“You lose weight, tone up, you do it to get fit and strong, not to hit a number. Anybody with a brain knows that.”
“I do know that. I still want the number, but I know that. I’ve been working on my hand-to-hand, too.”
“Good.” Eve pulled on her own uniform pants, decided they fit the way they always did.
“But . . . does my ass look smaller?”
“Jesus, Peabody.”
“Come on, be a pal. Does it?”
Eve pulled on her uniform jacket, narrowed her eyes in a long, hard study. “I can barely see it.”
On a watery laugh, Peabody did a little shuffle dance. “Thanks. You’ve got to wear your medals.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Want me to help you pin them on? All that weight.”
“Bite me. And next time I’m getting dressed in my office.”
Smiling, Peabody buttoned her jacket. “I’m proud to wear the uniform today. I mean, I always was, but especially today.”
“Because your pants are loose.”
“Well, that, but mostly for Trueheart. I’m proud to wear it for Trueheart.”
Eve took out the box that held her medals and thought, Yes. For Trueheart.
—
She caught Baxter—who’d traded his usually snappy suit for dress blues—already seated in the front row.
“Cutting it close, LT.”
“I’ve got time. You need to switch with me, stand up there with Trueheart.”
Baxter got to his feet. “I appreciate the offer, sincerely. But he deserves his lieutenant. I’m going to sit here, front row center—saved you a spot, Peabody—and bask. His mom’s right over there, and his girl. You should say something to her. Them.”
“I will, after.”
She went around the back, through a river of blue, and spotted Commander Whitney standing aside in conversation with Chief Tibble.
She started toward Trueheart, who was looking young, a little pale, and daisy fresh, but Whitney signaled her over.
“Commander. Chief Tibble. It’s a good day.”
“It is.” Whitney scanned the lineup, a broad-shouldered man beside Tibble’s longer length.
“It’s good you could be here, Chief. It means a lot to the men and women being promoted.”
“And to me. Before we get to that, to acknowledging them, I’d like the status on Senator Mira.”
“Detective Peabody and I just got back from interviews at his institute. As far as we can ascertain no one there knew he was missing. He didn’t give the name of the individual he arranged to meet at the property in SoHo to his admin, and dismissed his driver on arrival there. I’ve reached out to Detective Hanson in Missing Persons, and he should be following up at the Institute by now. Peabody and I will begin questioning certain women the senator had relationships with over the past year. I have information he took them, regularly, to the Institute’s suite at the Palace Hotel.”
Tibble’s jaw tightened as he shook his head. “The media’s going to tear into that like lions on an antelope. Not our problem. No ransom demands as yet?”
“Not to my knowledge.”