Conspiracy in Death

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Eve convinced herself she was completely prepared when she walked into Mira's office. She would do what needed to be done, then move on. And she knew, very well, that the results of what she did and what was done to her over the next few hours would weigh heavily in the department's decision. Her suspension could be lifted. Or suspension could lead to dismissal.

Mira went directly to her, took Eve's arms in her hands. "I'm so terribly sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"No, I didn't. I wish I could have." She could feel the tension, snapping tight, in the muscles she gripped. "Eve, you're not required to submit to these tests and procedures until you're fully ready."

"I want it done."

With a nod, Mira stepped back. "I understand that. Sit down first. We'll talk."

Nerves danced up her spine, were ruthlessly shaken off. Nerves, Eve knew, would only add to the trauma. "Dr. Mira, I'm not here for tea and conversation. The sooner it's over, the sooner I know where I stand."

"Then consider it part of the procedure." Mira's voice was uncharacteristically sharp as she gestured to a chair. She wanted to soothe, and would be required to distress. "Sit down, Eve. I have all your data here," she began when Eve shrugged and dropped into a chair. Arrogantly, Mira thought. That was good. A little arrogance would help get Eve through what was to come. "I'm required to verify that you understand what you've agreed to."

"I know the drill."

"You're submitting to personality evaluation, violent tendency ratio, and a truth test. These procedures include virtual reality simulations, chemical injections, and brain scans. I will personally conduct or supervise all procedures. I'll be there with you, Eve."

"You don't carry this weight, Mira. It's not on you."

"If you're here because an associate arranged or had a part in the circumstances that brought you to this point, put you in this position, I carry some of the weight."

Eve's eyes sharpened. "Your profile indicates an associate?"

"I can't discuss my profiling with you." Mira picked up a disc from her desk, tapped a finger against it while her gaze remained steady on Eve's. "I can't tell you what data and conclusions are on this copy of my reports. A copy of reports already filed to all appropriate parties." She tossed it carelessly back on the desk. "I need to check the equipment in the next room. Wait here a moment."

Well, Eve thought when the door closed, that invitation was clear enough. What the hell, she decided and nipped the disc off the desk, stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans.

She wanted to pace, wanted to find a way to keep herself loose before she snapped. But she forced herself to sit again, to wait, to blank her mind.

They wanted you to think, she reminded herself. To worry and to sweat. The more you did, the more open and vulnerable you were to everything that was beyond that door.

They would, she thought, use their equipment, their scans, their injections, to strip your control and dig into your mind. Your fears.

The less you took in with you, the less they had to exploit.

Mira opened the door again. She didn't come back into the room, didn't so much as glance at the desk, but nodded at Eve. "We're ready to start."

Saying nothing, Eve rose and followed Mira down one of the corridors that formed the maze of Testing. This one was in pale green, the color of hospitals. Others would be glassed with techs and machines lurking behind them like smoke.

From this point, every gesture, expression, and word and every thought would be documented, evaluated, analyzed.

"This Level One procedure should take no more than two hours," Mira began. Eve stopped short, grabbed her arm.

"Level One?"

"Yes, that's all you're required to take."

"I need Level Three."

"That's not necessary; it's not recommended. The risks and side effects of Level Three are too extreme for these circumstances. Level One is recommended."

"My badge is riding on this." Her fingers wanted to tremble. She wouldn't allow it. "We both know it. Just like we both know passing Level One is no guarantee of getting it back."

"Positive results and my recommendation will weigh very heavily in your favor."

"Not heavily enough. Level Three, Mira. It's my right to demand it."

"Damn it, Eve. Level Three is for suspected mental defectives, extreme violent tendencies, murderers, mutilators, deviants."

Eve drew in a long breath. "Have I been cleared of any suspicion regarding the murder of Officer Ellen Bowers?"

"You're not a prime suspect, nor is the investigation pointing in your direction."

"But I'm not clear, and I intend to be." Eve drew a breath in, let it out. "Level Three. It's my right."

"You're making this harder than it has to be."

Eve surprised them both by smiling. "It can't be. It already bites."

