Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(50)

“You’ve infected her.”

“Anyways, Mira’s in your office.”

“Good. I need medical attention.”

She turned, blinked her abused eyes clear, then walked to her office.

Mira stood by Eve’s desk with a memo cube in her hand.

She wore pink, thankfully not flamingo pink, but a pale, sort of dreamy hue. The suit looked soft and springy, the heels—tiny checkerboards of pink and cream—looked painfully uncomfortable.

The cream-colored purse looked big enough to hold a potted plant.

Mira smiled, replaced the cube in her bag.

“I was just leaving you a memo. I’ve been reading your reports and notes. I find the case fascinating, and hoped to catch you in. Do you have a few minutes now?”

“I was going to contact your office, see if you could fit me in for a consult this morning.”

“This is perfect then. I had some outside appointments, and my first in-house needed to reschedule. I’ve got a block free right now.”

“Take the desk chair.”

Since Mira knew the discomfort of the single visitor’s chair, she didn’t argue. She set her bag aside, sat, crossed her excellent legs.

“Let me fill you in on this morning. You want tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

Eve programmed the flowery tea Mira liked, and black coffee for herself.

As Eve ran through the interviews, Mira sipped her tea. Occasionally she glanced at the board with those soft blue eyes.

“I’ve met Merit Caine’s parents.” Mira brushed back a wave of her rich brown hair, currently sun-shot courtesy of Trina. “Friends of friends, that sort of thing. I know they’re both enormously proud of their children. I haven’t had any contact with the Huffmans, but from your reports, and what you’ve told me here, I agree with your conclusion. True believers.

“They’re medical professionals, educated scientists, but have chosen to discard science in favor of a fanatical, systemic bigotry. So much so they would subject their own teenage daughter to what is nothing less than torture. This, and being raised on those tenets, forced to hide or deny her own sexual identity, certainly helped mold her into what she is today.”

“What is she today?”

“A malignant narcissist with sociopathic tendencies. A sexual predator—not a violent one, but an opportunistic one. She doesn’t form or forge genuine relationships, she manipulates those who can further her needs and ambitions. They don’t matter to her beyond that use. She doesn’t love, isn’t capable.”

“Could she kill?” Eve asked, and Mira smiled, sipped her tea.

“Oh yes, absolutely.”





11


Eve rose from where she’d eased a hip on the corner of her desk. “Could she have killed Ariel Byrd?”

“She’s more capable of murder than most,” Mira began. “On impulse, in the moment, in temper. Physical violence wouldn’t be her initial impulse or choice. It’s messy—and she would worry about being hurt herself. But in an instant or moment of rage, or fear of exposure, yes, she could.”

Eve thought of the moment with the empty glass. Gwen, ready to throw it at her face. But one word of warning, possible repercussions, and she’d thrown it against the wall.

“However,” Mira went on, “she calculates. She’s had to, all of her life. Would she have killed, then left evidence of her presence behind? Highly, very highly, doubtful.”

“Yeah, well, I circled around to that same conclusion. If she’d followed the victim upstairs, killed her in that moment of rage, she’d have started thinking. And covering. She’d have taken the vic’s ’link, the sheets, the glasses. Wiped the place down. Or contacted somebody she could pay to do it.”

“Agreed. She could have, as you speculated before, contacted someone to solve this problem for her—pay Byrd off, threaten her, or, yes, eliminate her. That would have to have been someone she had power over.”

“Her parents are Natural Order hierarchy.”

“Yes.” Coolly, Mira studied the board. “And she would absolutely be capable of using that lever. She has no friends, would trust no one without having power over them.”

“McNab’s working on her damaged ’link. But she claimed to be glad we had it because we’d see she hadn’t contacted anyone.”

“Possibly another lie—they’re instinct for her. But just as possibly true. Her returning the next morning fits her profile. She would manipulate her lover—whom she would soon discard—and if her lover still resisted, she’d simply steal the ’link, which she believed was the only way to expose their affair.

“She’s a liar by nature, but this is truth: She’s desperate for you to keep this information from her parents.”

Studying the board, Eve nodded. “I believe that, no question. She gave us all the information this morning without tagging a lawyer. She can’t afford to hire another lawyer, to have someone else see the evidence.”

“Yes. She believed she had power over Merit Caine, and learned it only went so far. She can’t put her fate into another’s hands. I will say that if she’d succeeded with Merit Caine, met the terms of the trust—or manages to do so with someone else—she might consider finding a way to eliminate her parents. She’s capable of that sort of calculation. The money from the trust wouldn’t be enough for her after she claimed it. Nothing will ever be enough.”