The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [389]
Eve gulped in air, whooshed it out. Her arms shuddered but stopped straining.
“Look at the light,” Mira continued, adjusting the dosage, watching the monitors. “Listen to my voice. You don’t need to hear anything but my voice. I’m right here. You know who I am?”
“Mira. Dr. Mira. It hurts.”
“Only for a moment more. Your system needs to adjust. Take long, slow breaths. Watch the light. Long, slow breaths.” She repeated the same directions, over and over in a quiet monotone until she saw the monitors level, watched Eve’s face go lax again.
“You’re relaxed now, and all you hear is my voice. Do you still have pain?”
“No, I don’t feel anything.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”
“Date of birth.”
“I don’t know.”
“Place of birth.”
“I don’t know.”
“City of residence?”
“New York.”
“Marital status.”
“Married. Roarke.”
“Place of employment.”
“NYPSD. Cop Central. No . . .” The monitors began to blip, indicating agitation, confusion. “I was. I’m suspended. They took my badge. I’m cold now.”
“It’ll pass.” But Mira leaned back and ordered the temperature of the room to increase five degrees. For the next several minutes, Mira asked simple, inane questions to establish normal blood pressure, the pattern of brain waves, respiration, heart rate.
“Was your suspension from duty warranted?”
“It was procedure. While under investigation, I can’t serve.”
“Was it warranted?”
Eve’s brow creased in confusion. “It was procedure,” she repeated.
“You’re a cop down to your bones,” Mira muttered.
“Yes.”
The simple answer nearly made Mira smile. “You have used maximum force in the line of duty, answer yes or no.”
“Yes.”
Tricky ground now, Mira thought. She knew that once, a young, terrified girl had killed. “Have you ever, other than to protect yourself or another, taken a life?”
The image flashed. The horrid room, the pools of blood, the knife gored to the hilt and dripping with red. Pain, so brutal the memory of it struck like lightning, made her whimper. “I had to. I had to.”
The voice was a child’s and had Mira moving quickly. “Eve, stay here, and answer the question yes or no. Answer yes or no, Lieutenant, have you ever, other than to protect yourself or another, taken a life?”
“No.” The word came out on an explosion of breath. “No, no, no. He’s hurting me. He won’t stop.”
“Don’t go there. Listen to my voice, look at the light. You are not to go anywhere unless I tell you. Do you understand?”
“It’s always there.”
She’d been afraid of just this. “It’s not there now. No one is here but me. What is my name?”
“He’s coming back.” She began to shake, to struggle. “He’s drunk, but not too drunk.”
“Lieutenant Dallas, this is an official procedure sanctioned by the NYPSD. You are under suspension, but have not been terminated from service. You are obliged to follow the rules of this procedure. Do you understand your obligations?”
“Yes. Yes. God, I don’t want to be here.”
“What is my name?”
“Mira. Oh Christ. Mira, Dr. Charlotte.”
Stay with me, Mira thought. Stay right here with me. “What was the nature of the case you were investigating when suspended from service?”
“Homicide.” The shuddering stopped, and the data on the monitors began to level. “Multiple.”
“Were you acquainted with an Officer Ellen Bowers?”
“Yes. She and her trainee were first on-scene at two of the homicides. Victims Petrinksy and Spindler.”
“You had altercations with Bowers?”
“Yes.”
“Relate your view of those altercations.”
More images slid in and out of her brain. She lived it as she recited it. The heat, the punch of hate that had annoyed and baffled, the cold words, the vicious ones.
“You were aware that Bowers filed complaints against you.”
“Yes.”
“Was there validity to these complaints?”
“I used profanity when dealing