They passed through a set of clear, reinforced doors. She had no weapon to be surrendered here. The computer politely requested she enter the door on the left and remove all articles of clothing, all jewelry.

Mira saw Eve close her fingers protectively over her wedding ring. And her heart broke a little. "I'm sorry. You can't wear it during the scans. Would you like me to keep it for you?"

"They've only taken your symbols."

She heard Roarke's voice in her head as she tugged off his ring. "Thanks." She moved into the room, closed the door. Mechanically, she removed her clothes, keeping her face impassive for the techs and machines who were monitoring her even now.

She despised being naked in front of strangers. Hated the vulnerability and lack of control.

She refused to think.

The light blinked over the opposing door, and another automated voice told her to step through for the physical exam.

She went in, stood on the center mark, stared straight ahead while the lights blinked and hummed and her body was checked for flaws.

The physical was quick, painless. When she was cleared, she tugged on the blue jumpsuit provided, followed the directions into the adjoining room for the brain scan.

She lay flat on the padded bench, ignoring the faces behind the glass walls, letting her eyes drift closed as the helmet was lowered onto her head.

Just what game would they play? she wondered, bracing herself as the bench glided silently up until she was sitting.

The VR session plunged her into the dark, disorienting her so that she gripped the sides of the bench to keep her balance.

She was attacked from behind. Huge hands shot out of the dark, hauled her off her feet, and tossed her high. She hit the hard floor of what she saw now was an alley, skidded on something slimy. Her bones jarred, her skin burned as it was scraped away. She sprang up fast, one hand reaching for her weapon.

Before she could free it from its holster, he was charging. She pivoted, breath grunting out, as she spun into a back kick to catch him center body.

"Police, you stupid son of a bitch. Freeze."

She crouched, her weapon in both hands, prepared to shoot out a stunning blast, when the program shoved her into brilliant sunlight. Her weapon was still out, her finger twitching on the trigger. But now it pointed at a woman holding a screaming child.

Heart pistoning in her chest, she jerked the weapon up. She could hear her own ragged pants as she lowered it.

They were on a rooftop. The sun was blinding, the heat enormous. And the woman stood swaying on a narrow ledge. She looked at Eve with eyes that seemed already dead. And the child struggled and shrieked.

"Don't come any closer."

"Okay. Look, look, I'm putting it away. Watch." Keeping her movement slow, Eve holstered her weapon. "I just want to talk to you. What's your name?"

"You can't stop me."

"No, I can't." Where the hell was her backup? Where was the jumper team, the shrinks? Name of God. "What's the kid's name?"

"I can't take care of him anymore. I'm tired."

"He's scared." Sweat rolled down her back as she eased a step closer. It was brutally hot, heat bouncing off the sticky tar of the roof in shimmering waves. "And he's hot. So are you. Why don't we go back there in the shade for a minute?"

"He cries all the damn time. All night. I never get any sleep. I can't stand it."

"Maybe you should give him to me. He's heavy. What's his name?"

"Pete." Sweat poured off the woman's face, had her short, dark hair sticking in ringlets to her cheeks. "He's sick. We're both sick, so what's the point?"

The child was screaming, one shrieking wail after another. The sound of it sliced her head, her heart. "I know some people who can help."

"You're just a fucking cop. You can't do shit."

"If you jump, nobody can. Jesus, it's hot out here. Let's go inside, figure this out."

The woman let out a weary sigh. "Go to hell."

Eve made the leap, caught the boy around the waist as the woman leaned forward. His screams were like razors scraping over her brain as she made one desperate grab. She hooked the woman under the armpit, dug in desperately while her muscles trembled and threatened to rip. The toes of her boots slapped hard into the wall of the ledge to keep the weight from sending them all to the sidewalk below.

"Hold on. Goddamn it." Sweat poured into her eyes, stinging, blinding while she struggled for better purchase. The boy was wiggling like a wet fish. "Grab onto me!" she shouted as the woman stared up at her with eyes already empty.

"Sometimes you're better off dead. You should know. Dallas." The woman smiled as she said Eve's name. And she laughed as Eve's grip began to slip.

