Justice Lost (Darren Street #3)(44)

“Why would you think those things?” Claire said. “Why would you think she’s abandoned you or given up on you?”

“She was a gentle soul who wouldn’t harm anyone. She was truly a wonderful human being. She was as smart as they come, she was kind and considerate, and she was even-tempered. She loved her work. She loved people. She hated injustice. She was as close to perfect as anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a tough legacy to follow,” Claire said.

“Grace defended criminals and never once gave any thought to the crimes they’d committed. I used to be able to do that, but I changed. She didn’t.”

“And you think she abandoned you when Dr. Fraturra disappeared?” Claire said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to. For what it’s worth, I think differently than she did. If you did something to Fraturra, I wouldn’t condemn you for it, just like I wouldn’t condemn you if you did something about what happened to your mother or if you evened the scales with Ben Clancy.”

“You’re hard-hearted,” I said.

“Violent crimes are basically acts of terrorism,” she said. “I’ve been taught, and I choose to accept the philosophy, that there is only one way to fight terrorism, and that is with violence.”

I smiled at her, and although I agreed and could have continued talking about violence, I tried to change, or at least soften, the subject.

“It’s different with my mother,” I said. “I can remember her voice, but her face has faded some from my memory. When her house was blown up, they used so much dynamite that it practically vaporized everything. There wasn’t a single photo of her that survived the explosion and the fire, and since I was living there at the time, all my photos burned up, too.

“Again,” Claire said, “an act of terrorism. Did Grace love you? I mean, toward the end?”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“Is there any point? Answer the question, please.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Grace loved me very much at one time,” I said. “After my mother’s death, I became difficult and I tested her limits. We were back on the mend when she died, so I suppose the answer would be yes, I think she loved me toward the end.”

“And you loved her?”

“I did. We would have married not long after the baby was born, I feel pretty certain about that. It’s like you said the other day, I’ve been through some difficult times. I can become moody and distant. But she was patient with me. She was good to me. When I think about her, I miss her very much. When I think about what we might have been if some of these things hadn’t happened, it saddens me.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and wiped it away with my napkin.

“I’m sorry, Darren,” Claire said.

“It’s all right. Really. I’m not ashamed to show emotion when I talk about Grace. I feel cheated that we didn’t get to raise Jasmine together. I think we would have done very well raising a child.”

“I’m sure you would have.”

“So what about you? How about a little quid pro quo? I don’t know anything about your personal life. You told me you don’t like men. I think you said they were boorish and boring, but I find that hard to believe.”

“Why do you find that hard to believe?”

She took a sip of wine, and I noticed the pale-red imprint of her lips left on the glass by her lipstick.

“Because of the way you carry yourself, because of the way you dress. You want men to be attracted to you. Do you do it so you can swat them away like flies?”

“I have to admit you surprise me quite often,” Claire said. “You’re far more perceptive than you want people to believe.”

“So you don’t hate men.”

“No, I don’t hate men. I find them deliciously attractive, if you want the honest truth.”

“That’s one of the reasons I love to see a woman drink wine,” I said. “Half a glass down the hatch and the truth starts bubbling up. Are you attracted to any particular type of man, or just men in general?”

“I like macho guys,” she said. “I like men who do things. Who live for something. They have to be intelligent, of course, and I mean extremely intelligent, but they can’t sit on their asses. They have to be physically fit, maybe a little bit dangerous, and they have to believe in a cause or an ideal and live to promote that cause or ideal. And I’m not talking about just any cause. It has to be something I consider noble.”

“I would never have taken you for a Guinevere. You’re a hopeless romantic in search of a king or a prince.”

She winked at me. “Maybe.”

“Ever dated a soldier, one of those officer-and-gentleman types?”

“I did,” she said. She didn’t seem to want to discuss it.

“Come on, now, Claire, you can’t just leave me hanging. I opened up to you. It’s your turn.”

I was getting to know her better, but she was still a mystery to me. I wanted to know what made her tick, how she felt about certain things. I wanted to know what kind of man she was interested in, because, whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was becoming interested in her.