“Men? Stef sees a lot of men. She’s a dynamo.”
“Anyone named Wordsworth?”
“Oh, the poet. She’s been having a romance with him through e-mail. I think they’re scheduled to meet when she gets back from her shuttle run. Day after tomorrow. She’ll be based in London until then. It seems to me she said they’d made a tentative date for next week. Drinks at the Top of New York. But the way Stef juggles men, I can’t be sure.”
“If she gets in touch, or comes back before schedule, ask her to contact me. It’s urgent. Card, Peabody.”
Peabody dug out one of Eve’s cards, passed it over.
“Can I tell her what it’s about?”
“Just tell her to contact me. Right away. Thanks for your time.”
“Oh, but wouldn’t you like some coffee, or—” She trotted hopefully after them as Eve strode out.
“Track her down, Peabody.” Her own communicator beeped. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant.” Trueheart’s earnest face filled the tiny screen. “I think something’s going on. Three medical staff just went into the subject’s room, including Dr. Michaels, and he came on the run.”
“Stand by, Trueheart. I’m on my way.”
Since the floor nurse all but threw herself in front of the ICU doors, Eve gave her sixty seconds to produce Dr. Michaels. He whisked out with a swirl of his long white coat and an annoyed expression.
“Lieutenant, this is a hospital, not a police station.”
“You can consider it both as long as Moniqua Cline is your patient. What’s her status?”
“She’s conscious, very disoriented. Her vital signs show improvement, but are still in the dangerous range. She’s far from out of the woods.”
“I need to question her. Hers isn’t the only life at stake.”
“Hers is the life under my care.”
Because one hard case recognized another, Eve nodded. “Don’t you think she’d rest easier knowing the person who did this to her has been put away? Look, I’m not going to interrogate her. I’m not going to browbeat her. I understand the pathology of the victim.”
“I appreciate the import of your investigation, Lieutenant, but this woman isn’t a tool.”
Eve kept her voice steady. “She’s not just a tool to me. But to the man who put her here, she’s less than that. She’s a game piece. Bryna Bankhead and Grace Lutz didn’t have a chance to tell anyone what happened to them.”
Whatever he saw in her face had him pushing open the door. “Just you,” he said. “And I’m staying with her.”
“That works for me. Peabody, stand by.”
A nurse monitored the machines and spoke in a soothing voice. Though Moniqua didn’t respond, Eve thought she heard something. Her eyes traveled back and forth as if measuring the glass box of the room. They flicked over Eve, passed on, then lingered on Michaels’s face.
“I’m so tired” was all she said, and her voice fluttered, soft as bird wings.
“You need to rest.” He stepped to the bed and covered her hand with his.
In that gesture, Eve’s confidence in him solidified. Moniqua wasn’t just a patient to him. She was a person.
“This is Lieutenant Dallas. She needs to ask you some questions.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“I’m going to stay right here.”
“Ms. Cline.” Eve took the other side of the bed so that Moniqua lay between her and the doctor. “I know you’re confused, and you’re tired, but anything you can tell me will help.”