Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(39)

“Not a damn thing.” Wasn’t it odd, wasn’t it strange, Eve thought, Stella wore clothes very like—not exact, but very like—those of the dead woman on the bench.

“I hated you before you were born. And a skinny whelp like you wouldn’t’ve been the moneymaker Richie figured. I copped to that pretty quick, and I had my own life to live.”

Eve gestured to the body on the bench. “Somebody slit her throat.”

Stella looked back, shrugged. “Probably deserved it.”

“She didn’t. You’re going to end the same way, a blade across the jugular. Some would say you deserved it, but I can’t. I don’t say it. You deserved a cage, and a long life inside it.”

“You wanted me dead. If you could’ve, you’d’ve killed me like you did Richie.”

“You’re wrong about that, but everything about you is wrong. Take another ride, kid,” she told the child standing frozen behind her.

“Can you take me home with you?”

“Not yet, sorry. She’s going to make your life hell for a while, so take another ride first.”

When the child ran to the ladder, Eve turned to Stella again. “I just figured something out. It was all going to happen anyway, the beatings, the torment, the rapes. But at least I didn’t have you making it even worse. You did me a favor by leaving.”

“Fuck you.”

As the child let out a sound of joy on her way down the slide, Eve saw the backhand coming.

She let it come and knock her out of the dream.

Roarke had an arm around her, with his free hand stroking her face. “Come back now,” he murmured as the cat butted his head against her side.

“I’m okay. I’m all right.” But she let her head fall to his shoulder as he pulled her in. “It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t one of the bad ones.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Us,” he corrected as Galahad tried to worm between them. Roarke eased back to give the cat room and studied Eve’s face.

He’d called for lights at ten percent when he’d realized she’d been in the grip of a nightmare. He bumped them up to twenty now.

“You were crying in your sleep.” He brushed a tear away with a fingertip.

“It wasn’t me. Or it was, but kid me.”

“You’ll tell me. I’ll get you some water, and you’ll tell me.”

“Yeah. You’re dressed,” she realized when he got up for the water. “It’s dark, and you’re already in a suit. What time is it?”

“Nearly half-five. I have a holo meeting with Prague shortly.”

“Prague, sure, of course.”

“I’ll reschedule it.”

“No, don’t. It wasn’t that bad.” She took the water. “Really.”

“You’ll tell me, then I’ll decide whether to take the meeting or reschedule.”

“Okay, fine. It’s all this mother stuff that kicked it off. Stella dream.”

In those eyes, those glorious blue eyes, she saw guilt and grief and fury.

“I should have realized this would stir that up.”

“Even you can’t fix everything. I don’t know how old I was. Older than Bella,” she began, and told him.

“In the end,” she said when she’d finished, “it was a good thing for my subconscious to work out. Because in the end was truth, what I said to her. She did me a favor leaving. If she’d stayed, it would’ve been worse. If she’d stayed, I might not have gotten away.”

“You took yourself to the playground.”

“Yeah. Symbolic dead mother, throat slit, on the bench. And Stella, who ended the same way. It’s logical.”

While the guilt and rage had eased during her telling of it, the grief for the child she’d been remained. He pressed his lips to her brow, just held them there.

“You gave yourself another trip down the sliding board.”

“Yeah. Well, I knew what was coming, so why not grab the fun for a second? I don’t much get what’s fun about sliding down a plastic tube, but I guess it seemed like the thing at the time.”

She sat back a moment, wished the water she’d finished would miraculously reappear as coffee.

“I think I’m leaning toward his mother—the killer—dying or abandoning him as a kid. I think I may be leaning there because of yours dying, mine taking off. And I need to set that aside and work the facts and evidence.”

Though she seemed steady again, he stroked her hair. Couldn’t seem to stop touching her.

“Your instincts are every bit as valuable as facts and evidence.”

“Usually I’d agree they’re almost as valuable, but I need to keep some distance this time. You need to go to work, and you don’t have a tie. You always have a tie.” She ran a hand down the front of his shirt. “I’m okay,” she added, knowing he’d object. “I’m going down to the gym, sweat the rest of this out. Go buy Prague.”

“I’m not after buying it.” He leaned down to touch his lips to hers. “Just a piece or two.”

He picked up the tie he’d dropped when he’d rushed to her, and slid it under the collar of his shirt. “What do you think Mavis would do if she came on Bella playing with her makeup?”