In Death 15 - Purity in Death

so fast, so hard. Stumbled back, nearly lost the stunner. Terror, bright as blood.
    The man. Louis K. Cogburn. He'd whirled back toward the woman. She was down, dazed, weeping. Helpless. The bat swung up, high. A death blow.
    But then he jittered. His eyes - oh God, his eyes - demon red, went wide, jumped inside his skull. His body jolted, jolted like a puppet dancing on string as he ran by. Out in the hall.
    He danced, still dancing. Then he fell, sort of folded up and dropped, faceup to stare at the ceiling with those awful red eyes.
    Dead. Dead. And I'm standing over him.
    I killed a man today.
    Trueheart buried his face in his pillow, trying to erase the images that wanted to play in his brain. And he wept for the dead.
    ***
    In the morning, Eve put in a call to Chief Medical Examiner Morris and tried not to sound too snarly when she was forced to leave a message on his voice mail. If necessary, she'd make time to go down to the morgue and speak with him personally.
    In fact, that was just what she was going to do - and get another look at Cogburn's body.
    As much at it irked, she put a call into Don Webster in Internal Affairs. This time she didn't bother to play down the annoyance when she was transferred to voice mail.
    "The Rat Squad's got some cushy hours. Us real cops are already on duty. Give me a call, Webster, when you toddle in for your day of riding the desk and sniffing up dirt on fellow officers."
    Probably not smart to annoy him, she thought as she broke transmission. Then again, if she tried to sweet-talk Webster, he'd know she was up to something.
    "Lieutenant." Cap in hand, Trueheart stood in her doorway. "You sent for me."
    "That's right, Trueheart. Come in. Close the door."
    She wasn't crossing any lines by calling him to her office prior to Testing. She was primary on the case.
    That was her story, she thought, and she was sticking to it.
    "Sit down, Trueheart."
    He looked every bit as pale and hollow-eyed as she'd expected. Somehow he managed to stay at attention even seated. She programmed her AutoChef for two coffees, black, whether he wanted one or not.
    "Rough night?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "You're going to have a rougher day. Testing's no walk on the beach."
    "No, sir. I've heard."
    "You better be up for it. Look at me when I speak to you, Officer." She snapped it out, watched his head come up and his weary eyes focus. "You put on the uniform, you pick up the badge, you holster the weapon and you take on everything that means. Was your termination of Louis K. Cogburn justifiable?"
    "I don't-"
    "Yes or no. There's no middle here, no qualifications. Your gut, Trueheart. Was the deployment of your weapon necessary?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "If you walked into the same situation today, would you again deploy your weapon?"
    He shuddered, but he nodded. "Yes, sir."
    "That's the core of it." She passed him the coffee. "You hold on to the core of it, you'll get through the rest. Don't try to out-think Testing. You haven't got the brass for it yet. Answer correctly, answer truthfully. And however they twist the question of justification, you deployed your weapon justifiably, to preserve the life of a civilian and your own."
    "Yes, sir."
    "Jesus, Trueheart, you're an agreeable bastard. At what distance were you from the subject when you deployed?"
    "I think-"
    "Don't think. How far?"
    "Six feet, maybe five and a half."
    "How many jolts did you give him?"
    "Two."
    "Did your weapon, at any time during the altercation, come in direct contact with the subject?"
    "Contact?" He looked baffled for a moment. "Oh, no, sir. I was down and he was moving away when I deployed. Then he turned, moving toward me when I deployed the second time."
    "What did you do with the drop piece?"
    "The . . ." Pure shock jolted over his face. She watched it turn pink with what could only be indignation. "Sir, I had no secondary weapon, nor do I own one. I had only the street stunner, which I'm authorized to carry and which you took into evidence at the scene. Sir, I resent-"
    "Save it." She leaned back. "If they don't ask you that question in Testing, I'll be surprised. You can bet your ass IAB will ask it. And they'll push. So save the moral outrage for them. Don't you drink coffee, Trueheart?"
    "Yes, sir." He looked miserably into the cup, then lifted it, sipped. His breath sucked in. "This isn't coffee."
    "Yeah, it is. It's real coffee. Got a lot more going for it than that veggie crap, doesn't it? You could use the extra kick today. Listen