Rapture in Death

Satisfied she'd done all she could, Reea

"It's meant to be fought. Every bloody inch of the way."

"Not everyone has the energy or the need to fight. Some go gently." She picked up Eve's limp hand, automatically checking the pulse. "Some go resistantly. But all go."

"Somebody sent her. That makes it murder. That makes it mine."

Reea

"Thanks. Really."

"It's nothing." She touched Eve's shoulder. "Between friends."

She studied Eve a moment longer, then glanced at her diamond-studded watch. She was going to have to push to make her rescheduled salon date, but there was just one minor detail to see to yet.

She repacked her kit, left a tube of numbing cream on the table for Eve, and hurried out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Eve paced the soft, pretty carpet in Dr. Mira's office, hands jammed in her pockets, head lowered like a bull preparing for the charge.

"I don't get it. How can his profile not fit? I've got him cold on the lesser charges. The little prick's been playing with people's brains, reveling in it."

"It isn't a matter of fitting, Eve. It's a matter of probabilities."

Patient, calm, Mira sat in her comfy, body-molding chair and sipped jasmine tea. She needed it, she mused. The air was foaming with Eve's frustration and energy.

"You have his confession and the evidence that he has been experimenting with individualized brain pattern influence. And I quite agree he has a lot to answer for. But as to coercion to self-termination, I can't, in any decisive ma

"Well, that's just great." She spun on her heel. Reea

"I can't adjust my report to suit you, Eve."

"Who's asking you to?" Eve threw up her hands, then dug them into her pockets. "What doesn't fit, for Christ's sake? The man's got a God complex any idiot before vision reconstruction surgery could spot."

"I agree that his personality pattern leans toward an excess of ego and his temperament has a high caliber of the artiste under siege." Mira sighed. "I wish you'd sit down. You're making me tired."

Eve dropped into a chair, scowled. "There, I'm sitting. Explain."

Mira had to smile. The sheer drive and unrelenting focus was admirable. "Do you know, Eve, I can never understand why impatience is so attractive on you. And how, with such a high volume of it, you still manage to be thorough in your work."

"I'm not here for analysis, Doctor."

"I know. I only wish I could convince you to agree to regular sessions. But that's another subject, for another time. You have my report, but to summarize my findings, the subject is egocentric, self-congratulatory, and one who habitually rationalizes his antisocial behavior as art. He's also brilliant."

Dr. Mira signed a little, shook her head. "A truly fine mind. He was nearly off the scale in the standard Trislow and Secour tests."

"Good for him," Eve muttered. "Let's put his brain on disc and give him a few suggestions."

"Your reaction is understandable," Mira said mildly. "Human nature is resistant to any sort of mind control. Addicts rationalize by deluding themselves that they're in control." She rolled her shoulders. "In any case, the subject has an admirable, even astonishing skill for visualization and logic. He's also fully aware, and smug if you will, about those skills. Under the surface charm, he is – to use your unscientific term – a prick. But I ca

"I'm not worried about your conscience." Eve set her teeth. "He's able to design and operate equipment that is capable of influencing behavior in targeted individuals. I have four dead bodies whose minds I believe – no, I know – were influenced to self-termination."

"And logically, there should be a co

"So what separates him?"

"He likes people," Mira said simply, "and wants, quite desperately, to be liked and admired by them. Manipulative, yes, but he believes he's created a great boon to humankind. One he'll make a profit on, certainly."

"So, maybe he just got carried away." Isn't that what he called his use of Roarke the night before? Eve thought. He'd just gotten carried away. "And maybe he isn't as much in control of his equipment as he thinks."

"That's possible. From another angle, Jess enjoys his work; he needs to be a party to the results of it. His ego requires that he see, experience at least a part of what he's caused."

He wasn't in the damn closet with us, Eve thought, but was afraid she understood Mira's meaning: the way Jess had looked for her, at her when they'd come back to the party, the way he'd smiled. "This isn't what I want to hear."

"I know that. Listen to me." Mira set her cup aside. "This man is a child, an emotionally stunted savant. His vision and his music are more real to him, certainly more important than people, but he doesn't discount people. Overall, I simply find no evidence that he would risk his freedom and his freedom of expression to kill."

Eve sipped tea out of reflex rather than desire. "If he had a partner?" she speculated, thinking of Feeney's theory.

"It's possible. He wouldn't be a man who would happily share his accomplishments. Still, he has a great need for both adulation and financial success. It might be possible, if he found himself in need of assistance on some level of his design, he entered into a partnership."

"Then why didn't he roll over?" Eve shook her head. "He's a coward; he'd have rolled. No way he'd take the heat for this alone." She sipped again, letting her thoughts play out. "What if he were genetically imprinted toward sociopathic behavior? He's intelligent, ca

"Branded at conception?" Mira nearly sniffed. "I don't subscribe to that school. Upbringing, environment, education, choices both moral and immoral form us into what we are. We are not born monsters or saints."

"But there are experts in the field who believe we are." And she had one, Eve mused, at her disposal.

Mira read her easily enough and couldn't prevent the prick to her pride. "If you wish to consult with Dr. Ott on this matter, it's your privilege. I'm sure she'd be thrilled."

Eve wasn't sure whether to wince or smile. Mira very rarely sounded testy. "That wasn't meant as an insult to your skills, Doctor. I need a hammer here; you can't provide it."

"Let me tell you what I think about the branding at birth issue, Lieutenant. It's a cop-out, plain and simple. It's a crutch. I couldn't help setting fire to that building and burning hundreds of people alive. I was born an arsonist. I couldn't stop myself from battering that old woman to death for her handful of credits. My mother was a thief."

It quite simply infuriated her to think of that ploy being used to blot out responsibility – and on the other side to scar those who were defenseless against the monsters who bore them.