The In Death Collection 06-10 (95 page)

His eyes burned into hers. “The kind that would try to kill a beautiful young woman for the credits in
her pocket, for the drugs she used to try to keep their pitiful lives going. The kind I imagine you sprang from. Both of
you.”

“I thought, to a doctor, all life was sacred.”

“So it is.” Waverly strode in, his lab coat swirling. “Colin, you’re not
yourself. Go get some rest. We’re doing everything that can be done.”

“I’ll go stay with her.”

“Not now.” Waverly put his hand on Cagney’s arm, and his eyes were filled with
sympathy. “Take a break in the lounge at least. I promise I’ll page you if there’s any change. She’ll
need you when she wakes up.”

“Yes, you’re right. Yes.” He lifted an unsteady hand to his temple. “My
sister and her husband—I sent them back, to my home. I should go be with them for a while.”

“That’s the right thing to do. I’ll call you.”

“Yes, thank you. I know she’s in the best of hands.”

Waverly walked him to the door, murmured something, then watched him leave before turning back.
“He’s very shaken. No amount of medical experience prepares you when it’s one of your own.”

“How bad was it?” Eve asked.

“Her skull was fractured. There was considerable hemorrhaging, swelling. The surgery went quite
well, all in all. We’re scanning her at regular intervals for brain damage. We can’t be sure yet, but we’re
hopeful.”

“Has she regained consciousness?”

“No.”

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“You’ll have to get those details from the police. I can only give you her medical data, and I
shouldn’t be doing
that. You’ll have to excuse me. We’re monitoring her very
closely.”

“Dr. Wo?”

His already-weary face seemed to sink into itself. “We lost Tia moments ago. I came to tell Colin,
but didn’t have the heart to add to his burden. I hope you’ll show him some consideration.”

“I need to see her records,” Eve muttered when she was alone with Roarke. “How
did she die, what did she take or do? Who found her and when? Damn it, I don’t even know who pulled her
case.”

“Find a source.”

“How the hell can I—” She broke off. “Hell, give me your
porta-link.”

He handed it to her and smiled. “Say hello to Nadine for me. I’ll see if they’ll page
Peabody again.”

“Such a smart guy,” she muttered and tagged Nadine at Channel 75.

“Dallas, for God’s sake, you’ve been dodging me for days. What’s going
on? Are you okay? Those stupid bastards! Did you see my feature? We’re flooded with calls on it.”

“I don’t have time for questions. I need data. Contact whoever you bribe at the
ME’s office and get me everything you can on Tia Wo, self-termination. She’ll be coming in within the hour. I need
method, time of death, who found her and called it in, who’s handling the case, attending physician. Everything.”

“I don’t hear from you for days, then you want everything. And who says I bribe
anybody?” She sniffed, looked insulted. “Bribing public officials is illegal.”

“I’m not a cop at the moment, remember? The sooner the better, Nadine. And wait, can you
dig any dirt on Senator Brian Waylan, Illinois?”

“You want to know if I can dig any dirt on a U.S. senator?” She gave a low, rumbling laugh.
“You want a truckload or a tanker?”

“Whatever there is—emphasis on his stand on artificial organs. You can get me at home or on
Roarke’s porta.”

“I don’t happen to have Roarke’s private numbers. Even I have my
limits.”

“Have Summerset patch you in. Thanks.”

“Wait, Dallas, are you okay? I want to—”

“Sorry, no time.” She broke transmission and rushed to the doorway just as Peabody strode
down the corridor. “Where the hell have you been? I had you paged twice.”

“We’re just a little busy. Feeney sent me down to check on Wo, who kicked about fifteen
minutes ago. Her current cohabitant was there and got hysterical. It took me and two orderlies to hold her down so they could sedate
her.”

“I thought she lived alone.”

“Turned out she had a lover, kept it quiet. She got home and found Wo in bed pumped full of
barbs.”

“When?”

