"So," Vic said as they started walking again."You and Kim."
"What?There's no me and Kim."
"Right.That's why you two just had an entire conversation with your eyes."
Miles ignored her and headed to his cubicle.He grabbed his laptop and shoved it into his messenger bag along with the preliminary files Hayes had sent.His phone, chargers, notebook.Everything he would need for what could be a quick trip or could turn into days of investigation.
Vic leaned against the edge of his desk."For what it's worth, I think she's good for you.Better than sitting alone in your apartment drinking bourbon every night."
"I don't drink bourbon every night."
"You used to."
Miles zipped his bag closed."Can we focus on the case?"
"We are focused on the case.I'm just saying it's okay to have a life outside of work.Elena wouldn't want you to be alone forever."
The mention of Elena's name felt like a punch to the chest, but not in the way it used to.Vic was right, of course.Elena would have hated seeing him isolated and grieving for months on end.She would have told him to move on, to find someone who made him happy.But knowing that intellectually and feeling ready to act on it were two different things.And hearing it from Vic just seemed…weird.
"Let's just get to New York," Miles said, a bit more bitterly than he’d intended.
They hurried to the elevators in silence, and Miles could already feel the pull of a case from several states away—hopefully drawing them to a legitimate disciple before they could kill again.
CHAPTER SIX
The flight to New York was quick and eventless—just the sort of flight Miles preferred.After checking out a rental car and meandering through New York City traffic, they reached the apartment building where Diana Rothschild had been killed.
Miles stepped out of the car and looked up at the building.Forty stories of glass and steel, the kind of address that required seven figures just to get your foot in the door.A doorman in a pristine uniform stood at the entrance, and through the glass doors, Miles could see a lobby with marble floors and modern art on the walls.
Vic locked the car and joined him on the sidewalk."Nice place to die."
"Nice place to live, too," Miles said."If you can afford it."
They walked through the large double doors at the front of the building and found a local detective waiting for them.She was maybe forty, with dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and sharp green eyes.She wore a gray blazer and dark slacks, and when she shook Miles's hand, her grip was firm.
“Detective Miranda Linhart,” she said.“Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Agent Sterling, and this is Agent Stone.Pleased to meet you.”
"I certainly appreciate you getting here so fast."
"What do we have?"Miles asked.
Linhart gestured for them to follow her inside the nearest elevator.As they waited, she said, "Diane Rothschild, a fifty-two-year-old widow.She used to work in private equity.She was found by her assistant this morning when she didn't answer the door for their standing breakfast meeting."
They rode the elevator up to the eighth floor and quickly made their way into the penthouse.It was exactly what Miles expected from someone in private equity.High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows with views of Manhattan, modern furniture that probably cost more than most people's cars.Everything tasteful, everything expensive.
"The body is in the bedroom," Linhart said."Fair warning…it's unusual."
“Yeah, we’ve seen the photos,” Miles said.
And while that was true, it still didn’t fully prepare Miles for what was waiting for them.
Diane Rothschild lay on her bed, positioned with an almost peaceful quality.Her hands were folded across her stomach in a staged, peaceful manner.But the peaceful look stopped when he looked at her face.Her lips were parted slightly, and even from several feet away, he could see the metallic sheen coating the inside of her mouth.It caught the light from the windows, creating an unnatural gleam.
"Jesus," Vic said quietly.
Miles stepped closer, careful not to disturb anything.The ME had already been here, so the scene had been processed, but he still maintained his distance.
