In Death 04 - Rapture in Death

though. When I autopsy it, we'll see."
    She had to smile. It was so like Feeney to think of his components and chips in human terms. He replaced the sliver, sealed the dish, then tugged off his glasses.
    His eyes shrank, blinked, refocused. And there he was, Dallas thought, rumpled, wrinkled, and baggy, just as she liked him best. He'd made her a cop, giving her the kind of in-the-field training she could never have learned through discs or VR. And though he'd transferred from Homicide to captain in EDD, she continued to depend on him.
    "So," she began. "Did you miss me?"
    "Were you gone?" He grinned at her, reached a hand into a bowl for some candied almonds. "Did you like your fancy honeymoon?"
    "Yeah, I did." She took a nut herself. It had been a long time since lunch. "Even with a body at the end of it. I appreciate the data you dug up for me."
    "No problem. A lot of fuss for self-terminations."
    "Maybe." His office was larger than hers, due to his rank and his love of space. His boasted a view screen which, as usual, was tuned to a classic film channel. Just now Indiana Jones was being lowered into a pit of asps. "It's got a few interesting aspects, though."
    "Want to share?"
    "That's why I'm here." She'd copied the data she'd taken from the senator's file and took the disc from her pocket. "I've got a brain dissection on here, but the picture's a little rough. Can you clean it up, boost it some?"
    "Can bears shit in the reforested park?" He took the disc, swiveled to his unit, and loaded it. Moments later, he was scowling over the image. "Pitiful imaging. What did you do, use a portable to record off screen?"
    "It would be better if we didn't get into that."
    He turned his head, studied her with that same scowl. "You teetering on a line, Dallas?"
    "My balance is good."
    "Let's hope so." Preferring to work manually, he slid out a keyboard. His workingman's fingers danced over keys and controls like a master harpist's over strings. He jerked a shoulder when she leaned close. "Don't crowd me, kid."
    "I need to see."
    Under his expertise the picture was clearing, contrasts sharpening. She struggled for patience as he fine tuned, diddled, humming to himself as he worked. Behind her all hell was breaking loose between Harrison Ford and the snakes.
    "That's about the best we can do on this unit. You want more, I have to take it into master." He flicked a glance up at her. "You gotta log on for master. Technically."
    She knew he'd bypass regulations for her and risk an interview with IAD. "Let's go with this for now. You see that, Feeney?" She tapped a finger against the screen just under the tiny shadow.
    "I see a hell of a lot of trauma. This brain must have been bashed good and proper."
    "But this." She could just make it out. "I've seen this before. On two other scans."
    "I'm no neurologist, but I'd guess it's not supposed to be there."
    "No." She straightened. "It's not supposed to be there."
    She got home late and was met by Summerset at the door. "There are two... gentlemen to see you, Lieutenant."
    With a quick jolt, she thought of the data she'd commandeered. "Are they wearing uniforms?"
    Summerset's pursed mouth pruned further. "Hardly. I've put them in the front parlor. They insisted on waiting, though you had not indicated when you would arrive, and Roarke is detained at the office."
    "Okay, I'll handle it." She wanted a huge plate of anything edible, a hot bath, and some thinking time. Instead, she wound her way down to the parlor and found Leonardo and Jess Barrow. Relief came first, then annoyance. Summerset, the creep, knew Leonardo and could have told her who was waiting to see her.
    "Dallas." Leonardo's moon-sized face creased into a grin when he spotted her. He swept across the room, a giant in a magenta skin suit overbloused with emerald gauze. No wonder Mavis adored him. He caught Eve up in a bone crushing hug, then narrowed his eyes. "You haven't dealt with your hair yet. I'll call Trina myself."
    "Oh. Well." Intimidated, Eve raked her fingers through her short, messy cap of hair. "I don't really have time right now to -- "
    "You have to make time for personal appearance. Not only are you an important public figure in your own right, but you're Roarke's wife."
    She was a cop, damn it. Suspects and victims didn't give a rat's ass about her hairdo. "Right. As soon as -- "
    "You're neglecting your treatments," he accused her, simply rolling over her excuses like a big smooth boulder down a bumpy