Divided in Death

“Follows.” Feeney nodded at Roarke. “I did a good job with her.”

“You did, yes. She’s cop to the bone.”

“Let’s try to stick with the point.” But Eve took a healthy and satisfying bite of burger. “Either way, it’s the same MO under the surface. Kill, and go to considerable lengths to make it seem like what it’s not. Hang the murder on somebody else. Ewing in the first case, McCoy herself in the second.”

“Plays well,” Roarke agreed. “When her killer arrived, however, wouldn’t she question or object if Bissel wasn’t along?”

“He gets inside. Tells her they have to be careful. They need her help. The more theatrical the story, the quicker she’d buy it and go along. All he has to do is talk her into starting a note. Hell, she might’ve written it herself beforehand, just a dramatic sort of touch. He slips the meds into her wine. After she drinks it, all he has to do is lay her out, then walk away.”

“Or”-Eve ate a grilled pepper without thinking about it-”the HSO could’ve staged the whole thing. Gotten in, disabled her. But that doesn’t explain the BC, or the Sober-Up. Whoever killed her didn’t know she’d used either. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is.”

Roarke remembered the young woman clinging tearfully to Eve’s shins in the gallery. It fit. It was just sad enough to fit. “You’re heading back to Bissel’s brother.”

“Yeah, I’m liking the looks of him. He’s been MIA for almost a month. Plenty of time to have a little face work done, make himself look more like his brother.” She polished off her burger, took another drink of beer. “But there’s one more possibility, a little out-there, but interesting.”

“Blair Bissel killed her,” Roarke put in.

“You’re pretty quick for a guy who grills burgers in his spare time.”

“Smoke’s gotten to you two,” Feeney said. “Bissel’s in a cold drawer at the morgue.”

“It looks that way. It probably is that way,” Eve agreed. “But let’s take this into spy vid territory for a minute-which Reva said was one of his hobbies-and which we know was his profession. What if Bissel was playing both sides? Or he was doing a double agent thing with, or without, HSO sanction. They find out Kade’s turned, or he’s just pissed she’s playing with his brother. He sets them up, knocks them down, and handily frames his wife, who he’s done with. He snips McCoy and gets back whatever she was holding for him in the locket.”

“You don’t think somebody as sharp as Morris would see the body didn’t match the ID photo? Even with the couple of bashes in the face, there’s dental. There’s fingerprints. There’s fricking DNA. All of it matches Blair Bissel’s.”

“Yeah, and he’s probably on ice. I said it was out there, and Carter Bissel heads my list. Morris is going to run a scan and see if he had any recent facial surgery. And because, if this is true, it would be another thread, I need you to hit IRCCA, find me a recently deceased face fixer. I’m betting Carter Bissel had work done-either to play Cain or to be tricked into playing Abel. One of the Bissel brothers is alive. We just need to figure out which.”

Eve told herself not to think about what was being done to her. Otherwise, she might scream like a girl. Her hair was plastered to her head with a thick pink goop. A new product according to Trina, guaranteed to add luster, body, and bring out the natural highlights.

None of which, to Eve’s mind, mattered.

Her face and throat were slathered with something green, and sealed with some sort of spray. Before that, her skin had been buffed and scrubbed, examined and critiqued. And not just the skin on her face and throat, Eve thought, still inwardly shuddering, but every inch that covered her body. From the throat down she’d been painted yellow, then sealed with the same spray before having her mortified body wrapped in a heat sheet.

At least she was covered. Small blessings.

She’d quietly turned off the VR goggles Trina had programmed when Trina had given the delighted Mavis her full attention. Eve didn’t want the mindless nature sounds or the soft, swimming colors of the relaxation program.

She might have been naked on a padded table and covered from head to feet in goo. But she was still a cop, and she wanted to think like one.

Back to the victims. It was always back to the victims.

Bissel, Kade, McCoy, with Bissel as the focal point. Who or what stood to gain from their deaths?

The HSO. During the early days of the Urban Wars, the government had formed the arm as a way to protect the country, to police the streets and gather intel covertly from radical factions.

It had done the job. It had been necessary. And over the years since, some said it had morphed into something closer to a legalized terrorist group than a protection and intel operation.

She happened to agree.

So, the murders could have been a cleanup operation. If Bissel and Kade had turned, and McCoy unwittingly knew too much, all three might have been terminated to protect some global security project. The Code Red was the obvious linchpin. The data units had been corrupted. What data needed to be eliminated? Or was the use of the worm simply a ploy to point toward the techno-terrorists?

The Doomsday Group. Assassinations, terminations, large- and small-scale destruction and loss of life through technological sabotage were their reasons for being. Kade and Bissel could have been playing both ends, or on assignment to infiltrate. They could have been targeted by the terrorists, taken out, and McCoy treated as collateral damage.

But then why weren’t they taking credit? Media play with a lot of bloody fist-pumping and skewed messages were a big part of the program for any terrorist group. There’d been enough time for an acknowledgment to have been leaked to the mainstream press.

In either case, why the frame on Ewing? Why-if either organization for reasons of its own wanted to keep the lid on the terminations-go to so much time and trouble to implicate Reva Ewing?

To slow, hamper, or eliminate her work on the extermination program, and utilize whatever data Bissel had gathered from his devices to create one first, in the HSO’s case, or to reformulate the worm to override the extermination, in Doomsday’s case.

Possible, and she wouldn’t close those doors. She’d run probabilities and give them a push.

But with either of those scenarios she still had Carter Bissel floating around like a goddamn dust mote. Had Kade recruited him with or without HSO sanction? With or without Blair Bissel’s knowledge?

And where the hell was he?

She tried to bring a picture of him into her mind, but it was blurry and kept dissolving in all the melting colors that swirled lazily in her brain.

She’d stopped hearing Mavis’s and Trina’s birdlike chatter at the edge of her focus, so there was only the gentle whoosh, like a heartbeat inside a womb.

Even as she realized the relaxation program had been reactivated, she sank under it.

In Roarke’s home computer lab, Feeney sat back at his station and pressed the heels of his hands hard against his aching eyes.

“You ought to take something for that eye-strain headache,” Roarke commented. “Before it blows on you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Feeney puffed air into his cheeks, let it out. “Don’t do as much geek work as I used to.” He studied the unit currently laid out in sections and small bits over his counter. “Got spoiled handing this sort of detail over to one of my young guns.”

He glanced over at Roarke’s station and was somewhat mollified to see the civilian’s progress was as slow and exacting as his own. “You got an estimate on when we might have one of these up and ru