Naked in Death (In Death #1)(42)

It took every ounce of will for Eve to keep her eyes and her voice level. “As I, part of the system, failed to protect the child. You want to know how I feel about that, Dr. Mira?”

Wretched. Sick. Sorry.

“I feel that I did everything I could do. I went through your VR and did it again. Because there was no changing it. If I could have saved the child, I would have saved her. If I could have arrested the subject, I would have.”

“But these matters were not in your control.”

Sneaky bitch, Eve thought. “It was in my control to terminate. After employing all standard options, I exercised my control. You’ve reviewed the report. It was a clean, justifiable termination.”

Mira said nothing for a moment. Her skills, she knew, had never been able to more than scrape at Eve’s outer wall of defense. “Very well, lieutenant. You’re cleared to resume duty without restriction.” Mira held up a hand before Eve could rise. “Off the record.”

“Is anything?”

Mira only smiled. “It’s true that very often the mind protects itself. Yours refuses to acknowledge the first eight years of your life. But those years are a part of you. I can get them back for you when you’re ready. And Eve,” she added in that quiet voice, “I can help you deal with them.”

“I’ve made myself what I am, and I can live with it. Maybe I don’t want to risk living with the rest.” She got up and walked to the door. When she turned back, Mira was sitting just as she had been, legs crossed, one hand holding the pretty little cup. The scent of brewed flowers lingered in the air.

“A hypothetical case,” Eve began and waited for Mira’s nod.

“A woman, with considerable social and financial advantages, chooses to become a whore.” At Mira’s lifted brow, Eve swore impatiently. “We don’t have to pretty up the terminology here, doctor. She chose to make her living from sex. Flaunted it in front of her well-positioned family, including her arch-conservative grandfather. Why?”

“It’s difficult to come up with one specific motive from such general and sketchy information. The most obvious would be the subject could find her self-worth only in sexual skill. She either enjoyed or detested the act.”

Intrigued, Eve stepped away from the door. “If she detested it, why would she become a pro?”

“To punish.”

“Herself?”

“Certainly, and those close to her.”

To punish, Eve mused. The diary. Blackmail.

“A man kills,” she continued. “Viciously, brutally. The killing is tied to sex, and is executed in a unique and distinctive fashion. He records it, has bypassed a sophisticated security system. A recording of the murder is delivered to the investigating officer. A message is left at the scene, a boastful message. What is he?”

“You don’t give me much,” Mira complained, but Eve could see her attention was caught. “Inventive,” she began. “A planner, and a voyeur. Confident, perhaps smug. You said distinctive, so he wishes to leave his mark, and he wants to show off his skill, his brain. Using your observation and deductive talents, lieutenant, did he enjoy the act of murder?”

“Yes. I think he reveled in it.”

Mira nodded. “Then he will certainly enjoy it again.”

“He already has. Two murders, barely a week apart. He won’t wait long before the next, will he?”

“It’s doubtful.” Mira sipped her tea as if they were discussing the latest spring fashions. “Are the two murders connected in any way other than the perpetrator and the method?”

“Sex,” Eve said shortly.

“Ah.” Mira tilted her head. “With all our technology, with the amazing advances that have been made in genetics, we are still unable to control human virtues and flaws. Perhaps we are too human to permit the tampering. Passions are necessary to the human spirit. We learned that early this century when genetic engineering nearly slipped out of control. It’s unfortunate that some passions twist. Sex and violence. For some it’s still a natural marriage.”

She stood then to take the cups and place them beside the server. “I’d be interested in knowing more about this man, lieutenant. If and when you decide you want a profile, I hope you’ll come to me.”

“It’s Code Five.”

Mira glanced back. “I see.”

“If we don’t tie this up before he hits again, I may be able to swing it.”

“I’ll make myself available.”

“Thanks.”

“Eve, even strong, self-made women have weak spots. Don’t be afraid of them.”

Eve held Mira’s gaze for another moment. “I’ve got work to do.”

Testing left her shaky. Eve compensated by being surly and antagonistic with her snitch and nearly losing a lead on a case involving bootlegged chemicals. Her mood was far from cheerful when she checked back in to Cop Central. There was no message from Feeney.

Others in her department knew just where she’d spent the day and did their best to stay out of her way. As a result, she worked in solitude and annoyance for an hour.

Her last effort was to put through a call to Roarke. She was neither surprised nor particularly disappointed when he wasn’t available. She left a message on his E-mail requesting an appointment, then logged out for the day.