Page 4 of Perfection

Chapter Two

York parked alongside B-Gastion’s Air-Porsche on the second floor of the landing garage, as he had for past visits. He admired the Porsche as he and Vi strolled between the vehicles. B-Gastion had chosen a fancy family flyer while York had gone for sleek power.

“You’re going to get in trouble parking here,” Vi complained.

“Maybe. But I don’t think the captain’s speech about not ruffling the locals’ feathers referred to active investigations.”

They didn’t speak as they navigated the stairs to a private access. A wall of shrubbery kept them hidden until they were almost to the front door. A crowd had gathered halfway up the walkway framed by low, manicured hedges as vehicles filled the street. “Damn. Every reporter in town must have intercepted the police stream.”

“Better here than at your mom’s arrest. Benefited her situation, don’t you think?”

“Nah, too much time lapsed. Just a lucky break.” But this morninghadbeen too easy. Coincidence? The media types trolled for headlines, and they had the money to support their efforts. Of course, GEIs were far too interested in what was happening in their own circles to invest much effort in the imperfect world of Coders. But…

Screw it. He had other worries right now.

His spot computer thrummed against his hand. He checked it while he walked. The data readout darkened, adjusting to the sunlight that pierced the clouds in the east. InSIGHT had updated the status of Isabelle’s investigation with photos and preliminary stats of body temperature and decomposition. York looked at the images of little Isabelle lying on the floor of a child’s bedroom, a doll clutched to her chest. A knot lodged in his throat. He shivered, and his stomach clenched. He wouldn’t wish this tragedy on the genetic misfits hiding out in the tunnels, let alone on a valued friend.

As regional director he’d built strong partnerships with other nations committed to accelerate progress toward global development goals of health surveillance and reducing health inequalities. In the eighty years or so since the GEIs had stepped into most of the power jobs in society, the position was always held by a GEI, and his policy usually favored the wealthy. Even so, when York’s boy was ill, B-Gastion was the only GEI to attempt to help him.

He inhaled a breath, held it, then moved on with the exhale. He could feel Vi watching him, probably wondering how he was holding up.Solid,he wanted to tell her but didn’t.

Beneath the stately columned portico, Fredrick B-Gastion greeted them with the formality one would expect from a dignitary. His spine held him erect, but the forward dip of his shoulders and grief in his eyes gave him away. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Lieutenant.”

“Of course.” York clasped his friend’s extended hand. “I’m not sure you’ve met my partner, Detective Vivian Lester.”

“I have, but I can’t remember where at the moment.”

Vi angled her head. “I wish this meeting were under different circumstances, sir.”

Didn’t they all?

No matter the appearances, B-Gastion was broken and hurting. The evidence rang clear in the regional director’s half-hearted handshake and emotion-reddened eyes.

“Let’s go inside.” York urged him toward the half-open door.

Vi trailed them. Their feet rapped an uneven rhythm on the glossy marble tiles as they moved deeper into the house. He and B-Gastion stopped when they reached the living area and stared at each other, professional to professional, man to man, father to father.

“Who made the discovery?” York asked. The look of anguish on B-Gastion’s face said he may have reached his threshold for holding it together. York placed an arm around his friend’s shoulder and directed him toward the sofa.

“Her mother.” B-Gastion’s voice broke on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “How…how could this happen? It’s not supposed to happen.”

York smothered a curse. “We’ll damn well find out. I’m so sorry.”

“This is… It’s such a shock.” Fredrick pressed his lips together, then turned his head to the side, looking away.

“The sooner we start the investigation, the quicker we’ll have answers,” Vi said gently. “Where’s Isabelle’s room?”

Fredrick glanced up the staircase, and his face began to crumple, mouth quivering.

York stood tall, wishing he could give his friend strength. “We can find our way. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Drawing a breath, B-Gastion appeared to suck back his emotion as best he could. “No. No, I should go with you.”

“It’s all right. The ME and the forensic team will arrive soon. You can usher them in.” York sought words of comfort but knew it was impossible. Condolences wouldn’t grant B-Gastion what he wanted most. So York slipped a recorder ring from his finger and held it out, a stall technique to give the other man time to compose himself. “Dictate every detail you can think of. The daily routine. If anyone new has been in the house. Anything and everything.”

B-Gastion took the ring and eased it over his thumb with shaky fingers.

A few minutes later, York and Vi stood in the center of the dead two-year-old’s room. Inconceivable. Sprawled on the floor, she looked so alone dressed in her pale pink pajama’s decorated with white and black kittens. He tightened his hold on his crime scene kit and struggled for perspective. If he could shut out the sound of weeping that came from the room next door—surely, B-Gastion’s wife—it would make his task a hell of a lot easier.