Within minutes, she succumbed to sleep.
Unaware, she thrashed and waved an arm, caught in a nightmare. Embryos called to her and reached tiny hands beyond their tethered sacs. With a gasp, her eyes snapped open.
The first thing she felt was Brianna’s hand rubbing her arm. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”
Kindra comprehended several things as she awakened: She had been making some sort of noise; it was morning, so she’d slept here the entire night; and, most importantly, Brianna looked frazzled by her mother’s odd behavior.
Today was day four since Isabelle’s death.
On an exaggerated stretch, she yawned, then scooped up Brianna, snuggling her into her lap. “Nothing’s wrong, ladybug. I just missed seeing you before I went to bed.”
“But you didn’t go to bed. You slept in the chair.”
“I know. I must have been pretty tired, huh?”
“You groaned.”
“Did I? I must have been thinking of one of your dragon stories.”
Brianna smiled and tilted her head in the crook of Kindra’s arm to make eye contact. “Do dragons scare you, Mommy?”
“No, sweetie.” She tickled the little girl’s neck, inciting a giggle. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
She stood and carried Brianna to the kitchen. When was the last time she carried the child around the house? She couldn’t even remember. It had been a long time.
She set her daughter on a barstool, got her a six-ounce bottle of apple juice, and went about selecting a breakfast of pancakes with syrup.
Minutes later, the updated Nanny Sally—the one she’d made certain came with a medical unite—appeared from the pantry area with a hot plate of delicious cakes. She’d only set them on the table when the home computer announced a guest.
“Lieutenant Richmond has arrived.”
The muscles in Kindra’s back tensed at being caught off guard. God, she was a creature of habit. And this was not her. Where was the routine and order to her life?
She had not switched to work mode yet, had not given a thought to York this morning. It was as if instinct was intentionally keeping everything out of her mind except Brianna.
Which suddenly struck her as a little selfish, given the way so many parents only yesterday had been forced to place their children in cryo units.
As she headed to answer the door, her insides began to churn, the tension of the day ahead setting in. Prepared to tell him to go on without her, she was surprised to find him holding two cups of coffee.
He flashed a grin. “Morning.”
Goodness, he looked like a dynamic adventurer ready for whatever came next. Showered, well-rested, eager. Even so, she thought she detected a shadow of the grief he must be holding in check, focusing on the case instead of the death of his partner.
And she was still wearing her outfit from yesterday.
His brow furrowed. “Sorry if I’m too early. We didn’t set a time, but I figured you’d want to get right to it this morning.”
“Um, yes, you’re right. Come in.” She stepped back, allowing him entrance. After closing the door, she accepted the coffee he offered. “Thank you.”
“Mommy, aren’t you going to eat your pancakes?” Brianna called out.
“I’ll be right there.” Kindra welcomed the interruption. The exchange with York seemed far too much like an interested woman noticing and conversing with a man, not simply colleagues working on a project. Although project wasn’t the right description.
“We were just eating breakfast,” she said. “Would you care to join us?”
He smiled. “Certainly.”
* * *
York slid into a chair across the table from Brianna while Kindra ordered another plate of pancakes from the culinary robot behind a counter window. To Brianna, he said, “Those look delicious.”
“Oh, they are.” She licked her lips. “I love syrup.”
He winked. “I do, too.” He eyed the perfect place setting and luxurious kitchen with its high-end everything. He tried to imagine Kindra’s reaction to his home. There was no robotic chef there. He actually enjoyed cooking.
Kindra smoothed her hair as she returned to the table. “Sorry, I’m a bit behind this morning. Go ahead and eat. I’ll be ready shortly.”
“That’s fine.”
As she retreated to the hall, York forced his eyes away from her hips and legs. She wasn’t sexy in the same hot-blooded way many Coder women were, with her sophisticated mannerisms, yet she ignited unwelcomed attraction within him nonetheless. This sleepy-eyed, rumpled-looking Kindra should not make him want to draw her into his arms. He exhaled a tight breath.
Keep it controlled, man.
He turned to his food.
Brianna propped one elbow on the table and set her chin in her palm. “Mommy slept in the chair in my room last night.”
“Does she do that often?”
“No. Never.” She leaned closer to him, her little voice laced with a mixture of bewilderment and concern. “I don’t think she slept well. She made noises. It was so bizarre to wake with Mommy in my room.”
“I imagine it was,” he agreed, suppressing a grin at her mature tone.
With a nod, she returned to eating, as did he.
York suspected Kindra’s unfamiliar behavior hinged on fear. She had to be concerned that Brianna might contract the virus. Any parent would be. He understood that all too well. Unexpectedly, he longed for her to let him in, to share the complex feelings surrounding the death of a child, the distress she felt for the lives of so many, and the apprehension for her own daughter.
His train of thought lingered as he finished the last bite on his plate. A pall washed over him as he remembered Isabelle, and his gut tightened to think the deadly virus could touch the sweet child seated across from him. Her delicate features were such a contrast to the grown-up things she said.
