Witness in Death

He leaned forward, spoke through his teeth. "Do you think I am not pissed?"

"You are admirably controlled, sir."

He let out a short blast of sound that might have been a laugh. "Did you advise Captain Stuart that you were in command, that you were on the scene, and had said scene under control, that all weapons were to be set to low stun and there was to be no discharging of same without extreme circumstance?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"Captain Stuart will be dealt with, I promise you. She'll be lucky to work System Control when the internal investigation is complete. Be satisfied with that."

"Trueheart's twenty-two years old." And it weighed on her, like a stone on the heart.

"I'm aware of that. I'm aware of how it feels to have a man go down under your hand. Suck it in, Lieutenant, and do the job. Sit down."

When she obeyed, he set her written report aside. "When's the last time you got any sleep?"

"I'm all right."

"When we're done here, you'll take two hours. That's an order. Anja Carvell," he began. "Do you consider her an essential element in this case?"

"She's a loose thread. Any thread that isn't knotted off is an essential element."

"And her alleged relationships to Ke

"The number of co

"Take your two hours, then try Judge Levinsky. Most judges are reluctant to open seals on private adoptions. He may be your best bet, particularly if you catch him after he's had breakfast."

She intended to follow orders. Finding a flat surface and sprawling over it would help clear her mind.

She closed the door to her office, locked it, then simply stretched out on the floor. Before she could close her eyes, her palm 'link beeped.

"Yeah, what?"

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

"No nagging," she muttered and pillowed her cheek on her hand. "I'm lying down right now."

"Good." Roarke studied her face. "Though you'd be better off in a bed than on your office floor."

"Do you know everything?"

"I know you. Which is why I decided to contact you. I neglected to pass on some information last night. The name of the birth mother in Carly Landsdowne's file."

"What're you talking about? I told you to leave that alone."

"I disobeyed. I'll look forward to you punishing me later. It's listed as Anja Carvell. She gave birth at a private woman's clinic in Switzerland. The adoption was preset and legal. She was given the mandatory twenty-four-hour period to withdraw her decision, stuck with it, and signed the final papers. She listed the father as Richard Draco, and included, per law, a sworn document that he had been informed of the pregnancy, her decision to complete it, and the adoption. The document was verified by voluntary truth testing."

"Was he notified of the live birth?"

"Yes. The file's complete, and as efficient as one expects from the Swiss. He was aware he had a child, a daughter. Mandatory DNA testing verified he was the father. He made no objections to the adoption."

She shifted to her back, let the information slide into her brain. "The adoptive parents are entitled to all this information except for the names. They're given medical histories of the birth parents, their cultural and ethnic backgrounds, intellectual, artistic, technical skills. All that can paint a pretty clear picture. The adoptee is also entitled to all this data upon request, including the legal names of the birth parents."

"I didn't find any request for that data from the adoptee," Roarke told her.

"There are ways around it. Carly could have known. She could have put it together and suspected Draco was her father. There's physical resemblance if you know to look for it. How much did she know?"

"You'll find out. Get some sleep."

"Right. Remind me to slap you around later for electronic trespass."

"I'm excited already."

She drifted off, thinking of fathers and daughters, of deceit and murder.

And woke with the old nightmare screaming in her throat, her skin bathed with the sweat of it and a violent pounding in her head.

She rolled over, pushed up to her hands and knees to struggle against the nausea. It took her several trembling seconds to realize not all the pounding was in her head. Some of it was at her door.

"Yeah. Hold on. Damn it." She rocked back to her heels, forced herself to breathe. She pushed to her feet, braced a hand on the desk until her legs were steady again.

After flipping the locks, she yanked open the door. "What?"

"You didn't answer the 'link," Peabody said in a rush. Her face was still flushed from the morning chill. "I was – are you all right? You look – " Haunted, she thought, but followed instinct and amended the word. "Out of it."

"I was sleeping."

"Oh, sorry." Peabody unbuttoned her coat. In her latest attempt to lose weight, she'd taken to getting off the subway five blocks from Central. Winter had decided to come back for another kick that morning. "I just got in, and ran into the commander on his way out. He's heading to the hospital."

"Trueheart?" She gripped Peabody's arm. "Did we lose him?"

"No. He's conscious. The commander said he surfaced about twenty minutes ago, and here's the best part, he's responding to stimuli. There's no paralysis, and they've upgraded him to guarded condition."

"Okay." The relief shuddered through her on bat wings. "Okay, good. We'll stop by and see him when we go in to interview Stiles."

"The squad's chipping in for a flower arrangement. Everybody likes Trueheart."

"All right, put me down." She sat behind her desk. "Get me some coffee, will you? I'm punchy."

"You didn't go home at all, did you? You said when you sent me off that you were going home."

"I lied. Coffee. I've got some information from an anonymous source. We're going over to re-interview Carly Landsdowne."

Peabody sniffed and stalked over to the AutoChef. "I guess your aide's not supposed to ask the name of the source?"

"My aide's supposed to get me coffee before I bite her throat."

"I'm getting it," Peabody muttered. "Why Carly, at this stage of the investigation?"

"I've just verified Richard Draco was her father."

"But they were…" A dozen emotions flew across Peabody's face. "Oh, yuck."

"In words of one syllable." Eve grabbed the coffee. "I want a formal request put in to Judge Levinsky to break adoption seal. We have to make it official. Meanwhile – " She broke off when her desk 'link signaled an incoming.

"Homicide. Dallas."

"Lieutenant Eve Dallas?"

Eve studied the woman. "That's right."

"Lieutenant Dallas, my name is Anja Carvell. I'd like to speak with you on a very important matter, as soon as possible."

"I've been looking for you, Ms. Carvell."

"I thought you might be. Would it be possible for you to meet me at my hotel? I'm staying at The Palace."

"Popular spot. I'll be there. Twenty minutes."

"Thank you. I think I can help you clear up a number of matters."

"Jeez." Peabody snagged her own coffee when Eve broke transmission. "We look for her all over hell and back, and here she just drops into our laps."

"Yeah, nice coincidence." Eve shoved away from the desk. "I don't like coincidence."