Shattered Mirror (Eve Duncan #23)(78)

“It wasn’t a bad idea.”

“As long as you didn’t do anything that would rock the boat. She doesn’t know you as well as I do. Rocking boats is your specialty.” She came toward her, her voice pleading. “Look, Darcy, none of this was your fault, you should never have been pulled into it. There’s no way you should be a target. Norwalk isn’t even after you any longer.” She fell to her knees in front of her chair. “Let me put you back on a plane and get you out of here.”

Silence. “But I was pulled into it, and so was Sylvie.” Darcy met her eyes. “And so were you, Cara. You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had except Sylvie. He took her away. Do you think I’m going to let him do that to me again?” Her eyes were suddenly glittering with tears. “And what about that sweet little kid I was cuddling the night before Norwalk decided to tear his life apart? Even if we manage to get him away, how is Michael going to cope with what happened in that square?” She shook her head. “Rocking his damn boat is the least I want to do to Norwalk. You go after him your way, I’ll do it my way.” She reached out and gently touched Cara’s cheek. “But I’ll be careful with Kaskov. I’ve even agreed not to seduce him. Though I won’t promise not to use him if the occasion comes up.”

It was all she was going to get from her Cara could see. She’d had little hope in persuading Darcy to leave, but it had been worth a try. “Be careful with everybody. You’re my friend. I care about you.” She jumped up, pulled Darcy to her feet, and shook her. “And I want you around when we find Michael. You could always make him laugh. That’s a talent we’re going to need to cultivate and encourage.”

“Hey, I’m not only a natural, I’m an expert,” Darcy said, as Cara led her toward the door. “You’re kicking me out of your room?”

“Out with you. You need your sleep, and you’ve finished offering me comfort for the night.” She added grimly, “Jock is safely stashed and surrounded by some of the worst criminal elements in the world. Why should I be worried now?”

“You shouldn’t.” Darcy opened the door. “But you will. Try to sleep. Good night, Cara.”

Cara watched her until she went into the next room down the hall and closed the door. Then she locked her own door and leaned back against it.

Weariness was creeping into her every muscle. All the tension, the worry, the horror of the last days were assaulting her.

Michael.

No, don’t think of Michael out there tonight and what he might be going through with that psychopath. How could she help but think about him? She felt the panic rising. But Norwalk would have to be careful with Michael, she told herself frantically. He was valuable to draw Eve.

Calm down.

Don’t think. Try to plan.

But if she was this sick with fear, what was Eve feeling? Maybe she should go to her so that she wouldn’t be—

No, Eve was exhausted and hopefully asleep. She might wake her. Cara should go to bed herself and hope for sleep and not nightmares.

She crossed the room and looked down at the garden again. There was no light in the summerhouse. Jock was surrounded by darkness. But then Jock often moved from sunlight to darkness. As close as she’d been to him through the years, she hadn’t realized that until lately. Perhaps it had come with the same maturity that was causing her such upheaval … and making her want to go to him tonight and help him banish that darkness.

Foolishness. It would be a mistake. She was too aware of him. She couldn’t be with him without wanting to touch him. One thing might lead to another, and there could be betrayal and disaster. Would she be willing to risk everything to enter into that darkness?

She couldn’t take her gaze from the summerhouse. She could almost see him before her. She could feel the heat …

She turned away from the window. The answer was coming closer and closer every day. There would come a time when she wouldn’t be able to push it away, when Jock would be able to see it. It had almost come tonight.

But tomorrow she wouldn’t be as tired and sad and discouraged. There would be plans to make and people to help.

Tomorrow would be easier.

*

“I have a name,” Joe said when he called Jock at six the next morning. “Our photographer is Donal Macvey, and he’s worked for Norwalk for the past three years. But not as a photographer. Enforcer.”

“Surprise. Surprise,” Jock said sarcastically. “Have you been able to find out how long he’s been in the country?”

“According to his passport info, he entered Kennedy four weeks ago. I’ve been checking credit-card info, and he’s had charges in Atlanta … and New Orleans.”

“What’s he buying?”

“Liquor. Gas. Building materials. Hammers, nails, lumber, tarps. That kind of stuff. No explosives. That would have to be an undercover purchase. Or maybe Norwalk bought it himself. Anyway, Macvey was definitely brought over to aid and assist.” He paused. “And Interpol says that four more of Norwalk’s men headed for the U.S. in the last week.”

“He’s pulling together a team.”

“That’s what I figured,” Joe said. “And he’s getting close to zero hour, or he wouldn’t have blown that square. Did Macvey leave for New Orleans right after the blast?”