Delusion in Death

for a connection to the Red Horse cult, the cover-up. I want their financials and electronics gone over in detail. Peabody and I will take the Lesters.”
    She handed out other assignments, legwork, drone work, to uniforms, scheduled a briefing at four.
    Whitney stood. “We’ll issue a statement to the media this morning, and hold a media conference at thirteen hundred. I’ll need you to meet with the liaison, Lieutenant, in an hour.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Handpick two more uniforms or detectives to assist in the search for sources of the chemicals and illegals. You’re cleared for it.”
    “I’d like Detective Strong from Illegals, Commander, if she’s up for it.”
    “Make it happen. You’ll need more to run the tip line after the media breaks this. One hour, Lieutenant.”
    “Yes, sir. Get moving,” she told the team. “Peabody, contact Lester, Devon. Ask him to come in. Just a follow-up.”
    “And the brother?”
    “Not until Devon’s in the house. We’ll send a couple of stern-faced uniforms to bring him in. I need to reconnect with Morris, with Dickhead. And I want to go back to the scene. Get Devon in hereasap, and we’ll take him after I meet the liaison, shift to the brother, then go out in the field.”
    “On it.”
    Eve turned back to the board, started toward it.
    “Eve.” Mira moved to her. “You have an hour now. Why don’t we go to my office?”
    “I really should—” Get it over with, she reminded herself. “Sure. I’ll be there in five.”

7
    Eve approached the dragon who guarded Mira’s office expecting her to sniff in disapproval and tell her to wait. Instead the woman spared Eve a brief nod.
    “The doctor’s expecting you. Go right in.”
    With no choice, no reasonable excuse, Eve stepped into Mira’s sunny, comfortable office.
    “You’re very prompt.” Mira stood by her little AutoChef. “I’m just getting tea. Sit down, relax a minute.”
    “I’m kind of pressed.”
    “I know. I’m going to look over the data you sent me, and your notes, and see if I can be of any more help. But meanwhile …”
    In her quiet, easy way, Mira handed Eve floral-scented tea in a delicate china cup, then took her own. She settled in one of her set of blue scoop-chairs, sipped in silence until Eve felt obligated to sit.

    Shrinks, she thought, knew the value of silence, just like a cop in Interview.
    “You look well,” Mira said conversationally. “How’s your arm?”
    “It’s fine.” She rolled her shoulder, got a flash of pain memory. “I heal fast.”
    “You’re a physical woman in excellent shape.”
    “Meaning the body heals fast.”
    Mira merely watched her with those quiet blue eyes. “How do you feel otherwise?”
    “I’m good. I’m mostly good. That should be enough. Nobody gets through perfect. There’s always something, some ding, some cloud, some shit. And cops have more of all of that than most. So.”
    “But you said this was personal, not work-related.”
    “There’s not much distance between the two for me. Sometimes none at all. I’m okay with that, too. I’m good with that.”
    Stalling, Mira thought. So reluctant to be here. “You’ve found a way to blend them very well. Will you tell me what’s troubling you?”
    “It’s not me. It’s Roarke.”
    “I see.”
    “Look, I’ve always had vivid dreams.” Eve set the tea aside. She wasn’t in the mood to pretend to drink it. “Ever since I can remember. They’re not always pretty. Why would they be? Where I came from, what I do and see every day now. Maybe they were an escape when I was a kid. I could go somewhere else if I tried hard enough, and even if that place wasn’t all warm and cozy, it was better than the reality. And the nightmares, the flashbacks, with my father, I’d beaten them back. I’d worked through it. I’d finished it.”
    Mira just waited her out, waited for the pause. “And now?”

    “They’re not as bad as before, but okay, I’m having some issues since Dallas.”
    Small wonder , Mira thought, but nodded. “That manifest in nightmares?”
    “Not as bad,” Eve insisted. “And I know I’m dreaming. I’m in it, but I know it’s not real. They’re nothing as bad as the one I had when I couldn’t get out, and I hurt Roarke. I won’t ever let that happen again.”
    She couldn’t sit. How did people talk about internal horrors sitting down? Pushing up, she let herself move. “Maybe last night was a little more intense, but I’d had a damn