Immortal in Death (24 page)

She didn’t have to close her eyes to see it: the filthy room, the blink of the red light through the dirty windows.

“Cold,” she murmured. “He’d broken the temperature control, and it was cold. I could see my breath.” She shivered in reaction. “But I was hungry, too. I got something to eat. He never kept much around. I was hungry all the time. I was cutting the mold off some cheese when he came in.”

The door opening, the fear, the clatter of the knife. She wanted to get up, pace off the nerves, but wasn’t sure her legs were ready to support her.

“I could see right away that he wasn’t drunk enough. I could see. I remember what he looked like now. He had dark brown hair and a face gone soft from drinking. He might have been handsome once, but that was gone. Broken capillaries in his face, in his eyes. He had big hands. Maybe it was just because I was small, but they seemed awfully big.”

Roarke lifted his hands to her shoulders, began to massage the tension. “They can’t hurt you now. Can’t touch you now.”

“No.” Except in the dreams, she thought. There was pain in dreams. “He got mad because I’d been eating. I wasn’t supposed to take anything without asking.”

“Christ.” He tucked the blanket more securely around her because she was still shivering. And found he wanted to feed her, anything, everything, so she would never think about hunger again.

“He started hitting me, and hitting me.” She heard her voice hitch, made the effort to level it. It’s just a report now, she told herself. Nothing more. “Knocked me down and hit me. My face, my body. I was crying and screaming, begging him to stop. He tore my clothes and rammed his fingers in me. It hurt, horribly, because he’d raped me the night before and I was still hurting from that. Then he was raping me again. Panting in my face, telling me to be a good girl and raping me. It felt like everything inside me was tearing. The pain was so bad I couldn’t take it anymore. I clawed at him. I must have drawn blood. That’s when he broke my arm.”

Roarke stood abruptly, paced away, jabbed the mechanism to open the windows. He needed air.

“I don’t know if I blacked out, maybe for a minute, I think. But I couldn’t get past the pain. Sometimes you can.”

“Yes,” he said dully. “I know.”

“But it was so enormous. Black, greasy waves of pain. And he wouldn’t stop. The knife was in my hand. It was just there, in my hand. I stabbed him with it.” She let out a shuddering breath as Roarke turned to her. “I stabbed him, and kept stabbing him. Blood was everywhere. The raw, sweet smell of it. I crawled out from under him. He might have been dead already, but I kept stabbing him. Roarke, I can see myself, kneeling, the hilt in my hand, blood past my wrists, splattered on my face. And the pain, the rage pounding at me. I just couldn’t stop.”

Who would have? he wondered. Who could have?

“Then I pulled myself into the corner to get away from him, because when he got up, he’d kill me. I passed out or just zoned, because I don’t remember anything else until it was daylight. And I hurt — I hurt so bad, everywhere. I got sick. Really sick, and when I was finished, I saw. I saw.”

He reached down for her hand, and it was like ice, thin, brittle ice. “That’s enough, Eve.”

“No, let me finish. I have to finish.” She pushed the words out as though she were shoving rocks off her heart. “I saw. I knew I’d killed him, and they’d come for me, put me in a cage. A dark cage. That’s what he’d always told me they did if you weren’t good. I went in the bathroom and washed off all the blood. My arm — my arm was screaming, but I didn’t want to go in a cage. I put on some clothes and I put everything else that was mine in a bag. I kept imagining he was going to get up and come for me, but he stayed dead. I left him there. I started walking. It was early, early in the morning. Hardly anyone was out. I threw away the bag, or I lost it. I can’t remember. I walked a long way, then I went into an alley and hid until night.”

She rubbed a hand over her mouth. She could remember that, too, the dark, the stench, the fear overriding even pain. “Then I walked more, and kept walking until I couldn’t walk anymore. I found another alley. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but that’s where they found me. By then, I didn’t remember anything — what had happened, where I was. Who I was. I still don’t remember my name. He never called me by my name.”