“Are you worried about something, Lieutenant Richmond?”
“Uh, no. And you can call me Mr. York.”
She nodded. “There are two little lines between your brows. That expression has been used as a sign of distress in books I’ve read.”
“I see. What stories have you read?”
She listed off books far beyond the reading level of the average Coder child of almost three. He raised his eyebrows, assuming an exaggerated expression of awe. “I’m impressed.”
She giggled.
A few days ago he would have been totally impressed, but now he knew just how intelligent these kids were. It didn’t diminish how cute and enchanting Kindra’s little girl was. And her adorable baby-blue eyes were winning him over big-time.
She hopped from her chair and took him by the hand. She tugged on him. “Let’s go see how Mommy’s sunflower is doing today.”
She led him to the window where the plant they’d purchased occupied the sill along with another. Two days… Is that all it had been since Kindra had bought the sunflower? It seemed far longer.
“Oh, look! The buds on the other flowers are just beginning to open,” Brianna exclaimed. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered at the top of the plant where the petals curled back the slightest bit.
“Yep. By this afternoon they will be as big, bright, and beautiful as your smiling face.”
Her head snapped up, and she lifted her chin with a quizzical stare. The disbelieving way she seemed to be processing the comment confounded him. Didn’t she ever receive compliments, or tease, or play silly games? Certainly, she must…
“Of course I’m beautiful. My mom made me that way.” Her whispered tone on the word beautiful and quick glance toward the bedroom made him want to scoop her up into his arms for a reassuring hug.
Instead, he knelt to her level, which also seemed to surprise her. “Sweetie, you’re adorable. And not just because your mom made you that way.”
After a long pause, she smiled, then tentatively wrapped her arms about his neck and squeezed. Given how he’d felt about Kindra at the onset of this case
, he was pretty sure he shouldn’t be so taken with her daughter. The case had made their two worlds collide, but that would be over as soon as she found a cure. Meanwhile, he needed to get back to finding the person responsible for all this.
Right now, he couldn’t resist the little girl’s charm. He returned her squeeze. “So, what do you have planned for today?”
“Sally is taking me to a play group, and we’re going to a hologram show.”
Kindra entered the room and picked up a briefcase. “No. I’m sorry, Brianna, but the plan has changed. You may choose something to watch at home. There is a sickness among some other children and we can’t risk you being exposed, okay?”
Her daughter nodded slowly, a puzzled look on her face. “A sickness?”
“I know it sounds strange,” York said. “But your mother knows what’s best.”
Stepping back, he met Kindra’s gaze. He agreed she shouldn’t let the child out among the others. The virus was contagious; the increased number of cases proved that.
* * *
The apartment door clicked shut behind them and they walked to the elevator. He squinted. The light beaming through windows lining the corridor formed a sharp contrast to the mellow apartment he’d just left. It must have been cloudy when he’d entered earlier because he hadn’t paid any attention to the lovely, if bright, atrium in the center of the building.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I guess. This feeling inside me is so…intense. I’m not used to it.”
Their steps echoed out of sync, creating an off rhythm. As they waited for the elevator, York’s gaze fixed on her flawless features. He understood perfectly why she found it hard to leave her child’s side. He’d felt the same when his son had been young. But she seemed to be having a difficult time moving between her intellect and emotions. “That’s parenthood for you.”
“You think other people behave like that?”
“I’m not sure about GEI parents, but Coder ones do.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Instinct. And fear.”
She moistened her lips. “Yes. Part of me is afraid the virus that attacked Isabelle could get to Brianna.” She sighed. “Yet the statistics tell me otherwise. They don’t have the same friends, go to the same school, or have anything in common. Most of the kids we’ve seen so far have had some contact with Isabelle.”
“Most, but not all.”
Her smooth brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Thirty percent of the children have no affiliation with Isabelle. We haven’t determined the connection yet.”
She seemed surprised by the statistics. “Perhaps we will know more when my team finishes examining all the evidence we collected. I’ve been focusing more on the virus itself.”
Yes, her job was to look inward, he supposed, whereas his was to search outward. “That’s what you need to do. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“I hope so.” She glanced at him, uncertainty crinkling her eyes. Just as the elevator opened, his communicator pinged. Both their gazes dipped downward.
He accepted the call and listened. “At least we have something to go on now. I’ll put an investigation group on this ASAP.” He disconnected.
“The lab,” he explained. Kindra’s spine straightened as she looked at him. “They found active traces of the virus on several toys. But the amount that appeared on the Global Dolls seemed odd, more concentrated.”
“So?” she asked. “She left germs on her playthings. It’s not unusual for a virus to remain on a surface.”
“True,” he said. His eyes widened. “What if Isabelle contaminated other toys, not just her own? Then the children wouldn’t have to come in contact with her at all. They would just have to have an interaction with an object Isabelle touched. According to my notes, she was in the same doll shop we were at. Damn. I wanted to go back and talk to the manager yesterday, but lost track of it in the craziness of getting the kids into cryo and finding… Vi.”
