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“Just the last leg.”

“Still, you must be a brave and adventurous soul. Have you had breakfast then?”

“She wouldn’t have, no,” Roarke said before Eve could respond. “Brave and adventurous, she is, but a weak stomach for heights.”

“I can speak for myself.”

“I’ll wager you can.” Sinead nodded. “Come in then, and welcome. I’ll fix you breakfast. Your man hasn’t eaten either.”

She walked back toward the house. Understanding his wife, Roarke gave Eve’s hand a quick squeeze. “She’s been nothing but kind. I’m staggered by the kindness I’ve found here.”

“Okay. I could eat.”

Still, she held her opinion in reserve as she found herself seated at the enormous kitchen table with Sinead manning the stove and the pots and skillets on it like a conductor mans an orchestra.

She was given tea, nearly as black as coffee and so strong she was surprised it didn’t melt the enamel on her teeth. But it settled her as yet uneasy stomach.

“So you’re a cop. One who hunts murderers.” Sinead glanced back over her shoulder as she wielded a spatula. “Roarke says you’re brilliant, and dogged as a terrier, with a heart big as the moon.”

“He’s got a soft spot for me.”

“That he does. We’re told you’re in the middle of a difficult case now.”

“They’re all difficult, because someone’s dead who shouldn’t be.”

“Of course, you’re right.” Intrigued, Sinead watched her as meat sizzled in the pan. “And you solve the thing.”

“No. You never solve anything, because someone’s dead who shouldn’t be,” Eve repeated. “They can’t get up out of the grave, so it can’t be solved. All you can do is close the case, and trust the system for justice.”

“And is there justice?”

“If you keep at it long enough.”

“You closed this one quickly,” Roarke began, then stopped when he saw her face. “You didn’t close it.”

“Not yet.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the meat frying in the skillet. “Lieutenant, I wouldn’t have pulled you away from your work.”

“You didn’t. I pulled myself away.”

“Eve—”

“Why are you badgering the girl, and here she’s not even had her breakfast.” To settle a matter that looked to her would heat up as quickly as the bacon, Sinead heaped food on plates, set them down. “If she’s as brilliant as you say, she ought to know what she’s about.”

“Thanks.” Eve picked up a fork, exchanged her first comfortable look with Sinead. “Looks great.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, as I’ve some things to see to upstairs. Don’t worry about the dishes when you’re done.”

“I think I like her,” Eve commented when they were alone, then poked a fat sausage with her fork. “Is this from pig?”

“Most likely. Eve, I want to be sorry you felt it necessary to leave in the middle of an investigation, but I’m so bloody glad you’re here. I haven’t been able to find my balance, haven’t been able to settle myself since I found out about my mother. I’ve handled the entire business badly. Bungled it, top to bottom.”

“Guess you did.” She tried a bite of sausage, approved. “It’s nice to know you can screw up now and again, like the rest of us mortals.”

“I couldn’t find my balance,” he repeated, “until I stood out there in the mist of the morning and saw you. Simple as that for me, it seems. There she is, so my life’s where it should be, whatever’s going on around it. You know the worst of me, but you came. I think what’s here, though I don’t understand it all yet, haven’t taken it all in, may be the best of me. I want you to be part of that.”

“You went to Dallas with me. You saw me through that, even though it was about as rough on you as it was on me. You’ve shuffled your work and your schedule around more times than I can count to help me out—even when I didn’t want you to.”


Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery