Visions in Death (In Death #19)(62)

Even the thought of it rolled ice into Eve's gut. "I wouldn't have let it happen."

"It's not a choice. Two years ago February," Mira said quietly. "You came in for standard Testing after terminating a suspect."

"Suspect's a little vague description-wise when the guy was holding the bloody knife with the kid he'd just ripped apart in the blood pool at his feet."

"You almost didn't make it through Testing. Not because of the termination, which was justified and necessary, but because of the child. You got through it on sheer will. You know it, and so do I."

She remembered. She remembered perfectly the way she'd raced up the stairs, the screams tearing through the air, tearing through her head. And what she'd seen when she'd broken in the door. Too late.

She'd looked like a doll. A tiny, staring doll in the hands of a monster.

"I can still see her. Her name was Mandy." Eve eased out a breath. "Some hit you harder than others."

"I know it." Unable to prevent herself, Mira laid a hand on Eve's arm, rubbed lightly from elbow to shoulder. "You did the job, but couldn't save the child. And it hit you, very hard. You've had others, will have others that hit you equally. And the fact that you've opened your life, that you will go to a dinner party tonight, even if the job is still circling in part of your mind, may or may not make you a better person, a better cop, but I can promise you it's given you more years. A great many more years on the job."

"There was a time what you're saying would've just pissed me off."

A smile quirked Mira's lips. "Something else I know."

"Since it doesn't—much—maybe you're right. It's just dinner. You gotta eat." She looked down at the wrapper in her hand, gave a half laugh. "Eventually."

"I'll read the case file more thoroughly. If there's anything else, I'll contact you right away. And I'm going to red-flag this investigation. I'll be available to you for consult anytime. Day or night."

"Thanks." She rolled the wrapper into a ball, pitched it into a recycler. "And thanks for the boost. All around."

She stopped off in the bathroom to splash ice water on her face. And pulled out her communicator as she dried off.

"Peabody."

"Sir!"

Eve could see her white face, her startled eyes in the dim light of the crib. "On your feet, soldier. Media conference in fifteen. One Police Plaza."

"Got it. Just let me slap myself around and wake up. I'm on my way."

"Get there now. I'll slap you around."

"You sweet-talker."

Eve's lips twitched as she broke transmission. Maybe it wasn't such a hardship to open up her life—here and there.

———«»——————«»——————«»———

In the grand scheme, Eve considered media conferences more of an ache in the ass than an actual pain. It was an annoyance, like a mild digestive disorder.

She could see the politics of the setup—using the steps of Central to make it a cop deal, rather than a mayoral one. Having the mayor make a brief statement before stepping back and giving the podium to the chief.

Tibblewas terse and to-the-point, as she expected from him. He looked powerful and concerned and angry. All the traits you'd want in the city's top cop when a killer was brutalizing innocent women in the public parks. He wore a dark gray suit with a somber blue tie, and a small gold NYPSD badge in the form of a pin glinting on his lapel.

A formal and distinguished look, Eve supposed, that fit him like a glove. He took no questions, but like the mayor, issued a statement.

We're in charge, Eve concluded. But we're not in the trenches. We work for order, and send our soldiers out to maintain it.

It was a good theme, a strong stand, and a wise move to yield the podium to Whitney.

It all took time, and though no new information was really dispensed, it gave the media bones to gnaw on, and let the public know their top officials were on the job.

It was a good city, tightly run, Eve thought. For all its dark corners and jagged edges, it was a good city. That was important to remember. You didn't want to lose sight of the value and the strengths because you spent too much time wading through the wastes.

So she could stand here, in the bright light of a September afternoon on the steps of her house and know there was murder and meanness and casual cruelties, and still it was a good city.

A good city, and the only home she'd ever had.

"As primary on this investigation, Lieutenant Dallas will take more questions." Whitney turned to her. "Lieutenant."

Pecking order, Eve thought, and on impulse, took Peabody's arm, ignored the shocked jerk from it, and drew her to the podium.

"My partner, Detective Peabody, and I have little to add to the previous statements and the answers Commander Whitney has already given. This investigation is our priority. It is ongoing and active and we are pursuing any and all leads."

Questions spewed out like a geyser of hot air. She let them wash over her, then picked one out of the flood.

Both victims were mutilated. Do you believe these to be cult killings?

"None of the evidence we've accumulated during this investigation indicates cult involvement. We believe Elisa Maplewood and Lily Napier were both killed by one individual, acting alone and on his own volition."