The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [70]
“There may very well be some connection, which might very well be why he chose the school. The simple fact that he knew or had an association with a geneticist—”
“There are bans on gene manipulations that veer outside of disease and defect control. Put there because people, and science, always want more. If you can cure or fix an embryo, why not make it to order? I’ll have a girl, thanks, blonde, blue eyes, and give her a pert little nose while you’re at it. People pay a hell of a lot for perfection.”
“These are huge leaps, Eve.”
“Maybe. But you’ve got a geneticist, a reconstruct surgeon, a tony private school. With those building blocks I don’t have to leap too far to wonder. I know what it’s like to be trained.” She sat back now, gripped the arms of her chair.
“You can’t imagine that a man like Wilfred would physically, sexually abuse a child.”
“Cruelty is only one training method. You can do it with kindness. Sometimes he brought me candy. Sometimes he gave me a present after he raped me. Like you give a dog a treat for doing a trick.”
“She was fond of him. Eve, I saw it. Avril thought of Wilfred as a father. She wasn’t locked away. If she’d wanted to leave, she could have done so.”
“You know better,” Eve replied. “The world’s full of people who are locked away without any bars. I’m asking you if he could have done something like this. Could the pull of it, the science, the thrill of perfecting have pushed him into manipulating a child, turning her into a wife for his son, a mother for his grandchildren.”
Mira closed her eyes a moment. “The science of it would, certainly, have intrigued him. Coupled with his perfectionist tendencies, it may have seduced him. If you’re right on any level, on any level at all, he would have seen what he was doing as being for the greater good.”
Yeah, Eve thought. Self-made gods always did.
12
WHEN EVE JUMPED ON THE GLIDE, BAXTER clomped on just behind her.
“That place is a racket.”
“Why? What have you got?”
“What I don’t have is an asymmetrical nose that unbalances the proportions of my jaw, chin, brow ratio. That’s crap.”
Frowning, she studied him. “I don’t see anything wrong with your nose.”
“There isn’t.”
“It’s right in the middle of your face where it belongs.” She got off the glide on their level, pointed to the soft drink machine, then passed him credits.
“Get me a tube of Pepsi.”
“You’re going to have to interact with the vending machines again sooner or later.”
“Why? Did they give you a hard sell?” she asked. “Pressure you, push you to sign a contract.”
“Depends on your point of view. I figured you wanted me to play some rich asshole, so I sprang for the electro-imaging analysis. Five bills, and I’m putting in for it.”
“Five? Five? Shit, Baxter.” She thought of her budget, grabbed her tube and the spare credits she’d given him. “Buy your own drink.”
“You wanted me in, getting a good look at the client areas and routine.” He pouted over the credits, then just plugged in his code and came up with a cream soda. “You’re lucky I didn’t go for phase two, and the full-body imaging program. That’s a grand. They put you up on-screen, magnified. My pores looked like moon craters, for crissake. And they’re drawing these lines over me, showing how my nose is off, and my ears should be closer to my head. My ears are fine. And talking about derma resurfacing. Nobody’s resurfacing my derma.”
Eve just leaned against the wall and let him go.
“And after they’re done destroying your self-esteem, they show you how you’d look after. I played like: Wow, I gotta have that, even though there was no difference. Hardly. Barely noticeable. It was a tribute to my prevarication skills. I sweet-talked the tech into showing me around, and the place is plush. Ought to be, for what they charge. The quote on the work they want to do on me? Twenty large. Two-oh, and look at me.” He threw out his arms. “I’m a damn good-looking son of a bitch.”
“Get over yourself, Baxter. Did you feel anything