“They knew about you.”
“What?”
“They knew there was a child in that bloody room with him. Female, minor child. The bastards knew.”
When her eyes went glassy, he cursed. Shoving the table away, he pushed her head between her knees. “Take it slow, breathe slow. Christ, Christ, I’m sorry.”
His voice was a buzz in her ears. His beautiful voice, murmuring in Gaelic now as his control wavered. She could hear it wavering, feel it in the quiver of his hand on the back of her head. He was kneeling beside her, she realized. Suffering as much, if not more, than she was herself.
Wasn’t that strange? Wasn’t that miraculous?
“I’m okay.”
“Just give it a minute more. You’re trembling yet. I want them dead. Those who knew you were trapped with him and did nothing. I want their blood in my throat.”
She shifted enough to rest her cheek on her knee and look at him. At the moment, he looked every bit like a man who could rip out another’s throat. “I’m okay,” she said again. “It’s not going to matter, Roarke. It’s not, because I survived, and he didn’t. I need to read the file.”
He nodded, then just laid his head on hers.
“If you’d blocked this from me”—her voice was thick but she didn’t try to clear it—“it would’ve set me back. It would’ve set us back. I know this isn’t easy for you either, but telling me . . . Trusting us to get through it, that’s going to make it better. I need to look at some of this data.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“No, I’ll go with you. We’ll look at it together.”
They went back in his private room, and read what he brought up on screen together.
She didn’t sit. She wasn’t going to let her legs go weak on her again. Not even when she read the field operative’s report.
Sexual and physical abuse involving minor female purported to be subject’s daughter. No recorded data on minor, no birth mother or surrogate registered. Intervention is not recommended at this time. If subject becomes aware he is being observed, or if any social or law enforcement age
ncy is informed of the situation with minor female, subject’s value would be compromised.
Recommend nonaction re minor female.
“They let it go.” Roarke spoke softly, too softly. “I hate fucking cops. Saving your presence,” he added after a moment.
“They’re not cops. They don’t give a rat’s ass about the law, much less about justice. They sure as hell don’t give a damn about an individual. It’s all big picture to them, always was, from the moment they formed at the dawn of the Urban Wars, it was big picture and fuck the people in it.”
She packed away her rage, her horror, and continued to read. It wasn’t until she came to the end that she had to reach out, lay her hand on the console for balance.
“They knew what happened. They knew I killed him. My God, they knew, and they cleaned up after me.”
“For security, my ass. To cover their own culpability.”
“It says . . . it says the listening devices planted were defective and shut down that night. What are the chances?” she drew a deep breath and read the section again.
Surveillance returned at seven hundred and sixteen hours. No sound or movement recorded on premises for six hours. Assumption that subject had moved on during dark period caused field agent to risk a personal check of room. Upon entering, agent observed subject DOS. Cause of death determined to be multiple stab wounds inflicted with small kitchen knife. Female minor child could not be located on premises.
No data on premises pertaining to Ricker or Roarke. On orders from Home, area was cleaned. Body disposal team notified.
Minor child, female, believed to be subject’s daughter, located under medical observation. Severe physical and emotional trauma. Local authorities investigating. Minor has no identification and will be assigned a social caseworker.
Subsequently local authorities unable to identify minor child, female. Minor subject unable to remember and/or relate name or circumstances. No connection to Troy or this agency can be made. Minor subject has been absorbed by the National Agency for Minors and has been given the name Dallas, Eve.
Case file Troy is closed.
“Is there a file on me?”