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turns out to be a one-off, it’s nothing but. If there’s another, or possibly even if not, you’re going to have Homeland coming in on you.”
    She met his eyes levelly, and thought he had two levels of rage going. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes. They don’t worry me.”

    He came to her, took her hand. “Then don’t let me worry you either, when it comes to that.”
    She thought of what he’d done for her, for only her, by subjugating his need for revenge against those from Homeland. The agents who’d ignored her cries as a young girl in Dallas, her pleas for help as her father had beaten her, raped her. He’d let it go because she’d needed him to.
    “I won’t. I wasn’t.” She gripped his hand tight. “Don’t let me worry you either.”
    “You’ve still hurt places from going back there, from everything that happened only weeks ago. They may not show, darling Eve, but I see them well enough. A bit of worry’s my job. Look that up in your famous Marriage Rules.”
    “Then we’ll deal with that, too. But now I’ve got to get to the conference room. We’ve got a hell of a mess on our hands.”
    “I’ll help you set it up.”
    When they got to the conference room, Peabody had already started.
    “Your door was closed,” Peabody told her, “so I got going on this. I’ve got the time line. And the list of vics. I’ll get ID photos and crime scene printed out.”
    “Already done.”
    “Oh.” For a second, Peabody look mildly put out. “Okay, I’ll match them up. They lost another. One of the ones in surgery didn’t make it. One looks good, another’s holding, but they don’t give her much of a shot. They’re working on the one they had in pre-op when you were there. The one in the coma’s still out. But I was able to talk to the one guy. Dennis Sherman. He lost an eye. He works at Copley Dynamics. That’s the same building, different floor from where CiCi Way works.”

    “Small world,” Eve murmured.
    “Big city, full of tight districts and neighborhoods. Yeah, small world.”
    “I bet he used that bar a lot.”
    “You win,” Peabody confirmed. “It’s his regular place. Tonight, he’d come in after work with a couple coworkers. They’d already left, and he was hanging a little longer, talking to the bartender. He’s a regular so they know each other, talk sports a lot. And one minute, the best he remembers, they’re bullshitting about post-season play, then next, the bartender slams a bottle down, and jabs the shard in Sherman’s cheek. He didn’t remember a hell of a lot after that, but I got it on record. He talked about the place filling up with water, and sharks everywhere, circling him, drawn to the blood from his face. How he had to beat them off, stab at them.”
    “Did you get the names of the coworkers?”
    “Yes, sir. I got all I could, but they wouldn’t let me talk to him long. The one who didn’t make it? The bartender.” She glanced at Roarke. “Sorry.”
    “So am I.”
    “Let’s get these stills up, and I want to be able to pull any I’ve printed off the disc and on screen.”
    “I’ll see to that,” Roarke told her.
    “Did you get anything from Morris?” Peabody asked as she and Eve finished with the boards.
    “They breathed in a nasty stew of psychotic drugs and illegals.”
    Peabody’s hands stilled. “It was in the air?”
    “That, and some contact, some trace on the skin. We don’t have all the details. The lab’s on it. That’s the next stop when we’re done here.”
    It was a long process, pinning the faces to the names, paperingthe board with scenes of blood and death. She’d nearly finished when the door opened.
    And she came to attention for her commander.
    “Sir. We’re nearly finished setting up.”
    “Lieutenant. Your report was brief, but impactful.”
    “I wanted to get you as much salient data as quickly as possible. We still have—”
    He held up a hand, silenced her, then moved to the boards.
    She