“I guess it’s been a couple hours. We got word after we came in on Louise. Cartright
hooked the suspicious death, but it looks like straight self-termination. I have to risk this coffee.”

She crossed to the counter, sniffed the pot, gagged a little, but poured a cup anyway. “She
didn’t show for interview,” Peabody continued. “Feeney and I went to her place, got a warrant for entry. She
wasn’t there. We looked for her here and came up empty. We had a couple of confirmations that she’d been in her
office and the organ wing. We picked up Young and he lawyered up before you could swallow spit. We’re holding him for
formal in the morning, but he could dance on bail for the night. We were heading back to Wo’s when we got word on Louise,
so we came in, got her status.”

She gulped down coffee and shuddered. “So, how was your day?”

“It sucked. What can you give me on Louise?”

Peabody glanced at her wrist unit, then looked over before Eve could control the wince. “Sorry.
Damn, Dallas.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re on duty and pressed for time.”

“I’m supposed to be having a fancy French dinner followed by what I figured might be
some fancy sex.” She tried a smile. “But there you go. Louise got hit at the clinic. Blow to the head. Fractured right
wrist indicates defensive wound. We figure she saw whoever bashed her. They used the desk ’link.”

“Christ, that took some muscle.”

“Yeah, and they did a number on her with it. She was in her office. Whoever did it left her there.
There’s a small drug cabinet in there, for samples. It was broken open and rifled. It happened between three and four this
afternoon. She was off shift at three, logged her last patient at three-ten. A doctor on the next rotation found her just after four. They
called it in and started work on her there.”

“What’s your take on her chances?”

“It’s a damn good center. Some of the equipment looks like it should be at NASA II.
She’s had a fleet of doctors in and out of her room. We’ve got a uniform on the door twenty-four/seven.” She
finished off the coffee. “I heard the nurses saying that she’s young and strong. Her heart and lungs are prime. The
brain scans haven’t shown anything to worry about yet. But you can tell they want her to come out of it. The longer she stays
under, the more worried they look.”

“I have to ask you to call me if there’s any change. I need to know.”

“You don’t have to ask. I should get back.”

“Yeah. Tell Feeney I’m working on a couple of angles. I’ll pass along anything that
looks worthwhile.”

“Will do.” She started out, hesitated. “I think you should know: Word is the
commander’s been dogging the chief. He’s taken some pokes at IAB, and he’s breathing down
Baxter’s neck to close off on Bowers. He’s been over to the one-six-two to do some digging on her on his own.
Basically, he’s busting his ass to get you reinstated.”

Unsure how to feel, she simply stared. “I appreciate you telling me.”

“One more thing: Rosswell’s personal account showed regular deposits over the last two
months of ten thousand
a pop. All E-transfers.” Her lips curved when Eve’s eyes narrowed
and gleamed. “He’s dirty. Feeney’s already sicced Webster on him.”

“Times in nicely with Spindler’s murder. Nice work.”

Roarke waited until she was alone before he came back in. He found her sitting on the arm of a sofa, staring
down at her hands. “You’ve had a long day, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her hands on her knees, shook off the mood, then looked at him.
“I was thinking about topping it off with something special.”

“Is that so?”

“How about a little nighttime B and E?”

His grin flashed. “Darling. I thought you’d never ask.”

“I’m driving.”

Roarke’s hand paused as it reached for the car door, and his brow winged up. “It’s
my car.”

“It’s my deal.”

They studied each other a minute, crowded together at the driver’s side door. “Why are you
driving?”

“Because.” Vaguely embarrassed, she dug her hands in her pockets. “Don’t
smirk.”

“I’ll try to resist. Why?”

“Because,” she said again, “I drive when I’m on a case, so if I drive,
it’ll feel like—it’ll feel official instead of criminal.”

“I see. Well, that makes perfect sense. You drive.”

She started to climb in while he circled around to the passenger side. “Are you smirking behind my
back?”

“Yes, of course.” He sat, stretched out his legs. “Now, to make it really official, I
should have a uniform. I’ll go that far, but I refuse to wear those amazingly ugly cop shoes.”

