Only the mad would call this madness. Only the blind will look and not see.
Soon, very soon, I think I can show the world what I’ve done. But first, more light. I need two more before I share with the world.
But, of course, I must give them a peek.
When all was done that needed to be done, a note and an image were sent to Nadine Furst, at Channel 75.
Chapter 10
The beeping of the bedside ’link shot her out of a nightmare. From dark to dark. Shivering, groping through the panic, she dragged at the tangled sheets.
“Block video. Oh Jesus, lights, ten percent. Damn it, goddamn it.”
Eve scrubbed the heels of her hands over her damp cheeks, sucked at air while her heart continued to thunder, and answered the call.
“Dallas.”
DISPATCH, DALLAS, LIEUTENANT EVE.
She dragged at her hair. “Acknowledged.”
REPORT IMMEDIATELY, LINCOLN CENTER, ENTRANCE TO METROPOLITAN OPERA HOUSE. POSSIBLE HOMICIDE.
“Is the scene secure?”
AFFIRMATIVE.
“Notify Peabody, Officer Delia. My ETA, twenty minutes.”
ACKNOWLEDGED. DISPATCH OUT.
She rolled out of bed, the empty bed. It was nearly four in the morning, but he hadn’t come to bed. Her skin was clammy from the nightmare, so she gave herself two minutes in the shower, another minute in the swirling heat of the drying tube, and felt almost steady again.
She dressed quickly in the dim light, strapped on her weapon, pocketed her badge, her field restraints, clipped on her recorder. And was halfway out the bedroom door when she cursed, stalked back, and dug a memo cube out of the drawer of the night stand.
“I caught a case,” she said into it. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
She thought of a dozen things she wanted to say, but they all seemed pointless. So she left it at that, tossed the memo on the bed, and went to work.
The police sensors were up, flashing red and yellow. At the curb a couple of black-and-whites nosed together, with their cones circling in cold blue, hot red.
The great fountain that graced the wide terrace was quiet, and the elegant building behind it dressed in shadows. She’d lived a decade in New York without ever having come to this cathedral of the arts. Until Roarke had taken her inside to the theater, to concerts, even the opera.
When you were hooked up with a man like Roarke, she thought, your horizons broadened whether you wanted them to or not.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“Lieutenant.”
She nodded to the uniform who greeted her and pulled herself back. A cop didn’t have a personal life, or personal worries on a crime scene.
“What have we got?” She skimmed his tag. “Officer Feeno.”
“Male, Asian mix, about twenty. DOS. Couple of half-stewed partyers found him in the fountain. Guy pulled the kid out, woman called it in. My partner and I were first to respond and arrived about two minutes after the call. My partner’s got the witnesses stashed over there.”
He gestured to the steps leading up to the entrance.
“Keep them wrapped for now. Send my aide through when she arrives.”