She circled, paced, sat, worked it a dozen different ways from a dozen different launch points.
And while she worked, Karlene Robins died.
In the loft, he checked and rechecked details. He’d logged her out of the building hours before, and had sent her fiancé a very sweet text so she wouldn’t be missed. He dressed, then placed his tools as well as her ’link, her PPC, and her memo book in his bag. Once again, he shut down the cameras, uploaded his virus.
He walked out of the building and headed home.
Cop work, Roarke thought, was bloody tedious. He had no doubt he’d be doing considerable more of it very shortly. But when he walked into the house, he was determined he’d be doing none of it until he’d had a decent meal and an hour to clear the buggering e-junk out of his head.
“This is a change,” Summerset commented. “You coming home late for dinner without notice, and looking annoyed and tired.”
“Then don’t tempt me to insult you as Eve does.”
“She’s in her office, and has been since she got home. Is there any progress?”
“Not nearly enough, considering.”
He continued up and found her where he’d thought he would, at her desk hunched over data and coffee.
She pushed to her feet when he came in, but he pointed a finger to stop her before she spoke. “We’re having a meal since all you’ve had is coffee and a candy bar.”
She blinked, then noted she’d neglected to dispose of the wrapper. “I need to know if—”
“I’ll tell you what there is to tell you, but I damn well want some food.”
“Okay.” It occurred to her that he’d had less sleep than she had, and was juggling his work with hers. “I’ll get it.”
His brows lifted. “Will you now?”
“Yeah. How about a steak? We can probably both use the boost.”
“I damn well could.” He reached out as she walked by, stroked her hair. “Thanks for that.”
While she went into the kitchen, he opened a bottle of wine. Deliberately, he turned his back on her murder board to keep it out of his head for a few minutes. A little clearing-out time, he thought as he sipped.
His brows rose again when she rolled out the dinner for two on a table when he’d assumed they’d eat at her desk.
“Let’s eat by the windows,” she said and nodded to the wine as she pushed the table toward them. “I could use a glass of that.”
He poured a second glass, then went to her, tapped the shallow dent in her chin, kissed her. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
“Hi, Civilian. Let’s take a breather.”
“I could use one nearly as much as I can use that red meat.”
“Okay.” She sat, stabbed her fork into one of the salads she’d programmed with him in mind. “I went by to see Louise at her new place.”
Now his brows winged up. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
“I was almost there anyway, and . . . Okay, I figured she wouldn’t be there so I could just leave a note and get, you know, friend credit.”
Looking at her, listening to her, he laughed for the first time in hours. “Never change.”
“Well, it should’ve worked, but she was there. Planting flowers, which who would expect?”
“Astonishing.”
“I don’t have to eat sarcasm to recognize the flavor. Anyway, I had to go in and go through the place. Have to say it looks like them. Smooth and sophisticated and now. She’s whacked with happy, which kind of infects anyone within a ten-foot radius.” She stuffed salad in her mouth to get it over with. “Like an airborne virus.”