Purity in Death (In Death #15)(59)



Mira nodded as if she'd expected nothing else. "Look for people with connections to your victims who hold high-level skills. Neurology, computer science, physics, sociology, psychiatry. And look for wealth. The research and equipment needed here would require heavy funding. You can expect another death and another statement very soon. They need to keep this story in the forefront. Purity is on a mission, Eve, and it's using our children to drive it."

"They'll have to put a spin on what happened with Halloway-with Feeney and McNab."

"Yes." Mira watched a hummingbird, iridescent as a jewel, dart in for a blossom with a blur of wings. "I'm sure it will be very well-written."

Eve ran her glass in small circles on the tabletop. "Roarke and I have gone around on this some. We're close to the same line, I guess, but not quite on the same side of it."

"I'd say that was a good thing."

Surprised, Eve looked up. "How?"

"You're not the same person, Eve, nor would either of you want to be. Seeing this from two sides would, I'd think, help keep you both honest. And interested."

"Maybe. We pissed each other off."

"Another part of marriage."

"It's a damn big slice of ours." But her shoulders relaxed a little. "Keep each other honest," she murmured. "Maybe. So . . . Did you talk to Feeney?"

"He isn't ready. He's handling himself well. The work heals him, as it does you."

"What about McNab?"

"I can't tell you specifics about what we discussed. It's confidential."

"Okay." Eve stared at the tangled vines and bold blue flowers. "Can you tell me . . . do you think I should cut him loose from duty on this? Roarke can get him into this Swiss clinic, one that specializes in this sort of injury, next week, but in the meantime, maybe he shouldn't be on the job. Maybe he should be with his family or something."

"He is with his family. By keeping him on the team, by continuing to value his input, his resources, you're helping him to cope. What you're doing for him right now is helping a great deal more than anything I can do. Roarke's made arrangements with the Jonas-Ludworg Clinic? How typical of him."

"It's a good place, right?"

"There is none better."

"Okay." She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. "That's good."

"You've had a lousy day, haven't you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"I hope some better news comes along."

"I got some news anyway." She dropped her hands. "Mavis is knocked up."

"Oh my God. Mavis was attacked?"

"No, it was Leonardo."

Mira clutched a hand to her breast. Shock radiated onto her face. "Leonardo? Leonardo beat Mavis?"

"Beat her? No, he banged her. You know, knocked her up." Confused, Eve shook her head, then began to laugh as the light dawned. "Sperm meets egg," she managed as she had her first genuine laugh of the day. "She's pregnant."

"Pregnant? Mavis is pregnant? Knocked up. Lord, I'd forgotten that term. This is news. Are they pleased?"

"Circling Pluto. He's already designing her fat clothes."

"Oh my. Won't that be a sight to see. When is she due?"

"Due for what? Oh, right. She said she should pop by March. She's writing a song about it. Knocked Up By Love."

"Sounds like another hit. They'll make wonderful and unique parents. How do you feel about it? Aunt Eve?"

There was a jolt, dead center of the belly. "I feel like if anybody calls me that, I'll have to hurt them. Even you."

With a laugh, Mira sat back. "This will all be fascinating to watch. If you speak with Mavis again before I do, be sure to give her my love and congratulations."

"Sure. No problem." Eve snuck another look at her wrist unit.

"And I can see you're anxious to get back to work. Would you mind if I just sat here a while longer, finished my wine?"

"No, go ahead. I've really got to get back to it."

"Good luck." When Eve went in, Mira sipped her wine, looked at the flowers and the bright, bright bird. And daydreamed a little.

***

Eve stopped by the lab first, then just backed out again. There was some discussion, debate, or argument going on in the sort of tech jargon that invariably gave her a headache.

Deciding they'd let her know something when they had something to let her know, she swung into the room Baxter was using as an office.

"What's the word?"

"I've got many names connected to one or more of the vics that are in the system. Cops, lawyers, Child Services, medicals, the handful of complainants that weren't sealed. Broke that down to names that popped on at least two of the vics and ran those. Just zipped the data to your unit. Our pal Nadine Furst covered the George trial. That putz Chang's down as media liaison."

"I guess that figures." She sat on the edge of his desk. "What's your gut?"

"That if we've got any family members involved, and we do, they're in the sealeds. You're stewing about it; you're carrying wounds over it; you want your privacy."

"Yeah, that's mine, too. And if you're going to talk to anyone about it, about what you're carrying, it's going to be somebody who was there with you. Somebody who knows and stood for you and yours."

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