Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

“You remember more than you did. You lied to me when I asked you yesterday. If you lie it’s going to eat at you and eat at you. You won’t forget, and you won’t have a prayer of moving on. Knightly restrained you, then your husband. Is this correct?”

“Yes, but he let me go again when my husband was tied up, after he struck him in the face. He let me go, he held a knife—no, it’s not a knife, it’s smaller and silver and sharp—to my husband’s throat and told me he’d slit it unless I took off my clothes. Slow, he said. Take them off slow. I didn’t want to. I wanted to run, but Anthony said: ‘You stupid bitch.’ And I did. I took off my clothes, and I laid back in bed because the devil said to. He tied me again, and he slapped me, hard, hard, and he raped me. The lights were red, and there was smoke. I think.

“He said it was hell. Fire and brimstone, sulfur and smoke. He cut me and he hit me, and he raped me, and he laughed. He left us after he hurt my husband again, after Anthony told him the combinations to the safes.”

“What happened when he was gone? When it was just you and Strazza.”

“My husband raged at me. I was a whore, a weak, filthy whore. I’d let the devil have sex with me. I’d said it was the best I’d ever had. I tried to tell my husband the devil forced me, had said he’d kill me if I didn’t say it, but my husband was so angry. There was blood on his face, his face was red and black, like the devil. Then he came back, the devil came back and he hurt Anthony again, and he raped me again. He took a pill, and raped me again, and choked me. He’d choke me, like my husband would, and I’d go away, and I’d come back and he’d rape me again. My husband, the devil. Again. Why doesn’t he kill me, why isn’t it over? And he went away again. I think. I think. It’s mixed up.”

Her eyes brimmed over. “It’s mixed up.”

“What do you remember? He went away again. Then?”

“He went away, and my husband was like a madman. He broke the chair, he beat and beat and the chair broke. His face, red and black, and he was standing in that red light, and I thought, Help me. Help me. It hurt, my throat, when I tried to talk, but I said: ‘Help me, Anthony. Hurry. He’ll come back.’”

“Did he help you?”

“He was on top of me. My husband. The devil. His face. My husband.”

Pale as ice, Daphne pressed her hands to her temples. “Now my husband’s the devil, and he’s choking me, hitting me. He said he’d kill me for this. Kill the whore. Worthless whore. I was going away, finally going away. This time I wouldn’t come back. He’d end it this time. But he jumped away. And the devils, they fought. I saw in the light, through the smoke, the one struck the other with the vase, and the lilies scattered.”

Her eyes, glassy now, stared through Eve.

“I hate the smell of them. I had to have lilies because my husband said, and I hated the smell. They were scattered on the floor and the devil—no, no, my husband was on the floor. Blood, so much blood. Then the other, he laughed, and he came back. He raped me again. It didn’t matter. It just didn’t matter. I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anymore.

“Then it was quiet. So quiet. Dark and quiet, and I got up. It must have been a terrible dream. I didn’t feel anything. But I could smell the lilies and the blood, and he was on the floor. I had to help him because he’s my husband. Anthony? He got up. Blood on his face. He hit me.”

Absently, she lifted a hand to her cheek. “He hit me, I fell back. I fell, I think, and went away again. But I came back. The room, it’s spinning, it won’t stand still. The devil—who is it—the devil was shouting and storming around the room. I tried to get up. I got up, but I think I fell. Did he hit me again? I don’t know, I swear I don’t. ‘I’ll kill you, and they’ll think it was him, they’ll think it was the one you fucked. Whore. You let him have you. No one will ever touch you again. I’ll kill you.’”

Trembling now, her hands rubbing hard over her heart, she said it again and again. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you. I couldn’t run. Did we fall? I think we fell, and the vase was in my hands. He grabbed my ankle, tried to, grabbed it, I don’t know. It’s so mixed up. I hit him. I hit him with the vase, hit him as hard as I could. Stop, please stop. And hit him. And he stopped, and it was quiet. And I couldn’t feel anything. I just wanted to go away. I just wanted to be somewhere else. Away from the devils and the smell of blood and lilies.

“Then there were angels—you,” she corrected. “You were there. And then I was in the hospital.”

She let out a broken sob. “I killed him. I killed my husband.” Weeping, she curled herself into a ball. “I’m so sorry. Tish, I’m so sorry. I didn’t

remember at first. I swear, I didn’t remember. I killed him.”

“Be quiet.” Tish leaped to wrap arms around her sister. “Daph, you be quiet. I’m calling a lawyer.”

“Yes, I’d recommend that,” Eve said. “Just hold on a minute.”

“I’m not giving you the chance to—”

“Shut up,” Eve ordered. “You want to help, hold on to her. Daphne, you killed Anthony Strazza.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry.”

“You killed Anthony Strazza in self-defense. Everything you’ve told me corresponds with the evidence gathered through this investigation. Your statement here, your recounting also corroborates the confession given by Kyle Knightly. You should contact Randall Wythe. He may advise you to hire another lawyer, one with criminal expertise, but I’m telling you, on the record, no charges will be brought against you.”

“But … I—”

“You were attacked and brutalized by Kyle Knightly. You were further attacked and brutalized, and your life was threatened, by Anthony Strazza. I believe Dr. Mira will agree your state of mind was one of panic, confusion, and survival.”

“I will,” Mira confirmed.

“What you’ve told me here corresponds to what I evaluated on scene, through interviews, what the chief medical examiner concluded. I’m going to need you to come in tomorrow, with your attorney, and go through this again. The APA will be present at that time. And at that time, I’m telling you, this will be determined self-defense.”

Still clinging to Tish, Daphne stared at Eve. “You’re not going to arrest me?”