Physical symptoms evident several days before incident, as indicated through witness statements.
ME reports intercranial pressure, abnormal and massive swelling, damaged tissues. Terminal. Physical symptoms: headache, bleeding from nose and ears, sweating.
Halloway, Detective Kevin. EDD detective assigned to search and scan Cogburn unit. Check how many hours logged on subject unit.
Sudden violence displayed in deployment of police issue. Targets most specifically McNab and Feeney. Associate and direct superior.
Methods of violence suited to personality types? Consult Mira for profile verification.
No prior VT reported.
ME reports same results on prelim as Cogburn. Symptoms displayed match.
Death ensued without outside trauma or force.
Murder weapon=data unit.
It was murder, she thought. Technology was the instrument. But what was the motive?
“Dallas?”
“Huh?” She looked up, scooped her hair back, and stared blankly at Feeney until her mind cleared. “I figured you’d be at home by now.”
“Rode over from the hospital with the boy.”
His face had a few new sags, Eve noticed, and he looked exhausted. “Go home, Feeney. Give yourself a break.”
“You’re one to talk.” He gestured toward her notes. “Just wanted to see McNab settled. It was a good thing you did, having him come here. He seems pretty chipper.” He dropped into a chair. “Shit, Dallas. Shit. He’s half-paralyzed.”
“That’s temporary. You know it can happen if you take a hit wrong.”
“Yeah, yeah. Take it wrong enough, it’s permanent. He’s twenty-fucking-six years old. You know that?”
It curdled in her belly. “No. I guess I didn’t.”
“His parents are in Scotland. Spend most summers there. They were set to head back, but he talked them out of it. I think part of him’s afraid to have them see him like this. Part of him’s afraid he’s not going to come all the way back.”
“We let him think like that—we think like that—we’re not helping him.”
“I know it. I keep seeing Halloway, the way he looked when he went down.” He let out a deep breath. “I had to talk to his family, too. Didn’t know what the hell to say to them. And the goddamn reporters, and my squad—my kids.”
“Feeney. You’ve been through a bad one. It’s different than when it happens in the field. You should talk to the department shrink.” She winced at the look he shot her. “I know how that sounds coming from me, too. But, damn it, you were a hostage, you had a weapon jammed at your throat by one of your own men. You watched him die. If that hasn’t screwed with your head, what would? So you should talk to the shrink or . . . Mira. If it were me, I’d go to Mira. She’d keep it off the record if you asked her.”
“I don’t want to open my head or spill my guts.” His voice went tight, wrapped with bands of insult and temper. “I need to work.”
“Okay.” Recognizing the signs as she’d seen them often enough in her own mirror, she backed off. “We’re going to have plenty. I’d as soon work from here for the time being, if it’s okay with you. But the first order of business is to rig some sort of shi
eld or filter on that unit. Nobody touches it until we have it shielded.”
“From what? How are we supposed to design the right shield when we don’t know what it’s supposed to block?”
“That’s a problem. I expect you and the expert consultant, civilian, you’ve already requested will figure out something.”
He nearly smiled. “Thought that might burn you a little. But you know damn well he’s the best.”
“Then put him to work, and get me a shield.” She got to her feet. It felt awkward, but it also felt right to cross over to his chair, crouch down until their eyes were level.
“Go home, Feeney. Have a beer, be with your wife. She’s a cop’s wife, but she’s not going to feel easy till she sees you. And you’re not going to feel steady until you see her. I need you on this. I need you steady.”