“You believe her.” Mira rose for another cup of tea. “That she was duped, and is innocent of any involvement—deliberate involvement—in the murders and in the background that may have led to them.”
“I do. I expect you to confirm that.”
“And if the results contradict her, and your beliefs?”
“Then she’ll go back into a cage until I figure out why.”
Mira nodded. “She’s agreed to level three. That’s a very difficult process, as you know from personal experience.”
“I got through it, so will she.”
Mira nodded, her gaze on Eve’s face. “You like her.”
“Yeah, probably. But it won’t get in the way. Either way.”
“The murders were very violent, very brutal. One assumes that a government—even covert government—organization would be less so.”
“I don’t assume anything about spooks.”
Mira smiled a little. “
You don’t like them.”
“No. The HSO has a file on my father.”
Mira’s smile faded. “I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“They had a field operative monitoring him, and the rooms where we were in Dallas.”
Mira set the cup aside. “They were aware of you? Of what was being done to you, and didn’t intervene?”
“They were aware, it’s in the file. Just like they were aware of what I did to get away. They cleaned up after me, and they let it ride. So no, I’m no fan of the HSO.”
“Whoever gave the order not to intervene when a child’s welfare—her very life—is at stake, should be locked away—like any abuser. This shocks me. After all I’ve seen, heard, all I know, this shocks me.”
“If they could do what they did in Dallas, they could do what was done to Reva Ewing. But this time, they’re not going to get away with it.”
“You’re going public with Ewing.”
“Damn right.”
Eve went back to Homicide, taking the glides rather than the elevator to give herself more time to think about her next steps. It still gave her a quick jolt to walk into the bull pen and see Peabody at a desk instead of a cube.
Since her partner was on the ’link, Eve went straight into her own office. She locked the door, then climbed onto her desk to reach the ceiling panel, behind which she was currently secreting her personal stash of candy.
She needed a hit. Genuine chocolate, real coffee. All would be right with the world during the ten minutes she took for this personal, and well-deserved, indulgence.
But instead of her cache of candy, there was a single, empty wrapper.
Son of a bitch!” She nearly snatched the wrapper down with the intention of tearing it into bits. But stopped herself. “We’ll just see about this, you vicious candy thief.”
She hopped down and got her spare field kit. Sealing up, she climbed back on the desk to remove the wrapper with tongs, then set it on a protective surface on her desk.
“You want to play. We’ll play.”
Moments later, the knock on her door earned a snarl.
“Dallas? Lieutenant? Your door’s locked.”