"Robb, J D - In Death 01 - Naked In Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robb J D)

save. The child whose screams had echoed in the dreams with her own.

All the blood, Eve thought, scrubbing sweat from her face with her hands. Such a
small little girl to have had so much blood in her. And she knew it was vital
that she push it aside.

Standard departmental procedure meant that she would spend the morning in
Testing. Any officer whose discharge of weapon resulted in termination of life
was required to undergo emotional and psychiatric clearance before resuming
duty. Eve considered the tests a mild pain in the ass.

She would beat them, as she'd beaten them before.

When she rose, the overheads went automatically to low setting, lighting her way
into the bath. She winced once at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen from
lack of sleep, her skin nearly as pale as the corpses she'd delegated to the ME.

Rather than dwell on it, she stepped into the shower, yawning.

"Give me one oh one degrees, full force," she said and shifted so that the
shower spray hit her straight in the face.

She let it steam, lathered listlessly while she played through the events of the
night before. She wasn't due in Testing until nine, and would use the next three
hours to settle and let the dream fade away completely.

Small doubts and little regrets were often detected and could mean a second and
more intense round with the machines and the owl-eyed technicians who ran them.

Eve didn't intend to be off the streets longer than twenty-four hours.

After pulling on a robe, she walked into the kitchen and programmed her AutoChef
for coffee, black; toast, light. Through her window she could hear the heavy hum
of air traffic carrying early commuters to offices, late ones home. She'd chosen
the apartment years before because it was in a heavy ground and air pattern, and
she liked the noise and crowds. On another yawn, she glanced out the window,
followed the rattling journey of an aging airbus hauling laborers not fortunate
enough to work in the city or by home-links.

She brought the New York Times up on her monitor and scanned the headlines while
the faux caffeine bolstered her system. The AutoChef had burned her toast again,
but she ate it anyway, with a vague thought of springing for a replacement unit.

She was frowning over an article on a mass recall of droid cocker spaniels when
her tele-link blipped. Eve shifted to communications and watched her commanding
officer flash onto the screen.

"Commander."

"Lieutenant." He gave her a brisk nod, noted the still wet hair and sleepy eyes.