Promises in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

says she was thorough, detail-oriented. She wouldn’t have missed the link.”
    “The files note a follow-up interview with Alex after the bodies were recovered, and the verification of his alibi. While the homicide case went cold, all of Ricker’s property was recovered.”
    Eve rubbed the back of her neck. “Three years ago. She didn’t put in for transfer here until just under a year ago. As much as I’d like to burn another Ricker for pretty much anything, I can’t see the connection between her murder and a trio of payback homicides three years ago.”
    “Maybe there isn’t. But Alex Ricker is in New York, and has been for the last week.”
    “Is that so?” Eve stuck her hands in her pockets, rocked on her heels. “Now, see, that’s just too much coincidence. Where is he?”
    “He has a pied-à-terre on Park Avenue.”
    “Convenient. I’ll have to pay him a visit in the morning.”
    “I’ll be going with you.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “Anything that involves Ricker, his son, his second cousin, his bloody pet poodle, I’m in it, too.”
    “They don’t allow dogs on the Omega Penal Colony. Okay. I’m not going to argue about Ricker—either of them. We did enough of that a year ago.”
    “A year ago,” Roarke pointed out. “A kind of anniversary. And here we have another dead cop—and you were littered with them last spring—as well as another Ricker. Oh, aye, far too many coincidences here.”
    She’d already followed that path. “We need to do a deep background on Alex Ricker. When did he buy the Park Avenue property, what other businesses does he have, and how many of them are in New York? How often does his name pop up in conjunction with an investigation? And what has he been doing for the past year? Has he contacted his father? A lot of questions.”
    “You won’t find the answers to all of them on these units. Not with the privacy laws and CompuGuard. Believe me, he’ll be protected under several layers.”
    “Then we’ll use your unregistered.”
    He angled his head. “That’s a quick leap for you, Lieutenant.”
    “Maybe.” She stood as she was, hands in pockets, and stared into Coltraine’s face. “And maybe she found out more about Alex Ricker three years ago than she noted in her files.”
    “You think he, like his father, had cops in his pocket? Including her?”
    “I don’t know.” Inside her belly knots twisted. “God, I hope not, for Morris’s sake. But if she was dirty, I need to find out. If she was clean, and if Alex Ricker had something to do with her death, I need to find out.”
    In Roarke’s secured office, the privacy-screened windows opened to the lights of the city. The slick U-shaped console held the sharpest of cutting-edge equipment—shielded as well—from the vigilent eye of CompuGuard.
    Illegal, Eve thought, so whatever they found here couldn’t leave the room. But she’d know. For Morris, she needed to know.
    Roarke, his hair pulled back in a short tail, his sleeves rolled up, stepped behind the console. He laid his hand on the palm plate. “Roarke. Power on.”
    The console flashed on, a sea of jeweled lights and controls.
    Roarke acknowledged. Power on.
    “We’ll want coffee,” he said to Eve.
    “I’ll get it.” She programmed a full pot from the office AutoChef, poured two tall mugs. When she turned, Roarke stood where he was, watched her. Waited.
    “All right.” She crossed over, set his mug down, placed hers on the jut that held the auxiliary computer.
    For Morris, yes, she thought. But not only.
    “My father worked for Ricker. Your father worked for him, and we’ve established before that they met, and were working on the same job before the night in Dallas. Before I killed my father.”
    “Before you, an eight-year-old girl, stopped him from raping you again.”
    “Okay.” Truth could still dry the throat and chill the blood. “The fact is, he’s still dead. So’s your father. And your father