“Consistency is often an advantage. Burns? Does she have internal burns at the site of the injuries?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Let me look at the scans again, enhanced. If we can get a strong enough picture, I might find them. I wasn’t looking before.”

“Help yourself. It used to be you had to do everything on a comp by hand, right? Fingers on keyboard only. No voice commands, no smart screens.”

“When I was a medical student we keyboarded nearly everything, and had only just begun to use palm scans routinely for diagnostics. Holo wasn’t yet considered reliable or cost-effective for teaching or diagnostics. I remember as a boy we-ah, look here. Do you see this?”

She moved closer to the screen. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Along the leg fracture-the shadows? Dots really. So small, so faint. But there.”

“Burns.”

“I’ll give you five to ten. See, yes, see, there all over her. Every point of impact, every wound, difficult to separate as she’s so badly damaged. This, here, yes, here, on this shoulder wound, they show more clearly.”

“Where he cut her.”

“I agree it could very well be a knife wound. Or, like your previous victim, a sword. I’d want to see it in the flesh, so to speak, take measurements, do an analysis, but from a visual like this, a sharp blade. And the burns-those minute internal singes. Fascinating.”

“She’d have been armed, too. But she wouldn’t have known it.”

“Sorry? How would she not know?”

Eve shrugged, her eyes on the scan. “Just a whacked theory I’m working on.”

The door opened. “Dallas. Oh, hey, Morris. Ah, you’re a little early,” Peabody said to him. “The vic’s coming out of surgery. The doctor’s coming out in a minute to give us the picture.”

“I need to shut down here, then I’m on my way.”

“I’m interested in your theory, whacked or not,” Morris said when the door closed. “When you’re ready to share.”

“I need to run it by another expert. You’ve made it seem a little less whacked.”

“Always happy to help.” He glanced at the screen before Eve shut down. “I hope I don’t have the pleasure of meeting her.”

“The human body stays pretty much the same, right? Technology changes and science advances. This one? She started out tough, so that’s her advantage. Now it’s up to technology and science to pull it out.”

“Not just the body, but the spirit. Technology and science don’t hold a candle to the human spirit. If hers is strong enough, she may stay not dead yet.”

20

The partners paced now, wearing a groove in opposite sides of the room. If she’d gone by visual alone, she’d have concluded both were utterly exhausted, holding on by those thin threads of hope, faith, and desperation.

“You should sit down,” she said. She wanted them seated together, where she could watch and gauge faces, hands, bodies.

“Sit,” she repeated, putting enough authority in it to make it an order. “We’ll hear from the medicals soon enough. Meanwhile, you should know we’re making some headway on the investigation. Little steps,” she said quickly, “and I can’t be specific with you. But I wanted to be able to give you some positive news.”

“I don’t care about the investigation, not now.” Benny sat, eyes trained on the doorway. “I can’t think about that. Just about Cill.”

“We just want to keep focused on her. Like-I know it sounds weak, but like pushing energy to her.” Var shrugged. “It feels like something we can do.”

“I think you’re right.” Peabody offered an understanding smile. “I believe in that kind of thing.”

“Free-Ager,” Eve said with the faintest-and very deliberate-tone of dismissal. She moved slightly to the side as a woman in surgical scrubs entered.

She was on the small side, but with broad shoulders. Her hair was as short as Caesar’s and midnight black. Her almond eyes tracked the faces in the room, settled on Eve.

“You’re the officer in charge?”

“Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Doctor Pruit.”

“Please.” Var reached out a hand, dropped it again. “Is she okay? Is Cill okay?”

At Eve’s nod, the doctor sat across from the two men.

“She came through surgery. You’re family?”

“Yes,” Benny said before Var could speak. “We’re her family.”

“Her injuries are very severe.”

“But you fixed her,” Benny insisted.

“We put together a team of doctors and performed several surgeries. She suffered massive trauma to the head, which required extensive repair.”

Eve listened while Pruit explained the damage, the repair, the prognosis, and watched faces. But she’d already seen it-just that quick flash.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Benny looked at Var. “Do you? What does it mean?”

“Cilla’s in a coma,” Pruit explained. “This isn’t unexpected, and it may give her body a chance to heal.”

“Or she won’t wake up at all,” Var said, bitterly. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“Yes. We’ve done everything we can do for her at this time, but we’ll be monitoring her very closely. She survived surgery, and you can take hope from that. But you must be prepared. She remains critical, and should she come out of the coma, there is a possibility of brain damage.”

“God. Oh God.”

“Don’t think about that.” Var closed a hand over Benny’s. “Not yet.”

“You may want to speak to the other surgeons who worked on her. I can give you the basics. Her internal injuries were also severe. One of her kidneys was damaged too critically to save. We replaced her spleen, and can, should she wake and elect it, replace the lost kidney. She will need further surgery on her leg. We were unable to complete repairs without endangering her life.”

Var took a ragged breath. “Are you telling us there’s no hope?”

“There’s always hope. Once she’s settled in ICU, you’ll be able to see her. Very briefly. You can rest assured that we’ll continue to do everything we can for her. She’ll get the very best of care.” Pruit rose. “If you have any more questions, someone will page me. Or you can speak to her other surgeons. Someone will come get you when she’s ready.”

Eve followed Pruit out. “Give me her chances. Straight.”

“Fifty-fifty is generous, but I’d have given her much less when she came into the OR. She has a strong constitution. She’s young, healthy. You had an officer in my OR.”

“That’s right, and I’ll have an officer in her room twenty-four /seven. Not just on the door. In the room. You’re doing all you can to see that she survives. So am I.”

“You’re concerned with security, and another attempt on her life?”

“Not as long as I have an officer in the room.”

“Fair enough. If she makes it through the next twenty-four hours, I’ll consider that fifty-fifty more solid. For now, we’ll go minute by minute.”

“I need to be notified immediately of any change in her condition, one way or the other.”

“I’ll see that ICU has those instructions.”

“I’d like a look at her before you let those two in.”

“All right, go on up. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Eve made her way up, noting the ways in and out, the basic security measures, the movements of staff, ID. Decent, she concluded, but there were always ways around security.

She badged the nurse at the desk, pleased when the man didn’t merely glance at it, but gave it a good hard look before passing her through.

As in U-Play, the walls were glass. No privacy for patients, she thought. Cill wouldn’t like it, Eve concluded, but for herself, she liked it just fine. Each room, each patient was monitored by cam and machine. She doubted any of the staff paid much attention to the room screens, but expected they’d hop if any of the monitors signaled a change in patient condition.

Still, she was pleased to see the uniformed officer sitting with his chair angled to the door. He rose when she walked in.