Dream of Eden (Erin Bradley Book 1)

by Sean Parsons

  “So what do you suggest we do?”

  “Unfortunately, it comes down to how each individual child is raised. That’s proven too big a job for society to master it so far.”

  “It bothers me that animals – including, I assume, humans – are governed by programmed behaviour.”

  “It’s really not so surprising, when you think about it. Take yawning, for example: while we aren’t one hundred percent sure what the function of a yawn is, we know that the yawning sequence can be triggered, simply by seeing someone else yawn. That’s your brain doing something without your approval. It happens all the time.”

  “So I’m here, right now, investigating this crime, because of a chemical sequence in my brain?”

  She smiled. “If I say yes, will you be offended?”

  He shrugged. “Someone’s got to do it. At least my brain picked a useful job for me to do.”

  She laughed.

  “I have just one more question before I leave,” he said. “Where are the reports kept? If I wanted to see one, how would I go about it?”

  “They’re kept on computer disk, and hard copies are kept in filing as well. But both are protected by security measures. You need clearance.”

  “Who has clearance?”

  “All the upper level management; myself, and Dr. Cho, included.”

  “Including Felix Grior?”

  “Yes. Would you like to see any?”

  “No, that’s fine for now. Thank you for your help, Ms. Cour.”

  They both stood up and shook hands.

  “Good luck with your investigation, detective,” she said. “Watch those brain chemicals.”

  Before he had left, she had sat back down and returned to her papers as intensely as before.

  He left Diane Cour’s office with one distinct idea in mind: Felix Grior may well have killed his wife. But then, someone might have accessed the reports, found out Grior was on the edge, and killed her to get at him. And what was Grior on edge about?

  5.

  Erin waited outside Le Canard, enduring the stares of the maitre d’. The man asked him if he could help with anything, for the second time.

  “I’m waiting for someone,” Erin said, checking his watch.

  It was 6:05pm. Ms. Laurent was late. Then he heard footsteps in the corridor, the click of high heels. He looked up and there she was. She was wearing her work clothes, and had her hair tied back. She wore stylish glasses. She smiled briefly when she saw him, but her eyes seemed tense.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had a meeting.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Erin said. “I was just making friends with this gentleman.”

  He gestured at the maitre d’, who glared.

  “I’ll take that table for two, now,” Erin said.

  They were led through the restaurant to their table. The restaurant was spacious, with low, warm lighting. The tables were small and round, with only room for two chairs at each. Erin was a little uncomfortable so close to such a beautiful woman, but he tried not to show it. When they sat down their knees touched briefly and he coughed. She didn’t seem to notice.

  They ordered. He got a steak, and she ordered the duck. They ordered wine. He had no intention of drinking on the job, but he wanted to keep up the pretence of normalcy to the house staff.

  They sat in silence for a moment. Rachel looked dark and smouldering under the warm lights.

  “What is this about, Ms. Laurent?”

  “Please,” she said, “call me Rachel. Thank you for meeting me here. I wasn’t sure if you would have the time, because of the…”

  “Investigation?”

  She nodded.

  He shrugged. “If you have relevant information, it’s my job to pursue it.”

  “I believe I do,” she said. “You see, Susan Grior was in charge of records at the hospital. I’ve been put in charge of records now. That includes the psyche evaluations of the staff members.”

  “You asked me to look into the evaluations.”

  “That’s correct. I believe someone with access leaked those records to external parties. Possibly to the killer.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  Erin thought a minute. Their food hadn’t arrived yet. He took a drink of water.

  “I can probably tell you,” Erin said, “that the director was in a vulnerable state psychologically before this happened. The killer may have known about it, or knew what had caused it, and chose that moment to attack. If they received leaked reports –”

  “There could be more than one,” she said. “More than one person involved. It may be someone high up in the administration.”

  “Diane Cour told me she and Dr. Cho have access to those records, along with other people; but she didn’t tell me who else. Who else has access?”

  “Me, of course, and the director himself. And now the acting director. The security chief, Bob Rickard, as well. He needs them to monitor the staff, in case of any potential threats. That’s all, I think.”

  “The list of suspects just got smaller,” Erin said.

  “You think one of them leaked the report to the killer, to encourage the murder?”

  “Maybe.”

  At that moment the waiter brought the food. It smelled excellent. The upper levels ate well, Erin reflected. Rachel had a glass of wine; but Erin had to beg off. He filled his glass but he didn’t touch it.

  “Who could do such a thing?” Rachel said. She wasn’t touching her food. Her eyes were filling with tears. “She was such a lovely person.”

  Erin could see she was getting upset. He didn’t think there was any sense in getting into the motives now, so he thought he would take her mind off it.

  “Where do you come from?” he said, abruptly.

  “Excuse me?” she said, puzzled.

  “I noticed you have an accent, but I can’t tell where it’s from.”

