“They’d stuck with numbers, left the bad guys to us, they’d still have it going.”

But she was heavy with that pity as she pushed out of the booth.

“Go back,” she said to McNab. “Keep going back. Seems to me if someone had contacted her via ’link on this thing, she’d have kept a record of the transmission. She thought she was setting up a case. Accountants, they’re all about columns and balancing things out, keeping records. If there was electronic contact, she’s got it somewhere.”

Or had it, Eve thought as she gratefully headed out of Club EDD. She’d have told her killer anything he wanted to know before he was done with her.

Eve hit the lab on her way home. Her goal was to pin down Dick Berenski, chief lab tech, into passing on whatever they had to this point. But as she moved through the tunnels and glass-walled labs and cubes, she spotted Harvo, a tech she’d worked with before.

Harvo’s short, spiked red hair was covered with a protective cap painted, Eve noted, with naked men. “Nice hat.”

“Fun where you find it.” Harvo snapped gum the color of healthy lungs. “You looking for Dickhead, he’s gone. Got leave, a few days south – probably half-juiced by now and hitting on some unfortunate woman who just wants to drink her piña colada in peace.”

“Who’s running the asylum?”

“Yon’s got this tour, but he’s in the field. Pulled up a floater from the East River. Being that’s his favorite variety, he went out to the scene. You want, I can run you through what we’ve got on your double murder.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Live to serve.”

Instead of taking Eve to Berenski’s domain, Harvo wound her way through the maze to her own workstation. “You looking to do field work, Harvo?”

“Nah. I like my hive.” She boosted onto her stool, hooked her thick-soled, high-topped black and green sneakers on the rung. “And the whole dead body thing isn’t big on my list of appeals. I just cruise on the evidence, you know?” Wiggling her butt on the stool, she played her long, varnished nails over a keyboard.

“I didn’t process your tape. Tech who did just left for the day. Prob’ly shot you the report before, but since you’re here…”

“Since I’m here.”

“Tape on both murders came from the same roll. See here? You got your end from female vic’s ankles, dead match with the end from the male vic’s hands. Took hours to straighten those suckers out, but you got your match. Garden variety duct tape.”

“Don’t suppose we got a miracle and found prints.”

“Not a one. Some DNA though. None on the female DB, nothing under her nails. Prints on the scene – murder one – vic’s, second vic, sister of first vic. Blood spatter, all vic’s. She didn’t do any damage. But your male DB got some licks in.”

“You got DNA from scene two.”

“Not all the blood at the second scene was your vic’s. Got nice samples off the second vic’s knuckles. He popped the bastard. You get him, we can match him. Prints up the waz, second scene.”

“Doing reno there.”

“Yeah, we got that. You got plenty there to clear. We’ll run them for you, give you names and locations. Nothing on the body, as per your first. But what we got on your male vic was blood and saliva – not his. Cord used to strangle second vic was cut from binding on scene.”

“Took his fun where he found it, too.”

“You could say. Here’s a little something. Outside locks on female’s building were complete shit. Broke ’em in with a smooth, round object. Little hammer maybe. Whack, whack, you’re in. Better locks upstairs. Used locksmith tools on those.”

She’d seen that for herself, but Eve nodded. “Came prepared. Knew about the fresh lock.”

“So, anyways, we’ll get your ID on the prints, second scene, so you can run ’em.”

“Appreciate it.”

Kept an eye on her, Eve thought as she battled her way home through the cranky wall of traffic. Bribed her first – probably going to kill her anyway. Copperfield thought the bribe bought her time, but it bought her killer time, too. Planning and prep time. Something hot enough to kill for twice was too hot to take chances with a payoff. Back to the accounting firm – just had to be. She needed those damn files. Using the dash ’link, she contacted Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Cher Reo.

“I’m on my way out,” Reo said. “I have an actual date. Don’t screw with me.”

“I have two bodies in the morgue. I want my warrant. Don’t screw with me.”

“Do you know how much paper a lawyer can generate in a few hours?”

“Is that one of those questions like how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”

Reno smiled sourly. “Runs down the same channel.”

“Why would angels dance on a pin? Wouldn’t they rather boogie in the clouds?”

“I would.” Reo’s lips curved slyly. “But I’m not an angel.”

“Me either. Now, enough of this philosophizing. About those lawyers, about my warrant.”

“I’m going to get it, Dallas, but I’m not going to get it before morning. We’re not just talking lawyers, we’re talking really rich lawyers with big, fat retainers and hordes of legal drones who can find a precedent in a haystack.”

“A haystack? What does that mean?”

“Never mind.” Reo sighed, long and deep. “It’s been a day, that’s the best I can say about it. I’ve got a judge reviewing their last block right now. If he’s not too big on having, say, an actual meal or a life, he may rule on it within a couple hours. I hear, you hear.”

“The minute,” Eve said, then cut off.

Too much time, she thought. Too much time screwing around the system. Whoever killed Natalie and Bick – or ordered them killed – had probably started deleting or adjusting the files immediately.

She hoped McNab was right about the EDD hounds digging up the scent she had a feeling was being covered up even as the lawyers dug through their haystack.

But if EDD let her down, she had a very sleek, very smart hound of her own.

So thinking, she drove through the gates of home.

BECAUSE HER MIND WAS ON OTHER THINGS, Summerset caught Eve off guard as she came in the door.

“Do you require change-of-address forms?”

“Huh? What?” She yanked herself back to the moment, then immediately regretted it. He was in her moment, the bony, black-suited pain in her ass. “Can’t you find another place to haunt? I hear there’s one available down on East Twelfth.”

His lips thinned – if, she thought, it was possible for what passed as his lips to compress in an even tighter line. “I assumed as you no longer appear to live here, you’d need the proper forms.”

She pulled off her coat, tossed it on the newel post. “Yeah, get those forms, I’ll fill them out.” She started up the stairs. “How many M’s in Summerset anyway?”

She left him behind in the grand foyer. Roarke was probably home, she decided, but she’d wait until she was out of the hearing of those demon ears before she checked on one of the house scanners. She was tempted to go straight into the bedroom, fall flat on the bed for twenty minutes. But with the case weighing on her, she continued up to her office.

He was there, pouring wine.

“Long day for you, Lieutenant. Thought you could use this.”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Either the man was psychic or she was pretty damn predictable. “Been home long?”

“A couple of hours.”

She frowned, checked the time. “It’s later than I thought. Sorry. I should have done the call home thing, probably.”

“Couldn’t have hurt.” But he moved to her, handed her the glass. Then he took her chin in his free hand, studied her face before he touched his lips to hers. “Long, hard day.”

“I’ve had shorter and easier.”

“And from the look of you, you’re going to make it longer. Red meat?”

“Why is everyone speaking in code around here?”

He smiled, ran his fingertip along the dent in her chin. “You could use a steak. Yes, pizza would be easier to eat at your desk,” he continued, anticipating her. “Consider having a meal that requires utensils payment for not checking in.”