Divided in Death

When she crawled away, shivering, panting, to huddle in the corner, he was sprawled on the floor, drowned in his own blood.

As always.

But this time she wasn’t alone with the man she’d killed. She wasn’t alone with the dead in the hideous room. There were others, countless others, men and women in dark suits, sitting in row after row of chairs. Like people at a play. Observers with empty faces.

They watched as she wept. Watched as she bled and her broken arm hung limply at her side.

They watched, and said nothing. Did nothing. Even when Richie Troy rose, as he sometimes did. When he rose, pouring blood from all the wounds she’d put into him and began to shuffle toward her, they did nothing.

She awoke bathed in sweat with the scream tearing at her throat. Instinctively she rolled and reached out for Roarke, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there to gather her in, to soothe away those horrible jagged edges.

So she curled into a ball, battling the tears while the cat bumped his head against hers.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.” She pressed her damp face against his fur, rocked herself. “God. Oh God. Lights on, twenty-five percent.”

The low light helped, so she lay in it until her chest stopped burning. Then, still shivering, she rose to drag herself to the shower, and the heat of the water.

Rose to drag herself into the day.

Chapter 21

It was too early for the team to be up, and she was glad of it. She wasn’t quite in the frame of mind for teamwork. She’d close herself up in her office and review everything again. She would walk through it all with Bissel one more time.

She resisted checking the house monitoring system to see where Roarke was. It was more important where he hadn’t been, and that was in bed with her. If he’d slept-and there were times she thought he needed less sleep than a damn vampire-he’d slept elsewhere.

She wouldn’t bring it up, wouldn’t mention it, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that. They’d finish the investigation, they would close this case, and when Bissel was wrapped, they would…

She wished to God she knew.

She programmed coffee in the kitchen off her office. Just coffee as even the thought of food made her stomach pitch. But she took pity on the pathetic begging from the cat, and poured him a double shot of kibble.

She turned, and there he was, leaning against the doorjamb watching her. His beautiful face was unshaven-a rarity-and as expressionless and remote as those in her dream had been.

The comparison turned her blood cold.

“You need more sleep,” he said at length. “You don’t look well.”

“I got all I’m getting.”

“You worked late, and no one’s going to be up and around for at least another hour. Take a soother, for pity’s sake, Eve, and lie down.”

“Why don’t you take your own advice? You don’t look so hot yourself, ace.”

He opened his mouth. She could almost see the venom. But whatever poisonous thing he’d been about to say, he swallowed. She had to give him points for it.

“We made some progress in the lab. I assume you’ll want to brief the team, and be briefed.” He moved in to program coffee for himself.

“Yeah.”

“Bruises look better,” he said as he lifted his cup. “On the face, anyway. How’s the rest?”

“Better.”

“You’re very pale. If you won’t lie down, at least sit and have something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” She caught the petulant tone, hated it and herself. “I’m not,” she said in a calmer voice. “Coffee’s enough.”

She braced the mug in both hands when the first one trembled, just a bit. He stepped forward, took her chin in his hand. “You had a nightmare.”

She started to jerk her head away, but his fingers tightened. “I’m awake now.” She put a hand to his wrist, nudged it away. “I’m fine.”

He said nothing as she walked back into her office, but stood staring down into the black pool of coffee in his cup. She’d pushed him away, and that was more than a small ache. It was a vicious tear through the heart.

He’d seen she was exhausted and hurt, and knew how much more susceptible she was in those states to the nightmares. But he’d left her alone, and that was another tear.

He hadn’t thought of her. He hadn’t thought, so she’d awoke in the dark alone.

He walked to the sink, upended the contents into it, set the cup down very carefully.

She was already at her desk when he walked in. “I want to review, shuffle some of this around. It’s easier for me to do that alone, in the quiet. I took a blocker yesterday, and I let Mira treat me when I went by her place. I’m not abusing or neglecting myself. But I have work. I need to do my job.”

“You do, yes. You do.” There was a space, just under his tattered heart, that felt hollowed out. “I’m up early to catch up on a bit of my own.”

She glanced up at him, then away with a small nod.

So she wouldn’t ask, he realized, where he’d slept or what he’d been doing. She wouldn’t say what was so clearly in her eyes. That he was hurting her.

“You’ve given a lot of time to this,” she said. “I know both Reva and Caro appreciate all you’re doing. So do I.”

“They’re important to me. So are you.” And thought: Aren’t we polite? Aren’t we just fucking diplomats? “I know you need to work, as do I, but I need you to come in my office for a moment.”

“If it could wait until-”

“I think it best it doesn’t, for all involved. Please.”

She rose and moved away from the desk without her coffee. A sure sign, he thought, that she was agitated. He led the way through the co

“What is this?”

“Given the circumstances, I prefer absolute privacy. I looked in on you last night. Must’ve been near to two. Your feline knight was guarding you.”

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t… settle. And I was angry.” He searched her face. “We’re both so angry, aren’t we, Eve?”

“I guess we are.” Though anger seemed the wrong term somehow, and she thought he knew it as well as she did. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You didn’t let me know when you got home.”

“I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Well.” He drew a breath as a man did after a quick, surprising blow. “Well. As it happens, I didn’t want to talk to you either. So after I saw you were sleeping, I took myself off to the unregistered to do the business I needed to do.”

Whatever color had still been in her cheeks drained now. “I see.”

“Aye.” His eyes never left hers. “You see. You may wish you didn’t, but you do.” He unlocked a compartment with a quick play of fingers over a panel, and took from it a single disc.

“I have here, the names, the whereabouts, the financials, the medicals, the professional evaluations, and all other matter of data on the field operative, his supervisor, the director of the HSO, and any who were attached to the task force involving Richard Troy in Dallas. There’s nothing about them that’s relevant-and quite a bit that likely isn’t-that’s not on this disc.”

The weight dropped on her chest, pressing against her heart so she could hear the panicked beat of it roaring in her ears. “None of that changes what happened. Nothing you can do changes what happened.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” He turned the disc in his hands, and its surface caught light and shot it out again. Like a weapon. “They’ve all had very decent careers, some more than decent. They continue to work, or consult, play golf or, in one case, squash, of all things. They eat and they sleep. Some cheat on a spouse, some go to church every bloody Sunday.”

His gaze whipped up to hers, a bolt of blue. Another weapon. “And do you think, Eve, do you suppose any flaming one of them gives that child they sacrificed all those years back a single thought? Do they wonder, ever, if she suffers? If she wakes weeping in the dark?”