“For what? For defending yourself against a brutal attack and the threat of death? No. Record off.”
Eve picked up a cup of tea that had gone cold, downed it to soothe her own throat. “You have people to support you. Remember it. Remember this, too. Even without the circumstances of the attack Saturday night, Anthony Strazza would have made good on his threats, sooner or later. He’d have kept at you until he’d gone too far. You stopped that from happening, and that’s no crime. It’s no sin. It’s not wrong.”
“I remember hitting him. I dreamed about it, and I was afraid to tell you. I wanted to believe it was just a dream. I was afraid to tell anyone.”
“Now you have. It’s going to take a while before you’re not afraid. This is the start.”
Eve got to her feet. Tish rose with her.
“You needed her to say it all, on the record. For her own sake.”
“I needed her to say it all, on the record.”
Tish stepped forward, held out a hand. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t owe you. We’ll all come in tomorrow. We’ll come with her. Can Dr. Mira be there?”
“I can and will,” Mira assured her. “I’m going to stay for a bit now. Is that all right, Daphne?”
“Yes, yes, please. I feel—it broke, and I feel. I’m still not sure. Lieutenant Dallas, I can agree to truth testing. I’ll do that if it helps.”
“I’m pretty good at being a truth tester, and Mira’s the same. This guy, too. Set up the time tomorrow to work with Dr. Mira’s schedule.”
“Will you be there?”
“I’ll be there. You’ll get through it, Daphne. We’ve got to go,” she said to Roarke.
He put an arm around her in the elevator, felt the light tremors. He said nothing, just kept an arm around her until they stepped outside.
“You knew. You knew before you had Knightly in the box.”
“Yeah.”
“When did you know?”
“Had to wonder when I saw the crime scene. Had to wonder more when I talked to Morris. It’s the only thing that made sense. Her finishing him off, I mean. Then getting a sense of Strazza, getting a sense of her, it got pretty clear she’d done it, and I leaned toward either self-defense or just snapping.”
“It’s what made you so sad.”
“I couldn’t tell you. It felt like it would be…”
“A betrayal,” he finished, turning her to him, ignoring the helpful doorman who held open the door of the car.
“When I put it together it was too much like looking in a mirror, or hearing too many echoes. I needed her to get it out, one way or the other.”
He kissed her, turned her to the car, rounded it, and got behind the wheel. “She’s no more a murderer than the child you were.”
“No. If she’d just snapped, I’d have thrown what weight I could toward diminished capacity, and I wouldn’t have been wrong. But I kept asking myself if it was because of her, because of the circumstances, or if it was because of me.”
“It’s all. Because of you, you were able to see her and the circumstances more clearly, understand them more clearly. I’m unspeakably proud of you. Don’t say it’s your job,” he told her before she could. “This was more. Strazza was your victim, but so was she, in every sense. You uncovered the truth for and about him, but you stood for her. The one who most needed it.”
“She’ll get through it.”
“I believe she will.”
“So will the Patricks, even though this is going to shake their foundations and leave a hell of a crack in them.”