Origin in Death (In Death 21)
Page 118
"And then?" Eve asked.
"House arrest. We'll keep them under wraps until we get this closed down. They wear bracelets. Guards-droids-twenty-four/seven. We're going to have to pass this up, Jack."
"Yes, sir, we are."
"Get details," Tibble repeated. "We're going to verify every one of them, cross every T. Twenty-four hours, max, and we're passing this ball. Let's make sure it doesn't bounce up and smash into our faces."
"I've got to head in, start strategizing what we do when and if we do it." Reo picked up her briefcase. "You get anything I can use, I need to know. Day or night."
"I'll show you all out." Roarke stepped to the door.
"I need to speak with the lieutenant." Mira stayed where she was. "Privately, if you don't mind."
"Peabody, go in. Give them each a bathroom break, offer them food, drink. Then pick one. Take her out and start working her. Soft sell."
When she was alone with Mira, Eve walked to the large coffeepot Roarke must have put on a table. She poured a cup.
"I'm not going to apologize for my comments and reactions of earlier today," Mira began.
"Fine. Me, neither. If that's it-"
"Sometimes you seem so hard it's difficult to believe anything gets through. I know that's not true, and still. .. If Wilfred and his son did the things they-she-claims, it's reprehensible."
"Look through the glass. See them? I think that goes a long way toward corroboration of the statements given."
"I know what I see." Her voice trembled a little, then strengthened. "That he used children-not consenting, informed adult volunteers, but innocents, minors, the injured, the dying. Whatever his motives, whatever his goals, that alone condemns him. It's difficult, Eve, to condemn someone you considered a hero."
"We've been around that lap already."
"Damn it, have some respect."
"For who? Him? Forget it. For you, okay, fine. I do, which is why you're pissing me off. You got any dregs of respect left for him, then-"
"I don't. What he did was against every code. Maybe, maybe I could forgive what he started to do, out of grief. But he didn't stop. He perpetuated it. He played God with lives, not just in the creating of them, but in the manipulation of them. Of her, and all the rest. He gave her to his son as if she were a prize."
"That's right, he did."
"His grandchildren." Mira pressed her lips together. "He would have used his own grandchildren."
"And himself."
Mira let out a long, unsteady breath. "Yes. I wondered if you'd realized that yet."
"A man has the power to create life, why bow to mortality? He's got cells preserved somewhere, with orders to activate on his death. Or he's already got a younger version of himself working somewhere."
"If so, you have to find him. Stop him."
"She's already thought of that." Eve gestured toward the glass. "She and Deena. And they've got a big jump on me. She'd like the trial."
Eve moved to the glass, studied the two women still in the meeting room. "Yeah, if the kids were away, protected, she'd fucking love to face trial, and spill all this out. She'd spend her life in prison without batting an eye to make sure what was done is in the open. She knows she'll never spend a day in a cage, but she'd do it if she had to."
"You admire her."
"I give her an A for balls. I admire balls. He put her in a mold, and imprint or no, she broke it. She broke him."
She knew what it took to kill your jailer. Your father. "You should go home. You're going to have to spend time with them tomorrow it we're going to cross all Tibble's T's. It's too late to start that tonight."
"All right." Mira started for the door, paused. "I'm entitled to some degree of upset," she said. "To my irrational outbursts earlier, to anger and hurt feelings."