“There’s always a way, and it’s going to be checked out. But I don’t like it.” Eve sat again, pushed up again in a restless way that had Mira watching her. “It keeps the name out of the loop-potentially-but it’s not as efficient as just signing in as usual. Riskier than needed. The murder was risky, but like you said, calculated. Times. I bet the son of a bitch practiced.”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, absently toyed with loose credits. “Anyway, thanks for the time.”

“I’ll read the file, give you a more formal profile and opinion.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just did. Dead guy. No solid leads.”

“Don’t you trust me, Eve?”

It was what Roarke had asked her the night before, in nearly the same patient tone. And it broke her. Her breath hitched in and out once before she controlled it. “There’s a woman,” she managed.

Mira knew Eve’s heart and mind well enough to understand it was very personal, and nothing to do with murder. “Sit down.”

“I can’t. I can’t. There’s a woman he used to know, used to be with. He might’ve loved her. I think he did. God. She’s back, and he’s…I don’t know what to do. I’m messing it up. I can’t stop messing it up.”

“Do you think he’s been unfaithful?”

“No.” Undone, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “See, part of me wants to say, ‘Not yet.’ And the rest of me says, ‘That’s bullshit.’ It’s not his way. But she’s here, and she’s-she’s not like the others.”

“Let me say first that in my personal, and my professional opinion, Roarke loves you to the point where there isn’t room for anyone else. And I agree, being unfaithful to you isn’t his way. Not only because of that love, but because he respects you-and himself-far too much. Now. Tell me about the woman.”

“She’s beautiful. Seriously beautiful. She’s younger, prettier, and classier than me. She has bigger tits. I know that sounds ridiculous.”

“It certainly doesn’t. I dislike her intensely.”

Eve laughed even as a tear escaped and was dashed away. “Yeah. Thanks. Her name’s Magdelana. He calls her Maggie sometimes.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “I feel sick. I can’t really eat, can’t really sleep.”

“Eve, you need to talk to him about this.”

“I did. We did, and all we did was circle and piss each other off. I don’t know how to work this way.” Torn between frustration and fear, Eve dragged her hands through her hair. “I just don’t know the ropes. Summerset told me she’s dangerous.”

“Summerset?”

“Yeah.” There was-almost-amusement at the surprise in Mira’s tone. “Kick in the head, right? He actually prefers me over her, for Roarke. Right now, anyway.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least. Why does he say she’s dangerous?”

“She’s a user, he says. Left Roarke flat about a dozen years ago.”

“A long time. He’d have been very young.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, seeing Mira understood. “It cuts deeper when you’re young, before you really build up the skin for being hurt that way. See, she left him. That’s worse. It’s worse because it’s unfinished business to him, because it didn’t just come to its natural conclusion or whatever. She walked out on him. And then, she walked back in.”

She sat now, on the edge of the chair. “We were in this fancy restaurant. Business dinner, and I was late. Caught this case, and I didn’t change, so I was, you know. And then she said his name. He looked over, and she was an eyeful. Red dress, blonde. It was there, just for an instant, it was there in his eyes. He doesn’t look at anyone but me like that, but he looked at her. Just for a second. Not even a second, half a heartbeat. But it was there. I saw it.”

“I don’t doubt you.”

“There’s heat between them. I can feel it.”

“Memories, Eve, are powerful forces. You know that. But remembering feelings doesn’t make them viable.”

“He had lunch with her.”

“Hmm.”

“He was all open about it and everything. No sneaking around behind my back, no sir. And he said she asked him for some business advice. But she said-She came to my office.”

“She came to see you?”

Eve had to stand again, had to move again. “She said she wanted to buy me a drink, have a chat. All smiles and let’s-be-buddies. But what she said wasn’t what she was thinking, not what she had in mind. God, that sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t,” Mira disagreed in that same calm tone. “You’re trained to hear what’s not said. And even when it’s this intensely personal, you’d hear.”

“Okay.” Eve let out a breath. “Okay. She was scoping me out, dropping little tidbits. She made it sound as if she and Roarke were going to work together. She’s playing me, and I can’t find the rhythm to kick her the hell off the field.”

“However satisfying that might be, kicking her off the field won’t solve this for you. He has to do that. Have you told him this is hurting you?”

“I feel stupid enough. He hasn’t done anything. The fact that they have this heat and history between them, well, he can’t do anything about that. It is. She knows it, and she’ll use it. Then…I guess he’ll have to make a choice.”

“Do you doubt he loves you?”

“No. But he loved her first.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“I guess I must, since I dumped all this on you.”

Mira rose, took Eve’s arms. “Go home, get some sleep. Take something if you must, but get a couple of hours of sleep. Then tell Roarke how you feel. Tell him you feel stupid, that you feel hurt, that you know he hasn’t done anything. Feelings aren’t always rational and reasonable. That’s why they’re feelings. You’re entitled to yours, and he’s entitled to know what yours are.”

“Sounds good in theory. Even if I could work up the chops for that, I can’t do it. I have that goddamn deal with Nadine tonight.”

“Oh, of course. Now ’s premiere. Dennis and I will both be watching.” She did something then she rarely did, or Eve would rarely allow. Mira brushed her hand over Eve’s hair, then leaned in, kissed her cheek. “You’ll be wonderful, and when it’s done, when you’ve had a decent night’s sleep, you’ll talk to Roarke. Maybe he does have a choice to make, but everything I feel, everything I know, says absolutely that choice will always be you.”

“She speaks French and Italian.”

“That bitch.”

Eve managed a laugh, then did something she’d never done. She simply lowered her brow to Mira’s and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

The churning and airing of all those emotions might have given her a drilling headache, but despite it, she felt better.

When she walked back into her division, she saw Peabody sitting at her desk in the bull pen talking to a small, dark-haired woman. Peabody patted the woman on the arm, rose.

“Here’s the lieutenant now. Dallas, this is Laina Sanchez. We’ve been talking. Maybe we can use the lounge?”

“Sure.” She saw now, as Laina levered to her feet, that the woman was several months into gestation.

“I thought I should come in.” Laina’s voice was faintly accented and throaty. “I talked with Hallie after you interviewed her. Detective Peabody interviewed me at the school the day…the day Craig died. So I came in to see her.”

“Fine.” In the lounge she saw Baxter and Trueheart-the slick and the innocent-at a table in a corner with a skinny, jittery guy wearing sunshades.

Funky-junkie, Eve decided. Probably one of Baxter’s weasels. She flipped through her mental files to try to pin down what cases the pair was working while Peabody offered Laina a drink.

Underground homicide, she remembered. Dead tourist who, it appeared, had been trying to score in one of the nasty holes under New York ’s streets.

Baxter’s gaze flicked to hers too briefly to measure, but in the look she saw that the junkie had something that was heating up the investigation.

At least somebody had a decent lead.