Detective Eve Dallas, now Lieutenant.
She'd come back for Dallas. To wage war.
There had been something about Eve Dallas, she thought now, something cold, something dark that had spoken to her.
Kindred spirits, she mused, and as the idea intrigued her she'd found herself spending endless hours of her time in prison, studying that particular opponent.
She had time still. The police would be chasing their tails searching for a connection between her and Walter Pettibone. They'd find none because there was none to find.
That was the tone of her work now, other women's husbands. She didn't have to have sex with them. She just got to kill the
m.
Strolling out of the room, she walked toward her office to spend the next hour or two studying her research notes on her next victim.
She might have taken a forced sabbatical, but Julianna was back. And raring to go.
CHAPTER SIX
Because stalling made her feel weak and stupid, Eve only managed to put off the trip to Commander Whitney's office until the middle of the day.
The only satisfaction in heading up was being able to ignore Channel 75's ace on-air reporter, Nadine Furst, as she requested an interview regarding the Pettibone-Dunne story.
That was something else she'd have to shuffle in, she thought as she caught a glide out of Homicide. Nadine's investigative skills were as sharp and savvy as her wardrobe. She'd be a handy tool.
As she was shown directly into Whitney's office without even a momentary wait, Eve had to figure he'd been expecting her.
He sat at his desk, a big-shouldered man with a worn, wide face. He had good, clear eyes, and she had reason to know his time off the streets hadn't softened him.
He sat back, giving her a little come-ahead signal with one finger. "Lieutenant. You've been busy."
"Sir?"
"You made a trip out to my neighborhood this morning, paid a visit to Shelly Pettibone." He folded those big hands, and his face was unreadable. "I just got an earful from my wife."
"Commander, it's standard procedure to question any and all connections to the victim."
"I don't believe I said otherwise." His voice was deep, rumbling, and as unreadable as his face. "What was your impression of Shelly Pettibone?"
"That she's a sensible, steady, and straightforward woman."
"I'd have to say that's a perfect description, and I've known her about fifteen years. Do you have any reason to believe she had anything to do with her husband's death?"
"No, sir. There's no evidence leading me in that direction."
He nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. Lieutenant, are you afraid of my wife?"
"Yes, sir," Eve said without hesitation. "I am."
His lips trembled for an instant in what might have been a smothered smile. Then he nodded again. "You're in good company. Anna is a very strong-willed woman with very definite and particular opinions. I'm going to do what I can to keep her off your back on this, and as Shelly isn't on your short list, that seems very doable. But if it comes down to you or me, you're on your own."
"Understood."
"Just so we know where we stand. Let me give you some basic background here." He gestured to a chair. "My family has been very friendly with the Pettibones for a number of years. In fact, one of my sons dated Sherilyn when they were teenagers. It was a bitter disappointment to my wife that the relationship didn't end in marriage, but she got over it."
There was a framed holograph of his wife on his desk. In a subtle move, Whitney tapped it until it faced toward the wall instead of toward him. "Anna and Shelly are very good friends, and I believe Anna took it harder than Shelly did when Walter left. In fact, Anna refused to see or speak to Walt, which is why we, and our children were not at the party. We were invited, but one doesn't butt heads with Anna over social issues."
"I don't think less of you for it, Commander."