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“I guess he was the trigger, or the finger on it. Yeah, I told him everything.”
“Good, that’s good. He’s a fine young man, and one who loves you without restrictions. Finding a mate, a true one, is a rare and precious thing.”
And the heart of the heart, she thought. Yes, he’d found that, too.
“I don’t even know how it happened, but even when he pisses me off, I’m grateful every day it did.”
“The best possible description for a good marriage.”
“I didn’t intend to come here and talk about all of this, I just— You matter, Mr. Mira. I understand whatever he did, you lost family in a terrible way. I’ll do everything I can to identify, find, and stop those who took his life. I swear it to you.”
“You took an oath when you became a police officer. How long have you been with the police? I don’t recall.”
“About a dozen years now.”
r /> “And so young.” He smiled at her now, that sweet, slightly dreamy smile that melted her heart. “You took an oath long before this, and from all I know, all I’ve seen, you’ve kept it. Look at the woman you’ve made yourself. Lieutenant Eve Dallas, strong and smart and brave. You’ll forgive me if, at this moment, I feel Edward doesn’t deserve you. If in my heart I can’t feel he deserves you. But his children do, and so for their sake I’m grateful you’ll keep your oath.”
“A cop protects and serves, and everybody deserves it. But I don’t think he deserved you. I’ve got to get back to work.”
He got to his feet when she did, stepped to her again, enfolded her again. “I’m proud of you.”
“Oh God, Mr. Mira.” Tears flooded her throat, her eyes. At that moment it seemed her whole being was tears.
“There now.” He let her go to pat the pockets of his sweater, his trousers. “I never have a handkerchief where I think I do.”
“It’s okay.” She swiped at the tears with her hands. “Thanks. Thank you. For everything.” She grabbed her coat, afraid she’d fall to pieces. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. Charlie will be home soon. I’ll be fine.”
But when she left, he sat by the fire and mourned the death—in every way there was to die—of the man he had thought he’d known. And grieved for the little girl he’d never known, and no one had protected.
—
Eve got crime scene blotters out of her field kit, used them as tissues, found some sunshades in the glove box. They wouldn’t fool Roarke if he’d beaten her home, but they might get her past Summerset.
She wanted to get home, stick her face in a bowl of ice water, then get to work.
She’d been honest when she’d told Dennis Mira the odds of her saving Frederick Betz were next to zero. Unless she misjudged this . . . sisterhood, they wouldn’t finish him in his own house, not this time. Not when they knew she was looking for them.
She needed to ID the house in the painting, if her hunch held and it was, or had been, real. She needed to find the residence that opened with Betz’s key swipe.
And she needed to watch the recording.
She shuffled that to the side for now.
Easterday, she thought as she drove. He’d be panicked, desperate, looking to both survive and escape.
Forgive me
His last message to his wife told Eve he knew what he’d done, what they’d all done, would come to light.
Where would he run?
Reo had it right—he hadn’t had much of a lead. Unless he’d run straight out of the city, he’d have a hard time getting out, and with only whatever cash he’d taken from the safe. He couldn’t use credit or debit or it would throw up a flag.
And he hadn’t used a card to book a shuttle, a train, a car, or any other mode of transpo.
He didn’t seem the type to hole up in a flop. A hotel, possibly, but that didn’t ensure privacy. She had every property owned by any of the men under watch. If he had a property she didn’t know about, Eve felt certain Petra would have told her.
