«Gonna need one big-ass turkey.»
«I think the food will be the simplest of the details. How would you feel about having them here?»
«A little weird, but okay. How about you?»
He relaxed. «A little weird, but okay. I appreciate it.»
«As long as I don't have to bake a pie.»
«God forbid.»
The workout did indeed clear her mind, and she added a stint with weights, polished it off with twenty laps in the pool.
She'd intended to do twenty-five, but Roarke caught her on the twenty-first turn. And she ended the workout with a different sort of water exercise.
She was alert and ravenous by the time she'd showered and grabbed her first cup of coffee.
She went for waffles, exchanged beady eyes with Galahad when the cat tried to slink up to her plate.
«He's got to have space.»
«Cat's got the run of the bloody house.»
«Not the cat. Icove,» Eve said and got an absentminded mmm-hmm from Roarke as he scanned the morning stock reports on-screen in the sitting area of their bedroom. «Not in the apartment,» she continued. «Too many patients coming in and out. Lab. Maybe in the Center, maybe someplace else entirely. He'd need privacy. Even if it's not anything illegal, it's strange. He didn't go through all the trouble to private the discs and his unit, then conduct all these exams or experiments or case studies in the open.»
«It's a big facility, the Center,» Roarke began, and switched to the media bulletins. «But there are a lot of people through there. Patients, staff, visitors, stockholders. Very possible, if he was careful enough, to have a private area. But wiser, I'd think, to do this other work— particularly if it skirts the law—off-site.»
«The son would know. If they were as close, personally and professionally, as I think they were, the father and the son would both be involved with this…project. We'll call it a project. Peabody and I'll pay him another visit, see if we can go at this the direct way. We'll take a deeper look at the financials. If this is a by-fee project, it would have generated big bucks. And I'll look at property in his name, the son's, the daughter-in-law, grandchildren, under the Center or his other arms. If he's got a place, we'll find it.»
«You'll want to save them. The girls,» he continued when she said nothing. «You'll want to stop them from being arranged, let's say, if that's the case.» He turned from the screen to look at her. «If this is some sort of training ground, some kind of preparation area, you'll see them as victims.»
«Aren't they?»
«Not like you were.» He took her hand. «I doubt very much it's anything like that, or that you'll be able to stop yourself from seeing it that way regardless. It'll hurt you.»
«They all hurt me. Even when they have nothing to do with what happened to me. They all take a toll.»
«I know.» He kissed her hand. «Some more than others.»
«You'll ask your family here for Thanksgiving, and it'll hurt you. Because your mother can't be here, and you'll think of that. Won't be able to stop yourself from remembering what happened to her when you were only a baby. It'll hurt you, but it won't stop you from asking them here. We do what we have to do, Roarke. Both of us.»
«So we do.»
She rose, reached for her weapon harness. «You're off, then?» he asked her.
«Might as well get an early start, since I'm up.»
«Then I'd best give you your present.» He watched her face—the surprise, the chagrin, the resignation. And burst out laughing. «Thought you'd gotten away clean, did you?»
«Hand it over, get it done.»
«Gracious to the last.» To her surprise he went to his closet, opened it, and pulled out a large box. He set it on the sofa. «Open it, then.»
Another fancy dress, she supposed. As if she didn't already have enough of them to clothe an army of fashion plates. Of which she was the chipped one, hidden on the top shelf. But buying glam made him happy.
She pulled off the top, stared. «Oh. Oh wow.»
«An atypical reaction for you, Lieutenant,» he said with a grin, but she was already yanking the long black leather coat out of the box, burying her nose in it to sniff.
«Oh boy, oh boy.» She whirled it around, swirled it on while he watched. It hit her an inch above the ankles, carried deep pockets, and was smooth as butter.
«You make a picture,» he complimented, pleased that she'd already spun toward the mirror to see for herself. It was masculine—a deliberate choice on his part. No frills, no feminine touches. In it she looked sexy and dangerous, and just a little aloof.
«Now this is what it is. This is a goddamn coat. I'll bung it up before the end of shift, but it'll look even better with a few scars.» She spun around, and the coat swirled around her legs. «Nice job. Thanks.»
«My pleasure.» He tapped his lips so that she walked over to plant hers on them. Then he slid his arms under the coat and around her.
My God, he thought, it was good to be home.
«There are a number of inside pockets, if someone needed to secret weapon of some sort.»
«Frosty. Man, Baxter's going to crap himself when I walk in wearing this.»
«Lovely image, thanks.»
«It's really great.» She kissed him again. «I really love it. I gotta go.»
«See you tonight.»
He watched her walk away, and thought she looked like a warrior.
Since she had nearly an hour before the start of her shift, Eve took a chance and headed to Mira's office first. As she had expected, the doctor was in, and her dragon of an admin wasn't.
Eve knocked on Mira's open office door.
«Sorry.»
«Eve. Did we have an early appointment?»
«No.» Mira looked tired, Eve noted. And sad. «I know you usually try to get in before hours, catch up on paperwork or whatever. Sorry to get in the way of that.»
«It's all right. Come in. Is this about Wilfred?»
«Wanted to run something by you.» And she felt lousy for doing it. «Doctor-patient relation sort of deal. You keep case files.»
«Of course.»
«And in addition to the consult position with the department, you do some private work. Counseling, therapy, and the like. You sometimes treat patients on an ongoing basis. Over the course of years, say.»
«Certainly.»
«How do you keep the files, the data?»
«I'm not sure what you mean.»
«You passcode your unit, for security?»
«Absolutely. All files are confidential. The private cases. And the consults for the department are on a need-to-know basis.»
«The discs themselves? Those protected, too?»
«I would add a layer onto the more sensitive material, if I felt it necessary.»
«You encode the data?»
«Codes?» This time Mira smiled. «That would be a bit paranoid of me, wouldn't it? Are you worried about leaks on my end, Eve?»
«No. Other than paranoia, why would a doctor passcode unit, discs, then encode the data on the discs?»
The smile had faded. «I would have to assume the structure in which the doctor worked required such precautions, or the data itself was hypersensitive. There is the possibility the doctor had reason to suspect someone might attempt to access the data. Or the work being documented was highly experimental.»
«Illegal.»
«I didn't say illegal.»
«Would you if you weren't aware I was asking about Icove?»
«There are a lot of reasons, as I've just told you, why such data might be particularly protected.»
Eve sat without invitation, kept her eyes level with Mira's. «He gave the patients labels rather than names. They were all female, all between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two. There was little surgery of the type he's known for. They were all tested and graded in areas such as cognitive skills, Language, artistic talents, physical prowess. Depending on their progress and level, treatment—which was never clearly detailed—was either continued or terminated. If continued, it ended in what was termed 'placement,' at which time the file was ended. What does it mean?»