Page 22 of Perfection

York considered the implications. “Can you develop a cure?”

She nodded slowly. “I think so. With luck and time.”

“Good.” He raised his coffee and drank. “The notion of a virus is sad, but at least it wasn’t murder. I mean, murder is horrible, but if it’s a widespread virus, it has the potential to be a lot worse.” And so far there had not been any demands or anyone claiming to be responsible for the girl’s death. Could it have simply been a freak accident?

Kindra thrummed her fingers on her cup. “It would help considerably if we could find the source.”

“The source?”

She stretched. “The virus had to come from somewhere. We need to find it so we can get more information.”

“Like what?”

“Is it spread person-to-person, airborne, transmitted by a contaminated object, food or contaminated water, animal to person, insect bites, and environmental reservoirs such as soil, water, and vegetation. We need to look at everything out of the ordinary.”

“What about the difficulty with a spiritual connection that Isabelle’s mother reported? You said it could be a clue.”

“It could be an early symptom because it’s rare for GEI children not to engage in this high level of interaction.” She gathered her hair at her nape, twisted it into a bun, then let it fall again.

“At least that’s something.”

He stood and tossed his cup into the trash, where it vanished in a tiny puff of white smoke, incinerated. “I’m glad you have more to go on now. But since the culprit is a virus, it seems my involvement in the case is over.”

She pushed a leftover piece of chicken around on her plate with her fork, as if she didn’t hear him.

“What is it?”

“You don’t understand. My daughter was behaving oddly this morning, too. She wasn’t interested in her communion at all. It isn’t like her.”

He retook his seat. He felt for her. He knew what it was like to fear for a child. Six years ago, his life had become a nightmare. He’d only wanted to improve his son’s situation. Instead, the genetic alterations had gone haywire.

Tension squeezed his chest. He was a sucker whenever it came to children. He leaned forward. “Is your daughter D Generation?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, waited for a beat, then opened them to stare across the room.

Immediately, he grasped the threat to her child. Had he misjudged her? Had she been hiding concern and worry for her child all along? Had her aloof attitude been born of desperation? That kind of terror could drive a person to the breaking point. He knew. He’d lived it.

“The problem could be unique to Isabelle, right?” He hesitated, not sure if he should confide in her, but wanting to ease her apprehension with regard to her daughter.

“Yes. I guess it’spossiblethat her immune system failed.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“That would mean I didn’t do my job well. And that an innocent child suffered because of it.”

He considered that. Grudgingly, he admitted she didn’t seem to be the kind of person who wouldn’t do everything to the best of her ability. “What if someone did this to get back at her father?”

Horror swept across her face. “Who would be so cruel? I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“Then that would mean it wasn’t an accident,” she said slowly, processing the information out loud.

“Correct.” And with that, he was right back on the case—a case with a dead Isabelle D-Gastion, a mysterious virus, and no suspects. “What sick bastard holds a grudge against the regional director of the World Health Organization, enough of one to kill an innocent child to get to him?”

Fredrick B-Gastion was a powerful man who wielded serious influence and determined the wide-ranging policy that affected billions of lives. He shook his head. It sickened him that someone would sacrifice the daughter to make the father suffer. But such things had been done throughout history, he supposed.

“Perhaps a Coder was targeting the D Generation in order to force the regional director to consider the Coder agenda.”