Read In Death 04 - Rapture in Death for Free Online

-- " She caught herself, stiffened up. "He's hardly my type, Lieutenant. I believe I've learned my lesson about romantic attachments on the job."
    "Don't beat yourself up over that one, Peabody. I liked Casto, too. You did a hell of a job on that one."
    It helped to hear it, but the wound was still raw. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
    "Which is why you are now assigned to me as my permanent aide. You want a detective shield, Officer?"
    Peabody knew what she was being given: the opportunity, the gift out of nowhere. She closed her eyes a moment until she had her voice under control. "Yes, sir, I do."
    "Good. You'll work your ass off for it. Get the data I requested, and let's move."
    "Right away." At the door, Peabody paused, turned back. "I'm very grateful for the chance you're giving me."
    "Don't be. You earned it. And if you screw up, I'll bust you down to traffic." Eve smiled thinly. "Air traffic."
    Court testimony was part of the job, and so, Eve reminded herself, were high-class weasels like S. T. Fitzhugh, attorney for the defense. He was slick and he was savvy, a man who defended the lowest of lowlifes -- as long as their credits held out. His success in assisting drug lords, murderers, and molesters into slithering out of the grip of the law was such that he could easily afford the cream-colored suits and hand-tooled shoes he affected.
    He made a dashing figure in the courtroom, his melted-chocolate skin a fine contrast to the soft colors and fabrics he habitually wore. His long, aesthetic face was smooth as the silk of his jacket, thanks to the three-times-weekly treatments at Adonis, the city's top enhancement salon for men. His figure was trim -- narrow at the hips, broad at the shoulders -- and his voice was the deep, rich baritone of an opera singer.
    He courted the press, socialized with the criminal elite, owned his own Jet Star.
    It was one of Eve's small pleasures to despise him.
    "Let me try to get a clear picture, Lieutenant." Fitzhugh lifted his hands, bringing his thumbs together to form a bracket. "A clear picture of the circumstances that led to you attacking my client in his place of business."
    The prosecuting attorney objected. Fitzhugh graciously rephrased. "You did, Lieutenant Dallas, cause my client great bodily harm on the night in question."
    He glanced back at Salvatori, who had costumed himself for the occasion in a simple black suit. Following his attorney's advice, he had skipped his last three months of cosmetic and youth restoration treatments. There was gray in his hair, a sag to his face and body. He looked old, defenseless.
    The jury would make the comparison, Eve imagined, between the young, fit cop and the delicate old man.
    "Mr. Salvatori resisted arrest and attempted to ignite an accelerant. It was necessary to restrain him."
    "To restrain him?" Slowly, Fitzhugh walked back, passing the recorder droid, moving down the jury box, drawing one of the six automated cameras with him as he laid a supporting hand on Salvatori's thin shoulder. "You had to restrain him, and that restraint resulted in a fractured jaw and a shattered arm."
    Eve flicked a glance toward the jury. Several members of the panel were looking entirely too sympathetic. "That's correct. Mr. Salvatori refused my request to exit the building -- and to put down the cleaver and acetylene torch in his possession."
    "You were armed, Lieutenant?"
    "I was."
    "And you carry the standard weapon issued to members of the NYPSD?"
    "I do."
    "If, as you claim, Mr. Salvatori was armed and resisting, why did you fail to administer the accepted stun?"
    "I missed. Mr. Salvatori was feeling pretty spry that night."
    "I see. In your ten years on the police force, Lieutenant, how many times have you found it necessary to employ maximum force? To terminate?"
    Eve ignored the jitter in her stomach. "Three times."
    "Three?" Fitzhugh let the word hang, let the jury study the woman in the witness chair. A woman who had killed. "Isn't that a rather high