Kindra palmed her forehead and slid her hand back over her light hair. The color drained from her face in a wash of concern. “Oh God. And I just bought Brianna that new doll.” She sprinted in the direction of her apartment. He hurried after her. She called out the voice-activated unlock command, and the door opened immediately.
Kindra moved straight to Brianna’s bedroom and paused, staring at the three Global Dolls perched on her daughter’s bed, including the one she’d purchased a few days earlier.
“Wait.” York touched her arm, stopping her before she touched them. He removed the pillowcases from Brianna’s pillows and carefully placed a doll inside each one. “I don’t want to cross-contaminate anything or destroy evidence.” He paused. “We should take the bedspread, too.” With practiced technique, he scrutinized the room. “And anything you think may have come in contact with the dolls.”
Kindra seemed dismayed at his suggestion but immediately began rolling up the linens.
“Perhaps a thorough cleaning wouldn’t hurt, either,” he added.
Brianna came to her bedroom door and goggled at them. “What are you doing with my dolls?”
Kindra paused, offering the child a consoling smile. “I need the dolls to help with a test at the lab.”
York took the linens and dolls from her and set them by the front door. Then he washed his hands at the kitchen sink.
Brianna blinked. “They’re just toys. How can they help you?”
York strained to hear Kindra’s answer as he dried his hands.
“Well, I’m going to test for differences between your dolls and the ones owned by the little girl on the case I’m working on with Lieutenant Richmond.”
“Isabelle D-Gastion?”
Kindra’s brows rose. “How did you know about that?”
The child angled her big blue eyes up at her mother. “Her name was on your workstation.”
“Oh.”
“It’s sad that she died.”
“Yes, it is.”
At the door, York scooped up the linens, tucking them beneath his arm. “I’m going to send a unit over to take samples around her room. Brianna will need to stay out of the room until they’ve done that.”
“Right.” Kindra rushed to get her test kit, which she’d dropped at the door in her race back to Brianna. “I’m going to take another blood sample,” she said, her voice strained as she fumbled in the briefcase. She drew the blood, then faced her daughter, tipping forward at the waist and placing her hands on her knees. Her face inches from Brianna’s, she smiled.
“Now, you need to get to your studies, Brianna. Go on. Off with you.” Her cheery tone sounded a little forced, but the child said nothing and did as her mother suggested.
Kindra instructed the Sally Nanny to keep Brianna out of her room until the police technicians arrived to take their samples, then sent her off to supervise Brianna at her lessons.
She faced York, her lips pulled between her teeth, her worried eyes expectant. “I want answers. Now.”
“I understand.”
This time, when they exited the dwelling, they didn’t stop until they were inside the elevator, which opened for them almost immediately. As the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, Kindra studied her hands.
“My God,” she murmured, “We are totally unprepared for this kind of outbreak. I don’t even have disinfectant in my home. None of the GEIs do. We’re immune to everything. There’s no need.”
“Until now.”
* * *
“You’re beginning to feel like a regular,” Kindra said over her shoulder while she sat at her lab workstation. York still touched and fiddled with everything, but she was too busy to be bothered by it. Either that or she was simply getting used to having him around. When she turned, he was in the process of assembling his own personal workstation out of a chair, desk, and sophisticated computer—one she suspected linked to the police headquarters. “What are you doing?”
“We finally have a lead. We ne
ed to work together to trace the virus on these dolls. Plus, we should force a recall.”
She admired his sharp mind for analyzing the case details. He was a man of action, and by the time they returned to Seville, he had contacted his superior and reported the new direction of the case.
At a flash of data on the screen, he mumbled something she didn’t quite catch. He had the annoying tendency of talking through things out loud. She was uncertain if he expected her to answer, but the more he did it, the more she realized it was a mere habit.
Regardless, he was right. They needed to work together now more than ever. “Okay. That makes sense.”
In a matter of minutes, he was settled in and skimming information, documents, and reports. Now it was her turn to look over his shoulder. She watched as he sent out an alert to warn the public the dolls could be defective and they were under recall. He cross-checked the list of children in cryo and ordered parents to bring in any dolls the children owned. He contacted Global Dolls, Inc. to instruct the company to cease distribution. Then he set up three forensic teams, one to work on Brianna’s dolls and any others that were brought in, one to go to the manufacture, and one to investigate the store at Mall Center.
He explained to Kindra, “We need to go to the factory and talk to the head of production and have the dolls tested there. It’s local, so that shouldn’t be a problem. But I don’t want any shipments to go out until we have answers. An investigative team will arrive shortly. I’ve messaged Shishido and Vi to oversee the Mall location. I want to know if the virus on the dolls came from the manufacturing facility or the store selling the dolls.”
She considered what he was suggesting, then asked, “Are you going over there?”
“Yes. It’s imperative to determine the origin of the contamination. Was it at the plant? Or in the stores? Or somewhere in between? Where did this bugger come from? Who is behind it? Was it accidental, a mishap by nature? Or created?”
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