In Death 21 - Origin in Death

got privacy issues. So no security cams in patient rooms or in the hallways in patient areas."
    "They've got patient areas, waiting areas, gift shop areas, office areas, operating and exam areas. And that's not counting the attached hospital and emergency areas. Place is a fricking maze. You're cool enough to walk in, stab a guy in the heart, and walk out again, you do your recon. She knew the layout. She's been in there before, or done a hell of a lot of sims."
    Eve threaded through the sluggish traffic and into the garage at Cop Central. "I want to review the security discs. We'll run our suspect through IRCCA and imaging. Maybe we'll pop a name or an alias. I want full background on the vic, and a financial from the son. Let's eliminate him from the field. Or not. Maybe we'll find unexplained and large sums of money transferred recently."
    "He didn't do it, Dallas."
    "No." She parked, slid out of the car. "He didn't do it, but we run it anyway. We'll talk to professional associates, lovers, ex-lovers, social acquaintances. Let's get the why of this."
    She leaned back against the wall of the elevator as they started up. "People like suing doctors, or bitching about them-especially over elective stuff. Nobody gets out clean. Somewhere along the line, he's botched a job, or had a patient pissed at him. He's lost one, and had the grieving family blaming him. Payback seems the most likely here. Killing the guy with a medical instrument. Symbolism, maybe. Heart wound, same deal."
    "Seems to me heavier symbolism would have been to cut up his face, or whatever body part was involved if it was payback on a procedure."
    "Wish I didn't agree with you."
    Cops and techs and Christ knew who else started piling on when they reached the second level, main. By the time they hit five, Eve had had enough, muscled her way off, and switched to a glide.
    "Hold on. I need a boost." Peabody hopped off, arrowed toward a vending area. Thoughtfully, Eve trailed after her.
    "Get me a thing."
    "A what thing?"
    "I don't know, something." Brow knitted, Eve scanned her choices. How come they put so much health crap in a cop shop? Cops didn't want health crap. Nobody knew better that they weren't going to live forever.
    "Maybe that cookie thing with the stuff inside."
    "Gooey Goo?"
    "Why do they give this stuff such stupid names? Makes me embarrassed to eat it. Yeah, the cookie thing."
    "Are you still not interacting with Vending?"
    Eve kept her hands in her pockets as Peabody plugged in her credits and choices. "I work with a mediator, nobody gets hurt. If I interact with one of these bastards again, someone will be destroyed."
    "That's a lot of venom for an inanimate object that dispenses Gooey Gos."
    "Oh, they live, Peabody. They live and they think their evil thoughts. Don't believe otherwise."
    You have selected two Gooey Goos, the scrumptious crispy treat with the gooey center. Go with the Goo!
    "See," Eve said darkly as the machine began to list the ingredients and caloric content.
    "Yeah, I wish they'd shut the hell up, too, especially about the calories." She passed one of the bars to Eve. "But it's programmed in, Dallas. They don't live or think."
    "They want you to believe that. They talk to each other through their little chips and boards, and are probably plotting to destroy all humankind. One day, it'll be them or us."
    "You're creeping me out, sir."
    "Just remember, I warned you." Eve bit into the cookie as they turned toward Homicide.
    They split the duties, with Peabody veering off to her desk in the bull pen and Eve heading into her office.
    She stood in the doorway a moment, studying it as she chewed. There was room for her desk and chair, one unsteady visitor's chair, a filing cabinet. She had a single window that wasn't much bigger than one of the drawers in the filing cabinet.
    Personal items? Well, there was her current candy stashed, where it had-to date-gone undetected by the nefarious candy thief who plagued her. There was a yo-yo-which she might play with occasionally while thinking her thoughts. With her door locked.
    It was good enough for her. In fact, it suited her fine. What the hell would she do with an office even half the size of either of the doctors Icove? More people could come in and bother her if there was actually room for that. How would she get anything done?
    Space, she decided, was another symbol. I'm successful so I have all this room. The Icoves obviously believed in that route. Roarke, too, she