Then was struck when Bella looked over, smiled, and held out a hand to the squealer. An invitation to play.
A lot going on in that head, Eve realized, and everywhere else, too. A gift deeply wished for—let me take a minute here, sister. The thanks to the people who’d granted the wish, done with charm and sweetness. Another moment to celebrate, to have it for herself. Then a willingness to share it, to have someone enjoy it with her.
Nature, nurture, what the hell. The nature part was a lot of risk, a gamble, often the luck of the draw. Nurture could be kind or cruel, smart or insane—and still.
But here was a kid, with just one year under her belt. Sweet, innocent—but not stupid. Iron willed but compassionate. Already with her own sense of . . . style, Eve supposed. Her own little agenda.
How did all that get in there?
“You guys hit that one out of the park.” Peabody, sipping some frothy pink concoction, stepped up beside Eve to watch Bella and some of her friends with the dollhouse. “It’s abso-mag, and when the place clears out some, I’m getting a turn with it.”
She took another sip. “It’s a good day.”
“It’s holding its own,” Eve began. And her communicator sounded. “Shit. Shit.”
&nb
sp; She switched to text—too many people—and read the message. “Shit again. I’ve got to go.”
“We catch one? We’re not on the roll.”
“No, it’s Willow Mackie. Some issues.”
“Let me tell McNab.”
“No, you stay. It’s just cleanup. If it turns into more, I’ll tag you. Crap. Tell Mavis I’m sorry.” She glanced around, saw Roarke had already fetched their coats. “Tell her—tell her I’ll tag her later.”
She grabbed her coat from Roarke, got out before any questions could delay her.
“What have you got?”
“A uniform in the hospital, a CS rep in hysterics, and people who’d better have a damn good explanation. We’re going in hot,” she added. “Because I am pissed.”
EPILOGUE
As the communication had come from Officer Shelby, Eve ordered her to go to the garage and wait. When they pulled in, Shelby stood beside Eve’s designated slot as if guarding it from invaders.
“Lieutenant, I apologize for contacting you on your free day.”
“Forget it. Status.”
“The prisoner is contained. She had some minor injuries, has been treated.”
“I want her transferred to Rikers today, put in maximum security.” And for now, Eve intended to go to the confinement area of Central herself. “The injured officer?”
“He should have arrived at the hospital by now, sir. The MTs indicated while his injuries were serious, they weren’t life threatening.”
“The ones I give him may be. How the hell did she get her hands on a weapon? And what the hell are you doing here, Shelby? You’re not in uniform.”
“No, sir, I’m not on the roll. I came in to meet Mary Kate—that is Franco, the nurse practitioner. She had morning duty at the infirmary. We’re friends, sir, and we were going to see a vid later. I was going down when I heard the altercation.”
In the elevator, Eve ordered containment level, swiped her code to allow it.
“Spell it out.”
“Sir. Upon hearing the sounds of an altercation, I withdrew my service weapon from my bag and entered the infirmary. Officer Minx was down, bleeding from wounds on the face and the body. The adult female identified subsequently as Jessica Gromer, the CS rep assigned to the prisoner, was also on the floor, screaming. NP Franco was attempting to defend herself as the prisoner advanced on her with a scalpel. She—Franco—had grabbed a pressure syringe and, ah, a bedpan, sir. I called out to the prisoner to drop her weapon, at which time she attempted to grab Franco, I assume as cover or for a hostage, but Franco held her off. The prisoner then attempted to charge me, at which time I deployed my weapon, stunning her.”
Shelby cleared her throat. “I secured the prisoner while Franco immediately moved to Officer Minx to assess and treat his injuries. I did demand, in harsh terms, for CS rep Gromer to stop screaming. Gromer made it very clear once we had the situation under control she would report me for same.”