In Death 23 - Born in Death

the chain, passed it to Leonardo. Eve heard him quietly clear his throat. “I’d be so completely honored.”
    When he shifted back, Eve met his eyes. “Well done,” she said.
    It was perfect, Eve thought. Perfectly Mavis to make her vows and promises—with a couple of pauses for contractions—in the swanky birthing room surrounded by friends and wearing a silly tiara.
    With McNab memorializing it all on his police recorder.
    There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, including her own, when Leonardo’s big hands slipped the borrowed ring on Mavis’s dainty finger.
    After the applause, the kisses, the champagne Roarke smuggled in—you could always count on him—the midwife swung through the door.
    “Congratulations, best wishes, and I’m pleased to announce a new life has begun. Tandy and Aaron have a son. Eight pounds three ounces of perfection. Mavis, I’m to tell you Tandy’s sending her energy to you now. And Dallas? She’d like to see you for a moment.”
    “Me? Why?”
    “I’m just the messenger. All right, Mommy, let’s see how you’re doing.”
    “You’re coming with me,” Eve said and gripped Roarke’s hand.
    “She didn’t ask for me.”
    “I’m not going in there alone.” She pulled him with her.
    In the other suite, Tandy looked pale, sweaty, and a little glassy-eyed, as did the new father. She held a small bundle wrapped in blue.
    “Everything okay in here?”
    “Everything’s brilliant. Isn’t he beautiful?” Tandy turned the baby, so snugly wrapped it put Eve in mind of a blue sausage with a round, alien face.
    “Beautiful,” she agreed, knowing what was expected. “How are you feeling?”
    “Tired, thrilled, madly in love with both my men. But I wanted to introduce you, especially, to Quentin Dallas Applebee.”
    “Who?”
    “The new addition, Lieutenant.” Roarke gave her a little nudge forward.
    “It’s all right, isn’t it?” Tandy asked her. “We wanted him to honor your name. He wouldn’t be with us if it wasn’t for you.”
    Surprised, touched, Eve pushed her hands into her pockets and smiled. “That’s nice. Really nice. That’s a lot of name for a little guy.”
    “We’re going to teach him to live up to it.” Aaron bent down, kissed mother and child. “And how is Mavis?”
    “Slow and steady, the midwife said. It’ll be awhile.”
    “I’ll come over when they let me.”
    “She’ll be around. You’d better get some rest.”
    When she stepped out, Feeney was standing in the hall drinking bad coffee. “Midwife’s checking something on her. I’m not staying in there during that.”
    “What sane person would?” Eve’s communicator signaled.
    “Don’t think you’re going anywhere,” Roarke said darkly.
    “Hey, I signed up, I’m seeing it through. Dallas.”
    “Lieutenant.” Whitney’s face filled the screen. “You’re to report immediately to Riker’s, female facility.”
    “Commander. I’m currently unable to comply. I’m at the birthing center. Mavis—”
    “Now?”
    “Yes, sir. Or shortly. Is this a problem with Madeline Bullock?”
    “It is. She’s dead. Her son broke her neck.”
    When she had the details, was assured Whitney would call in Baxter to handle the investigation, she sat in one of the pretty garden spots with her head in her hands.
    “Why do you blame yourself?” There was impatience in Roarke’s voice. “Why must you take this on? She’s the one who convinced a guard to let her son have visitation.”
    “Stupid. Stupid. They should never have been allowed to see or speak to each other. Not at this point. I’ll be damned if she convinced a guard. She bribed one, and asses will be thoroughly kicked.”
    “Then why are you sitting here, taking on the responsibility?”
    She sat back. “She riled him up, is what she did. Pushing him, pushing him to corroborate her story, to save her own skin at the expense of his. ‘I’m your mother. You owe me life.’ I can fucking hear her saying it, and him listening to her, understanding—finally—he’d be sacrificed. That he wasn’t important enough to her to save, to love.”
    “And still, knowing that, here you sit.”
    “I wanted her to go down, go down the hardest. That’s why I saved her for last in Interview. Let her sweat. That’s why I didn’t hammer at her any harder than I did—let her sweat some more, go back at her again tomorrow. I didn’t offer her a deal, and I was cleared to. I could have closed it up with a decent deal, and