In Death 21 - Origin in Death

either 'placement' or 'treatment terminated.'"
    "Placement's an interesting word, isn't it?" Roarke eased a hip onto the corner of her desk. "One might assume employment. If one weren't of a cynical bent."
    "Which you are, which makes you a good match for me. Some people would pay a lot of money for a perfect woman. Maybe running a slavery ring was Icove's little hobby."
    "Possibly. Where does he get the goods?"
    "I'm going to do a search. Coordinate the dates of the case notes with missing persons and kidnappings."
    "There's a start. Eve? It'd be a hell of an operation to keep this many people under control, and to keep such a thing concealed. Can you consider it might be voluntary?"
    "I'm going to volunteer to be sold to the highest bidder?"
    He shook his head. "Consider. A young girl, for whatever reason unhappy with her appearance or her lot, or simply looking for more. He might pay them as well. Earn money while we make you beautiful. Then we'll match you up with a partner. One with enough money to afford the service, one who selects you out of all the others. Heady stuff for the impressionable."
    "So he's creating, basically, licensed companions, with their consent?"
    "Or spouses, for all we know. Both, either. Or-a thought that hit my perhaps overactive brain-hybrids."
    Her eyes rounded. "What, half-LC, half-spouse? A guy's wet dream."
    He laughed, shook his head. "You're tired. I was thinking more along the lines of an old, classic plotline. Frankenstein."
    "The monster guy?"
    "Frankenstein was the mad doctor guy who created the monster."
    She swung her feet off the desk. "Hybrids. Part droid, part human? And way, way illegal? You thinking he might dabble in hybridizing humans? That's out there, Roarke."
    "Agreed, but there were experiments a few decades ago. Military, primarily. And we see it every day on another level. Artificial hearts, limbs, organs. He made his name with his reconstructive surgery techniques. Man-made is often used in that area."
    "So maybe he's making women?" She thought of Dolores, absolutely calm before and after a murder. "And one of them turns on him. One of them isn't happy with her placement, and comes back to the creator. He agrees to see her because she's his work. It's not bad." she decided. "Out there, but not altogether bad."
    She slept on it, and woke so early Roarke was just out of bed and pulling on sweats.
    "You're awake. Well then, let's have a workout and a swim."
    "A what?" She blinked groggy eyes at him. "It's not morning."
    "It's after five." He stepped back up to the bed, hauled her out. "It'll clear your mind."
    "Why isn't there coffee?"
    "There will be." He bundled her into the elevator and had it heading for the home gym before her brain woke fully.
    "Why am I working out at five in the morning?"
    "Five-fifteen, actually, and because it's good for you." He tossed her a pair of shorts. "Suit up, Lieutenant."
    "When do you leave town again?"
    He tossed a top into her face.
    She dragged on the clothes, then set her equipment for a beach run. If she was going to work out before the sun came up, at least she could pretend she was at the beach. She liked the feel of sand under her feet, and the sounds and scents and sights of surf.
    Roarke set up next to her with the same program. "We could make this a reality after the holidays."
    "What holidays?"
    Amused when she picked up her pace, he matched her. "We're nearly to Thanksgiving. Which is actually something I wanted to discuss with you."
    "It's on a Thursday. You eat turkey whether you like it or not. I know about Thanksgiving."
    "It's also an American holiday. A ... family holiday, traditionally. I thought it might be appropriate to invite my Irish relations here for dinner."
    "Bring them to New York to eat turkey?"
    "Essentially."
    She watched him out of the corner of her eye, noted he was slightly embarrassed. A rarity for him. "How many of them are there, anyway?"
    "About thirty or so."
    Her breath wheezed in. "Thirty?"
    "More or less. I'm not entirely sure, though I doubt all of them could get away, with a farm to run and other work. All those children. But I thought Sinead, at least, with her family, might be able to take a day or two here, and the holiday seemed the right time. We might invite Mavis and Leonardo, Peabody and so on. Whoever you'd like. Make a right bash of it."
    "Gonna need one big-ass turkey."
    "I think the food will be the simplest of the details. How would you feel about having them