Betrayal in Death (In Death #12)(35)

"You've already done most of my work."

Dr. Mira lowered her computer screen and turned to where Eve stood, hands in back pockets, eyes on the view beyond the window. "You seem to know this man very well, on very short acquaintance. And the FBI profilers are very thorough."

"You can give me more."

"I'm flattered you think so." Mira rose, programmed her AutoChef for tea, then wandered away from it. She wore a simple suit of dusky blue, and her rich brown hair waved back to flatter her soft and pretty face. Her fingers twisted the long gold chain around her neck.

"He's a sociopath, and is probably intelligent and self-aware enough to know it. It may be a point of pride. Pride is one of the engines that drives him. He considers himself a businessman, the top in his chosen field. And choose it, he did. He enjoys fine things. He may not be aware that the rape adds to his satisfaction. It's just another way of erasing his victim. Male or female matters not at all. It isn't sex, of course, it's debasement."

Mira glanced at her wrist unit, her 'link, then into space. "More efficient would be the simple garroting, but he most often beats and rapes. These are part of the whole to him, like a man testing the color and bouquet of a good wine before drinking."

"He enjoys his work."

"Oh, yes," Mira confirmed. "Very much. But it is, in his mind, very much work. It's unlikely he ever kills indiscriminately or for personal motives. He's a professional, and expects to be paid and paid well. The silver wire is his calling card, an advertisement if you will to potential customers."

"He hides nothing. The wire, his face, makes no attempt to conceal DNA. Yet he does wear moderate disguises."

"My belief would be he wears those disguises to amuse himself. To add a bit of adventure. Partly vanity." She wandered the office, her movements restless and out of character.

"He would enjoy fussing with himself, viewing the results before heading out to work. The way another man might select a new shirt for a day at the office. You, the law, don't worry him in the least. He's evaded the legal system for years. I would say, at most, you amuse him."

"He won't be laughing for long."

Eve glanced back over her shoulder, saw Mira look down at her wrist unit yet again, frown. She'd forgotten the tea, too, and that was a first as far as Eve knew. "Everything okay?"

"Hmm. Oh, yes, everything's fine."

"You seem a little distracted."

"I suppose I am. My daughter-in-law's in labor. I'm waiting for word. Babies tend to take their own sweet time while the rest of us wait."

"I guess." Because Mira gave her desk 'link a worried look, Eve went to the AutoChef, retrieved the tea.

"Thank you. That's the second time in an hour I've forgotten I've made tea. I'll write your profile, Eve. It'll help keep my mind occupied. But I don't think it'll add much to what you already know."

"Why Roarke? Can you tell me that?"

Her own concerns, Mira realized, had blinded her to the fact that Eve was worried on a personal level. Now Mira sat, waited for Eve to do the same. "Not beyond what I imagine you already suspect. He's rich, powerful, has enemies. Professional and personal rivals. He has a background with a great many holes, officially. There may be people hiding in those holes who wish to cause him difficulties. I'm sure you've discussed it with him."

"Yeah, but it's not getting me anywhere. If someone had tried a frame, tried to set up a murder so he'd look like a suspect, or have some direct involvement, I could see it. Go after one of his business rivals, somebody high profile. Hit someone who's given him grief or causing him trouble. But a chambermaid at one of his hotels? What's the damn point?"

Mira laid a hand over Eve's. "It has both of you concerned and troubled. Perhaps that was point enough."

"To take a life for it? Yost, all right. To him it's a job. But there has to be more in it for the client. Yost bought four lengths. That's too many for backup on Darlene French, Dr. Mira. He's still on the clock."

"I'll continue to study the data. Run an analysis. I wish I could do more."

Her desk 'link beeped, and she was out of the chair like a woman on springs. "Excuse me."

Eve was surprised to see the dignified Mira scramble around the desk.

"Yes? Oh, Anthony, is -- "

"It's a boy. Eight pounds, five ounces, twenty-one perfect inches."

"Oh. Oh." Mira's eyes swam as she lowered herself into a chair. "Deborah?"

"She's great. She's fine. They're beautiful. Have a look."

Eve shifted, angling her head enough so that she could see a dark-haired man hold up a wriggling, red, squalling baby.

"Say hello to Matthew James Mira, Grandma."

"Hello, Matthew. He has your nose, Anthony. He's gorgeous. I'll come by to see you all as soon as I can. I can't wait to hold him. Have you called your father?"

"He's next."

"We'll be over tonight." She ran a finger over the screen as if stroking the baby's head. "Tell Deborah we love her. And we're so proud of her."

"Hey, how about me?"

"And you." She kissed her fingertips, laid them on the screen. "I'll see you all soon."