“I was on scene during that incident, and I reported my findings to interspace authorities.”
“Who then took over the disposition of the matter,” Whitney added.
“I’m authorized to request data when an outside case relates to one of mine, Commander.”
“That’s yet to be substantiated.”
“The data’s necessary for me to substantiate the connection.”
“That would hold, Dallas, if there was a homicide.”
“I believe there are four of them, including Cerise Devane.”
“Dallas, I’ve just viewed the recording of that incident. I saw a cop and a jumper on a ledge, the cop attempting to talk the subject in, and the subject choosing the leap. She was not pushed, she was not coerced, she was not threatened in any way.”
“It’s my professional opinion that she was coerced.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” And for the first time, frustration leaked through. “But I’m sure, dead sure, that if they had enough of her brain to scrape up off the street for analysis, they’d find that same burn on the frontal lobe. I know it, Commander. I just don’t know how it’s getting there.” She waited a beat. “Or being put there.”
His eyes flickered. “Are you theorizing that someone is influencing certain individuals to self-termination through some sort of brain implant?”
“I can’t find any genetic link among the subjects. No social group, education sphere, or religious affiliation. They didn’t grow up in the same town, they didn’t drink the same water, attend the same health clubs or centers. But they all had the same flaw in the brain. That’s beyond coincidence, Commander. It was caused, and if by being caused it coerced those people to end their lives, then it’s murder. And it’s mine.”
“You’re walking a thin wire, Dallas,” Whitney said after a moment. “The dead have families, and the families want this put away. Your continued investigation extends the grieving process.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s also raising questions from The Tower,” he added, referring to the Chief of Police and Security.
“I’m willing to present my report to Chief Tibble, if directed.” But she hoped she wouldn’t be. “I’ll stand on my record, Commander. I’m not a rookie playing terrier with a dead case.”
“Even experienced cops overfocus, make mistakes.”
“Then let me make them.” She shook her head before he could speak. “I was on that ledge today, Commander. I looked at her face, into her eyes when she went off. And I know.”
He folded his hands on the edge of the desk. Administration was always a struggle in compromise. He had other cases, and he needed her on them. The budget was thin, and there was never enough time or man power. “I can give you a week, no more. If you don’t have the right answers by then, you close the files.”
She drew a breath. “And the chief?”
“I’ll speak with him personally. Get me something, Dallas, or be prepared to move on.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed,” he said, then added when she reached the door. “Oh, and Dallas, if you’re going to go outside the official sphere for . . . research, watch your step. And give my best to your husband.”
She colored slightly. He’d pinned her source, and they both knew it. She mumbled something and escaped. Dodged that stun stream, she thought and dragged a hand through her hair. Then, with an oath, she dashed toward the nearest down glide. She was going to be late for court.
She was approaching the end of her shift when she made it b
ack to her office and found Peabody settled at the desk, a cup of coffee in her hand.
Eve leaned against the doorjamb. “Comfortable, Officer?”
Peabody jerked, sloshed a little coffee, cleared her throat. “I didn’t know your ETA.”
“Apparently. Something wrong with your unit?”