She trailed off when she saw Eve and Peabody. And as her gaze fastened on Peabody's uniform, Eve saw fear jolt over her face.

CHAPTER 2

Boyd must have seen it, too, as he got up and crossed to her quickly.

"Nothing's wrong." He touched her arm, a light gesture of reassurance before he took the bags from her. "They're just here about Marsha. For a routine followup."

"Oh, well... Trade?" "In her room. She's-"

Even as he spoke, the child shot out like a little blonde bullet, launched herself at her mother's legs. "Mommy! We go swing!" "We'll get out of your way as quickly as possible," Eve said. "Would you mind if we talked to you for a moment, Mrs. Stibbs?" "I'm sorry, I don't know what I can... The groceries."

"Tracie and I'll put them away, won't we, partner?" "I'd rather-"

"She doesn't think we know where anything goes." Boyd interrupted his wife with a wink for their daughter. "We'll show her. Come on, cutie. Kitchen duty."

The little girl raced ahead of him, chattering in the strange foreign tongue of toddlers.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you," Eve began. Her gaze, steady on Maureen's face, was cool, flat, and blank. "This won't take long. You were a friend of Marsha Stibbs?"

"Yes, of both her and Boyd. This is very upsetting for Boyd."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. How long had you known Mrs. Stibbs before her death?"

"A year, a little longer." She looked desperately toward the kitchen where there was rattling and laughter. "She's been gone almost six years now. We have to put it behind us."

"Six days, six years, someone still took her life. Were you close?"

"We were friends. Marsha was very outgoing."

"Did she ever confide in you that she was seeing someone else?"

Maureen opened her mouth, hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I don't know anything. I talked to the police when it happened, and told them everything I could. What happened was horrible, but there's no changing it. We've got a new life now. A good life, a quiet one. You coming here like this, it'll only make Boyd grieve again. I don't want my family upset. I'm sorry, but I'd like you to go now."

Outside in the hall, Peabody glanced back as Eve strode to the elevator. "She knows something." "Oh yeah, she does."

"I figured you'd push her a little."

"Not on her turf." Eve stepped into the elevator. She was already calculating, already resetting the pieces of the puzzle. "Not with her kid there, and Stibbs. Marsha's waited this long, a little more time won't matter to her."

"You think he's clean though."

"I think..." Eve pulled the file and disc out of her bag, held it out. "You should work it." "Sir?"

"Work the case, Peabody. Close the case."

Jaw dropping, Peabody stared. "Me? Like the primary? On a homicide?"

"You'll have to work it mostly on your own time, especially if we get something active. Read the file, study the reports and statements.

Re-interview. You know the drill."

"You're giving me a case?"

"You got questions, you ask them. I'll consult if and when you need it.

Copy me on all data and progress reports."

Peabody felt the adrenaline surge through her blood, and the nerves flood her belly. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I won't let you down." "Don't let Marsha Stibbs down."

Peabody hugged the file to her breast like a beloved child. And kept it there all the way back to Central. As they rode up from the garage, Peabody sent Eve a sidelong look. "Lieutenant?"

"Hmm."

"I wonder if maybe I could ask McNab to assist on the electronic data. The victim's 'links, apartment building's security discs, and so on." Eve jammed her hands in her pockets. "It's your case."

"It's my case," Peabody repeated, in an awed whisper. She was still grinning, ear to ear, when they headed down the corridor to the bullpen.

"What the hell is that racket?" Eve's eyebrows drew together, her fingers danced instinctively over her weapon at the sound of shouts, whistles, and general mayhem rolling out of the Homicide Division.

She stepped in first, scanned the room. No one was at their desk or in their cube. At least a dozen duly authorized officers of the law were crowded into the center of the room, having what sounded suspiciously like a party.

Her nose twitched. She smelled bakery goods.

"What the hell's going on here!" She had to shout, and her voice still fell short of cutting through the din. "Pearson, Baxter, Delricky!" Since she accompanied this with a quick punch on Pearson's shoulder, a sharp elbow jab to Baxter's gut as she pushed through the crowd, she managed to snag some attention. "Are you all under the illusion that death's taken a fucking holiday? Where the hell'd you get that cupcake?"

Even as she jabbed a finger, Baxter stuffed what was left of it in his mouth. As a result, his explanation was incoherent. He merely grinned around the frosting and pointed.

She saw it now-cupcakes, cookies, and what appeared to have been a pie before a pack of wolves had descended on it. And she spotted two civilians in the middle of that pack. The tall, skinny man and the robust, pretty woman were both beaming smiles and pouring some sort of pale pink liquid out of an enormous jug.

"Stand down! Every one of you, stand down and go back about your business. This isn't a damn tea party." Before she could push her way through to the civilians, she heard Peabody scream. She whirled, weapon leaping into her hand, and was nearly plowed down as her aide streaked by and launched herself at the civilians.

The man caught her, and skinny or not managed to lift the sturdy Peabody right off her feet. The woman spun, her long blue skirts swirling as she threw out her arms and made an odd and effective Peabody sandwich.

"There's my girl. There's my DeeDee." The man's face glowed with such obvious adoration, Eve's hand slid away from her weapon and dangled at her side.

"Daddy." With something between a sob and a giggle, Peabody buried her face against his neck.

"Chokes me up," Baxter murmured and snagged another cupcake.

"Got here about fifteen minutes ago. Brought the good stuff with them. Man, these things are lethal," he added and chomped into another cupcake.

Eve drummed her fingers on her thigh. "What kind of pie was that?"

Baxter grinned. "Exceptional," he told her, and strolled back to his desk. The woman loosened her death grip around Peabody's waist and turned. She was remarkably pretty, with the same dark hair as her daughter worn in a long waterfall down her back. Her blue skirt swept down to simple rope sandals. Her blouse was long and loose and the color of buttercups, and over it were at least a half-dozen chains and pendants.

Her face was softer than Peabody's, with lines of time fanning out from the corners of direct and gleaming brown eyes. She moved like a dancer when she crossed to Eve, both hands outstretched.

"You're Lieutenant Dallas. I'd have known you anywhere." She gripped both of Eve's hands in hers. "I'm Phoebe, Delia's mother."

Her hands were warm, a little rough at the palms, and studded with rings. Bracelets clanged and jangled on her wrists.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Peabody."

"Phoebe." She smiled, and still gripping Eve's hands drew her forward. "Sam, let the girl loose so you can meet Lieutenant Dallas."

He shifted, but kept his arm tight around Peabody's shoulders. "I'm so happy to meet you." He took Eve's hand, still cupped in his wife's.

"I feel like I already have, with everything Peabody's told us about you. And Zeke.

We'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did for our son."

A little uneasy with all that good will beaming out at her, Eve slipped her hand free. "How's he doing?" "Very well. I'm sure he'd have sent his best if he'd known we were coming."

He smiled then, slow and easy. She could see the resemblance now, between him and Peabody's brother. The narrow, apostle's face, the eyes of dreamy gray. But there was something sharp in Sam Peabody's eyes, something that had Eve's neck prickling.

This man wasn't the puppy dog his son was.