Then she was in another alley, shivering, curled into a ball of pain and numb shock.

And she was a child, battered and broken, without a name, without a past.

They were using her own memories now, sliding them in from her early data records. She hated them for it, hated them with a rage that simmered nastily under a slick coat of panic.

An alley in Dallas, a young girl with a bloody face, a broken arm, and nowhere to run.

Goddamn you. Damn all of you. She's not part of this. She wanted to scream it, to fight her way clear of the influence and images being poured into her brain and crash through the glass wall.

Her pulse began to race, her rage began to rise. And with barely a blink, the program shifted her to the streets of lower Manhattan, on a frigid night. Bowers stood in front of her, leering.

"You stupid bitch, I'll bury you in complaints. Everyone's going to know what you are. Nothing but a whore who fucked her way up the ranks."

"You've got a real problem, Bowers. Maybe after I finish writing you up for insubordination, threatening a superior officer, and being a general asshole, the department will find its balls and kick you clear."

"We'll see who they kick." Bowers shoved hard, taking Eve back two steps.

The fury was there, right there, shooting out of her heart, trembling in her fingertips. "Don't put your hands on me."

"What the hell are you going to do about it? Nobody's here but you and me. You think you can come down on my turf and make threats."

"I'm not threatening you, I'm telling you. Keep your hands off me, keep out of my face, out of my business, or you'll pay for it."

"I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to strip you bare and expose you, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me."

"Yeah. Oh yeah, there is."

Eve found the metal pipe in her hand. Felt her fingers curl tightly around it, her muscles bunch and brace to swing. More annoyed than surprised, she tossed it aside, leaned in, and grabbed Bowers by the front of her uniform coat. "Put your hands on me again, and I'll knock you on your fat ass. File all the complaints you want, my rep will hold. But I promise you, I'll see you out of that uniform and off the streets before I'm done. You're a fucking disgrace."

She released her in disgust, started to walk away. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a blur of movement. She ducked, spun, and felt the pipe whistle by her head and ruffle her hair.

"I was wrong," she said in a voice gone dangerously cold. "You're not a fucking disgrace. You're just crazy."

Bowers bared her teeth as she swung the pipe again. Eve leaped out of reach, then went in hard. She caught a glancing blow on the shoulder, used the pain and the momentum to push her body into Bowers. They went down in a tangled heap.

Her hand closed over the pipe again, wrenched, twisted, and once again heaved it aside. She had her weapon out, her eyes glittering, as she used it to jerk up Bowers's chin.

"And you're finished." Breath ragged, she shoved Bowers over, yanked her arms behind her back, and fumbled in her pocket for restraints. "You're under arrest for assault with a deadly, you piss-faced, brainless bitch."

Even as she started to smile, she found herself in the dark again, straddling a bloody mess. Her hands thickly coated with gore.

Shock, horror, and a bright, silver fear slammed into her as she scrambled back. "Jesus. Jesus Christ, no. I didn't do this. I couldn't do this."

When she covered her face with her bloody hands, Mira closed her eyes. "That's enough. End program." Sick at heart, she watched Eve's body twitch as the session ended. And as the helmet was removed, their eyes met through the glass.

"This phase of Testing is complete. Please exit through the marked door. I'll meet you inside."

Her knees buckled when she pushed off the inclined bench, but she locked them straight, took a minute to even her breathing, and walked into the next area.

Another padded bench, a chair, a long table where instruments were already neatly lined. More machines, monitors. Blank white walls.

Mira entered. "You're entitled to a thirty-minute rest break. I suggest you take it."

"Get it done."

"Sit down, Eve."

She sat on the bench, doing her best to put the last session out of her mind, to prepare for the next.

Mira took the chair, folded her hands in her lap. "I have children I love," she began, causing a line of puzzlement to dig between Eve's brows. "I have friends who are vital to me and acquaintances and colleagues I admire and respect." Mira let out one shallow breath. "I have all those feelings for you." She leaned forward, put her hand over Eve's and squeezed hard.

"If you were my daughter, if I had any authority over you, I would not permit you to submit to Level Three on this phase. I'm asking you, as a friend, to reconsider."

