J. Robb - Judgment in Death

"Do you mind if we take this in another room?"

"Not at all." Mira rose, elegant as always in a sleek suit of spring leaf green. "I always enjoy seeing parts of your home."

Though she wasn't sure if it was strictly appropriate for a consult, Eve led the way to one of the lounging rooms. Mira sighed in appreciation. "What a lovely space," she murmured, studying the soft colors, the gracious lines of the furniture, the gleam of wood and glass. "My God, Eve, is that a Monet?"

Eve glanced at the painting, something in that same soft pallette that seemed to flow together and form a garden. "I have no idea."

"It is, of course," Mira said after she'd walked over to admire the painting. "Oh, I do envy you your art collection."

"It's not mine."

Mira only turned and smiled. "I envy it nonetheless. May I sit?"

"Yeah, sure. Sorry. I'm sorry, too, that I've dumped so much data on you in such a short time."

"We're both accustomed to working under pressure. These killings have ripples radiating throughout the department. Being in the center of those ripples is a very difficult position."

"I'm used to that, too."

"Yes." Something else here, Mira thought. She knew Eve too well to miss the small signs. But that would wait. "I concur with your analysis that both victims were killed by the same hand. The methodology notwithstanding, there is a pattern. The coins, the victims themselves, the brutality, and the knowledge of security."

"It's another cop," Eve said. "Or someone who used to be."

"Very likely. Your killer is enraged but controlled enough to protect himself by removing evidence. The rage is personal. I'd go as far as to say intimate. This may substantiate your cop-to-cop profile."

"Because he believed Mills and Kohli were dirty, or because he is?"

"The former, I believe. This isn't the act of someone protecting themselves but one of avenging. Your killer is systematic and sees himself as dispensing justice. He wants his victims marked as Judas, wants their crimes to be revealed."

"Then why not simply expose them? The data's there if you want to find it."

"That isn't enough. The loss of the badge, the disgrace. It's too easy. Their punishment must come from him. He or she was punished in some way, very likely through the job, in a manner that is perceived as unjust. Perhaps he was falsely accused of some infraction. The system somehow failed him, and now cannot be trusted."

"They knew him, or her."

"Yes, I'm sure of it. Not only because the victims seem to have been unprepared for the attack but because, psychologically, this connection only increases the rage. It's very likely they worked with their killer. Possibly, some act of theirs was responsible, at least in the killer's judgment, for the injustice that occurred to him. When you find him, Eve, you'll find connections."

"Do you see him in a position of authority?"

"A badge is a position of authority."

"Of command, then?"

"Possibly. But not as one who's confident of command, no. His confidence comes from his rage, and his rage, in part, from his disillusionment in the system he's represented. In the system his victims had sworn to represent."

"The system screwed him, they screwed the system. Why blame them?"

"Because they profited by its flaws, and he lost."

Eve nodded. It jelled for her. "You're aware now that the One twenty-eight is suspected of having a serious internal problem. The connection with organized crime. With Max Ricker."

"Yes, your report to me made that clear."

"I have to tell you, Dr. Mira, that it's been established that Detective Kohli was clean, and part of an IAB operation attempting to uncover this corruption."

"I see." Her clear eyes clouded. "I see."

"I don't know if the killer is aware of this as yet, but I doubt it. What will his reaction be when he learns Kohli was clean?"

Mira got to her feet. Her training and her position made it necessary for her to put herself into the mind of murderers. As she did so, she wandered to the wide band of windows and looked out on the gardens where a sea of candy-pink tulips danced. She saw beyond them to the sweeps of shape and color, very much as Monet had reflected them in oil.

There was nothing so comforting, she thought, as a well planted garden.

"He will disbelieve it initially. He's not a killer but a servant of justice. When he can't deny it, he'll turn to rage. It's his salvation. Once again, the system has betrayed him and tricked him into taking an innocent life. Someone will pay. Perhaps someone in Internal Affairs, where it began. Perhaps you, Eve," she said and turned back. "As you are the one who has, indirectly at least, shoved this horror into his face. He'll be doubly fueled now. For himself, and for Kohli. Very shortly after he learns, and accepts, he'll kill. He'll kill, Eve, until he's caught."

"How do I make him turn to me, specifically?"

Mira walked back, sat down. "Do you think I would help you with that, even if I could?"

"It's better to know his target than to guess."

"Yes, you'd think so," Mira said placidly. "Particularly if you can make yourself that target. But you can't direct his mind, Eve. His logic is his own. He's already selected his next victim. This information, when he learns of it, may alter his plans. He'll have to grieve, then he'll have to balance his scales."

Eve frowned. "He has a conscience."

"Yes, and Kohli will weigh on it. Kohli will cost him. But who he'll blame? That's the shading I can't give you."

"Why the hell doesn't he go after Ricker?"

"He may, but first he'll clean his own house."

"How do you protect and investigate every cop in a precinct?" Eve murmured. "And how do you manage it when they look at you as if you're the enemy?"

"Is that what's troubling you? Having your own step away from you?"

"No." She shrugged it off. "No, I can handle it."

"Then, since there's little to nothing more I can give you on this profile at the moment, I wish you would tell me what is troubling you."

"I have a lot on my mind." In dismissal, Eve got to her feet. "I appreciate you taking the time to come here. I know it's an inconvenience."

Eve wasn't the only stubborn woman in the room. "Sit down; I'm not finished."

A little surprised by the authoritarian tone, Eve sat. "You said-"

"I said to tell me what's troubling you. You're unhappy and distracted, and I suspect its cause is personal."

"If it's personal," Eve said coolly, "then it has no place in this consult."

"Have the nightmares increased? Are you having more flashbacks?"

"No. Damn it. This has nothing to do with my father, with my past, with any of that. It's my business."

"You need to understand something. I care very much about you."

"Dr. Mira-"

"Be quiet." And the command, in that warm, pleasant voice, brooked no argument. "I care, on a very personal level. However much it may discomfort you, Eve, I look on you as a kind of surrogate daughter. It's a pity that causes you embarrassment," she said mildly when that emotion ran over Eve's face. "You don't know my children, but I can promise you that they would tell you I am relentless when concerned about their happiness. While I will try not to interfere, I will know the cause."

Eve was dumbfounded, and she was chased by so many emotions they ran over themselves on their way to clog her throat. She had no mother, no memory of one. And no defense against the offer from the woman who watched her and seemed so determined to stand as one.

"I can't talk about it."

"Of course you can. If it's not your past, it's your present. If it's personal… it's Roarke. Have you had a disagreement?"

The term, so tame, so civilized, caused a reaction Eve never expected. She laughed, laughed until her sides ached and she realized to her utter shock the sound was coming perilously close to sobs. "I don't know what we had. He's not speaking to me, basically."