"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 Petrinsky 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 with her." Even weighed down with drugs, she sneered. It lifted Mira's troubled heart. "It's a technical breach of regulations."
If she hadn't been sick with worry, Mira might have laughed. "Did you threaten this officer with physical harm?"
"I'm not sure. I might have said I'd kick her ass if she kept screwing up. I thought it, anyway."
"In her logs, she has stated that you exchanged sexual favors for advancement in the department. Is that true?"
"No."
"Have you ever had a sexual relationship or encounter with Commander Whitney?"
"No."
"Have you ever had a sexual relationship or encounter with Captain Feeney?"
"Jesus. No. I don't go around fucking my friends."
"Have you ever accepted a bribe?"
"No."
"Have you ever falsified a report?"
"No."
"Did you physically attack Officer Ellen Bowers?"
"No."
"Did you cause her death?"
"I don't know."
Mira jerked back, shaken. "Did you kill Officer Ellen Bowers?"
"No."
"How might you have caused her death?"
"Someone used her to get me off, to get me out. They wanted me. She was easier."
"You believe that a person or persons currently unknown killed Bowers in order to remove you from the investigation you were pursuing?"
"Yes."
"How does that make you responsible for her death?"
"Because I had a badge. Because it was my case. Because I let it be personal instead of seeing how they could use her. That puts her on my head."
Mira sighed, adjusted the dose again. "Focus on the light, Eve. We're nearly done."
Roarke paced the waiting area outside Mira's office. What the hell was taking so long? He should have known Eve was conning him when she'd said it wouldn't take more than a couple of hours. It was no big deal. Just as he'd known when he realized she'd gotten out of the house without telling him that morning that she hadn't wanted him here.
Well, he was here, by God. She'd just have to deal with it.
Four hours, he thought with another glance at his wrist unit. How the devil could some tests and questions take four hours? He should have pressed her, pushed her into explaining exactly what would be done.
He knew something about Testing, the basic process a cop went through whenever maximum force was employed. It wasn't pleasant, but she'd gotten through it before. He understood the elemental strain of Level One, and the additional burden of truth testing.
It was again, unpleasant, very often left the subject a little shaky for a few hours.
She'd get through that as well.
Why the hell weren't they done with her?
His head came up, and his eyes went to pools of ice when Whitney walked in.
"Roarke. I'd hoped she'd be finished by now."
"She doesn't need to see you here when she is. You've done more than enough already, Commander."
Whitney's eyes went blank, and the shadows under them were deep. "We all follow orders, Roarke, and procedure. Without them, there's no order."
"Why don't I tell you what I think of your procedure?" he began, stepping forward with blood in his eye.
The door opened. He turned quickly, an arrow of shock piercing his heart when he saw her.
She was pale as death. Her eyes seemed to be carved deep into the skull, the irises like gold glass, the pupils huge. Mira had a supporting arm around her, and still she swayed.
"You're not ready to get up. Your system needs more time."
"I want out of here." She would have shaken Mira off, but was seriously afraid she'd pitch forward onto her face. She saw Roarke first, felt twin surges of frustration and relief. "What are you doing here? I told you not to come."
"Shut the hell up." There was only one emotion pumping through him, and it was all fury. He was across the room in three quick strides, and pulling her away from Mira. "What the hell did you do to her?"
"What she was supposed to do." Eve made the effort to stand on her own feet, though it had the nausea swimming back, the clammy sweat popping out. She would not be sick again, she promised herself. She'd already been violently ill twice and would not be sick again.
"She needs to lie down." Mira's face was nearly as pale as Eve's, and every line of strain showed. "Her system hasn't had time to recover. Please convince her to come back and lie down so I can monitor her vitals."
"I have to get out of here." Eve looked straight into Roarke's eyes. "I can't stay here."
"All right. We're going."
She let herself lean against him until she saw Whitney. Then it was instinct as much as pride that had her forcing her aching body to attention. "Sir."
"Dallas. I regret the necessity of this procedure. Dr. Mira needs to keep you under observation until she's satisfied you're well enough to leave."
"With respect, Commander, I'm free to go where the hell I want."
"Jack." Mira linked her fingers together, felt useless. "She took Level Three."
His eyes flashed, shifted back to Eve's face. "Level Three was not necessary. Damn it, it was not necessary."
"You took my badge," Eve said quietly. "It was necessary." She forced herself straight again, praying Roarke would understand she needed to walk out under her own power. She made it to the door before the trembling started again, but she shook her head fiercely when he turned.
"No, don't, don't carry me. God, leave me something here."
"All right, just hold on." He hooked an arm around her waist, took most of her weight. Bypassing the glide, he walked her to the elevator. "What's Level Three?"
"Bad." Her head was pounding brutally. "Really bad. Don't hassle me. It was the only way."
"For you," he murmured, drawing her into the crowded elevator when the doors whisked open.
Her vision grayed at the edges. Voices from the people who jammed in with them drifted, echoed, and fell away like waves in an ocean. She lost her bearings, and herself, only dimly aware of movement, of Roarke's voice close to her ear telling her they were nearly there.
"Okay, okay." The gray spread, closed in as he guided her to the visitor's parking area. "Mira said how this was just one of the side effects. No big deal."
"What's one of the side effects?"
"Shit, Roarke. Sorry. I'm gonna pass out."
She never heard him curse as he swung her into his arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY