Visions In Death

His cop could stop wondering.

It was hard to resist that poking around Eve had warned him against. It was, after all, in his nature. She, his cop, would never understand the hum in the blood that came from simply being where you were not allowed to be.

He gave himself a moment of it, admiring the art on the bedroom walls fanciful, sensual, evocative. The color scheme that was richly and confidently female.

And if he wandered the second level of the loft, he was, technically, on his way out.

He liked the style, the ope

He thought it might be interesting to hire her for some business event down the road.

He strolled out, as he'd strolled in. And with a check of the time, calculated he'd be in midtown in plenty of time for his first meeting of the day.

He didn't beep her. Eve knew Roarke and his clever fingers.

When her personal "link hadn't signaled by the time Celina was brought into the conference room, she knew the transmission was verified as being made from the bedroom "link as stated.

No need to wonder, she thought. And no mistaking the emotional state of the stricken and exhausted woman who came into the room.

She looked drawn and sallow, like someone who was recovering from a long and severe illness.

"Dallas." "Have a seat. Have some coffee." "I will." She sat at the conference table and used both hands to lift the mug. Her rings clinked lightly against the cheap stoneware. "I took a soother after we spoke last night. Didn't help very much. I took another right before I came in. That doesn't seem to be doing the job either. What I'd like to do is tranq myself into a coma. But I'm not sure that would help either." "It wouldn't help Lily Napier." "That's her name?" She drank. Paused. Drank again. "I didn't turn on the media reports this morning. I was afraid I'd see her." "You saw her last night." Celina nodded. "It was worse than the last one. What I mean is, for me. I'm not equipped for this." "It's very difficult for someone with your gift to witness or experience violence," Peabody said, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

"Yes. God, yes. It's not that I experience the same extent the full physical extent of the violence as the victim, but enough. And if… when you're linked, psychically, the emotions reverberate in you. I know how she suffered. I'm alive. I'm alive and whole and drinking coffee, while she's not. But I know how she suffered." "Tell me what you saw," Eve ordered.

"It was…" Celina held up a hand, as if halting everything until she gathered herself. "The other time, it was like a dream. A vivid and disturbing dream, but something I could dismiss as just that. Until I saw the media reports. This was more. I wouldn't have, couldn't have mistaken it for anything but a vision. One of the most powerful I've ever had. It was like being there. Walking alongside her.

"She walked quickly, with her head down." "What was she wearing?" "Ah, dark skirt black, I think short.

A white shirt. Long sleeves, open collar, and a little cardigan-style sweater over it. Flat shoes with thick soles. Gel-soles, perhaps. She barely made a sound. She had a bag. A small purse she wore on a strap over her shoulder." "What was he wearing?" "Dark. I don't know. She didn't know he was there, waiting, inside the park. In the shadows. He was dark, everything about him is dark." "Skin? Is he black?" "No… I. No, I don't think. I see his hands when he strikes at her. They're white. Glossy and white and big. Very big.

He struck her in the face. There was horrible pain. Horrible, and she fell, and the pain went away. She… passed out. I think. He hit her, kept hitting her even when she was unconscious.

In the face, in the body.

"See how you like it. See how you like it.'.

Celina's eyes went glassy, the pale, pale green of the irises nearly translucent. " "Who's the boss now? Who's in charge now, you bitch?" But he stops, he stops beating her, slaps her cheeks lightly with those big hands. Bringing her around.

She needs to be awake for the rest. There's such pain! I don't know, don't know if it's his or hers, there's so much pain." "It's not your pain," Peabody said quietly and shook her head before Eve could speak. "You're a witness, and you can tell us what you see. It's not your pain." "Not mine." Celina breathed in deep. "He tears her clothes.

She can't fight, barely struggles. And when she tries to push at him, he yanks her hand away. Something in her breaks.

She's confused, the way an animal's confused when it's caught in a trap. He rapes her, and it hurts. It hurts deep inside. She can't see him. It's too dark and the pain is overwhelming.

She goes under again. It's safer there, there's no pain there. She doesn't feel when he kills her. Her body reacts, convulsing. And that… there's a thrill in that for him.

Her death throes bring him to orgasm.

"I'm sick." Celina pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sick. I need to-" "Here, come on." Peabody was up, drawing Celina to her feet. "Come with me." As Peabody helped her out of the room, Eve pushed away from the table. She walked to one of the windows, shoved it open so she could lean out. Lean out and breathe.

She understood the nausea all too well. What it was like to see, again and again. To feel, over and over. And the sickness that came with it.

She let the air, and the noise, the life of the city push it out of her again. She watched an airtram, crammed with commuters streak by, and an ad blimp hover, spewing out its a

Her legs felt watery yet, so she stayed where she was, listening to the click of chopper blades, the blast of horns from the street below, the rattle of an airbus.

It all teemed together, a cacophony that was a kind of music to her. A song she understood, and one that gave her a sense of place.

She was never really alone in the city. Never helpless with her badge.

Remembering pain, knowing its source, could make her stronger. It was good to know that.

Steadier, she closed the window, walked back to the table, and poured more coffee.

Some of the color had seeped back into Celina's cheeks when Peabody brought her back in. She'd fussed with her face a little bright lip dye, eye gunk to cover the worst of the damage. Women, in Eve's opinion, could worry about the strangest things at the strangest times.

Once Celina was seated, Peabody went over to get a bottle of water.

"You're better off with this than the coffee," she said, setting it on the table.

"Yes, you're right. Thanks." She held out a hand, gave Peabody's a squeeze. "Thank you for staying with me, helping me pull myself back together." "No problem." "You must think me very weak," she said to Eve.

"You're wrong. I don't think anything of the kind. I…

We…" she amended. "We come to them after it's done, and we see, day after day, the results of what people can do to each other. The blood, the gore, the waste. It's not easy. It should never be easy. But we don't see it happening how it happens. We don't feel what the victim feels and have to take it in." "Yes, you do." Celina wiped her fingers under her eyes.

"You've just found a way to handle it. Now, I have to." She steadied herself with more water.

"He undressed her after. I think. There was a part of me, by now, resisting the vision. Fighting it. But I think he took her clothes; they were torn from the rape. He carried her…

Not her damn it." She sipped water, took three long breaths. "What I mean is she's someone else to him. He sees someone else, and he's punishing someone else. Someone who punished him. In the dark. He's afraid of the dark." "He kills at night," Eve pointed out.