"Here's the thing, Dallas." He sat on the edge of her desk, reached into his pocket for his bag of candied almonds. "It doesn't feel right."
"What do you mean, it doesn't feel right? We've got him cold."
"We've got him cold, all right. But not on murder." Thoughtfully, Feeney chewed a coated nut. "I can't resolve myself to it. The guy who designed that equipment is brilliant, twisted some sure, self-absorbed. The guy we just shook down is all of those things, and you can add childish. It is a game to him, one he wants to make a big profit on. But murder…"
"You're just in love with his console."
"That I am," he admitted without shame. "He's weak, Dallas, and not just his stomach. How's he going to make himself rich by killing people off?"
She arched a brow. "I guess you've never heard of murder for hire."
"That boy doesn't have the guts for it, or the steel." He ate another nut. "And where's the motive? Did he pick those people out of a hat? And there's this. What he's got requires proximity to tap the subconscious. You can't place him at any of the scenes."
"He said something about remote capabilities."
"Yeah, it had a fine one, but it wouldn't command this option. Not that I can figure."
She sat back, deflated. "You're not making my day here, Feeney."
"Just food for thought. If he's got a hand in it, he's got help. Or a more personal, portable unit."
"Could it be adjusted into VR goggles?"
The idea intrigued him, made his hangdog eyes gleam. "Can't say for sure. It'll take some time to work that out."
"I hope you've got the time. He's all I've got, Feeney. If I can't crack him, he's going to walk on the murders. Tucking him away for ten to twenty on what we've got doesn't do it for me." She huffed out a breath. "He'll go for a psych evaluation. He'll go for anything he thinks will buy him a shot. Maybe Mira can pin him."
"Send him over after the break," Feeney suggested. "Let her take him for a few hours, and do yourself a favor. Go home and get some sleep. You run on empty long enough, you drop."
"Maybe I will. I'll set it up, deal with Whitney. A couple hours off might clear my head. I must be missing something."
For once, Summerset wasn't hovering. Eve snuck in the house like a thief, limped her way upstairs. She left a trail of clothes on her way to the bed, and she sighed greedily when she fell on it.
Ten minutes later, she was on her back, staring at the ceiling. The aches were bad enough, she thought grumpily. But the stimulator she'd taken hours before hadn't worn off. It was passing, leaving her light-headed with fatigue, while her system still bubbled like a brew.
Sleep was not going to happen.
She found herself picking apart the pieces of the case, putting them back together. Each time the puzzle formed differently until it was a blurred jumble of facts and theories.
At this rate, she wouldn't be close to coherent when she met with Mira.
She considered indulging in a long, hot bath in lieu of sleep. Then, inspired, she popped up and grabbed a robe. She took the elevator, with the purpose of avoiding Summerset, and stepped up on the lower level into the garden path of the solarium. A session in the lagoon pool, she decided, was just the ticket.
She dumped the robe, padded naked to the dark water walled in genuine stone and framed with fragrant blooms. When she dipped a toe, she found it blissfully warm. She sat on the first step and set the control panel for jets and bubbles. As the water began to churn, she started to program music. With a quick grimace, she decided she wasn't in the mood for tunes.
She simply floated at first, grateful there was no one around to hear her whimpering as the pulsing water worked on her aches. She let herself breathe. Floral perfume. She let herself drift. Simple pleasures.
The conflict of fatigue and stimulation balanced out into relaxation. Drugs, she decided, were highly overrated. Water worked wonders. Turning over lazily, she began to swim, slowly at first while her muscles warmed and limbered. Then she put some kick into it, hoping to work off the excess of the stimulant and revive herself with natural exercise.
When the timer clicked and the water calmed, she continued with long, steady strokes, skimmed down to the glossy black bottom until she felt like an embryo in the womb, then broke the surface with a loud, satisfied groan.
"You swim like a fish."
Instinct had Eve reaching for her side arm only to encounter her own naked ribs. Quickly, she blinked the water out of her eyes and focused on Reeanna.
"It's a cliche." She walked to the edge of the pool. "But accurate." She set her shoes aside, sat, and slid her legs into the water. "Do you mind?"
"Help yourself." Eve didn't consider herself fanatically modest, but she dipped a little lower. She hated being caught naked. "Were you looking for Roarke?"
"No, actually, I've just left him. He and William are still at it upstairs in his office. I was just leaving for a salon appointment." She tugged at her gorgeous, glossy red curls. "I've got to do something about this mop. Summerset mentioned you were down here, so I thought I'd just drop in on you."
Summerset. Eve smiled grimly. He'd spotted her after all. "I had a couple of hours personal time. Thought I'd take advantage of it."
"And what a lovely spot to take it. Roarke's got such amazing class, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, you could say so."
"I really just wanted to stop for a moment to tell you how much I enjoyed last evening. I barely got to speak to you – such a crowd. And then you were called away."
"Cops are lousy socializers," Eve commented and wondered how to get out and to her robe without feeling like an idiot.
Reeanna reached down, cupped water, and let it pour out of her hand. "I hope it wasn't anything… dreadful."
"Nobody died, if that's what you mean." Then Eve made herself smile. She was lousy at socializing, and she told herself to make a better effort. "Actually, I got a break in the case I've been working on. We took a suspect into custody."
"That's good." Reeanna tilted her head, her eyes intrigued. "Would that be the suicide matter we discussed before?"
"I'm not really free to say one way or the other at this time."
Reeanna smiled. "Cop talk. Well, one way or the other, I've been giving it quite a bit of thought. Your case, or whatever you'd call it, would make a fascinating paper. I've been so busy with tech, I haven't done any writing in some time. I hope, when you resolve the matter and it's public record, I can discuss it with you in some detail."
"I can probably do that. If and when." She bent a little. The woman was an expert, after all, and could be of some help. "As it happens, the suspect is being evaluated by Dr. Mira right about now. Do you ever do behavioral and personality evaluations?"
"I have, certainly. From a different angle than Mira. You'd have to say we're two sides of one coin. Our final diagnosis would often be the same, but we'd use a different process and a different viewpoint."
"I might need two viewpoints before this one's over," Eve mused, measuring Reeanna. "You don't happen to have security clearance, do you?"
"As it happens, I do." She continued to swing her legs lazily, but her eyes were alert, interested. "Level Four, Class B."
"That just skims by. If it comes up, how would you feel about working for the city as a temporary consultant? I can guarantee long hours, lousy conditions, and low pay."
"Who could resist that kind of offer?" Reeanna laughed, tossed back her hair. "Actually, I'd love the opportunity for some hands on again. Too long in labs, working with machines. William adores that, you know, but I need people."
"I might just give you a call." Deciding it was more foolish to huddle in the water than to climb casually out, Eve stood.
"You know where to reach me – Dear God, Eve, what happened to you?" Instantly, Reeanna was swinging her legs back, rising. "You're black and blue."