She crossed to the counter, sniffed the pot, gagged a little, but poured a cup anyway. "She didn't show for interview," Peabody continued. "Feeney and I went to her place, got a warrant for entry. She wasn't there. We looked for her here and came up empty. We had a couple of confirmations that she'd been in her office and the organ wing. We picked up Young and he lawyered up before you could swallow spit. We're holding him for formal in the morning, but he could dance on bail for the night. We were heading back to Wo's when we got word on Louise, so we came in, got her status."
She gulped down coffee and shuddered. "So, how was your day?"
"It sucked. What can you give me on Louise?"
Peabody glanced at her wrist unit, then looked over before Eve could control the wince. "Sorry. Damn, Dallas."
"Don't worry about it. You're on duty and pressed for time."
"I'm supposed to be having a fancy French dinner followed by what I figured might be some fancy sex." She tried a smile. "But there you go. Louise got hit at the clinic. Blow to the head. Fractured right wrist indicates defensive wound. We figure she saw whoever bashed her. They used the desk 'link."
"Christ, that took some muscle."
"Yeah, and they did a number on her with it. She was in her office. Whoever did it left her there. There's a small drug cabinet in there, for samples. It was broken open and rifled. It happened between three and four this afternoon. She was off shift at three, logged her last patient at three-ten. A doctor on the next rotation found her just after four. They called it in and started work on her there."
"What's your take on her chances?"
"It's a damn good center. Some of the equipment looks like it should be at NASA II. She's had a fleet of doctors in and out of her room. We've got a uniform on the door twenty-four / seven." She finished off the coffee. "I heard the nurses saying that she's young and strong. Her heart and lungs are prime. The brain scans haven't shown anything to worry about yet. But you can tell they want her to come out of it. The longer she stays under, the more worried they look."
"I have to ask you to call me if there's any change. I need to know."
"You don't have to ask. I should get back."
"Yeah. Tell Feeney I'm working on a couple of angles. I'll pass along anything that looks worthwhile."
"Will do." She started out, hesitated. "I think you should know: Word is the commander's been dogging the chief. He's taken some pokes at IAB, and he's breathing down Baxter's neck to close off on Bowers. He's been over to the one-six-two to do some digging on her on his own. Basically, he's busting his ass to get you reinstated."
Unsure how to feel, she simply stared. "I appreciate you telling me."
"One more thing: Rosswell's personal account showed regular deposits over the last two months of ten thousand a pop. All E-transfers." Her lips curved when Eve's eyes narrowed and gleamed. "He's dirty. Feeney's already sicced Webster on him."
"Times in nicely with Spindler's murder. Nice work." Roarke waited until she was alone before he came back in. He found her sitting on the arm of a sofa, staring down at her hands. "You've had a long day, Lieutenant."
"Yeah." She rubbed her hands on her knees, shook off the mood, then looked at him. "I was thinking about topping it off with something special."
"Is that so?"
"How about a little nighttime B and E?"
His grin flashed. "Darling. I thought you'd never ask."
*** CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ***
"I'm driving."
Roarke's hand paused as it reached for the car door, and his brow winged up. "It's my car."
"It's my deal."
They studied each other a minute, crowded together at the driver's side door. "Why are you driving?"
"Because." Vaguely embarrassed, she dug her hands in her pockets. "Don't smirk."
"I'll try to resist. Why?"
"Because," she said again, "I drive when I'm on a case, so if I drive, it'll feel like—it'll feel official instead of criminal."
"I see. Well, that makes perfect sense. You drive."