They both spent the short trip drinking coffee and going over notes. With Peabody taking occasional happy glances out the window, and Eve avoiding same.
On the other end, a shuttle employee stood beside a car with its codes.
“It’s already programmed for you, Lieutenant. When you’re finished, you can leave the codes at the desk, and the car out here. We’ll take care of it.”
“Okay, thanks.”
It was a DLE, she saw that straight off. This one in serious black with a few bits of shiny chrome—and a temp tag.
“It looks good in black.” Peabody walked to the passenger side. “Still really unassuming and ordinary. And I bet it has all the juicy bells and jazzy whistles. I didn’t think the DLE was on the market yet.”
Eve got in, felt the seat perfectly conform to her specifications—and as Peabody got in and sighed, Eve knew the passenger seat did the same for her partner.
“It’s Roarke,” Eve said simply, and engaged the codes.
Good morning, Lieutenant. Your AutoChef is fully stocked, and your personal settings already programmed. Feel free to change anything that does not suit. If you wish to proceed directly to Lester Hensen Preparatory, those directions are also pre-programmed for your convenience.
Of course they were, she thought, because Roarke. “How about Party Elegance?”
Yes, this destination is also pre-programmed, as is Kendel Hayward’s residence. Simply request your chosen destination, and the GPS will engage.
“He doesn’t miss a trick,” Eve murmured. “Lester Hensen Prep.”
Acknowledged. GPS engaged. Map displayed. Please have a safe and enjoyable drive to your selected destination.
She decided after three minutes of driving in East Washington that she seriously needed the computer prompts. Why did everything circle around? What was wrong with straight roads? Had they never heard of a damn grid?
“It’s so pretty,” Peabody said beside her as she opened the window for the breeze. “All the trees, the monuments, the flowers. It’s solid spring here—just enough south of New York to be solidly spring. The grass is so green.”
“Jesus, Peabody, the traffic’s worse than New York.”
It wasn’t really, but she didn’t know this traffic. And felt only sweet relief when she drove along the high iron fence that enclosed Lester Hensen Prep.
She turned in the entrance, blocked by a gate with a gatehouse and an actual gatekeeper. A droid, she noted once he stepped out.
“How can I help you?”
Eve held up her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. We have an appointment, police business, with Headmaster Grange.”
He scanned her badge, checked his log. “Please bear left at the split, proceed to visitor parking, administration. You will be met and escorted to Headmaster Grange’s offices.”
“Great.”
The gates opened; Eve drove through.
15
The campus boasted, Eve had to admit, a lot of green. Sweeps of lawn, trees already in tender leaf. In the distance, she could see a number of kids in shiny red and white tanks and shorts running around a wide oval.
Likely track practice, she mused. She’d done some running in state school, a good outlet for her, as she could run and imagine herself going and going and going until she was free.
The buildings—brick, dignified, columned—had been built to look old, as if they’d weathered a couple of centuries. But her research tagged them as post-Urban construction.
From what she remembered of her history classes, the Urban Wars had done a number on what had been Washington, D.C. After all, it had been, and continued to be, the center of political power. Granting it statehood about the time she’d been born hadn’t changed that.
She made her way to the correct parking area, took a good look at the main building with LESTER HENSEN PREPARATORY SCHOOL carved over the massive double doors.
A fountain, separating the lot from the road that circled the building, arced water into the air. On its island, red and white flowers spelled out L H P.
“Formidable” was Peabody’s impression.
“Yeah, that works.”
“Well, a lot of lawyers, judges, political types matriculate here.”
“That’s not a plus from my viewpoint.”
Peabody laughed as they got out of opposite sides of the car in a breeze appreciably warmer than the one they’d left in New York.
“Scientists and educators, writers and big business types, too,” she added. “You have to have money, brains—and it probably doesn’t hurt to have connections—to get in the door.”
Peabody took a deep breath. “I know it’s fresh mulch and plantings, but it actually smells rich.”
“First time I’ve heard that rich smells like dirt. There’s our escort.”
Eve watched a woman—early forties—come out of the massive doors, walk down the white steps in black needle heels. The suit, slim, precisely knee-length, had a high collar and military cut.
She walked like a soldier, Eve thought, crisply, straight-backed. Her hair, also black, slicked back snugly into a knot and left her face with its almond eyes and dusky skin unframed.
She skirted the island, clipped along the bricked walkway.
“Lieutenant Dallas?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Mulray, assistant to the headmaster. I’ll escort you and Detective Peabody.” She gestured toward the path. “Headmaster Grange is in a meeting, but has been informed of your arrival. She hopes not to keep you waiting long. I trust you had a pleasant trip from New York?”
It was rote rather than interest, so Eve answered in kind. “Uneventful.”
Mulray opened one of the doors, held it open into a security station backed with thick glass. Eve glanced at the half dozen scanners, the two uniformed campus security.
“As weapons of any kind are banned on campus, you’ll turn in your service weapons here.”
Eve said, “No.”
“I understand your reluctance, Lieutenant, but this is our policy.”
“I’m going with NYPSD policy. We’re police officers, your headmaster has been informed of our arrival and its purpose. The East Washington Police and Security Department has been so informed. Clearly you have armed campus security, as is protocol. We do not surrender our weapons.
“If this is a problem,” Eve continued, “we can interview Headmaster Grange off campus. Say, Cop Central in New York. Detective Peabody, contact the prosecutor’s office, request a warrant.”
“If you’d wait here a moment.” Stone-faced, Mulray stepped toward the glass. It opened for her, either signaled from a device on her person or through the security guards.
“Way to get in her face right off,” Peabody said in a low voice.
“I’m betting Grange wanted to try a little power play.”
“Should I really contact Reo?”
“Hold off until we see what she does next. If she wants to screw with us, we’ll go talk to Hayward first, come back with a warrant.”
Mulray walked back through the doors, and the doors remained open. “I apologize, Lieutenant, Detective. I misunderstood Headmaster Grange’s directive. You are, of course, authorized to maintain your service weapons.”