“She’ll call one when I tell her to.” But Eve made a note to make that crystal clear, and to use the commander if necessary.
“Just a heads-up, friend to friend.”
“And you’re being so damn friendly.”
“I am. We are,” Nadine added. “And before I move on to my not-so-secret agenda, I want to say I really, seriously, completely enjoyed Thanksgiving at your place, with the gang, with Roarke’s family.”
She angled to smile at the framed sketch on Eve’s wall.
“That’s great, you know. Not just that the kid thought of it, or what she wrote on the back, but that you’d hang it in here.”
“I told her I would.”
“And that mattered to her. You could see it on her face. Anyway, I know I was a little drunk—just a little—but what I said about being in love with Roarke’s family remains true cold sober. If I wasn’t a to-the-bone urbanite, didn’t have to-the-marrow ambitions, a job I love, and so on, I’d move to Ireland, pick one out of the herd, and marry him. I may hold out for Sean,” she said considering, speaking of Roarke’s young cousin. “I might be ready to retire to Ireland by the time he’s old enough.”
“They have cows,” Eve said darkly. “Practically in the backyard.”
“I could live with that,” Nadine decided. “In about twenty years. Until then, I’m writing my next book.”
“Oh.”
“Such enthusiasm!” Nadine laughed. “The Icove Agenda took everything up a level for me. I’m ready to dig into another. My working title is Ride the Red Horse.”
“You’re going to write about Callaway, about Menzini.”
“It’s a natural. A cult, a crazed leader harking back to the Urban Wars, a deadly weapon used to cause ordinary people to hallucinate and kill each other within minutes. The legacy passed on, the courageous cop who brought them down.”
“Shit.”
“Really, try to control your joy. I’ll be tapping you, Roarke, the team from time to time while I’m drafting it out, and I’ll be asking you to look over the finished manuscript, to make sure you’re okay with it.”
“They’re going to make another vid, aren’t they?”
“Bet your ass. While I’m working on that, I’d like to give the twelve girls some play—respect,” she said before Eve could speak. “You’ll do what you do to get them justice. I’ll do what I do so people know they existed. To know their names, their faces, and that someone took their lives before they’d really begun. It matters, too.”
It did, Eve knew. And no one did it better than Nadine because it mattered to her. “Get out your recorder.”
Nadine fished into the suitcase she called a purse, pulled it out. “I can have a camera here in ten minutes.”
/> “No camera, no interview. Just names.” Eve listed them off. “You can’t release them yet, but you can do some basic background—quietly—on them. I’ll give you the others when we have them. I’ll give you the green light when you can go with them. Until then, you’re on red.”
“Understood.”
“Now go away. I’ve got work.”
“So do I.” Nadine scooped up her coat. “Looking forward to your holiday bash.”
“My what?”
“I spoke with Roarke briefly. He said if I mentioned it to tell you to look at your calendar.” Swinging on her coat, Nadine headed out.
She remembered now, with the mention of her calendar. But still. “Didn’t we just have a bash? Isn’t Thanksgiving a bash? Why is Christmas so close to Thanksgiving? Who plans this stuff?”
Since there was no one to answer, she got coffee.
Peabody barreled in. “I talked to Africa!”
“Kudos.”