Origin in Death (In Death 21)

"I couldn't say." He spread his hands. "Certainly not without read­ing the notes. I wasn't privy to all my father's cases."

"These strike me as a special project, and one he took some care to keep secure. My impression was his field of interest was reconstructive surgery and sculpting."

"Yes. For more than fifty years, my father dedicated his skills to that field, and led the way to-"

"I'm aware of his accomplishments." Deliberately, Eve hardened her voice. "I'm asking about his interests, and his work, outside of that field, the field he's publicly known for. I'm asking about his sidelines, Dr. Icove. Those that involve testing and training young women."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

Eve took out the hard copies, passed them to him. "These give a glimmer?"

He cleared his throat, read through them. "I'm afraid not. You say you found these on disc in his home office?"

"That's right."

"Possibly copies from a colleague." He lifted his head, but his eyes didn't quite meet Eve's. "There's nothing on here to indicate to me that these are my father's notes. They're very incomplete. Case studies of some sort, of course. And honestly, I fail to see what these might have to do with your investigation."

"I determine what has to do with my investigation. What I found on discs in your father's possession deals with more than fifty unidentified young women who were subjected to tests and evaluations, some sur­geries, over a course of years. Who are they, Dr. Icove? Where are they?"

"I don't care for your tone, Lieutenant."

"I get that a lot."

"I assume these women were part of a voluntary test group which interested my father. If you knew anything about reconstructive sur­gery, or sculpting, you'd be aware that the body isn't merely the box that holds the prize. When the body is seriously injured, it affects the brain, the emotions. The human condition must be treated as a whole. A patient who loses an arm in an accident loses more than a limb, and must be treated for that loss, must be treated and trained to adjust to it and live a contented and productive life. Quite possibly my father was interested in this particular case study as a means to observe individu­als, over the course of a span of years, who were being tested and eval­uated on every level."

"If this study took place in the Center, you'd be aware of it?"

"I'm sure that I would."

"You and your father were close," Peabody said.

"We were."

"It seems if he was interested enough in a project like this one. enough to keep records in his home office, he would have discussed it with you at some point. Father to son, colleague to colleague."

Icove started to speak, then stopped, seemed to rethink. "It's possible he intended to. I can't speculate on that. Nor can I ask him. He's dead.

"Killed," Eve pointed out, "by a woman. A strong physical speci­men, like those documented on the discs."

She heard him suck in a shocked breath, watched that shock, and a hint of fear, widen his eyes. "You . . . You actually believe one of the pa­tients documented on those discs killed my father?"

"Physically, the suspect fits the documented descriptions of most of the subjects. Height, weight, body type. One or more of these patients may have objected to what's termed 'placement.' Potential motive. It would also explain why your father agreed to the appointment."

"What you're suggesting is ludicrous, out of the question. My father helped people, he improved lives. He saved them. The president of the United States contacted me personally with condolences. My father was an icon, but more, he was a man who was loved and respected."

"Someone disrespected him enough to shove a scalpel into his heart. Think about that, Dr. Icove." Eve rose. "You know how to reach me."

"Knows something," Peabody commented when they were out on the sidewalk.

"Oh yeah. What do you figure our chances are of getting a search warrant for the surviving doctor's house?"

"With what we've got? Slim."

"Let's see if we can get more before we spin that wheel."

She hit Feeney next, back at Central, and got a frown on his mopey face.

"Got into the unit, no problem. What you got in there's medical mumbo. Can't see anything hinky about it. But it turns out Jasmina Free's tits didn't come from God, and neither did those pillow lips of hers, or her chin. Or her damn ass either."