Free The In Death Collection: Books 26-29 by J.D. Robb Page A

had taken just under forty minutes. Adding in time to strip the victim out of his sensible pajamas, she’d make it a comfortable forty-five minutes.
    Not enough time to hunt up the security room and bypass the code, not in a house this size. Not enough to hunt up the bedroom. The killer knew the layout. Not just where the master slept, but where to find the security discs.
    Closed the security room door, she thought, striding back to her car, but left the bedroom door open. Turned the lights out, but left the fire going.
    In her car she ordered the heat on blast furnace, then took out her book to make some notes while they were fresh in her mind. And, only ninety minutes past the end of her shift, she bulled her way into traffic and headed home.

    S peaking of a ridiculous number of rooms, she thought after driving through the big iron gates and winding up the drive. Nobody held a candle (whatever that meant) to Roarke. The house was a stunner, lording over sky and city, windows blazing hot, cold stars dripping overhead. A couple of years before, she never would have believed she could live in a place so…spectacular, much less live there comfortably.
    But she did. And pulling up in front of that vast stone beauty, leaving her cop’s ride out in front where Roarke’s majordomo, Summerset, would sneer at it, rated as one of the favorite parts of her day. Any day.
    She climbed out of the stuffy car, jogged through cold air, and into the light-and warmth-drenched house.
    He was there, of course. Lurking. The bony beanpole in a black suit who ran the house, and kept her mildly irritated like a sand-covered pebble in a shoe.
    â€œLieutenant,” he said in a tone that scraped along the back of her neck like nails over a blackboard. “You’re late, as usual.”
    â€œYou’re ugly, as usual. But I’ve learned to make allowances.”
    As she stripped off her coat, the fat cat Galahad gave Summerset’s skinny ankle a last body rub, then padded over to Eve. She tossed her coat over the newel post, bent to give the cat a quick scratch between the ears. Duties done, she headed upstairs, with Galahad at her heels.
    In the bedroom Roarke was stripped down to trousers and holding a black sweater. “Now there’s timing,” he said. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother with this.” He wagged the sweater. “And see how fast I can get you half naked instead.”
    Eyes narrowed, she pointed a finger at him. “How long have you been home?”
    â€œAbout ten minutes, I’d think.”
    â€œSee that! See!” Now she pointed a finger of both hands. “Why am I late according to His Boniness, but you’re only minutes ahead of me and don’t get sneered at.”
    â€œHow do you know I wasn’t sneered at?”
    â€œBecause I know. Were you?”
    â€œI wasn’t, no. But then I did have a message sent home that I’d be a bit late.”
    She sniffed. “Suck-up.”
    He smiled. “Come over here and say that.”
    â€œI’m not bouncing on you now. I’ve got notes to organize.” She pulled off her weapon harness, draped it over the back of a chair. “Media shit’s hit the public fan over how Anders died. I need to try to plug some holes.”
    â€œI made a statement myself.”
    â€œYou what? A statement? What? Why? Why didn’t you run it by me before—”
    â€œI knew the man, and his corporate headquarters is in my building. I know how to make a statement, Eve. I had some experience in the process before I met you.”
    â€œRight. Right.” She rubbed a spot between her eyebrows. “It’s just. The whole thing smells.”
    â€œOf?”
    â€œOverkill. I gotta…” She twirled a finger in the air. “Until something settles into place for me.”
    â€œYou can”—he mimicked her gesture—“with me. I suppose you can bounce on me later, and for