  “I’m French, from Marseille.”

  “Of course.” Now it made sense. The way she moved her lips, constructed her vowels. That slightly elongated way of saying things, slightly pouted lips.

  “My father was from Algeria,” she said. “He emigrated, and found work in the dock yards. My mother was a waitress in a local restaurant. They fell in love. When she fell pregnant, they got married. I grew up in Marseille, but my parents saved all they could and sent me to Paris to study. That’s where I got my medical degree.” She smiled and seemed suddenly embarrassed. “You don’t want to know all about me, I’m sure. Where are you from?”

  “New York, born and raised.”

  She laughed. “Typical American, so straightforward. Have you always been a detective?”

  “Nearly five years now. Before that I was a uniformed officer. Before that, I was just a kid.”

  “Did you always want to be a police officer?”

  “Not really,” Erin said. He shrugged. “I fell into it. Originally I wanted to play baseball, but it never really panned out.”

  He was embarrassed to be telling her about his average life, but she seemed delighted by his story.

  “How wonderful,” she said, smiling.

  She had a beautiful smile.

  “Do you enjoy your work?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a long way from playing ball, but I don’t mind it. I seem to do well at it. That’s why I got this assignment.”

  “Well,” she said, becoming serious again. “I hope you get to the bottom of this. Susan did not deserve to die like that.”

  They fell silent again and returned to their food. After they finished their mains, Erin persuaded Rachel to order desert. He was hungry, and he wanted to keep talking to her; though he convinced himself it was for the case, and not out of any personal desire.

  The restaurant was quiet around them. The lights were low. Before he knew it, Erin was sipping at his wine. Rachel finished hers and he poured her another glass. He felt a littl
e guilty, sitting across from a beautiful woman, enjoying a good meal, right in the middle of an investigation. He was now surer than ever that the director had been targeted, and possibly knew about it for a while. But who among those who had access would want to do that? The idea that it was related to the drug trade suddenly seemed a little tenuous; but he couldn’t deny the possibility, and he would still need to follow up on his lead on Keel and Sledgehammer. He had to talk to those men, if he could.

  She noticed he was preoccupied. “It must be hard, your job.”

  He shrugged, took another sip of wine. “You do what you have to. Your job must be tough, too. Hospitals can be stressful places, especially this far from solid ground.”

  “It is hard, but I always wanted to help people. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a doctor. I worked for Medicins Sans Frontieres in Africa. I visited me father’s country and did some volunteer work there. Then Susan offered me the job here. I knew I had to come. This situation, up here, is unique. The people have special needs. Sometimes, I don’t think it can work.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s no space.”

  She put her glass down, talked at the tablecloth, then looked up and met his eyes. Her brown eyes were framed with thick lashes.

  “There’s no space for people to breathe here,” she said. “No trees, no sun, no sky. It’s a prison in space.”

  He was surprised to hear her use such damning language.

  “You don’t think it’s helping at all?” he said.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Then why be a part of it?”

  “You have to do something,” she said, giving him a hard look. “You can’t just sit by and do nothing, while people are suffering. Why did you accept the assignment?”

  “I would lose my job if I refused it.”

  “You didn’t want to help?”

  “I always do. That’s why I’m still doing this, after all these years. I always want to catch the guy. But I think this whole operation should be shut down.”

  “It never will be,” Rachel said, staring into her glass.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s been too long. These people don’t even remember Earth. They wouldn’t want to leave. It’s too late for them now.”

  Their desert came. They ate in silence. The food was good, but Erin found himself preoccupied with the task that lay before him. He would have to go into the sublevels, and he would be on his own. He checked his watch. 8:00pm. He had wasted enough time selfishly.

  “Well,” he said to Rachel, “it’s been lovely, but I must be going.”

  He called for the check, and she watched him while he paid.

  “What are you going to do now?” she said.

  “I’m going to go down to the sublevels and chase up a guy named Sledgehammer.”

  She looked horrified. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She leaned forward and grabbed his hand. He was startled.

  “You can’t go down there,” she hissed. “It’s very dangerous on the sublevels. None of the staff can go down there without an armed escort.”

  “I have no choice, Rachel. It’s for the investigation. I have to follow up on a lead.”

  Rachel looked pained. She bit her lip. Finally, she whispered, “Where are you staying on the station?”

  “I have a hotel suite on the upper levels. Why?”

  “Take me there. I have more information for you, and I can’t share it here.”

  He looked at her. She sat there staring right back at him, the concern plain on her face.

  “It could be viewed as inappropriate for a cop on an investigation to take someone like you back to his hotel room,” Erin said.

  “I won’t let you get yourself killed,” she said. “And I don’t care what people think. I can’t tell you what I know here, it’s too unsafe.”

  She was adamant. Erin could admit to himself that he was attracted to her. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to his hotel room. But he was on the job. Reluctantly, he said yes.