“You’re a real joker,” she muttered and jerked the car into reverse, did a quick,
squealing spin, and shot out of the garage.

“Too bad this vehicle doesn’t have a siren. But we can pretend nothing works on it, so
you’ll feel official.”

“Keep it up. Just keep it up.”

“Maybe I’ll call you sir. Could be sexy.” He smiled blandly when she glared at him.
“Okay, I’m done. How do you want to play this?”

“I want to get into the clinic, search for the data I sent Louise in for, and anything else interesting,
then get out. Without getting caught by some beat droid. I figure with your light and sticky fingers, it should be a walk.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“That’s sir to you, ace.”

She streamed through the smoke of a corner glida grill and headed south. “I can’t believe
I’m doing this. I must be crazy. I must have lost my mind. I keep crossing lines.”

“Think of it this way. The lines keep moving. You’re just keeping up.”

“I continue keeping up this way, I’ll end up wearing security bracelets. I used to go by the
book. I believe in the book. Now I just rewrite the pages.”

“Either that or go back to bed and pull the covers over your head.”

“Yeah, well . . . we make choices. I’ve made mine.”

She found a second-level spot four blocks north of the Canal Street Clinic and tucked the car between a sky
scooter and a dented utility truck. If anyone bothered to look, she mused, Roarke’s elegant two-seater would stick out like a
swan among toads, but it wasn’t against the law to drive a hot-looking car in this sector.

“I don’t want to park any closer. This thing has antitheft and antivandalism features,
right?”

“Naturally. Engage all security,” he ordered as they climbed out. “One more thing.
He reached in his pocket. “Your clutch piece . . . sir.”

“What the hell are you doing with this?” She snatched it from him.

“Giving it to you.”

“You’re not authorized to carry and neither am I.” She
hissed out a breath as he met that information with another smirk. “Just shut up,” she muttered
and jammed the weapon into her back pocket.

“When we get home,” he began as they walked down to street level, “you
can . . . reprimand me.”

“Keep your mind off sex.”

“Why? It’s so happy there.” He laid a casual hand on her shoulder as they moved
briskly down the block. The few doorway lurkers faded back, intimidated either by the steely look in Eve’s eyes or the
warning glint in Roarke’s.

“The place is a dump,” she told him. “No palm plate, no camera. But the locks are
decent. They’ve got to meet code because of the drugs. They’ll be standard Security Reds, maybe with timers.
Antitheft alarms. Cartright caught the scene here, and she’s a straight cop. There’ll be a seal. I don’t have my
master anymore.”

“You have better.” He gave her shoulder a quick rub. “You have me.”

“Yeah.” She tossed him a look, saw in that fabulous face the glint that told her he was
enjoying himself. “Seems like.”

“I could teach you how to get through locks.”

It was tempting, much too tempting. God, she missed the weight of her weapon, her badge.
“I’ll just keep a lookout for beat droids and other nuisances. If you trip the alarm, we just walk away.”

“Please. I haven’t tripped an alarm since I was ten.” Insulted, he turned to the door
of the clinic while Eve cruised the block.

She made two passes, lost in her own thoughts. One event, she decided, had built on another. An old
resentment from academy days, a dead sleeper, a conspiracy of death, and here she was, stripped of her badge and playing lookout
while the man she’d married coolly broke into a building.

How the hell was she going to get back? How could she get back, if she didn’t get started? She
turned, ready to tell him to stop. And he stood, watching her, his eyes calm and blue, with the door open at his back.

“In or out, Lieutenant?”

“Fuck it.” She strode past him and went inside.

He locked up behind them, turned on the narrow beam of a penlight. “Where’s the
office?”

“Through the back. This door works on a release from inside.”

“Hold this.” He passed her the light, gestured for her to aim it at the lock. Crouching, he
gave it a quick scan. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Your friend Louise was very optimistic with her half million
bid.”

