In Death 04 - Rapture in Death

healing poultice on this, then an ice bandage to finish it off. It's still likely to be a bit stiff after prolonged use. I'd advise you to baby it for the next couple of days."
    "Sure. Baby it."
    "Did you get all this last night, rounding up your suspect?"
    "No, before. He didn't give me any trouble. Little bastard." Her brows knit, digging a line between them. "Can't nail him though. Just can't nail it down."
    "I'm sure you will." Reeanna's voice was soothing as she continued the treatment. "You're thorough and involved. I saw you on one of the news channels. Going out on the ledge with Cerise Devane. Risking your life."
    "Lost her."
    "Yes, I know." Efficiently, Reeanna coated the treated bruises with numbing cream. "It was horrible. Visually shocking. More so for you, I'd imagine. You'd have seen her face, her eyes, up close, as she went off."
    "She was smiling."
    "Yes, I could see that."
    "She wanted to die."
    "Did she?"
    "She said it was beautiful. The ultimate experience."
    Satisfied she'd done all she could, Reeanna picked up another towel, spread it over Eve. "There are some who believe that. Death as the ultimate human experience. No matter how advanced medicine and technology, none of us escape it. Since we're destined for it in any case, why not see it as a goal rather than an obstacle?"
    "It's meant to be fought. Every bloody inch of the way."
    "Not everyone has the energy or the need to fight. Some go gently." She picked up Eve's limp hand, automatically checking the pulse. "Some go resistantly. But all go."
    "Somebody sent her. That makes it murder. That makes it mine."
    Reeanna tucked Eve's arm under the towel. "Yes, I suppose it does. Get some sleep. I'll tell Summerset to wake you in time to make your meeting."
    "Thanks. Really."
    "It's nothing." She touched Eve's shoulder. "Between friends."
    She studied Eve a moment longer, then glanced at her diamond-studded watch. She was going to have to push to make her rescheduled salon date, but there was just one minor detail to see to yet.
    She repacked her kit, left a tube of numbing cream on the table for Eve, and hurried out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    Eve paced the soft, pretty carpet in Dr. Mira's office, hands jammed in her pockets, head lowered like a bull preparing for the charge.
    "I don't get it. How can his profile not fit? I've got him cold on the lesser charges. The little prick's been playing with people's brains, reveling in it."
    "It isn't a matter of fitting, Eve. It's a matter of probabilities."
    Patient, calm, Mira sat in her comfy, body-molding chair and sipped jasmine tea. She needed it, she mused. The air was foaming with Eve's frustration and energy.
    "You have his confession and the evidence that he has been experimenting with individualized brain pattern influence. And I quite agree he has a lot to answer for. But as to coercion to self-termination, I can't, in any decisive manner, corroborate your suspicions through my evaluation."
    "Well, that's just great." She spun on her heel. Reeanna's treatment and the hour's nap had restored her. If anything, her color was high, her eyes overbright. "Without your corroboration, Whitney's not going to buy the package, which means the PA won't buy it."
    "I can't adjust my report to suit you, Eve."
    "Who's asking you to?" Eve threw up her hands, then dug them into her pockets. "What doesn't fit, for Christ's sake? The man's got a God complex any idiot before vision reconstruction surgery could spot."
    "I agree that his personality pattern leans toward an excess of ego and his temperament has a high caliber of the artiste under siege." Mira sighed. "I wish you'd sit down. You're making me tired."
    Eve dropped into a chair, scowled. "There, I'm sitting. Explain."
    Mira had to smile. The sheer drive and unrelenting focus was admirable. "Do you know, Eve, I can never understand why impatience is so attractive on you. And how, with such a high volume of it, you still manage to be thorough in your work."
    "I'm not here for analysis, Doctor."
    "I know. I only wish I could convince you to agree to regular sessions. But that's another subject, for another time. You have my report, but to summarize my findings, the subject is egocentric, self-congratulatory, and one who habitually rationalizes his antisocial behavior as art. He's also brilliant."
    Dr. Mira signed a little, shook her head. "A truly fine mind. He was nearly off the scale in the standard Trislow and Secour tests."
    "Good for him," Eve muttered.