Page 98 of Fury In Death

“Huh.”

“You’ll stop in at a memorial today, so black. Respectful, authoritative. No bullshit. Have a seat.”

Eve took the coffee, sat.

“I read your report, of course. Fascinating and horrible. And I spoke with Steven Redman’s doctor of record during his time at the health center. I know Dr. Harman a little, and his reputation. He’s very good.”

Mira sipped some coffee. “Do you want me to go over the diagnosis, the treatments, medical history?”

“No, I read through what I had access to.”

“As you know, Dr. Harman and the medical team believed Redman had come out of his catatonic state, and confused, wandered out.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Given the new information, they agree he left purposefully. Given his condition, it’s not possible to say whether or not he remembered all that happened.”

“But he did.”

“I agree. Obviously, I couldn’t share all the data and evidence with his medicals. But they were able and willing to give me the logs on Redman’s visitor’s list. I only just received them, and will copy you.”

“That’s going to be helpful.”

“His visitors were encouraged to talk to him, read to him, tell him what was going on in their lives, in the world. In seven years, he never responded. He had brain activity, he dreamed, he was able to walk with assistance and guidance, but he never spoke, never showed any sign of awareness.”

Mira paused, sipped again. “This makes him a very determined, very disciplined man.”

“Because at some point he became aware, he could have responded, he could have walked on his own.”

“Yes. Determined, disciplined, focused.”

“He needed time to think, to plan. He had to get through the shock, the grief that held him down. He put it together, and he started to plan. People talked to him, his family would have grieved with him. His work buddy Chu would’ve visited. Chu, negotiator, a let’s-find-a-solution type. He’d be top of my list for saying something that triggered Redman into realizing what really happened, and that they got away with it.”

Frowning, Eve drank coffee. “However, whoever, he figured it out. Then six years, he waits six years to strike back. How long would it take him to get back in shape?”

“Oh, months of physical therapy. Some of it painful and exhausting, at least in the first months.”

“He wouldn’t go there. He did it himself. Determined, disciplined. We have him heading west. Away.”

“Because he needed time, and to avoid the distraction of being near family and friends. And the temptation,” Mira added, “of going to them.”

“Okay, I see that. Go somewhere nobody knows him, get back in shape. But that’s not enough. He’d need to earn a living, enough for food, shelter. Then enough for whatever he needs to cook up what he’s taking.”

“Six years doesn’t seem so long with what he had to do, wanted to do. He’s meticulous, Eve. Even his fury has pinpoint focus. Brilliant, organized, heavy with survivor’s guilt with a grief that doesn’t end.”

That fit, Eve thought, with the man she was coming to know.

“He stayed off the grid for six years. He knows how to hide, more how not to be seen. I think he’s working up the chain, as he sees it, bottom to top. And I don’t know how many more links in that chain.”

“He won’t attack the innocent, those he sees as innocent. The families, a bystander, a colleague or current employee of the company who wasn’t in the mix. But, Eve, he has nothing to live for but this vengeance. He has nothing left to lose.”

“Makes him dangerous. Believe me, I know it.”

“And dangerous to anyone who tries to stop him from finishing what he sees as, not a mission, but as his duty. His duty as a husband and father. He’ll do whatever it takes to fulfill his duty. It’s what keeps him alive.”

“Understood.” Eve rose. “I’ll do what I need to do to fulfill mine. I see him. I feel for him. And I’m going to stop him.”

“I won’t bother to tell you to be careful. I don’t need to tell you to be smart. So I’ll tell you to remember that under this brutality, there’s a deep and abiding love. I don’t think there’s a keener weapon than love when it’s honed in grief and sheathed by guilt.”