He took out what appeared to be a pen, unscrewed it, then flicked a finger over the tip of the long, thin wire
he exposed.

She’d known him nearly a year, had been as intimate with him as one person could be with another,
and he still managed to surprise her. “You carry burglary tools around with you all the time?”

“Well.” Eyes narrowed, he slid the wire into the slot. “You just never know, do you?
There she is, hang on.” He finessed, turning his head to hear the seductive click of tumblers. There was a quiet buzz as locks
disengaged. “After you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re slick.” She breezed through, leading with the light. “There’s
no window,” she continued. “We can use the room lights. It’s a manual.” She switched it on, blinked
to adjust.

A quick scan showed her the sweepers had done their work, left behind their usual mess. The crime scene
team’s touch was evident in the sticky layer coating every surface.

“They’ve already lifted prints, swept for fibers, hair, blood, and fluids. Won’t help
much. God knows how many of the staff are in and out of this room in any given day. They’ve got their evidence bagged and
tagged, but I don’t want to touch or disturb anything that doesn’t need to be.”

“What you want’s on the computer.”

“Yeah, or on a disc, if Louise had already found it. You start on the machine. I’ll do the
discs.”

When Roarke sat, making quick work of the pass-lock feature, Eve went through the discs filed on the shelf,
flipping through them by the corners. Each was labeled with a patient’s name. Spindler’s was missing.

Frowning, she moved to the next file, scanning through. These appeared to be records of diseases,
conditions, injuries. Straight medical shit, she thought, then stopped, eyes narrowing as she read.

The label said simply The Dallas Syndrome.

“I knew she was a smart-ass.” Eve plucked out the disc. “Damn smart. Got
it.”

“I haven’t finished playing.”

“Just run this,” she began, then stopped to yank Roarke’s porta-link out of her
pocket. “Block video. Dallas.”

“Lieutenant, Peabody. Louise is awake; she asked for you. We’re going to get you in, but
it’s got to be fast.”

“I’m there.”

“Come up the east-side stairs. I’ll get you through. Step on it.”

“Close it up.” Eve jammed the ’link back in her pocket. “We’ve got
to move.”

“Already done. This time, I drive.”

It was just as well, Eve thought as she bared her teeth and hung on. She had a rep for being nerveless and
occasionally reckless behind the wheel, but compared with Roarke, she was a suburban matron manning a car pool.

She did no more than hiss when he screamed into a parking slot in the center’s garage. Saving her
breath, she shoved out and pounded up the east-side stairs.

Faithful as a spaniel, Peabody yanked the door open. “Waverly’s going to be back with her
in a few minutes. Just give me time to bump the uniform off the door and take over for him. Feeney’s already inside, but she
won’t talk to anyone but you.”

“What’s her prognosis?”

“I don’t know yet. They’re not talking.” She looked up at Roarke. “I
can’t let you in.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick,” Peabody promised. “Watch for it.”

She strode away, squaring her shoulders back to add authority. Eve moved smoothly to the end of the
corridor, shifted slightly to bring Louise’s door into view.

She saw Peabody glance at her wrist unit, shrug, then jerk her thumb to indicate she’d take over duty
while the uniform took a break. He didn’t hesitate. Sprung, he hurried down the hallway toward food, coffee, and a chair.

“I won’t be long,” Eve promised. She made the dash, slipped through the door
Peabody opened.

The room was larger than she’d expected, and the light was dim. Feeney nodded and flipped the
shield on the wide window, closing off the view from outside.

Louise was propped in the hospital bed, the bandages wrapped around her head no whiter than her cheeks.
Scanners and IVs ran from her to machines and monitors that hummed and beeped and blinked with lights.

She stirred as Eve approached the bed and opened eyes that were deeply bruised and blurry. A smile
ghosted around her mouth.

“I sure as hell earned that half million.”

“I’m sorry.” Eve wrapped her fingers around the bed guard.

“You’re
sorry.” With a weak laugh, Louise lifted her right hand. The wrist was cased in a clear
stabilizer. “Next time,
you
get
your
head bashed in, and
I’ll
be sorry.”