“Your name’s Eve Dallas.” He cupped her face in his hands. “And that part of your life is over. You survived it, you overcame it. Now you’ve remembered it, and it’s done.”

“Roarke.” Looking at him, she knew she had never loved anyone more. Never would. “It’s not. I have to face what I’ve done. The reality of it, and the consequences. I can’t marry you now. Tomorrow I have to turn in my badge.”

“What insanity is this?”

“I killed my father, do you understand? There has to be an investigation. Even if I’m cleared, it doesn’t negate the fact that my application for the academy, my records, are fraudulent. As long as the investigation is ongoing, I can’t be a cop, and I can’t marry you.” Steadier, she rose. “I have to pack.”

“Try it.”

His voice was low, dangerous, and it stopped her. “Roarke, I have to follow procedure.”

“No, you have to be human.” He strode to the door and slammed it shut. “Do you think you’re walking out on me, on your life, because you defended yourself against a monster?”

“I killed my father.”

“You killed a fucking monster. You were a child. Are you going to stand there, look me in the face, and tell me that child was to blame?”

She opened her mouth, closed it. “It’s not a matter of how I see it, Roarke. The law — “

“The law should have protected you!” With visions dancing evilly in his head, he snapped. He could all but hear the tight wire of control break. “Goddamn the law. What good did it do either one of us when we needed it most? You want to chuck your badge because the law’s too fucking weak to care for its innocents, for its children, be my guest. Throw your career away. But you’re not getting rid of me.”

He started to grab her by the shoulders, then dropped his hands. “I can’t touch you.” Shaken by the violence that spewed up in him, he stepped back. “I’m afraid to put my hands on you. I couldn’t stand it if being with me reminded you of what he did.”

“No.” Appalled, it was she who reached out. “No. It doesn’t. It couldn’t. There’s nothing but you and me when you touch me. It’s just that I have to handle this.”

“Alone?” It was, he realized, the most bitter of words. “The way you had to handle the nightmares alone? I can’t go back and kill him for you, Eve. I’d give everything I have and more if I could do that one thing. But I can’t. I won’t let you deal with this without me. That’s not an option for either of us. Sit down.”

“Roarke.”

“Please, sit down.” He took one cleansing breath. She wouldn’t listen to anger, he decided. Nor, from him, to reason. “Do you trust Dr. Mira?”

“Yes, I mean — “

“As far as you trust anyone,” he finished. “That’ll do.” He walked over to her desk.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to call her.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know what time it is.” He engaged the ‘link. “I’m willing to abide by her advice on this. I’m asking you to do the same.”

She started to argue but found no solid ground. Weary, she dropped her head into her hands. “All right.”

She stayed there, barely listening to Roarke’s quiet voice, the murmured responses. When he came back to her, he reached out a hand. She stared at it.

“She’s on her way. Will you come downstairs?”

“I’m not doing this to hurt you or make you angry.”

“You’ve accomplished both, but that’s not the main issue here.” He took her hand and drew her to her feet. “I won’t let you go, Eve. If you didn’t love me or want me or need me, I would have to. But you do love me and want me. And though you still have difficulty with the concept, you need me.”

/ won’t use you, she thought, but she said nothing as they went downstairs.

It didn’t take Mira long. In her usual manner, she arrived promptly and perfectly groomed. She greeted Roarke serenely, took one look at Eve, and sat.

“I’d love a brandy, if you wouldn’t mind. I believe the lieutenant should join me.” As Roarke saw to the drinks, she looked around the room. “What a perfectly lovely home. It feels happy.” She smiled, cocked her head. “Why, Eve, you’ve changed your hair. It’s very flattering.”

Baffled, Roarke stopped, stared. “What have you done to it?”

Eve lifted a shoulder. “Nothing, really, just…”

“Men.” Mira took her brandy, swirled. “Why do we bother? When my husband fails to notice a change, he always says it’s because he adores me for me, not for my hair. I usually let him get away with it. Now then.” She sat back. “Can you tell me?”

