Page 138 of Fury In Death

“Okay, again good.”

She shifted to try to find some half comfortable position.

No luck.

“You know about Wyst?”

“Yes,” Reo confirmed. “Are you still on scene?”

“No, and you’ll have a report tonight, including my recording of a conversation with Steven Redman.”

“What? When? Jesus, Dallas, do you have him?”

“Maybe an hour ago, and no, we don’t have him. Give me a couple hours, then read the report. Keep Banner locked up tight, Reo, and contact Abernathy with Interpol. You’re going to want O’Brian locked up tight. If they’re anywhere Redman can get to them, he will.”

“Trust me. Did Redman hurt you?”

“I’ll live. Read the report.”

Eve cut her off, sat back again because the conversation had exhausted her. And she needed to recharge for the ones she’d have when she got home.

Two men and a cat would give her a major shitload of grief.

She programmed coffee, quickly discovered that set her mouth on fire. Cursing, she switched to Pepsi, then just held the blissfully cold tube against that abused mouth until she drove through the gates.

“Okay, here it comes, and you’re going to stand up to it.”

She sent Peabody a text.

I’m home. Get me the recording, the report. Eight hundred hours at the morgue.

You’ll have both within the hour. Scene is secured. Get some ice and some rest.

Eve parked, got out, walked to the door. “Here goes,” she muttered.

Summerset loomed, of course. The cat at his feet let out a yowl when she walked in, rushed to her.

“Good God.” Summerset started forward, but she shot up a hand.

“No touching. I’m okay.”

“No, you are most certainly not. Have you had medical treatment?”

She started to say no, then thought of the morgue tech. “More or less.”

“Obviously less.”

“Look, I’m going up. I’m going to ice down. You’re not alerting Roarke while I’m heading up.”

“I’ll be up in a few moments to assess and treat your injuries. I won’t alert Roarke,” he said before she could blast him, “and you will accept treatment from a still licensed medic. That’s the deal, Lieutenant.”

“How many names do you have that license in?”

“That’s the deal,” Summerset repeated.

“Fine, but don’t think for a minute I’m stripping down for you.”

“I’ll somehow live with the disappointment. Take the damn elevator, for God’s sake. There’s no need to hobble your way up the stairs.”