She all but shoved Peabody out the door, then closed it. Locked it. She two-pointed the rest of the energy bar into the trash. It wasn’t doing the job. She needed five minutes down, she admitted. Just five. She set her wrist unit to alarm, sat at her desk, laid her head down on it, and shut her eyes.
She went straight under.
A sound woke her, a kind of humming. Voices, tinny with distance, tapped on her subconscious. One—young, male—spiked with excitement.
“Look! Flying cars. Look out the window! That is so cool.”
Eve allowed herself a groan, started to slap at her wrist unit. Opening bleary eyes, she stared groggily at the swirl of luminous blue light, and the man, woman, and child cloaked in its circle. Instinct had her reaching for her weapon even as she registered them—tall man, a lot of gold hair, slim brunette with startled green eyes, and a shaggy-haired boy.
She thought she heard the woman say, “Oops.” Then they were gone, and her wrist unit was beeping.
“Okay, with a dream that weird, I need more than five minutes down.” She turned off the alarm, scrubbed her hands over her face. After downing the rest of her now lukewarm coffee, she gathered what she needed for Mira.
As she left the office, she shot a frown over her shoulder. Weird, she thought again. The whole damn day was weird.
Mira’s admin gave Eve a glare that turned the room into an arctic cave. Knowing the way to Mira lay at the dragon’s feet, Eve cut through the bull. “I kicked you, and kicked you hard this morning.” She pulled out one of the crime-scene photos. “She’s why.” And laid it on the desk.
The admin sucked in a breath, held it, let it out slowly. “I see. Yes. She’s waiting for you, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks.” Eve picked up the photo and walked into Mira’s office.
Mira wasn’t at her desk but standing at the window, her back to the room. She looked smaller somehow, Eve thought. Almost delicate in her quiet lavender suit.
“Dr. Mira.”
“Yes. Such a lovely day. Sometimes you need to remember the world is full of lovely days. You’ve had a very long one, haven’t you?”
“It’s got a ways to go yet.”
Mira turned. Her sable hair curled around her pretty face, but her eyes looked tired and troubled. “Where do you want me to begin?”
“I know what happened, and I know who’s responsible. At least the main players. I need to know what was done to Jackson Pike and Mika Nakamura, how it was done, and who did it. What was done to them was also done to the desk clerk at the hotel, and he bashed his own brains out with a hammer. So I need to know if it was done to anyone else.”
Rather than sit in one of her cozy scoop chairs as was her habit, Mira continued to stand. “First, the toxicology screening showed a combination of drugs in their systems. I have that list for you. Both had a hallucinogenic in their bloodstream and a drug we sometimes use to control patients with violent tendencies. As you know, both Pike and the victim were also given sexual drugs.”
“Would that explain the headaches, the memory blanks?”
“The combination would likely result in a kind of chemical hangover, but no, not the violent pain. There may be blank spots as well, but again, no, that’s not my conclusion.”
She did sit now. “The drugs were used to begin a process, and to enhance it.”
“They’ve been hypnotized.”
“You’re ahead of me.”
“No, but I’m hoping we’re on pace. At least two of the suspects are sensitives. They took a pass at me. Since I’ve dealt with a homicidal psychic before, I used the same method to block them, to steer them away. One of them, Silas Pratt, he’s . . . Look, I know you’ve got a daughter who’s Wiccan, and I get there are theories and faiths and even documentation, studies, blah, blah. I’m not big on that. But this guy?”
It went against the grain to admit it. “He’s got a punch,” Eve told her.
“You don’t want to use the word ‘power.’ ”
“It doesn’t take power to load people up with drugs, or to hypnotize them. It’s a technique. You use it.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began to pace. “One of these bastards is Mika’s kid’s doctor. She took the kid in for a standard checkup three weeks ago. So, we theorize Pratt hypnotizes her. Maybe they slip her something first to make her more susceptible, but he takes her under, and gives her the assignment. Posthypnotic suggestion, right?”
“Yes.”
“It needs a trigger—something she sees, hears. Easy enough to take care of that while she’s on her way to work, maybe give her a booster shot. She goes in, shuts down the cameras. They had to get to the desk clerk. We’ll find the intersect there, but they turned him on like a damn droid. They waltz Pike and the victim right in. They go along like puppies. They’re loaded by then, and under . . .”
“A spell?”