee. "If you'd been driving one of those rockets like the boys in Anti-Crime, you'd have gone up in the garage at Central and become a legend."
"The garage. How the hell did he get into the garage to plant it?"
"I'll take that." Peabody did her best not to speak through clenched teeth. Not only did McNab report in an unsuitably casual style, but it should have been her damn report. "I swung by Central and requested a copy of the security disc for yesterday. Whitney cleared it."
"Have you got it?"
"Yes, sir." Smug now, Peabody patted her bag. "Right here."
"Well, let's—Oh for Christ's sake." Eve swore as someone banged on the door yet again. "Just come the hell in. We should be selling tickets."
"Dallas." Nadine rushed in, all but leaped on the bed. Her usually shrewd eyes were clouded with tears. "You're all right? You're really all right. I've been sick worrying. None of my sources could get the status. Summerset wouldn't say anything but that you were resting every time I called. I had to come see for myself."
"As you can see, I'm dandy. Just hosting a little breakfast party." She picked up the bowl of berries McNab was rapidly depleting. "Hungry?"
Nadine pressed her fingers to her lips to control the trembling. "I know this is my fault. I know you could have been killed because of what I did."
"Look, Nadine—"
"It was easy enough to put together," Nadine interrupted. "I go on air with that statement I hammered out of you, and a couple hours later, your car blows up. He came after you because he heard the report, because I put it on the air."
"Which is exactly what I intended." Eve set the bowl down again. The last thing she needed on her conscience was a hysterical, guilty reporter. "You didn't hammer anything out of me. I said what I wanted to say, and what I wanted you to broadcast. I needed him to make a move, and I needed him to make it in my direction."
"What do you mean you—" As it struck home, Nadine held up a hand. It took a moment before she was certain she could speak. "You used me?"
"I'd say that was quid pro quo, Nadine. We used each other."
Nadine took a step back. Her face was bone white now, her eyes blazing. "Bitch. Goddamn cop bitch."
"Yeah." Weary again, Eve rubbed her eyes. "Wait a minute. A minute," she repeated before Nadine could stalk out. "Would you all give Nadine and me some space here? Peabody, McNab, set up in my office. Roarke…please."
Peabody and McNab were already out the door when he walked to the bed, leaned down close. "I think we'll have to discuss this latest development, Lieutenant."
She decided it was best to say nothing, and waited for him to go out and quietly close the door behind him. "He's not going to understand," she murmured, then looked over at Nadine. "Maybe you will."
"Oh, I get it, Dallas. I get it. You want to move your investigation along, why not fake a statement to a credible on-air reporter. Just use her—after all, what does she matter? She doesn't have any feelings. She's just another idiot reading the news."
"The statement wasn't faked. It was what I wanted to say." Eve set the breakfast tray aside. Doctor's recommendation or not, she wasn't going to have this confrontation while lounging in bed. "It was what I felt, and what, under most circumstances, I'd have kept to myself."
She tossed the covers aside, got to her feet. Then realizing her legs weren't quite ready to support her, she abandoned pride for dignity and sat on the edge of the bed.
"It was impulse. That's not an excuse. I knew exactly what I was doing, and where you would go with it. But one thing, Nadine. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't come after me with a camera."
"That's my fucking job."
"Yeah, and it's my fucking job to catch this guy. I've got lives on the line here, Nadine, and one of them may be Roarke's. That means I'll do anything it takes. Even use a friend."