Page 93 of Fury In Death

“There’s more of the toll it’s taking.” He took her hand, kissed it. “We’re here, me and our cat. You’re who you are, Eve, because you can and do empathize with victims, and he’s surely that. But we’re here, and here we’ll stay.”

“I have to stop this. Him, them. Stopping him isn’t enough. I have to stop it all.”

“Then you will.”

She looked down into her coffee, then up at him. “I know I’d lose the best part of me if I lost you.”

“Eve—”

“No, wait. I know that, and I know I’d hunt them down, I’d take them down so they’d spend the rest of their lives, miserable, cut off from what they value, in a cage. Death ends things, Roarke. Justice can go on and on. That’s what they deserve.”

“That’s my cop.” He kissed her. “Go, get your shower. I’ll see to breakfast.”

The shower helped cement the calm again. Too much work to do, she reminded herself, to give in to nightmares. EDD would link the payment to Cruz to Banner-Wyst; she’d get warrants. She and forensic accountants and EDD, and whatever it took, would compile the evidence needed for convictions.

She’d track Redman, and however much she felt for him, she’d take him down, too. In his case, he’d get the help he needed, but in a secure facility.

When she stepped out, Roarke had the plates under domes. The cat, likely already banished, curled up in front of the simmering fire.

It looked so damn domestic, so utterly normal, her eyes stung. She wanted to keep it light. He’d worry otherwise.

Or worry more.

“Just so you know, I’m going to try to attend at least part of a memorial today, so it’s black.”

“You might consider a vest and shirt along with the trousers and jacket. No need for an overcoat, though it’ll be a bit cooler than yesterday. And very businesslike and formidable if you pay a visit to Banner-Wyst, or have the opportunity to take either or both in the box.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said as he lifted the domes.

Pancakes, bacon, berries. Yeah, the man knew her weaknesses, and her needs.

She sat, drowned the pancakes in syrup.

“I thought I’d tag Feeney later,” Roarke said. “See if I can help in some way. I’ve been on two of these crime scenes, so have a vested interest.”

“That’s between you and him. He’ll crack that code, make the connections. But he’s going to be pissed. He’s going to feel like Banner-Wyst pulled one over on him and the arson inspector. Which they did,” she added as she ate. “But I figure—and he’ll come around to it—that they had access to technology the NYPSD, the FDNY, didn’t at that time.

“A lot of other factors, too.” She saw Galahad’s nose twitch as she bit into some bacon. She ignored it. “Even if they’d ruled arson, why would they make the connection to the company? One tenant among many worked for them. And still, Feeney tried to interview Redman. Just impossible given his mental state at the time.”

“You’ll tell Feeney all that.”

“He knows all that, but I’ll tell him if he needs the push. Or you will if you end up in the lab with him and he needs to hear it.”

“I was nowhere near Banner-Wyst’s reach back then, but if I’d wanted a building taken down, I could have done it, and made it look like an accident even under scrutiny. Or certainly in a way that wouldn’t bring the cops to my door.”

“Then that’s what you tell him, if he needs it. I may spend most of today in the field after my consult with Mira, but I’ll check in with EDD on and off. Not enough to step on Feeney’s toes.”

When she decided on a second slice of bacon, Galahad rolled in their direction, as if stretching.

“Any closer, mate,” Roarke warned him, “and out the door you go.”

Smiling to herself, she finished breakfast. Then braced herself for the closet. Though she’d wear black, there were half a million choices.

She grabbed black pants at random, decided to build everything from that. As she struggled to do so, she thought of Mira, how the woman used color, managed to coordinate everything, clothes, shoes, jewelry.

“I don’t even wear jewelry.” If she didn’t count her wedding ring and the fat diamond she wore on a chain under her shirt.

She liked the black leather vest she didn’t think she’d seen before, even if it had what she considered useless little slant pockets. A black shirt, black jacket with black leather buttons, black boots, black belt.