“Deal.”

“I got the data. I put it on a disc. It’s—”

“I’ve got it.” Feeling helpless, Eve leaned over, laid her hand over Louise’s
uninjured one. “Don’t worry.”

“You’ve got it? What the hell did you need me for?”

“Insurance.”

Louise sighed, closed her eyes. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do you. I think it
goes deep. Scary. Christ, they gave me primo drugs here, I’m about to go flying.”

“Tell me who hurt you. You saw them.”

“Yeah. So stupid. I was pissed. Put the disc away for safe keeping, then figured I’d handle it
myself. Confront
the enemy on my turf. Fading out here, Dallas.”

“Tell me who hurt you, Louise.”

“I called her in, let it rip. Next thing . . . caught me off guard. Never
thought . . . Jan. Faithful nurse. Go get the bitch for me, Dallas. I can’t kick her ass until I can stand
up.”

“I’ll get her for you.”

“Get all the bastards,” she mumbled, then drifted off.

“She was coherent,” Eve said to Feeney, hardly aware she still held Louise’s hand.
“She wouldn’t have been that coherent if there was brain damage.”

“I’d say the lady has a hard head. Jan?” He took out his memo pad. “Nurse
at the clinic? I’ll pick her up.”

Eve slid her hand away, shoved it into her pocket as she battled impotence. “Will you let me
know?”

His eyes met hers over Louise. “First thing.”

“Good. Great. I’d better get out before I’m tagged.” She stopped with her
hand on the door. “Feeney?”

“Yeah.”

“Peabody’s a good cop.”

“That she is.”

“If I don’t get back, ask Cartright to take her.”

His throat closed, so he swallowed hard. “You’ll be back, Dallas.”

She turned, met his eyes again. “If I don’t get back,” she said evenly, “ask
Cartright to take her. Peabody wants Homicide, she wants to make detective. Cartright can bring her along. Just do that for
me.”

“Yeah.” His shoulders slumped. “Yeah, okay. Goddamn it,” he muttered
when she’d slipped out the door. “Goddamn it.”

Roarke gave her the silence he thought she needed on the drive home. He was certain, in her mind, she was
riding with Feeney and Peabody, standing beside the door of Jan’s apartment, issuing the standard police order and
warning.

And because she’d need to, kicking in the door.

“You could use some sleep,” he said when they were
home and
inside. “But I imagine you need to work.”

“I’ve got to do this.”

“I know.” The hurt was back in her eyes, the weariness back in her face.
“I’ve got to do this.” He drew her into his arms, held her.

“I’m okay.” But she wallowed in him, for just a moment. “I can deal with
whatever happens as long as we close this one out. I couldn’t accept whatever I’ll have to accept if we don’t
put this one away.”

“You will.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “We will.”

“And if I start to sulk again, just slap me around.”

“I do so enjoy beating my wife.” He closed his hand over hers and started upstairs.
“Best to use the unregistered equipment. I’ve had a unit working on searching for buried records at the lab. We may
have hit.”

“I’ve got the disc Louise made. I didn’t give it to Feeney.” She waited while
he uncoded the door. “He didn’t ask for it.”

“You’ve chosen your friends well. Ah, hard at work.” He glanced at the console,
smiling slowly as he scanned the readouts from his scan of the lab at the Drake. “And it appears we’ve found
something. Some interesting megabites of unregistered, unaccounted-for data. I’ll need to work on this. He’ll have
covered this well, as he did his own log, but I know how his mind travels now.”

“Can you run this on the side?” She handed him the disc. When he popped it into a
secondary unit, then sat down at the main controls, she frowned. “Pop the Friend information on one of the screens. And I
guess you want coffee?”

“Actually, I’d rather a brandy. Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes and went to retrieve it. “You know, if you’d bring in some droids instead
of leaving everything to that tight-assed snot Summerset—”

“You’re moving perilously close to sulking.”