Now she sighed. "And you have to figure that if he's smart enough to play electronic games with us, to fiddle with security discs, he'd have done better than to let himself get tagged walking into the lobby of the murder scene. Why didn't he wipe those discs while he was at it?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Peabody admitted.

"Somebody's setting him up, and they're setting him up to get to Roarke."

"Why?"

Eve stared into Peabody's eyes for a long ten seconds. "Let's seal up here."

"Dallas, I'm no good to you if you stick blinders on me."

"I know. Let's seal it up."

"I need air," Eve said when they were outside again and Peabody's recorder was tucked away. "And food. Any objections to getting both in Central Park?''

"No."

"Don't pout, Peabody," Eve warned as they climbed back into the car. "It's not attractive."

They drove in silence, squeezed into a street level parking spot, and headed off into the denuded trees. The wind had enough kick to make Eve fasten her jacket as they crunched dead leaves under their feet. At the first glide-cart Eve debated between a veggie hash pocket and a scoop of soy fries. She opted for grease while Peabody ordered a single healthy fruit kabob.

"Your Free-Ager's showing," Eve commented.

"I don't consider food a religious issue." Peabody sniffed and bit into a pineapple spear. "Though my body is a temple."

It made Eve smile. She was going to be forgiven. "I'm in possession of certain information that, as an officer of the law, I am duty bound to report to my superior. I have no intention of doing so."

Peabody studied a slice of hothouse peach, slid it off the stick. "Would this information have relevance in a case currently under investigation?"

"It would. If I share this information with you, you would also be duty bound to report it. Not doing so would make you an accessory after the fact. You'd risk your badge, your career, and very likely some portion of your freedom."

"It's my badge, my career, my freedom."

"Yes, it is." Eve stopped, turned. The wind ruffled her hair as she studied the earnest face, the sober eyes. "You're a good cop, Peabody. You're on your way to earning a detective's shield. I know that's important to you. I know what mine meant to me."

She looked away to where two uniformed nannies watched their young charges play on the grass. Nearby a jogger stopped along the path to stretch, to shift the bottle of anti-mugging spray on his hip when a licensed beggar meandered in his direction. Overhead, a park security copter cruised lazily with monotonous thudding blades.

"This information I have affects me personally, so I've made the choice. It doesn't affect you."

"With respect, Lieutenant, it does. If you're questioning my loyalty – "

"It isn't a matter of loyalty, Peabody. This is the law, this is duty, this…" Heaving a breath, she dropped down on a bench. "This is a mess."

"If you share this information with me, will it help me assist you in apprehending the killer of Thomas Brennen and Shawn Conroy?"

"Yes."

"Do you want my word that said information remains between us?"

"I have to ask for it, Peabody." She looked over as Peabody sat beside her. "With regret, I have to ask you to promise me you'll violate your duty."

"You have my word, Lieutenant. With no regret."

Eve squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Some bonds, she realized, were formed quickly and held fast. "It started in Dublin," she began, "almost twenty years ago. Her name was Marlena."

She related it all, carefully and concisely, using the cop speak that both of them understood best. When it was done, they continued to sit. Eve's lunch lay untouched on her lap. Somewhere deeper in the park birds sang, their voices competing with the drone of traffic.

"I never thought of Summerset having a daughter," Peabody said at length. "Losing her like that. There's nothing worse, is there?"

"I suppose not. But somehow something worse always comes along. Revenge. Marlena to Summerset to Roarke. It fits like a skin suit. A shamrock on one side, the Church on the other. A game of luck, a mission from God."

"If he set Summerset up, knew he'd be in the Towers, doctored the discs, he had to know about his date with Audrey Morrell."

"Yeah. People are never as discreet as they think they are, Peabody. My guess is at least half that painting class knew they were eyeballing each other. So, we check out the art students." She rubbed her eyes. "I need a list from Roarke – the names of the men he killed. The names of everyone he can think of who helped him track them."

"Which list do you want me to run?"

It surprised Eve to feel her eyes sting. Overtired, she told herself and willed back the tears. "Thanks. I owe you big for this."

"Okay. You going to eat those fries?"

With a half laugh, Eve shook her head and passed them over. "Help yourself."

"Dallas, how are you going to get around the commander?"

"I'm working on that." Because it made Eve's stomach uneasy, she rubbed it absently. "Right now, we have to get back to Central and goose McNab on the jams. I have to deal with the media before this explodes. I need the sweeper's and ME's reports on the Conroy homicide, and I have to have a fight with Roarke."

"Busy day."

"Yeah, all I have to do is fit the commander in, and it'll be perfect."

"Why don't I go harass McNab and you can go bribe Nadine Furst?"

"Good thinking."

Eve didn't have to find Nadine. The reporter was in Eve's office, grinning at Eve's communication center. The guts of it were spread over the desk.

"A little electronic blip, Dallas?"

"Peabody, go find McNab and kill him."

"Right away, Lieutenant."

"Nadine, how many times have I told you to stay out of my office?"

"Oh, dozens, I imagine." Still grinning, Nadine sat down and crossed her shapely legs. "I don't know why you bother. So, who was Shawn Conroy and why was he killed in Roarke's house?"

"It wasn't Roarke's house, it was one of Roarke's properties, of which he has legion." She angled her head, lifted her eyebrows meaningfully. "That's a qualification I'm sure you'll include in your report."

"My exclusive report." Nadine smiled her sunny smile. "Which will include a statement from the primary."

"You'll get your statement, and your exclusive." Eve shut the door, locked it.

"Hmm." Nadine lifted one perfectly arched brow. "That was entirely too easy. What's it going to cost me?"

"Nothing yet. You're running a tab. The NYPSD is investigating the murder of Shawn Conroy, Irish citizen, unmarried, forty-one years of age, bartender by trade. Following an anonymous tip, the primary in the case – with the assistance of Roarke – discovered the victim in an empty rental unit."

"How was he killed? I heard it was nasty."

"The details of the crime are not available to the media at this time."

"Come on, Dallas." Nadine leaned forward. "Gimme."

"Nope. But the police are investigating a possible connection between this crime and the murder, on Friday last, of communication tycoon – and Irish citizen – Thomas X. Brennen."

"Brennen? Jesus. Friday?" Nadine leaped to her feet. "Brennen's been killed? Christ Almighty, he owned majority stock in Channel 75. Holy God, how did we miss this? How did it happen? Where?"

"Brennen was killed in his New York residence. Police are pursuing leads."

"Leads? What leads? God, I knew him."

Eve's eyes narrowed. "Did you really?"

"Sure, I met him dozens of times. Station functions, charity events. He even sent me flowers after – after that business last spring."