Origin in Death (In Death #21)(69)

"First things first, I suppose. We're nearly there."

"Will you know what to look for?"

She moved her shoulders. "I guess we'll find out if I see it."

"Would you want it?"

She glanced over at him. "What?"

"To re-create yourself."

"Oh God, no. You?"

"Not in a million. We tend to ... reinvent ourselves, don't we? We're in constant evolution, or should be. And that's more than enough. We change, we're meant to. People and circumstances, experiences change us. Better or worse."

"My background, my blood, upbringing, early environment, all of that was supposed to-according to my family-predispose me for a certain kind of life and work." She lifted a shoulder. "I didn't choose it, and those choices and experiences I had changed me. Meeting Dallas changed me again-and it's given me the opportunity to work at Duchas. Meeting the two of you put Charles in my path, and our relationship has changed me. Opened me. Whatever our DNA, it's living and being that make us. We have to love, I think-as frothy as that sounds-we have to love to be fully alive, fully human."

"It was death that brought me and Eve together. And as frothy as it sounds, there are times I feel as though that was when I took my first breath."

"I think that sounds gorgeous."

He laughed a little. "Now we have a life, a complicated one. We're hunting killers and mad science-and planning Thanksgiving dinner."

"To which Charles and I are delighted to be invited. We're both looking forward to it."

"It's the first we've done something this. .. familial. You'll meet my relations from Ireland."

"Can't wait."

"My mother was a twin," he said, half to himself.

"Really? I didn't know that. Fraternal or identical?"

"Identical, apparently. With all this going on, it makes you wonder a bit. How much does my aunt share with her, besides the physical traits?"

"Family relationships are like any other. It takes time to find out. And here we are."

She flipped out a mirror, checked her face, fluffed at her hair as the car veered to the curb.

They were met by three suits, expressed through security, then escorted to a private elevator. Roarke gauged the lone female, thirtyish, brunette, sharp eyes, sharp suit, was in charge.

His impression was verified when she took the reins.

"We're pleased with your interest in the Wilfred B. Icove Center." she began. "As you know, we've suffered from a double tragedy in recent days. The memorial service for Dr. Icove will be held today, here in the chapel. Our administrative and research-and-development facilities will close today at noon, out of respect."

"Understandable. I appreciate you fitting us in, on such short notice, and at such a difficult time."

"I'll be available throughout your visit, to answer any questions-or find the answers to them," she added with a brilliant smile. "To assist you in any way."

He found himself thinking what he'd predicted others would: Was she one of them? "And your function here, Ms. Poole?"

"I'm chief operating officer."

"Young," Roarke commented, "for the position."

"True." Her smile never dimmed. "I came to the Center directly from college."

"Where did you go to university?"

"I attended Brookhollow College, taking an accelerated course." The doors opened, and she gestured. "Please, after you. I'll escort you directly to Mrs. Icove."

"Mrs. Icove?"

"Yes." Poole gestured again, leading the way through the reception area, through the glass doors. "Dr. Icove served as CEO, with Dr. Will Icove retaining that position upon the death of his father. Now ... Mrs. Icove is acting CEO until such time as a permanent successor can be named. Even through tragedy, the Center will run efficiently, and serve the needs of its clients and patients. Their care and satisfaction is our highest priority."

The doors to what had been Icove's office were open. Poole stepped inside. "Mrs. Icove?"

Her back was to the room as she faced the wide windows looking out on New York and a sulky sky. She turned. Her blond hair was swept back from her face, rolled under at the nape. She wore black, and her lavender eyes seemed weary and sad.

"Oh yes, Carla." Mustering a smile, she moved forward, extended her hand to Roarke, then Louise. "I'm very pleased to meet you both."

"Our condolences, Mrs. Icove, on your recent losses."

"Thank you."

"My father was acquainted with your father-in-law," Louise put in. "And I myself attended a series of lectures he gave while I was in medical school. He'll be missed."

"Yes, he will. Carla, could we have a moment, please?"

Surprise flickered briefly over Poole's face, and was quickly masked. "Of course. I'll be outside when you need me."

She went out, closed the doors.

"Shall we sit? My father-in-law's office. Intimidating, I find. Would you like coffee? Anything?"

"No, don't trouble."

They settled in the sitting area, and Avril laid her hands in her lap. "I'm not a businesswoman, and have no aspirations in that area. Far from it. My function here is-and will continue to be-that of a figurehead. The Icove name."