Eve stared down at Mira's hand. "I'm sorry this is difficult for you."

"Oh God, Eve!" Mira sprang up, turned away, and struggled to bring her whirling emotions under control. "This is a very invasive procedure. You'll be helpless, unable to defend yourself, physically, mentally, emotionally. If you fight it, as will be instinctive for you, it will put a strain on your heart. I can counter this reaction, and will."

She turned back, already knowing it was useless. "The combination of drugs and scans I'll have to use for this level will certainly make you ill. You'll have nausea, headaches, fatigue, disorientation, dizziness, possibly a temporary loss of muscle control."

"Sounds like a hell of a party. Look, you know I'm not going to change my mind. You've been inside it often enough to know how it works. So what's the point in scaring the shit out of both of us? Just do it."

Resigned, Mira crossed to the table, picked up a pressure syringe she'd loaded herself. "Lie back, try to relax."

"Sure, maybe I'll take a little nap while I'm at it." She lay back, stared at the cool blue light in the ceiling. "What's that for?"

"Just focus on it. Just look at the light, look through the light, imagine yourself inside it, in all that cool, soft blue. This won't hurt. I need to unfasten the top of your jumpsuit."

"Is that why you have blue chairs in your office? So people can sink into the blue?"

"It's like water." Mira worked quickly, gently, baring Eve's shoulder, her arm. "You can slide right into the water. A little pressure now," she murmured as she injected the first drug. "It's just a calmer."

"I hate chemicals."

"I know. Breathe normally. I'm going to hook up the scanners, the monitors. There won't be any discomfort."

"I'm not worried about it. Do you have my ring?" Already her head felt light, her tongue thick. "Can I have my ring back?"

"I have it. As soon as we're done here, I'll give it back to you." With the skill of long practice, Mira attached the scanners to Eve's temples, her wrists, her heart. "I have it safe. Relax, Eve. Let the blue surround you."

She was already floating, one drifting part of her mind wondering why Mira had made such a big deal out of it. It was just a painless, foolish ride.

With a cautious eye, Mira studied the monitors. Heart rate, blood pressure, brain waves, all physical stats normal. For now. She glanced down, seeing Eve's eyes were closed, her face relaxed, her body limp. She indulged herself, brushing a hand over Eve's cheek; then, after hooking restraints to her wrists and ankles, she picked up the second syringe.

"Can you hear me. Eve?"

"Mmm. Yeah. Feel fine."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Then remember I'm here with you. Count back from one hundred for me. Slowly."

"Hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven." As the second drug swam into her blood, her pulse jittered, her breathing hitched. "Ninety-six. God!" Her body arched, limbs jerking against the restraints as the shock rocked her system.

"No, don't fight. Breathe. Listen to my voice. Breathe, Eve. Don't fight."

There were thousands of hot, hungry bugs crawling over her skin, under it. Someone was choking her, and the hands were like jagged ice. Her heart fought to break out of her chest with vicious hammer blows. Terror, red and ripe, blinded her as her eyes sprang open and she realized she was restrained.

"Don't tie me down. Jesus, don't."

"I have to. You could hurt yourself. But I'm here. Feel my hand." She squeezed it over the tight ball of Eve's fist. "I'm right here. Slow, deep breaths, Eve. Listen to my voice. Slow, deep breaths. Lieutenant Dallas." She snapped it out when Eve continued to gasp and struggle. "I gave you an order. Cease struggling, breathe normally."

Eve gulped in air, whooshed it out. Her arms shuddered but stopped straining.

"Look at the light," Mira continued, adjusting the dosage, watching the monitors. "Listen to my voice. You don't need to hear anything but my voice. I'm right here. You know who I am?"

"Mira. Dr. Mira. It hurts."

"Only for a moment more. Your system needs to adjust. Take long, slow breaths. Watch the light. Long, slow breaths." She repeated the same directions, over and over in a quiet monotone until she saw the monitors level, watched Eve's face go lax again.

"You're relaxed now, and all you hear is my voice. Do you still have pain?"

"No, I don't feel anything."

"Tell me your name."

