Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(30)

“You’re not alone. I’ll always be here.”

She closed her eyes. He had told her that before, but it was good to hear it again. Always. She wanted so desperately to believe it. She could almost see him, his face intent, smiling at her. “I know.” She drew a deep breath. “And now I’ll go to bed, and you’ll probably do nothing of the sort since I’ve set your mind to working.”

“Good guess. But I will wait a couple hours before I call Quinn and get together with him on contacting Sylvie’s sanitarium and to try reaching her mother.”

“You’re calling Joe?” She paused. “I didn’t tell Eve about last night yet.”

“Somehow, I thought it might have slipped your mind,” he said dryly. “I told you I was going to call him. There was no way I was going to let you go down there without Quinn’s knowing there was a threat.”

“I was going to tell Eve soon. Too much was happening.”

“I’ll accept that. I’ll just take care of it.”

“Did you identify that fingerprint you pulled from the stairwell?”

“Not yet. But I’ll get Quinn to push it through Interpol, and we’ll see what happens. He has a hell of a lot of contacts. By the time I get to Nice, he might have a name for me.”

“Nice?”

“You said that was where Felicity Jordan lives. I’ll be on a flight there this morning. That way I won’t have to rely on phones or secondhand information. I have to know what’s happening. I want this over quickly.”

Jock was moving with lightning speed, Cara realized. Well, when did he ever do anything else when he was motivated? That easy, almost radiant, charisma was completely deceptive, and only existed when conditions were also easy and nonthreatening. She should have known that he’d take control when she’d picked up her phone tonight. And that was okay when it only concerned information gathering.

It was not okay if she had to worry about his running into men like the one who had nearly throttled her last night. But her attacker was not in Nice, he was in New York. Jock might actually be safer in Nice. “You’ll be careful?”

“I don’t believe an overambitious stage mother will pose a real threat to me. But I’ll promise to be especially careful of her.” His voice was suddenly gentle. “Go to sleep, Cara. I’ll call you later and let you know what’s happening. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” He hung up.

She slid the phone back in her pocket. She had no more information than when she’d called Jock, and he was far more skeptical than she had been. Yet she felt warmer, less helpless, more able to cope than before she’d spoken to him.

You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.

If she was careful, if she didn’t demand too much, that could be true.

She turned and headed for the door. And for now she still had people who cared about her. She was far luckier than Darcy, who had just lost the one person who had completed her.

So reach out and help her. Show Darcy that she was not alone either …

*

There was someone in the room …

It was all right.

No one to fear …

Darcy slowly opened her eyes. The room was dim, the first rays of dawn were streaming softly through the window and falling on the foot of the bed and the rocking chair against the far wall.

And shining on the chestnut hair of the little boy who was sitting in that rocking chair. He smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Michael. Want to have breakfast with me? Mama’s not awake yet, and she doesn’t like me to use the stove if she’s not around. But she wouldn’t mind if you were around to help, in case I set myself on fire.” He chuckled. “That’s what she always says. No way are you going to set yourself on fire today, Michael.”

Darcy shook her head to clear it. “I’m afraid that I’m not qualified in that department. I don’t cook. I usually stock my pantry with Apple Jacks cereal.” She noticed for the first time he was barefoot and dressed in blue-and-white-striped pajamas. “Shouldn’t you go back to bed? Maybe it’s too early for you to eat. And don’t you have to go to school or something?”

“Saturday.” He stood up and headed for the door. “It’s not too early if you’re hungry. And it’s good that no one is up yet. Come on, Darcy.” He smiled coaxingly at her over his shoulder. “We’ll get to have breakfast with Sylvie.”

He was gone.

And she was lying there in total shock. It was the last thing that she’d expected the child to say, and he’d said it with complete naturalness and eagerness. Maybe it was totally natural when you were the son of a forensic sculptor of the stature of Eve Duncan. And that sculptor was Darcy’s hostess, whose son had just run out of here to whip up some breakfast when he’d been forbidden to do it on his own.

Not a time to lie in bed.

She threw off her blanket, grabbed her robe, and ran out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen.

“I don’t think we have Apple Jacks.” Michael’s head popped up from behind the counter, where he’d been going through the pantry. “Mama says all that sugar isn’t good for you. We have cornflakes. Is that okay?”

“Fine.” And didn’t require cooking, or any fire hazard for either of them. “You get the milk out of the fridge, and I’ll get down bowls and find some spoons.”