“Yes.” Eve repeated everything she’d told Roarke. But it was the cop’s voice now, cool, composed, detached.

“It’s been a difficult night for you.” Mira skimmed her gaze over Roarke. “For both of you. It might be hard to believe that it will begin to be better now. Can you accept that your mind was ready to deal with this?”

“I suppose. The memories started coming more clearly, more often after that — ” She closed her eyes. “A few months ago I answered a domestic disturbance call. I was too late. The father was on Zeus. He’d hacked the little girl to death before I got in. I terminated him.”

“Yes, I remember. The child, she might have been you. Instead, you survived.”

“My father didn’t.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Glad. And uneasy, knowing I have that much hate in me.”

“He beat you. He raped you. He was your father and you should have been safe with him. You weren’t. How do you believe you should feel about that?”

“It was years ago.”

“It was yesterday,” Mira corrected. “It was an hour ago.”

“Yes.” Eve looked down at her brandy and squeezed the tears back.

“Was it wrong to defend yourself?”

“No. Not to defend. But I killed him. Even when he was dead, I kept killing him. This — blinding hate, uncontrollable rage. I was like an animal.”

“He had treated you like an animal. Made you an animal. Yes,” she said at Eve’s shudder. “More than stealing your childhood, your innocence, he stripped you of your humanity. There are technical terms for a personality capable of doing what he did to you, but in simple English,” she said in her cool tones, “he was a monster.”

Mira watched Eve’s eyes dart to Roarke, linger, drop away.

“He took your freedom,” she continued, “and your choices, marked you, branded you, defiled you. You weren’t human to him, and if the situation hadn’t changed, you might never have been more than an animal if you had survived at all. And yet, after you escaped, you made yourself. What are you now, Eve?”

“A cop.”

Mira smiled. She’d expected exactly that answer. “And then?”

“A person.”

“A responsible person?”

“Yeah.”

“Capable of friendship, loyalty, compassion, humor. Love?”

Eve looked at Roarke. “Yes, but — “

“Was the child capable?”

“No, she — I was too afraid to feel. All right, I’ve changed.” Eve pressed a hand to her temple, surprised and relieved to find the headache drumming there was easing. “I’ve made myself into something decent, but that doesn’t override the fact that I killed. There has to be an investigation.”

Mira arched a brow. “Naturally, you can instigate one if finding your father’s identity is important to you. Is it?”

“No, I don’t give a damn about that. It’s procedure — “

“Excuse me.” Mira held up a hand. “You want to instigate an investigation into the death of this man by your hand when you were eight years old?”

“It’s procedure,” Eve said stubbornly. “And requires my automatic suspension until the investigative team is satisfied. It’s also best if my personal plans are put on hold until the matter is resolved.”

Sensing Roarke’s fury, Mira flicked him a warning glance and watched him win the bitter battle for control. “Resolved in what manner?” she asked reasonably. “I don’t want to presume to tell you your job, Lieutenant, but we’re talking about a matter that took place some twenty-two years ago.”

“It was yesterday.” Eve found some hollow pleasure in tossing Mira’s words back at her. “It was an hour ago.”

“Emotionally, yes,” Mira agreed, unruffled. “But in practical terms, and legal ones, more than two decades. There will be no body or physical evidence to examine. There are, of course, the records of your condition when you were found, the abuse, the malnutrition and neglect, the trauma. Now, there is your memory. Do you feel your story will change during interview?”

“No, of course not, but… It’s procedure.”

“You’re a very good cop, Eve,” Mira said gently. “If this matter came across your desk, exactly as it is, what would be your professional and objective direction? Before you answer, be careful, and be honest. There’s no point in punishing yourself, or that innocent, misused child. What would you do?”

“I’d…” Beaten, she set down the snifter and pressed her hands to her eyes. “I’d close it.”