"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve."

"Date of birth."

"I don't know."

"Place of birth."

"I don't know."

"City of residence?"

"New York."

"Marital status."

"Married. Roarke."

"Place of employment."

"NYPSD. Cop Central. No…" The monitors began to blip, indicating agitation, confusion. "I was. I'm suspended. They took my badge. I'm cold now."

"It'll pass." But Mira leaned back and ordered the temperature of the room to increase five degrees. For the next several minutes, Mira asked simple, inane questions to establish normal blood pressure, the pattern of brain waves, respiration, heart rate.

"Was your suspension from duty warranted?"

"It was procedure. While under investigation, I can't serve."

"Was it warranted?"

Eve's brow creased in confusion. "It was procedure," she repeated.

"You're a cop down to your bones," Mira muttered.

"Yes."

The simple answer nearly made Mira smile. "You have used maximum force in the line of duty, answer yes or no."

"Yes."

Tricky ground now, Mira thought. She knew that once, a young, terrified girl had killed. "Have you ever, other than to protect yourself or another, taken a life?"

The image flashed. The horrid room, the pools of blood, the knife gored to the hilt and dripping with red. Pain, so brutal the memory of it struck like lightning, made her whimper. "I had to. I had to."

The voice was a child's and had Mira moving quickly. "Eve, stay here, and answer the question yes or no. Answer yes or no, Lieutenant, have you ever, other than to protect yourself or another, taken a life?"

"No." The word came out on an explosion of breath. "No, no, no. He's hurting me. He won't stop."

"Don't go there. Listen to my voice, look at the light. You are not to go anywhere unless I tell you. Do you understand?"

"It's always there."

She'd been afraid of just this. "It's not there now. No one is here but me. What is my name?"

"He's coming back." She began to shake, to struggle. "He's drunk, but not too drunk."

"Lieutenant Dallas, this is an official procedure sanctioned by the NYPSD. You are under suspension, but have not been terminated from service. You are obliged to follow the rules of this procedure. Do you understand your obligations?"

"Yes. Yes. God, I don't want to be here."

"What is my name?"

"Mira. Oh Christ. Mira, Dr. Charlotte."

Stay with me, Mira thought. Stay right here with me. "What was the nature of the case you were investigating when suspended from service?"

"Homicide." The shuddering stopped, and the data on the monitors began to level. "Multiple."

"Were you acquainted with an Officer Ellen Bowers?"

"Yes. She and her trainee were first on-scene at two of the homicides. Victims Petrinsky and Spindler."

"You had altercations with Bowers?"

"Yes."

"Relate your view of those altercations."

More images slid in and out of her brain. She lived it as she recited it. The heat, the punch of hate that had annoyed and baffled, the cold words, the vicious ones.

"You were aware that Bowers filed complaints against you."

"Yes."

"Was there validity to these complaints?"

"I used profanity when dealing with her." Even weighed down with drugs, she sneered. It lifted Mira's troubled heart. "It's a technical breach of regulations."

If she hadn't been sick with worry, Mira might have laughed. "Did you threaten this officer with physical harm?"

"I'm not sure. I might have said I'd kick her ass if she kept screwing up. I thought it, anyway."

"In her logs, she has stated that you exchanged sexual favors for advancement in the department. Is that true?"

"No."

"Have you ever had a sexual relationship or encounter with Commander Whitney?"

"No."

"Have you ever had a sexual relationship or encounter with Captain Feeney?"

"Jesus. No. I don't go around fucking my friends."

"Have you ever accepted a bribe?"

"No."

"Have you ever falsified a report?"

"No."

"Did you physically attack Officer Ellen Bowers?"

"No."

"Did you cause her death?"

"I don't know."

Mira jerked back, shaken. "Did you kill Officer Ellen Bowers?"

"No."

"How might you have caused her death?"

"Someone used her to get me off, to get me out. They wanted me. She was easier."

"You believe that a person or persons currently unknown killed Bowers in order to remove you from the investigation you were pursuing?"

"Yes."

"How does that make you responsible for her death?"

