"Also correct."
"It doesn't make sense," Louise interrupted. "First someone with Icove's resources, skills, and interests testing potential LCs? For what purpose? And it doesn't take years to train and certify. His fees would be nominal compared to his real work."
"Boy needs a hobby," Peabody added, and considered another bagel.
Charles played his fingers over the tips of Louise's hair. "She's not thinking traditional LCs, sweetie. Are you, Dallas? Not selling services, but the whole package."
"Selling ..." Louise went pale. "Dallas, my God."
"It's a theory. I'm working on a couple of them. You'd agree, as a doctor, that the security on these discs is more than usual."
"Yes, but-"
"That the notes themselves are sketchy, and also unusual."
"I agree I'd have to see more to have an opinion to their purpose."
"Where are the images?" Eve asked. "If you, as a doctor, were documenting information such as this on a patient over the course of years, wouldn't you have images of that patient. At certain points? Certainly before and after procedures?"
Louise said nothing for a moment, then let out a long breath. "Yes. I'd also clearly document the steps of any procedure, who assisted, the duration of the procedure. I would've listed the names of the patient as well as the names of any medical or lay staff who assisted in tests. There would, most likely, be personal observations and comments added. But these aren't thorough notes, certainly not medical charts."
"Okay. Thanks." Eve held out her hand for the hard copies.
"You think he may have been involved in some sort of... human auction? That's why he was killed."
"It's a theory." Eve got to her feet. "A lot of doctors have God complexes."
"Some," Louise said, coolly now.
"Even God didn't create the perfect woman. Maybe Icove figured he could one-up God. Thanks for the coffee," Eve added, and let herself out.
"I think you pretty much ruined her day," Peabody commented as they walked to the elevator.
"Might as well go for a streak and ruin Dr. Will's day next."
A domestic droid opened the door of the Icoves' home. She'd been created to replicate a woman in her comfortable forties, with a pleasant face, a trim build.
She showed them directly into the main living area, offered them a seat, refreshment, then stepped out. Moments later, Icove came in.
There were shadows under his eyes and a weary pallor to his cheeks.
"You have news?" he asked immediately.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Icove, we don't have anything to tell you at this time. We do have some follow-up questions."
"Oh." He rubbed the center of his forehead in a firm up-and-down motion. "Of course."
As he crossed over to take a seat, Eve saw the young boy peek around the doorway. His hair was so blond it was nearly white and spiked up-as the current fashion demanded-from a youthful and pretty face. He had his mother's eyes, she noted. So blue they were nearly purple.
"I think we might want to discuss this in private," Eve told Icove.
"Yes. My wife and children are still at breakfast."
"Not all of them." Eve inclined her head, and Icove turned in time to catch a glimpse of his son before the boy scooted back out of sight.
"Ben!"
The sharp command had the boy sliding into view again, chin on chest. But those eyes, Eve saw, where bright and avid despite the shamed posture.