“Shut it down, booted it up the same way,” Feeney continued. “No tampering with the locks. Knew the code or had a clone. Can’t find any indication of cloning. Have to be slick, too.”

“Okay.” How long did it take to get to the damn garage? How soon after breeding did germs give birth to new ones?

“Nothing on the house ’links looks hinky. Got a list of ’em in the report.”

“Yeah.”

“Pocket ’link either. Office ’links. Going back another week on the lot, but nothing popping.”

“I got it, Feeney.”

“Nothing popping on his comps either.” He slumped against Eve like a drunk. “Guy had a million of ’em, so it’s taking a while. Personals don’t show anything off.”

“You get to the wife’s yet?”

“Whose wife?”

“Never mind.” When the doors opened, a burly, hard-eyed uniform stepped forward. Letterman, she thought, could live.

“Captain Feeney?”

“Right here. Where’s your ride?”

He gestured to a black-and-white. “Let me give you a hand. Poor bastard looks pretty sick.”

“What’s the closest health center?” she asked as between them they maneuvered Feeney into the backseat where he simply sprawled out facedown.

“Got a walk-in clinic on Broadway and Eighteen.”

“Take him there.”

“Aw, Dallas,” Feeney mumbled.

“Stay with him,” Eve continued. “I’ll contact his wife. When she gets there, if she wants you to stay, you stay.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Name?”

“Klink.”

“Take care of him, Officer Klink.”

She slammed the door, stepped back. And watching Klink drive Feeney away wondered if she had time for a detox session.

She settled for scrubbing her hands as if her next task were to perform surgery. And tagging Feeney’s wife on the move, made her way back to her own division to track down McNab. She had visions of EDD throwing an orgy of biblical proportions without Feeney in command. Just as she was about to try for McNab, she swung into her own bullpen and saw him.

His back was to her, but there was no mistaking Ian McNab. Who else had that skinny build, the long tail of blond hair flopping down the back of a shirt that resembled the view through a kaleidoscope? And who else would have his flat ass on her partner’s desk?

“McNab, get your pitiful excuse for an ass off Peabody’s desk and into my office.”

She didn’t bother to wait to see if he obeyed. She didn’t doubt he would, or that he’d slip Peabody a little pinch or tickle before he did. Some things she didn’t need to witness.

By the time she got coffee, he was bouncing into her office. “Hey, Dallas, I just came down to-”

“Who’s the ranking officer under Feeney?”

“Ah, that would be…yeah, that would probably be DS Reedway. Why?”

“I just had Feeney hauled off to the health center. His-”

“Jeez.” MacNab’s soft green eyes clouded with worry. “Is he that bad? He looked rough this morning.”

“Bad enough. Inform your Detective Sergeant that your captain’s out sick. If he needs any information or assistance, he can contact me.”

“She. DS Melodie Reedway.”

“A cop named Melodie. It’s just not right.” She waved that off. “If your ranking officer has no objections, I’d like you as primary e-man on the Anders investigation. You’re annoying, but at least I know what to expect from you.”

He grinned at her. “I’ve been working it. I came down to give you an update.”

“Feeney just gave me one on the way down to transpo-or partially. Have you started on the wife’s electronics?”

“We focused on the vic’s first, and he has serious boatloads. Fairly iced. Guy liked UTD-up-to-date,” he translated when Eve frowned. “I can shift over to the wife’s if you want. Anything special I’d be looking for?”

“Yeah, her having a conversation with the killer would be nice. You know the particulars of the case, you’re a detective. You’ll know when you see or hear it. Get back up there, McNab.”

“Okay. Listen, I’ll give Mrs. Feeney a call, let her know.”

“Already done. But you could check in with an Officer Klink. He’s with Feeney.”

“Okay. Hey, it’s mag about Peabody doing Now tonight. She’s freaked. I was giving her a pep talk just now.”

“As long as that’s all you were giving her. Leave now, and don’t touch my partner on the way out.”

She shut the door behind him. After topping off her coffee, she sat at her desk, put her boots up on it. And studied her murder board.

Anders, Thomas A., she thought. Age sixty-one, wealthy and successful. Married, no children. Loving uncle to his only nephew, who stands as a major heir and successor. Enjoyed sports and electronic toys-and according to his spouse, kinky sex. Staunch friend. Fair employer. Golf dates, tennis dates, season tickets to every sport known to man. Boxed seats.

Swiveling away from the murder board she brought the file up on her computer, flipped through for the crime scene photos not on the board, then studied her own record of the victim’s closet/dressing room area.

Suits, sure. Looked like maybe a dozen. Two tuxes. Dress shirts, ties. Yeah, yeah. All that took up one wall of the room. The short wall. And filling the two longer walls were the casual clothes, the sports clothes. Golf pants, khakis, sports shirts, shorts, track pants, sweatshirts. And in the drawers, what had she seen when she’d opened the drawers?

Dress socks, she recalled, pulling it into her head. High-end sweaters-the cashmere, the merino wool, the alpaca. Lots of T-shirts-short-and long-sleeved. A lot with sports logos, team emblems. His own brand. Dozens of sports socks. Boxer shorts. Plain white boxers, plain white undershirts. Tailored pajamas.

Interesting.

She added some notes to the file. After a quick knock, Peabody poked her head in. “Dallas, Ben Forrest is here. He’d like to see you.”

Eve thought of the murder board, started to tell Peabody to have him wait, then thought better of it. “Send him on back.”

She finished her notes, saved to the file. When the next knock sounded, she called out an absent, “Come in.”

“Lieutenant, I appreciate you-”

She watched Ben’s face. Watched the tired eyes go wide, and the stunned horror turn them glassy. “God, oh, God.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Forrest.” She stood, angled so she blocked his view of his uncle’s photos. “I wasn’t thinking. Let’s take this outside.”

“I-I…I know what you told me, and what they’re saying in the media. How he died. But…”

Eve took her coat off the hook, tossed it over the board. “Sit down.” She gave him a light shove to see that he did, then got him a bottle of water.

“Who would do that to him? Who would humiliate him that way? Killing him wasn’t enough?” Rather than drink, Ben slapped the bottle against his palm. “It wasn’t enough to take his life?”

“Who would want to humiliate him that way?”

When his gaze lifted to Eve, the fury burned. “I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t know. If I did, if I even thought, maybe, maybe him or her, I’d tell you. I loved him, Lieutenant Dallas.”

“I believe you. You traveled with him on occasion. On business, or pleasure. Golf trips, sports events.”

“Yeah. I guess we averaged at least a trip a month.”

“Ben, look at me. I believe you loved him, and I’m telling you if you hold back you’re not helping him. So think before you answer me. When you traveled, just the two of you, did he ever seek out women, did he ever arrange for companionship-professional or otherwise.”

“No. Wait.” He held up a hand, closed his eyes, and took a few breaths. “We nearly always shared a two-bedroom suite. We could hang out together that way. I can’t swear that he was always alone in his section of the suite, or that he never went on the prowl after I was down for the night. I can’t swear to it. I can only swear to you that I never saw or heard any sign of that kind of thing. I never knew him to seek out companionship. He used to ask me, to razz me sometimes, about finding a woman and settling down. Lieutenant, he was settled. If you’re digging through the dirt somebody smeared on him, you’re never going to find who did this to him. Because it’s a goddamn lie.”