The Unquiet

getting all the attention—and the girl. It’s not right. But you can show them you’re better, smarter. Did she catch you at it, or did you tell her? Had to brag about it. But she still didn’t want you. In fact, she threatened to tell on you if you didn’t stop. To tell Rosenthall you were experimenting with his work, testing it, and not on rats.”
    He began to shiver now, as if cold even while the sweat dribbled down his temples. “You’re making all this up.”
    “Am I? Scientists keep records. We’re going to get a search warrant for your apartment, and we’re going to find yours. We’re going to find the pipe you used to beat Coby Vix to death with. Then—”
    “You can’t find the pipe at my place because . . .”
    “Why is that, Ken?”
    “I’m not talking anymore.”
    “Suit yourself.” Eve sat back, watched him sweat a few moments until Peabody came in with a tube of ginger ale.
    “Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview. He could use that. Have a drink, Ken, take a little time to think. The way I look at it, things just got out of hand, out of your control. You had a really bad reaction to the serum.”
    “I’m not saying anything else.” But he took the tube, cracked it, guzzled.
    And when she came back in, Eve thought, she’d take the tube—and have his DNA.
    “Think about it,” Eve suggested. “Interview pause. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, exiting the room.”
    “He looks sweaty, shaky,” Peabody began outside the door. “He looks like—”
    “An addict jonesing for a fix. He’s scared, too. He’s either going to crack or lawyer up—that could go either way. Let’s get a search warrant for his apartment. We’ve got enough for that. He’s got logs and records. That stupid cape, the gloves, the shoes, maybe the knife and scalpel.”
    “Maybe we should have Rosenthall observe the next round. Like you said, if he gets into the science, Rosenthall could tell us what it means.”
    “Good idea. Go get him, take him to an observation room. I’m going to give Dickerson another couple minutes.”
    She could use a drink herself, Eve thought, and gave Vending a hard eye. The machines didn’t always cooperate with her.
    “Let me do that.” Roarke plugged in credits, ordered her a tube of Pepsi.
    “Thanks. Come to watch the show?”
    “It’s usually worth the price of admission.”
    “I’ve got Dickerson sweating in the box. Literally. I think he’s been taking the serum—or a version of it. And I think he dosed himself real good two nights in a row. It’s got him strung out. I’m about to go in for the second round. Peabody’s bringing Rosenthall into Observation, in case we need an interpreter for the science.”
    “I’ll go find them.”
    He gave her a tap on the chin, then strolled off—as at home in the cop shop as she was, she thought.
    She cracked the tube, took a long drink, then walked back to the interview room. When she stepped in, Dickerson was standing in the far corner, facing the wall. His shoulders shook.
    “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, reentering Interview. Jesus, Ken, man up.”
    “That’s Dr. Chaos to you.”
    She arched her eyebrows at the rough sound of his voice. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Have a seat, Doc, and we’ll—”
    He turned. She’d thought little could genuinely surprise her at this stage of her life and career, but she froze in shock.
    His face rippled in front of her eyes. Sickly green, it twisted itself until the jaw locked at a grotesque angle. His teeth sharpened; his eyes protruded and bulged in their sockets, and began to gleam red.
    “And I’m not a man.”
    She heard the snap and crack of migrating bones as his spine seemed to warp. “I’m a god.”
    She pulled her weapon. “What you are is under arrest.”
    He leaped at her. She got a stream off, was sure she struck midbody, but he was so fast . She had a fraction of a second to prepare, and used the force of his body ramming hers to go down, kick up, and send him flying over her and into the wall.
    He careened off, bloodied, and nimble as a spider. This time when she fired, he jerked. Then he smiled.
    “Oooh, it tickles! I’m so much stronger now.”
    “So I see. But not pretty. You’re smart.” He would attack again, she thought. There was too much animal in him not to. “You’re in the middle of Cop Central. Even if you get through me, you won’t get out. You’ll die here.”
    “I can’t die. But you can.