“Is that all she is to you?” His voice was a blade, edgy and slicing. “Witness, minor. A droid has more feeling. She's a child, one who isn't through her first decade and who has endured unspeakable horror and suffered unspeakable loss. And you have to be manipulated into spending a few spare moments with her over the morning meal.”

“I know just what she's endured and suffered.” She matched him tone for tone, even as her fingers dug hard into the newel post. “I'm the one who walked through the blood they left behind. So don't you get in my face on this. You son of a bitch.” She started up the stairs, stopped, looked down at him. “She's not yours. You better remember that.”

Peabodystayed where she was a moment, breathing in air that was no longer brisk and damp but thick and seething. “You were off.” She said it quietly, drawing Summerset's gaze to her. “I make it a policy to stay out between the two of you. But you were off. Her mind's on that kid, one way or the other, every minute, every day.”

She crossed to the steps, followed Eve up.

Long, angry strides had carried Eve to her office and taken her on one turn around it whenPeabody came in.

“Dallas-”

“Don't talk to me.”

“He was wrong. I'm going to say it.”

“Just don't talk to me for a minute.”

She had to burn it off-the rage, the insult, and the damning suspicion creeping under it that he was right.

She'd taken that step back, the step away necessary to maintain professional objectivity. She wouldn't apologize for it. But she'd taken another step back, a personal one. The one she needed to keep herself from projecting, from seeing too much of herself in the girl she needed to protect. Lost, alone, terrified, damaged.

It was different, different, different, Eve repeated to herself as she paced. As she yanked off her jacket, heaved it toward a chair. But the results, weren't they horribly the same?

They'd toss her into the system, as she'd been tossed. Maybe she'd get lucky. Maybe she wouldn't. And maybe she'd spend the rest of her life reliving what Summerset had called the unspeakable in nightmares.

She stepped to the window and, looking out, didn't see the leaves dancing in that rising wind, or the burnished fall color that was already fading toward November dull. She saw the face of the cop who'd stood over her hospital bed when she'd been eight.

Who hurt you? What's your name? Where's your mom and dad?

Give me the facts, she thought now. Give me some data so I can help you. I'm not going to feel too much, standing here over this broken kid, because I've got to do the job.

She closed her eyes a moment and pulled it back in. So did she have to do the job.

“Start running Kirkendall for known associates, for other family members,” she said without turning. “Do the same on Isenberry. You get any who cross, we push it.”

“Yes, sir. Want coffee?”

“Yeah I want coffee, as I'm still among the living. Thanks.”

She turned just as Roarke came into the room. Something must have shown on her face still, as he stopped, frowned. “What's wrong?”

“A pile of dead bodies at the morgue. Same old same old.”

“Eve.”

“Leave it, would you?”

He started to speak again, she could see the struggle. Then he gave a quick nod. “All right. Where do I sign up for my assignment?”

“Gotcha covered right here. Suspect, Kirkendall, Roger, former army, rank of sergeant. Swisher repped the spouse in a custody suit, won. Presiding judge was hit a couple years back. Vehicular explosion device. GPS rep was strangled in her bed. Expert medical wit stabbed, and it looks like the asshole they pinched for it might have just been wrong place, wrong time.”

“Looks like you've got your man.”

“He's not in a cage yet. He co-owns a dojo inQueens. Flash place with Master Lu, his partner.”

“Lu the Dragon?”

“Yeah.” She was able to smile now, though it didn't quite move up into her eyes. “Who says we've got nothing in common? You catch him wiping the floor with the Korean to take his third Olympic gold?”

“I did, yes. Front row.”

“Okay, not so much in common, as I caught it on a screen in a bar in Hell's Kitchen. Anyway, Lu comes up clean. He deals with Kirkendall through the magic of E. Sends required paperwork and profits electronically. Says he hasn't seen his partner in six years. I believe him.”

“And you'd like me to trace the transmissions and deposits.”

“Check. Lu's equipment's in your comp lab. Pickup officer confirmed its delivery.”

“I'll get started.” But he crossed to her first, stroked his fingers down her cheek. “I don't like to see you sad.”

“I'll have a big, toothy smile on my face when I close this case.”

He kissed her lightly. “I'll hold you to that, Lieutenant.”

Discreetly, Peabody waited until he'd left before coming out with the coffee. “You want me to set up on your secondary unit?”

“Yeah.” Eve took the coffee. “I'm going to take a poke at Yancy's theory. If Kirkendall's had major face sculpting, wouldn't he trust- first-a military surgeon? Guy spends nearly twenty in, it doesn't seem like he'd go to a civilian.”

“That kind of change has to be recorded,”Peabody pointed out. “You can't radically change your appearance without filing fresh ID. If Yancy's right, and he did, we wouldn't be looking for a surgeon on the up.”

“Covert ops, guys have work done. Temp and permanent. We'll see if he had any before, and who he trusted to do the job.”

She sat at her desk, called up Kirkendall's military data. And Mira walked in.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Teeth set in frustration, Eve sat back, lifted her hands. “What?”

“I need to speak with you regarding Nixie.”

“Look, you're in charge of her counseling. You want to do a session, pick your spot. As long as it's not in here.”

“We've had a session. She's having a difficult day.”

“She should get in line.” Eve.

“I'm doing what I need to do.” Her earlier rage began to bubble back. “And I can't do it if somebody's forever in my face telling me I've got to go pat the kid on the head and give her a there, there. I can't-”

“Lieutenant.”

Safely across the room, Peabody hunched her shoulders. It was the same tone her own mother used to stop any one of her children in their tracks.

“Fine. What? I'm listening. I'm all fricking ears.”

And that, Peabody thought as she slid down another inch in her chair, was the tone that would have resulted in immediate annihilation should she, or a sibling, have dared to use it.

“I hope you find it cathartic to take your frustration out on me.”

If she'd been sure no one would notice, Peabody would have chosen that point to slink out of the room.

“However,” Mira continued in a voice cool enough to scatter frost on the windows, “we're discussing a child in our charge, not your poor manners.”

“Well, Jesus, I'm just-”

“Regarding that child,” Mira interrupted. “She needs to see her family.”

“Her family's in the damn morgue.”

“I'm aware of that, and so is she. She needs to see them, to begin to say good-bye. You and I are both aware of the importance of this step with survivors. The stages of her grief require this.”

“I told her I'd fix it so she'd see them. But for Christ's sake, not like this. You want to take a kid to the morgue so that she can see her family pulled out of containment drawers?”

“Yes.”

“With their throats cut.”

Impatience rippled over Mira's face. “I've spoken with ME Morris. There are ways, which you very well know, to treat wounds and injuries on the dead, to spare their loved ones. He's agreed to do so. It's not possible for her to attend any sort of service or memorial for her family until this case is closed and her safety is insured. She needs to see them.”

“I've got her here in lockdown for a reason.” Eve dragged her hands through her hair when Mira only stood, gaze cool and level. “Okay, fine. I can get you secure transpo there and back. I'll need to coordinate it with Morris. We get her in the delivery door-no record, no ID scans. He clears the area so you can take her straight into a view room. Out the same way. It'll have to be quick. Ten minutes.”