Naked in Death (In Death #1)(41)

And she dropped him.

The jolt zipped through his nervous system. His brain died first, so that his body convulsed and shuddered as his eyes turned to glass. Strapping down on the need to scream, she kicked the knife away from his still twitching hand and looked at the child.

The big doll’s eyes stared at her, and told her — again — that she’d been too late.

Forcing her body to relax, she let nothing into her mind but her report.

The VR section was complete. Her vitals were checked again before she was taken to the final testing phase. The one-on-one with the psychiatrist.

Eve didn’t have anything against Dr. Mira. The woman was dedicated to her calling. In private practice, she could have earned triple the salary she pulled in under the Police and Security Department.

She had a quiet voice with the faintest hint of upper class New England. Her pale blue eyes were kind — and sharp. At sixty, she was comfortable with middle age, but far from matronly.

Her hair was a warm honey brown and scooped up in the back in a neat yet complicated twist. She wore a tidy, rose toned suit with a sedate gold circle on the lapel.

No, Eve had nothing against her personally. She just hated shrinks.

“Lieutenant Dallas.” Mira rose from a soft blue scoop chair when Eve entered.

There was no desk, no computer in sight. One of the tricks, Eve knew, to make the subjects relax and forget they were under intense observation.

“Doctor.” Eve sat in the chair Mira indicated.

“I was just about to have some tea. You’ll join me?”

“Sure.”

Mira moved gracefully to the server, ordered two teas, then brought the cups to the sitting area. “It’s unfortunate that your testing was postponed, lieutenant.” With a smile, she sat, sipped. “The process is more conclusive and certainly more beneficial when run within twenty-four hours of an incident.”

“It couldn’t be helped.”

“So I’m told. Your preliminary results are satisfactory.”

“Fine.”

“You still refuse autohypnosis?”

“It’s optional.” Hating the defensive sound of her voice.

“Yes, it is.” Mira crossed her legs. “You’ve been through a difficult experience, lieutenant. There are signs of physical and emotional fatigue.”

“I’m on another case, a demanding one. It’s taking a lot of my time.”

“Yes, I have that information. Are you taking the standard sleep inducers?”

Eve tested the tea. It was, as she’d suspected, floral in scent and flavor. “No. We’ve been through that before. Night pills are optional, and I opt no.”

“Because they limit your control.”

Eve met her eyes. “That’s right. I don’t like being put to sleep, and I don’t like being here. I don’t like brain rape.”

“You consider Testing a kind of rape?”

There wasn’t a cop with a brain who didn’t. “It’s not a choice, is it?”

Mira kept her sigh to herself. “The termination of a subject, no matter the circumstances, is a traumatic experience for a police officer. If the trauma affects the emotions, the reactions, the attitude, the officer’s performance will suffer. If the use of full force was caused by a physical defect, that defect must be located and repaired.”

“I know the company line, doctor. I’m cooperating fully. But I don’t have to like it.”

“No, you don’t.” Mira neatly balanced the cup on her knee. “Lieutenant, this is your second termination. Though that is not an unusual amount for an officer with your length of duty, there are many who never need to make that decision. I’d like to know how you feel about the choice you made, and the results.”

I wish I’d been quicker, Eve thought. I wish that child was playing with her toys right now instead of being cremated.

“As my only choice was to let him carve me into pieces, or stop him, I feel just fine about the decision. My warning was issued and ignored. Stunning was ineffective. The evidence that he would, indeed, kill was lying on the floor between us in a puddle of blood. Therefore, I have no problem with the results.”

“You were disturbed by the death of the child?”

“I believe anyone would be disturbed by the death of a child. Certainly that kind of vicious murder of the defenseless.”

“And do you see the parallel between the child and yourself?” Mira asked quietly. She could see Eve draw in and close off. “Lieutenant, we both know I’m fully aware of your background. You were abused, physically, sexually, and emotionally. You were abandoned when you were eight.”

“That has nothing to do with — “

“I think it may have a great deal to do with your mental and emotional state,” Mira interrupted. “For two years between the ages of eight and ten, you lived in a communal home while your parents were searched for. You have no memory of the first eight years of your life, your name, your circumstances, your birthplace.”

However mild they were, Mira’s eyes were sharp and searching. “You were given the name Eve Dallas and eventually placed in foster care. You had no control over any of this. You were a battered child, dependent on the system, which in many ways failed you.”