The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [108]
“Where? Where is it done?”
“We don’t know. We don’t remember the first years. It was erased. Drugs, treatments, hypnosis.”
“Then how do you know what you’re telling me?”
“Will. He shared some of this. He loved us, was proud of what we are. Was proud of his father and the achievements. Some we know from Deena, and some we learned when we began to question.”
“Where are the other two?”
“One died at six months. We were not able to sustain. The other . . .”
They paused, linked hands. “We learned the other lived for five years. We lived five years. But we weren’t strong enough, and our intellect wasn’t developing according to the required levels. He killed us. He injected us as you might a terminally ill pet. We went to sleep, and never woke. And so, we’re three.”
“There’s documentation of this?”
“Yes. Deena obtained it. He made her very smart and resourceful. Maybe he miscalculated the range of her curiosity, her . . . humanity. She learned she’d been two, but one hadn’t been allowed to develop past the age of three. When she told us, we couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. She ran away, she wanted us to come, but . . .”
“We loved Will. We loved the father. We didn’t know how to be without them.”
“She contacted you again.”
“We were always in contact. We loved her, too. We kept her secret. We married Will. It was so important to make him happy, and we did. When we got pregnant, we asked only one thing of him and the father. One thing. Our child—any children we would have together—would never be re-created. They’d never be used this way. They gave their word.”
“One of us had a son.”
“Another a daughter.”
“And a third carries a daughter.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“The child was conceived three weeks ago. He didn’t know. We didn’t want him to know. He broke his word. The one sacred thing. Eleven months ago, he and the father took cells from the children. It has to be stopped. Our children must be protected. We’ve done—and will do—whatever it takes to stop it.”
18
EVE ROSE, WALKED TO THE BAR, PROGRAMMED coffee for herself and Peabody. They were speaking one at a time now, but with the same unity. One picking up the recitation where the other left off. “Want anything?” she asked them.
“We’d like water. Thank you.”
“How’d you find out they’d broken their promise?”
“We knew our husband, and knew something was wrong. While he was out of the house, we checked the logs in his private office, and found the records on the children. We wanted to take them, take our babies and run.”
“But it wouldn’t protect the ones they’d create. Create, then alter and perfect. Test and evaluate.”
“They grew inside us, warm inside us, and they’d take that and make replicas in the cold lab. In his notes Will said it was a precaution only, in case something happened to the children. But they aren’t things to be replaced. In all our years, it was the only thing we asked, and he couldn’t honor his promise.”
“We told Deena, and we knew it had to be stopped. They’d never stop, as long as they lived. We’d never learn all we needed to learn until they were dead and we had more control.”
“So you killed them both. You and Deena.”
“Yes. We planted the weapon for her. We believed she wouldn’t be identified. Or if she was, we’d get to all the records first; we’d be able to shut down the project. And we took the children away, safely away, then came back for Will.”
Eve worked with their rhythm, and in a strange way found it efficient. “You drove Deena to the school to kill Samuels.”
“She was like us, taken from Eva Samuels’s DNA, and designed to continue the work. She’s Eva, replicated. You know that.”
“Eva helped kill us and Deena when we weren’t perfect enough. She terminated others. Many others. Do you see us? We’re not allowed a flaw, no physical or biological flaw. This is the father’s directive. Our children have flaws, as any child does, should. We knew they would