"Because I had a badge. Because it was my case. Because I let it be personal instead of seeing how they could use her. That puts her on my head."

Mira sighed, adjusted the dose again. "Focus on the light, Eve. We're nearly done."

Roarke paced the waiting area outside Mira's office. What the hell was taking so long? He should have known Eve was conning him when she'd said it wouldn't take more than a couple of hours. It was no big deal. Just as he'd known when he realized she'd gotten out of the house without telling him that morning that she hadn't wanted him here.

Well, he was here, by God. She'd just have to deal with it.

Four hours, he thought with another glance at his wrist unit. How the devil could some tests and questions take four hours? He should have pressed her, pushed her into explaining exactly what would be done.

He knew something about Testing, the basic process a cop went through whenever maximum force was employed. It wasn't pleasant, but she'd gotten through it before. He understood the elemental strain of Level One, and the additional burden of truth testing.

It was again, unpleasant, very often left the subject a little shaky for a few hours.

She'd get through that as well.

Why the hell weren't they done with her?

His head came up, and his eyes went to pools of ice when Whitney walked in.

"Roarke. I'd hoped she'd be finished by now."

"She doesn't need to see you here when she is. You've done more than enough already, Commander."

Whitney's eyes went blank, and the shadows under them were deep. "We all follow orders, Roarke, and procedure. Without them, there's no order."

"Why don't I tell you what I think of your procedure?" he began, stepping forward with blood in his eye.

The door opened. He turned quickly, an arrow of shock piercing his heart when he saw her.

She was pale as death. Her eyes seemed to be carved deep into the skull, the irises like gold glass, the pupils huge. Mira had a supporting arm around her, and still she swayed.

"You're not ready to get up. Your system needs more time."

"I want out of here." She would have shaken Mira off, but was seriously afraid she'd pitch forward onto her face. She saw Roarke first, felt twin surges of frustration and relief. "What are you doing here? I told you not to come."

"Shut the hell up." There was only one emotion pumping through him, and it was all fury. He was across the room in three quick strides, and pulling her away from Mira. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"What she was supposed to do." Eve made the effort to stand on her own feet, though it had the nausea swimming back, the clammy sweat popping out. She would not be sick again, she promised herself. She'd already been violently ill twice and would not be sick again.

"She needs to lie down." Mira's face was nearly as pale as Eve's, and every line of strain showed. "Her system hasn't had time to recover. Please convince her to come back and lie down so I can monitor her vitals."

"I have to get out of here." Eve looked straight into Roarke's eyes. "I can't stay here."

"All right. We're going."

She let herself lean against him until she saw Whitney. Then it was instinct as much as pride that had her forcing her aching body to attention. "Sir."

"Dallas. I regret the necessity of this procedure. Dr. Mira needs to keep you under observation until she's satisfied you're well enough to leave."

"With respect, Commander, I'm free to go where the hell I want."

"Jack." Mira linked her fingers together, felt useless. "She took Level Three."

His eyes flashed, shifted back to Eve's face. "Level Three was not necessary. Damn it, it was not necessary."

"You took my badge," Eve said quietly. "It was necessary." She forced herself straight again, praying Roarke would understand she needed to walk out under her own power. She made it to the door before the trembling started again, but she shook her head fiercely when he turned.

"No, don't, don't carry me. God, leave me something here."

"All right, just hold on." He hooked an arm around her waist, took most of her weight. Bypassing the glide, he walked her to the elevator. "What's Level Three?"

"Bad." Her head was pounding brutally. "Really bad. Don't hassle me. It was the only way."

"For you," he murmured, drawing her into the crowded elevator when the doors whisked open.

Her vision grayed at the edges. Voices from the people who jammed in with them drifted, echoed, and fell away like waves in an ocean. She lost her bearings, and herself, only dimly aware of movement, of Roarke's voice close to her ear telling her they were nearly there.

"Okay, okay." The gray spread, closed in as he guided her to the visitor's parking area. "Mira said how this was just one of the side effects. No big deal."

"What's one of the side effects?"

"Shit, Roarke. Sorry. I'm gonna pass out."

She never heard him curse as he swung her into his arms.