“She had never spoken to you about the incident before.”
“No. We had an excellent relationship. She knew about the gambling, disapproved, but in a mild way. She was used to David. I don’t think she understood how deeply we were both involved.”
“She did,” Roarke corrected. “She asked me to cut you both off.”
“Ah.” Slade smiled into his empty glass. “That’s why I couldn’t get through the door of your place in Vegas II.”
“That’s why.”
“Why now?” Eve asked. “Why have you decided to revise your previous statement?”
“I felt it was closing in on me. I knew how hurt Mirina would be if she heard it from someone else. I needed to tell her. It was her decision to contact you.”
“Our decision.” Mirina reached for his hand again. “I can’t bring my mother back, and I know how it will affect my father when we tell him Randy was used to hurt her. Those are things I have to learn to live with. I can do that, if I know that whoever used Randy, and me, will pay for it. She would never have gone out there, she would never have gone, but to protect me.”
When they were flying west, Eve paced the comfortable cabin. “Families.” She tucked her thumbs into her back pockets. “Do you ever think about them, Roarke?”
“Occasionally.” Since she was going to talk, he switched the business news off his personal monitor.
“If we follow one theory, Cicely Towers went out on that rainy night as a mother. Someone was threatening her child’s happiness. She was going to fix it. Even if she gave Slade the heave-ho, she was going to fix it first.”
“That’s what we assume is the natural instinct of a parent.”
She slanted him a glance. “We both know better.”
“I wouldn’t claim that either of our experiences are the norm, Eve.”
“Okay.” Thoughtful, she sat on the arm of his chair. “So, if it’s normal for a mother to jump to shield her child against any trouble, Towers did exactly as her killer expected. He understood her, judged her character well.”
“Perfectly, I’d say.”
“She was also a servant of the court. It was her duty, and certainly should have been her instinct, to call the authorities, report any threats or blackmail attempts.”
“A mother’s love is stronger than the law.”
“Hers was, and whoever killed her knew it. Who knew her? Her lover, her ex-husband, her son, her daughter, Slade.”
“And others, Eve. She was a strong, vocal supporter of professional motherhood, of family rights. There have been dozens of stories about her over the years highlighting her personal commitment to her family.”
“That’s risking a lot, going by press. Media can be—and is—biased, or it slants a story to suit its own ends. I say her killer knew, not assumed, but knew. There’d been personal contact or extensive research.”
“That hardly narrows the field.”
Eve brushed that aside with a flick of the hand. “And the same goes for Metcalf. A meeting’s set, but it isn’t going to be specifically documented in her diary. How does the killer know that? Because he knows her habits. My job is to figure out his or hers. Because there’ll be another one.”
“You’re so sure?”
“I’m sure, and Mira confirmed it.”
“You’ve spoken to her then.”
Restless, she rose again. “He—it’s just easier to say he—envies, resents, is fascinated by powerful women. Women in the public eye, women who make a mark. Mira thinks the killings may be motivated by control, but I wonder. Maybe that’s giving him too much credit. Maybe it’s just the thrill. The stalking, the luring, the planning. Who is he stalking now?”
“Have you looked in the mirror?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you realize how often your face is on the screen, in the papers?” Fighting back fear, he rose and put his hands on her shoulders, and read her face. “You’ve thought of it already?”