Page 42 of Perfection

The lights in the bullpen were dimmed, set to come on and off as someone walked through. Which rarely happened. Things were generally pretty quiet during the graveyard shift. Only one or two offices down the hall had a glow spilling out of them. The computer handled calls that came in and forwarded instructions to officers in the field. Most everyone had gone home for the night, except for those with a pressing case.

He wondered how Vi was doing with the angles she was checking out, particularly the black market connections. She had cultivated better sources than he had in that arena. If there was something to find in that direction, she’d dig it up.

A double knock sounded on the doorframe and Avery entered his office. “Saw your light on. How you doing?”

“I’ve got a dead girl, a virus, and a connection to unity sessions. They’re all linked to what killed her. I’m still working on the who and why. Maybe it’s connected to the WHO convention. It’s an angle we’re checking.”

“You look like you’ve seen better days.”

“Definitely.”

“Go home,” Avery suggested.

York thought about the way he’d fallen asleep in the communion room last night. He needed a good night’s sleep to stay on top of his game. “Yeah. I will shortly.”

“Okay. G-night.” A second later, he heard the slap of the captain’s shoes as he walked towards the exit.

York stretched and yawned. A community news excerpt came on the monitor set in the wall of his office, a report on the latest briefing about Isabelle D-Gastion’s death.

“Still no confirmation about what is happening at Regional Director B-Gastion’s home,” the reporter said. “Although we spotted Seville scientist Dr. Kindra B-Zaika leaving the home today with a police escort.” The report showed a brief clip of Kindra and York leaving the Gastions’ mansion.

So the story had officially broken.

York watched the screen segue into the news of the rich and famous. Then, a reporter captured Kindra at a podium accepting her award a few hours earlier. She looked lovely in a long, fancy dress with her hair pulled up in a flashy clip.

“I’m honored to receive the Teresa Award,” she said. “Thank you.” She kept it short and sweet. As soon as she was finished and stepped down, reporters shoved recording devices at her.

York recalled the lighthearted moment over the plant and the chess game with her daughter. A mixture of regret that he wouldn’t be able to get to know her better and anger over Danny’s death and the whole genetics social system clenched in his gut.

“Ridiculous politics,” York muttered.

* * *

He chopped vegetables with meticulously groomed hands while the news droned across the kitchen.

Kindra B-Zaika accepted the Teresa Award and thanked the committee for the honor. The cameraman zoomed in close as they broadcast the awards ceremony. She looked pretty and perfect as she smiled, tilted her head, then waved as a fan called out to her.

In a furious move, he sent the knife zinging end over end through the air. It landed with the tip buried in the head of a cabbage sitting on the counter.

“Bitch,” he growled. “Do not get in my way.”