Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(69)

“And he did it.” Eve tore her eyes away from the flames. She felt as if she were being pulled into that inferno, devoured in the sorrow of it all. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Not if there was a chance that Michael was still alive. She had to look for him, find him, figure it all out. She forced herself to look at the makeshift morgue at the far end of the square, where she could see the bodies lying on the ground. “I have to look at the bodies that were blown out of the shop. Joe said that none of them were Michael, but I have to see for myself.”

Cara shook her head. “Eve, you don’t want to see—”

“No, I don’t,” Eve interrupted fiercely. “I don’t want to see any of it, but I have to be certain. If Michael’s not one of those boys, then I can eliminate that possibility. Yes, he could be in that inferno or blown to bits, but if I have no evidence, then I can still believe that somehow he’s still alive. I’ve got to believe that to keep me going, Cara.”

Joe stepped forward, and said quietly, “Don’t argue. Just let her go, Cara.”

Cara nodded jerkily. “I’ll go with you, Eve.”

Eve shook her head but didn’t answer. She was already walking toward those tarp-covered bodies. Not only the three boys from the emporium, but six other bodies that had been tossed out like broken dolls from the blast.

A police officer was coming forward to stop her, but Joe waved him aside. “The ones on the end, Eve,” he said quietly as he stepped in front of her. “One quick glance should show you. Don’t let yourself look any longer than that.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Joe,” she said hoarsely.

“I know. It’s just that you have to be able to trust yourself, what you’re feeling.” He lifted the first tarp. “Smaller than Michael. Blond hair.”

She flinched. “Right.”

He lifted the second tarp. “About the same height but very dark hair.”

She nodded.

He lifted the third tarp. “Much taller than Michael.”

She inhaled sharply. The boy’s face had been almost destroyed, but she knew who he was. “Gary.”

“Yes.” He dropped the tarp. “Done?”

“Done.” She said shakily. But it could never be done until Norwalk paid for those atrocities. She turned away. “Thank you, Joe.”

“For giving you new food for nightmares?” He took her arm and drew her away from the bodies. “I want to get you away from here. Will you come home with me?”

“Soon.” She stood looking at the fire. “He’s not there, Joe. Michael’s not there. It’s not my imagination.”

“God, I hope it’s not.” His eyes were glittering with moisture. “It will be hard for anyone to verify who was killed in that explosion for a long time.”

“Maybe not.” Eve’s gaze never left the flames. “Not if he tells us.”

“What?”

“Norwalk told me he wanted me to see, feel, taste the pain. I believe this qualifies, don’t you? But maybe he thinks it’s not enough, not as close-up and personal as he wants.” She had to say it. “It could be he has other plans for Michael.”

Joe was silent. “Torture?”

“I’m trying not to think of that.” But it was hard not to think of that possibility. “But whatever he plans, he’d want me to see it. He’ll get in touch with me. But it won’t be before he believes I’ve received the full measure of agony from this monstrosity.” She swallowed. “So I’ll stay here for a little while longer and stare at his handiwork in case he has someone here watching me. I’ll pray for those poor victims, and I’ll pray for Michael.” She paused. “And I’ll pray that God gives us a way to strike down that monster and send him straight to the depths of hell.”

*

Eve managed to stay almost an hour and thirty minutes longer before she let Joe help her back to the car.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” he said roughly as he tucked her into the passenger seat. “You should have gone right home. It took too much out of you.”

She nodded wearily. “I felt as if I were bleeding. But so did those other parents who were standing and watching that fire. At least, I have hope to hold on to.”

“I wanted to catch you before you left.” Jock was suddenly beside the car. “One of the TV stations got an interview from the wife of the owner of the Ice Cream Emporium. She said that the coach usually took the boys of his sports teams to the shop for ice cream if they won their game. But last week, one of the fathers dropped by the shop and offered to pay for a gift certificate to offer the coach to buy treats for the boys regardless of whether they won or lost.”

“And the father resembled Rory Norwalk?” Joe asked.

“General description. Irish accent.” His gaze shifted to Eve’s face. “What can I do?” he said gently. His eyes were glowing with sympathy. “I don’t need to say what I’m feeling for you, do I?”

She shook her head. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing. We have to find him, Jock.” She saw his eyes wander back toward the fire. “He’s not there. Believe me.”

He smiled. “I believe he’s a wonderful lad. I believe that you believe. I’ll be there when you need me.” He lifted his hand and moved away. “And when Cara needs me. I’ll take her and Darcy home now. They wouldn’t leave until you did.”