Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(55)

Blooming. Where had that word come from?

“I wanted to ask you a question,” Darcy said. “If you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand.”

“Try me.”

“Do you ever see your Bonnie these days? You have so much. Is she still with you?”

“She’s still with me. She doesn’t come as often. Hey, maybe they keep her busy. Since Michael was born, perhaps she thinks I don’t need her as much.” She smiled. “Though I’ve tried to tell her that’s not true. I’ll always need her just as you’ll need Sylvie. But Bonnie’s always there when it’s important for me. Even though I may not know it’s important. She never really leaves me.” She tilted her head. “Anything else?”

“Nah, though I’ll probably think of something else later.” She grinned. “Cara probably told you I was incurably curious.”

“She did mention something of that nature.” She took one last look at that pool of golden light surrounding those two radiant faces. “But we can all learn to live with that. There’s always the word no.”

“Which you didn’t use tonight,” she said softly.

“I didn’t, did I?” She turned and started down the hall toward her bedroom. “See you at breakfast, Darcy.”

Had she helped? She thought she had, but who could know at moments like this? In the end, everyone had to face their own angels or demons. And perhaps there were both on the horizon for Darcy.

“Everything okay?” Joe asked when she came into the room.

“As okay as they can be.” She took off her robe and tossed it on the chair. “Darcy is having a few problems.” She crawled into bed and into his arms. “Or maybe not. Maybe she’s having problems solved. I’d like to think it’s the latter.”

“And that means?”

“Sylvie.” She cuddled closer. “I told Darcy about Bonnie. I thought it might help.”

“That’s unusual. You seldom talk about Bonnie.”

“I thought it would help both of us.” She put her cheek on her favorite spot on the hollow of his shoulder. “I miss Bonnie. I don’t see enough of her.”

He didn’t answer. His hand just stroked her hair.

“I told Darcy Bonnie would always be here for me. But I get scared that she might think Michael is enough and go away entirely.”

“Not likely.”

She was silent a moment. “He’s so special. Do you know sometimes I think that Bonnie had something to do with how—”

“I know you do,” Joe said. “But stop thinking and wondering and just enjoy him. Michael is what he is.” He kissed her. “And you are what you are. You gave a little too much to Darcy tonight, and it’s having an aftereffect.”

He was right. It had been a disturbing and horrifying day and, as she’d told Darcy, her mind was still working at top speed. It appeared that her emotions were also in a similar state. “Yes, I am what I am.” She relaxed against him. “And it’s good that you’re around to remind me that doesn’t always involve clear thinking.”

“You do exceptionally well in that department. Though I believe that bringing in Kaskov might have been an exception to prove the rule.”

“I think he might help. We need help. Norwalk was spitting out information right and left, but we couldn’t quite grasp it. Except Darcy, she just applied her own experience and came up with a possibility. If I could just try to do the same thing…” She was thinking, going over Norwalk’s words. “I told you I thought he hated me, and it wasn’t because we’d taken in Cara. It was something I’d done to him. Or not done. He said something about not reaching out…”

“What?”

“Remember, he said I had a choice to reach out or not. And I’d chosen not to reach out. It was when I was telling him that he was all wrong about what my job is. That all I wanted was to ID and bring the victims home.” She was thinking back, trying to remember nuances. “It made him angry. He said what I wanted and what was needed were entirely different.” She was attempting to get facts in a row. “It had to be all about my job. I didn’t reach out when I should have reached out. That might mean I refused to do something he wanted me to do.”

“And that it probably wasn’t in your job description.”

She nodded. “But I do get lots of requests that don’t always pertain to establishing ID. Mostly from funeral homes or those who are paid to reconstruct the deceased.”

“I don’t recall your accepting them.”

“No, I refer them. I regard bringing a victim home as far more important. That’s principally cosmetic work.”

“And have you referred any recently?”

“I don’t remember. There are so many, Joe. Have you seen my backlog file?”

“No, but I’m beginning to think I should.”

She sat upright in bed. “I’m thinking that, too.” She swung her legs to the floor. “Come on. Let’s go take a look.”

“May I suggest morning?”

“No, neither of us would probably sleep anyway.” She slipped on her robe again and headed for the door. “We need to find out why Norwalk hates me so much…”