Visions in Death (In Death #19)(17)

In the moment's pause, Eve saw the reaction to the thought of cops. The drawing into self, the nervous flicker of eyes, the gathering closer of children.

The abuser might be the enemy and Louise the ally, but cops, Eve thought, were the unknown and could fall into either camp.

"Lieutenant Dallas is Roarke's wife, and this is her first visit."

There was relief for some—the easing of tension in faces and bodies, even tentative smiles. And for others, the suspicion remained.

It wasn't just a mix of ages and races. There was also a mix of injuries. Fresh bruises, fading ones. Mending bones. Mending lives.

She knew their apprehension; felt it herself. And hated that while Louise looked at her expectantly, her skin was going cold, and her throat shutting down.

"It's a nice place you've got here," she managed.

"It's a miracle." The woman who spoke stood up. She limped slightly as she crossed the room. Eve pegged her at around forty, and from the looks of her face, she'd taken a nasty and recent beating. She held out a hand to Eve. "Thank you."

She didn't want to take the hand offered. Didn't want the connection, but there was no choice as the woman looked at her with expectation, and horribly, with gratitude. "I didn't do anything."

"You're Roarke's wife. If I'd had the courage to come to a place like this, to go to the police, to look for help before now, my daughter wouldn't be hurt."

She turned slightly, gestured toward a girl with dark curly hair, and a skincast on her right arm. "Come say hello to Lieutenant Dallas, Abra."

The girl obeyed, and though she pressed her body against her mother's legs, she stared curiously up at Eve. "The police stop people from hurting you. Maybe."

"Yeah. They try to."

"My daddy hurt me, so we had to go away."

There would be a horrible snapping sound when the bone broke. A terrible and bright pain. A flood of greasy nausea. A red haze of shock over the eyes.

Eve felt it all again as she stood there, staring down at the girl. She wanted to step back, far, far back. Away from it.

"You're okay now." Her voice sounded thin and distant under the roaring in her ears.

"He hurts my mama. He gets mad and he hurts her. But this time I didn't hide in my room like she said, and he hurt me, too."

"He broke her arm." Tears flooded the woman's bruised eyes. "It took that to wake me up."

"You don't blame yourself, Marly," Louise said gently.

"We can stay here with Dr. Louise, and nobody hurts you, and nobody yells or throws things."

"It's a good place." Peabody hunkered down as much to take the focus off Eve as to speak to the child. Her lieutenant looked ill. "I bet there's lots to do."

"We have chores, and teachers. You have to do your chores and go to school. Then you can play. There's a lady upstairs, and she's having a baby."

"Is that so?" Peabody glanced back at Louise. "Now?"

"First-stage labor. We have full obstetric and natal facilities, and a midwife on staff full-time. Try to keep off that leg as much as possible for another twenty-four, Marly."

"I will. It's better. A lot better. Everything is."

"We really need to speak with you, Louise."

"All right, we'll just..." Louise trailed off as she got a look at Eve's face. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine. A little pressed for that time, that's all."

"We'll head up to my office." Deliberately, she laid her fingers on Eve's wrist as they walked back toward the stairs. "Your skin's clammy," she murmured. "Pulse is rapid and thready, and you've gone pale. Let me take you into Exam."

"I'm just tired." She eased away. "We're running on two hours' sleep. I don't need a doctor, I need an interview."

"Okay, all right, but you don't get the interview unless you down a protein booster."

There was activity on the second floor as well. Voices behind closed doors. And weeping.

"Therapy sessions," Louise explained. "Sometimes they can get intense. Moira, a moment?"

Two women were standing outside of what Eve assumed was another therapy room or office. One turned, and her gaze skipped over Louise and fastened on Eve. She murmured something to her companion, gave her a long hug, then started down the hall.

Eve knew who she was. Moira O'Bannion, formerly of Dublin. The woman who'd known Roarke's mother, and after more than thirty years had told him that what he'd known of his beginnings was a lie based on murder.

Sickness curdled in Eve's belly.

"Moira O'Bannion, Eve Dallas, Delia Peabody."

"I'm so glad to meet you. I hope Roarke is well."

"He's good. He's fine." Sweat began to slide like cold grease down her spine.

"Moira's one of our treasures. I stole her."

Moira laughed. "Recruited, we'll say. Though dragooned wouldn't be far off. Louise is fierce. You're having the tour."

"Not exactly. It's not a social call."

"Ah. I should let you get to business then. How's Jana doing?"

"Four centimeters dilated, thirty percent effaced last check. She's got a ways to go."