“Hindsight’s a choke chain,” Eve told her. “You need to let that go. Tell me where you were the night she and Bick died.”

“We had dinner at his grandparents’. We played bridge afterward. Well, they played,” she said with a weak smile. “They’re teaching me, and I blow at it. It was after midnight when we left, and we went back to Jake’s. We’re sort of cohabbing – unofficially. Sliding into it, I guess you could say. I was in the East Ballroom.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The next morning. I was in the East Ballroom helping to set up for a luncheon. Jake came in, came to find me. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry before. And he told me. We sat on the floor, right on the floor in the ballroom.”

EVE TOOK ONE LOOK AT THE BOXES COVERING the table in the conference room she’d ordered and felt a headache coming on.

“Okay, here comes the monkey work. We’re going to go through the discs and hard copies, memo, memo books, appointment books, everything, going back – for now – two weeks. From the wit statements it was two weeks, ten days, when people started noticing something off with Copperfield, and just under two weeks when the transmission went from Copperfield to Byson that she had something she needed to show him.”

“We’ll get through the names, the notes – eventually,” Peabody said. “But the accounts? We could probably use a numbers guy on this.”

“Probably could,” Eve agreed. “But for now, it’s you and me. We’ll look for repetition, a file or account she went back to repeatedly during the time frame. Any of them copied to her home unit, or any data she copied to Byson.”

Eve glanced unhappily at the conference room’s AutoChef, knowing it wasn’t loaded with her personal stash of coffee.

“Any mention of meetings or appointments with the higher-ups,” she continued. “Appointments with reps of accounts.”

“Going to be awhile,” Peabody commented. “Maybe I should order in some sandwiches.”

“Whatever. Her assistant said she logged in after hours a couple times recently. Let’s find what she accessed after business hours.”

She turned as the door opened.

“Anything?” Baxter asked her.

“It’s looking like she found something off at work, was pursuing it on her own, and shared her concerns with her fiancé. We’re digging there.”

“Want another shovel?”

Eve dipped her hands into her pockets. “What’s on your desk?”

“A few things, mostly leg and ’link work. Nothing the boy can’t handle,” he added, referring to his trainee, Trueheart. “Look, the kid’ll let me know if he needs me on anything active. I’ve got some personal time coming. I can take it to work this.”

“You work it, you work it on the clock. Anything of your own heats up, you’re on that.”

“No problem.”

When her communicator beeped, she glanced at the readout. “ Peabody, fill Baxter in. It’s Whitney’s office. I need to update him.”

She was ordered up, and found Commander Whitney behind his desk. She thought he looked tired, maybe burdened was the better word. His big shoulders carried considerable weight.

Gray was sprinkled generously through the dark hair that was closely cut around his wide, coffee-colored face. He watched her, saying nothing, as she ran through the movements and details of the investigation.

“The data you confiscated is secured?”

“Yes, sir. Detectives Peabody and Baxter are starting the search. Captain Feeney is supervising the e-work, using Detective McNab.”

“Other avenues?”

“Sir?”

“Exploration of this being personal business. Jealous ex?”

“I haven’t eliminated the possibility, Commander, but nothing points to that. While everything points to this being a double murder motivated by something the female vic discovered at her place of employment.”

He nodded. “You understand the sensitivity of the data now in the possession of this department?”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes stayed on hers. “Have you considered the sensitivity of you, personally, having access to that data?”

“Personally, Commander?”

“You’re married to a powerful businessman who has interests in many areas of industry and finance – interests that most certainly will be in competition or conflict with some of the parties whose data you now have in your possession.”

Something hot formed a tiny ball in Eve’s belly. “I have potential evidence in my possession.”

“Don’t be naive, Dallas.”

“I never was. I’m the primary investigator on two murders looking for evidence of motive and culpability. I’m not looking, and have no interest in, inside information on my husband’s business competition.”

“There’s concern that, should this data come into his hands, it might be used to his advantage against those competitors.”

The hot little ball expanded. “He doesn’t need my help to compete in business. And he wouldn’t walk over two dead bodies to make some extra bucks. Respectfully, sir” – though her tone had taken on an edge that had nothing to do with respect – “to imply otherwise is an insult to me and to him.”

“It’s not a matter of a few extra dollars, but the potential of millions. Perhaps more than millions. And yes, it’s insulting. It’s also necessary to be understood. If the information now at your disposal should be used in any way unrelated to your investigation, you, this office, this department, will be responsible.”

“My understanding of my responsibility to the victim, to the people of New York, and to this department is and always has been crystal.” It wasn’t a ball in her belly now, but a flood. Like lava. “If you have any doubts of my understanding of that responsibility or my ability to fulfill it, you’re not only obliged to remove me from this investigation, but you should be asking for my badge.”

“You want to be pissed, be pissed. Now, Lieutenant, go back to work.”

She turned on her heel, struggling to keep that fury down, hold it in. But she didn’t quite block all of it. She looked back as she yanked open the door. “I’m not Roarke’s goddamn stooge,” she snapped, and shut the door behind her.

She hauled the temper with her back down to Homicide and into the conference room. One look at Eve’s face made whatever bright comment Peabody was about to utter wither and die.

“Sir,” she said instead, “Baxter’s taking Byson’s data. So far we’ve found nothing transferred to his data records from Copperfield’s.”

“We keep looking.”

“On the e-front, McNab reports that files have been deleted from Copperfield’s office unit.”

“Is Detective McNab now reporting to you? Was there a change in command during the last twenty minutes?”

Knowing that tone, Peabody kept her own very even. “Detective McNab believed we were together, sir, either here or in the field. As I understood you were with the commander, I took his report, and am now reporting same.”

“I’m in EDD.”

Baxter and Peabody exchanged eye rolls behind her back. And fortunately for their welfare, had instincts quick enough to have those eyes focused on the work when she spun around.

“Nobody enters this room or approaches these files without my authority. Clear?”

“Yes, sir!”

When the door was slammed, Peabody let out a long, whistling breath. “Whitney put a really nasty bug up her butt.”

Eve stormed into EDD and through to the comp lab to find McNab. He was hunkered over Copperfield’s office unit. A handful of other detectives or techs worked on various comps in the same area.

“You’re to use a privacy cube at all times when working on this case.”

“Huh? What?” He dragged off a headset.

“This case is now flagged Blue. Privacy cube, verbal reports. Need-to-know basis.”

“Oooo-kay.” He stepped back, just a little, as if he felt the heat pumping off her and was afraid he’d get burned. “I’ve got some deletions. They were – ”