  The room was on the 55th floor. The entire level was one big hotel floor, with plush carpeting and uniformed porters. He hadn’t had a chance to check out his room yet. He hadn’t thought he would be staying overnight. That showed just how much he had drastically underestimated the situation on Eden.

  He put the key card the check-in people had given him in the door lock. It clicked and he pushed through into the room. The plush carpeting continued into a standard-looking suite. Rachel was right behind him. He closed the door firmly and was satisfied when he heard it automatically lock. He left Rachel in the kitchenette, and checked out the bedroom. The bed was large and fluffy. His bag was waiting for him on top of it.

  He went back out to the main living area and found Rachel sitting at a round table, off the kitchenette. She waited patiently for him.

  “Care for a drink?” he said, moving to the fridge.

  “Just water, thank you.”

  He poured them both a glass of ice water. He brought Rachel hers, drained his own and refilled his glass. He sat down at the table across from her and gave her a meaningful look.

  “Ok, Ms. Laurent,” he said, “What’s on your mind?”

  “Sledgehammer is the director’s brother.”

  Erin almost dropped his glass. “What?”

  “He is Felix Grior’s brother.”

  She waited for that to sink in.

  Erin frowned. “Why hasn’t anyone told me this before?”

  She shrugged. “They don’t want you to know. The whole situation was an embarrassment for the administration. Felix’s brother – whose real name is John, by the way – was a social worker on the lower levels. He was popular with the communities down there, for many reasons. It emerged that he was involved in the drug trade, as well as an illegal prize fighting ring, and Felix sent the security teams down there to get him. They never found him, and the situation on the sublevels deteriorated so badly they never went back. That was two years ago. When we first heard of Sledgehammer, everyone suspected who it was.”

  Erin shook his head. He got up, went to the fridge for a bottle and poured himself a whiskey. He sat back down and took a drink. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Rachel looked at him, a little surprised. She didn’t say anything.

  “The goddamn administrator’s brother has rebelled and taken over the sublevels of this station, and on Earth we don’t hear a word about it?”

  She shrugged. “They don’t care about Earth. They only care about themselves.”

  “So Sledgehammer is the director’s brother,” Erin said, trying to keep up with events. “He kills his brother’s wife as a message to back off. Is that about it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I know John. I don’t believe he would do that. But maybe I’m wrong.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, anyway,” Erin said. “He would know that killing Susan would just start a shit-storm on this station, one that he won’t come out of alive.”

  “You think someone is trying to frame Sledgehammer?”

  “I think someone is trying to put the finger on anyone else they can. There’s more to this than a drug war. Believe me.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  He drained his glass. “I’ve got no choice. I’m going down to the sublevels. Tonight.”

  “Let me go with you,” she said.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I can help you. I can protect you from Sledgehammer.”

  “This is a police investigation. I can’t let you come. I’d be endangering your life.”

  “I don’t care.”

  She was distraught. Tears had come to her eyes. She wiped them away, briskly.

  “Why do you want to go so bad?” he said.

  She didn’t look at him.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  Slowly, she nodded.
“John and I, we-”

  “Oh,” Erin said, nodding. “I see.” He sat back. “Old Sledgehammer was the boyfriend, eh?”

  “Only for a while. We broke up before – before it all happened. But I don’t want either of you to get hurt, and I just know something terrible is going to happen. The sublevels are not at all like you think. You’ll almost certainly be killed if you go down there alone.”

  “Rachel, I appreciate your concern, but this is police business. I’m going down there tonight. Alone.”

  “Fine,” she said, getting up. “That’s fine. You want to be a big hero, fine. But watch your back, or you’ll find there’s a knife in it.”

  She went over to the door.

  “If you get out alive,” she said, “come and see me.”

  She left, the door hissing closed and locking behind her.

  6.

  Erin sat for a moment after Rachel had left his room. He stared into his empty glass and mulled over everything he had heard. The situation was more complicated now, but fundamentally it was still the same. He had to find Susan’s killer, and bring him to justice.

  He got up and went to the wall phone. He dialled an outside line to the New York office. John’s gruff voice answered.

  “John Kramer speaking.”

  “John, it’s Erin.”

  “Erin? Jesus Christ, I’ve been waiting to hear from you all day. What the hell is going on up there?”

  “The situation is worse than I thought. They have almost no control of the population up here. I have to go down to the sublevels and dig deeper into this.”

  “The sublevels? What the hell are those?”

  “Never mind. It’s liable, John. Insurance.”

  John grunted. “Dangerous, eh? Make sure you bring your gun.”

  “Way ahead of you.”

  “Good luck, and clear it with the director first. I don’t want a government stooge on my ass.”

  John hung up. He didn’t seem to want to deal with this either. Erin dialled Grossman’s office and got his secretary. She put him straight through when she heard who was calling.