Sarah Dunwood would be burying both her father and her son. Daughter and mother, trapped in loves and loyalties that made no sense.
Maybe they weren’t meant to.
“Do you want medical attention, Lieutenant?”
She glanced over at Whitney. “No, sir.” Flexed her fingers. “It’s coming back.”
“You played him as well as anyone could.” Together, they watched the black bag that held Lucias Dunwood, twenty-two, boy genius, beloved son and predator, being carried out of the house. “You couldn’t guess he’d self-terminate rather than surrender to you.”
But she had, Eve thought. A part of her had known exactly what she was doing—and had done it, had goaded him to it, with cold calculation.
Had they carried her father out of that freezing, filthy room in a black bag?
Then she closed her eyes because she w
as a cop—and the badge stood for . . . Everything. “I knew it was a risk, Commander. I pushed his buttons fully aware there was a probability he’d take himself out rather than lose when we had him cornered. I could have ordered the room rushed. Potentially he’d be on his way to lockup instead of the morgue.”
“He was armed, dangerous, and had already fired on you with a black market weapon set on full. Men might have been lost, certainly injured, who are going home to their families tonight. You played him as well as anyone could,” he repeated. “File your report, then go get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Rolling her awakening shoulder, she crossed the street to where Roarke waited. “I have to go in, write and file my report.”
“How’s your arm?”
“It feels like there are about six million hot needles sticking in it.” She wiggled her fingers again. “Should be back to normal in a couple hours, which is about what it’ll take to do the paperwork.”
Because he knew her, and what she was thinking he said, “The world’s better off with him out of it, Eve.”
“Maybe, but that wasn’t my decision to make.”
“You didn’t make it. He did. He had only to give up. You’d have taken him in, turned him into the system, and been satisfied.”
“Yeah.” Because it was true, she settled again. “I’m sending a police counselor to his mother. She doesn’t need to hear about this from me, and she’ll need someone who has the right words.”
“Later, when her grief’s not so raw, we might send someone from the abuse shelter to talk to her.” He took her good hand in his. “Walk away, Eve.”
She nodded. “Let’s go tonight,” she said as they walked to the car.
“Go?”
“Yeah, to Mexico. As soon as I’ve closed this, let’s just head out, take one of those snappy transpos of yours and get the hell out of town.”
He kissed her fingers before opening the door for her. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
• • •