Visions in Death (In Death #19)(100)

"Then she'll get him." After giving him a pat, Mavis turned away to pull over a chair.

"Wait, sorry, let me get that. You shouldn't be hauling stuff."

At best, the folding chair weighed four pounds, but she let him move it over for her. " McNab, there isn't a lot we—me and Leonardo—can do. But we can move your stuff, set up your new place."

"It's a lot of stuff. I don't want—"

"We can do that, if you let us. Then when she's better, you can just, you know, carry her in. It'll be done. You need to be here, with her. We can do this for you. For both of you."

"I... that'd be mag. Thanks, Mavis."

"Hey, we're going to be neighbors."

"You, ah, don't go lifting anything heavy. With that bun in the oven."

"Don't worry." She rubbed a hand over her belly. "I won't."

"I feel like I'm going to fall apart any second. Then the second passes, and it's the next, and I..." He jerked straight in the chair. "I think she moved. Did you see that?"

"No, but I—"

"She moved. Her fingers." He turned over the hand he held in his. "I felt them move. Come on, Peabody. Wake up."

"I saw it that time." With her fingers gripping his shoulders, she leaned forward. "Look, she's trying to open her eyes. Do you want me to get somebody?"

"Wait. Wait." He pushed up, leaned over. "Open your eyes, Peabody. You can hear me. No sliding back under again. Come on, you're going to be late for your tour."

She made some sound—part gurgle, part moan, part sigh—and he'd never heard sweeter music. Her lids fluttered, and her swollen, blackened eyes opened.

"There you are." The tears flooded his throat; he swallowed most of them and grinned at her.

"What happened?"

"You're in the hospital. You're okay."

"Hospital. Can't remember."

"Doesn't matter now. You hurt anywhere?"

"I... everywhere. God, what happened to me?"

"It's okay. Mavis."

"I'll get somebody."

When she dashed out, McNab pressed his lips to Peabody's hand. "It's going to be okay now. I promise. Dee. Baby."

"I was... coming home."

"You'll get there. Soon."

"Can I have drugs first?"

He laughed, as tears rolled out of his eyes.

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Eve caught herself leaning over Yancy's shoulder, and eased back. "It's okay. Used to it. Let me tell you first, if everybody brought me witnesses like yours, my job would be a hell of a lot easier. Maybe a little boring."

Then he glanced back at Roarke. "This is one of your programs."

"So I see. It's one of the best image programs on the market though we're working on some upgrades. Still, it's only as efficient as its operator."

"I like to think so."

"Can you guys get back to your admiration session later?"

"Well, take a look. Here's the sketch your wit brought in, and here's my revised image, after the session. See? We got a little more detail, subtle alterations, but they can boost time on an ID match."

"Less Frankenstein," Roarke commented.

"Yeah. The behavior of the subject tends to influence the witness's memory of his physicality. They see this big guy pounding on a woman, and he takes on giant characteristics. Monster shit. But your wit had the basics, and he had them down. Square face, lots of forehead, shiny dome. Knowing about the sealant lets me program that element. The shades hamper the ID—eyes are the best element for a match. But from here, we start building, using the program."

He initiated, took the sketch through the building stages. "Profile. Adding dimension, skull shape."

Eve watched Yancy use a stylist to prompt the program, section by section, on the image.

"Ears, line of neck. Revolve to back view, other profile. Full face. Shape of the mouth, nose, angle of bone. Get it to three dimensions, add skin tone. Okay, this is the best probability, given current data. To take it the last step, you have to go with a combo of your own judgment and the comp's. Remove shades."

Eve stared at the eyeless face, felt a shudder run through her.

"Apt," Roarke stated.

"Yeah."

"His eyes could be damaged, but for ID purposes, we're going to try the highest probabilities for the shape. Color's not an option, though I'd lean toward dark with this skin tone and the eyebrows. Highest percentage. Going that direction, this is what I get."

Eve studied the finished image. The hard, square face, soft mouth, thick eyebrows over small, dark eyes. The nose was large, slightly hooked, the ears prominent against the bald skull.

"There he is," she said quietly.

"If it's not damn near close as a photograph, you can spank me," Yancy said. "I'll toss this to your office unit. Got you plenty of hard copies. I'll pass some out myself. You want me to run the ID match?"

"Shoot it to Feeney in EDD. Nobody's faster." Then she glanced at Roarke, saw him smile. "Hardly. That's a hell of a job, Yancy. One hell of a job."