Ceremony in Death - J. D. Robb [102]
“You were seen arguing with him here in the store, the day before Alice died.”
“Was I?” She drew her composure back, cloaked it over her. “It’s always a mistake to believe yourself alone. Yes, he was here. Yes, we had words.”
“About?”
“Alice, most specifically. He was a misguided young man, filled with a dangerous self-importance. He thought himself powerful. He was not.”
“Alice wasn’t here, she wasn’t working that day?”
“No. I’d hoped she’d spend time with her family, connect with them again through her grandfather’s death. That was the primary reason I’d encouraged her to move out of here and into a place of her own. I’d asked her not to come in for a few days. Lobar expected her to be here. I don’t believe he was sent, but came on his own. Maybe to prove himself.”
“And you argued.”
“Yes. He said that I couldn’t hide her, that she’d never get away. She’d broken the law—the law that Cross and those who belong to her subscribe to. He said her punishment would be torture and pain and death.”
“He threatened her life, and you didn’t tell me. I was here before, and I questioned you.”
“No, I didn’t tell you. I considered it no more than a clash of wills, his against mine. He was no more than a pawn. I didn’t require HPS to intuit that. He only wanted to upset me, to prove his superiority. His way of doing so was to describe, graphically, what he had done to Alice sexually.” She drew another breath. “And he told me that I had been promised to him. That when I was taken in, when my power was crushed, he would be the first to lay hands on me. Then he told me what he intended to do and how much I would enjoy it. He invited me to sample some of his many talents then and there, so that I would see how much more of a man he was than Chas. I laughed at him.”
“Did he assault you?”
“He pushed me. He was angry. I’d deliberately baited him into it. Then I used it. An old spell,” she said with a flick of her hand. “What you might call a mirror or boomerang spell, so that what he was sending toward me—all the darkness, the violence, the hate—was reflected back at him, and when reflected, enlarged.” She smiled a little. “He left quickly, and very frightened. He didn’t come back.”
“And you were frightened?”
“Yes, on a physical level, I was.”
“You called Forte.”
“He’s my mate.” Isis lifted her chin. “I have no secrets from him, and I depend on him.”
“He’d have been angry.”
“No.” Eyes level, she shook her head. “Concerned, yes. We cast a circle, performed a rite for protection and for purification. We were content. I should have seen,” she continued, with regret shimmering in her voice. “I should have seen that Alice was their goal. Pride made me believe they would turn on me, that they wouldn’t dare touch her while she was under my protection. Maybe I wasn’t as honest with you as I might have been, Dallas, because without my pride blinding me, I know Alice might still be alive.”
Guilt was there, Eve decided as she drove off to pick up Peabody. And guilt could lead to retribution. Frank and Alice had been killed by a different method than Lobar and Wineburg. The deaths were connected, she was certain, but the connection didn’t mean they’d all been committed by the same hand.
She wanted to get back to Central, run a probability scan. There was enough data for it now. And if the numbers warranted it, she could go to Whitney and request the manpower for a twenty-four-seven watch on both groups of suspects.
Damn the budget, she thought as she fought traffic. She’d need a high probability ratio to wangle the expense of time, money, and manpower. But Peabody and Feeney weren’t enough to keep round-the-clock tabs on everyone involved.
Including Jamie, she thought. The kid was looking for trouble. She believed he was smart enough to find it.
Peabody hopped in when Eve swung to the curb at Seventh and Forty-seventh. Across the sidewalk, the rowdy noise and computerized warfare of a VR den spilled out of the open doorway. It nicked the ordinance on noise pollution, but Eve figured the proprietors were willing