Eve - Iris Johansen [66]
“Yes.” How had he remembered that little detail?
“I do, too, these days. A strong dose of caffeine and a glass or two of wine are the only jolts I allow myself.”
“I don’t care about your taste in coffee. Why have you brought me here, John?”
“I thought I’d made that clear.”
“Resolution? Nothing needs to be resolved between us but the question of whether you killed my daughter.”
“Perhaps not for you.” He gave her a cup. “But you’re saner than I am. I need more structure.” He sat back down. “Structure is important when you’re tottering on the brink.”
“Brink of what?”
“Fill in the blank.” He lifted the other cup to his lips. “I’ve fallen into any number of abysses in my life. Some of them were hard to climb out of.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No, you’ve had your own falls.” He leaned back wearily in the chair. “Who would have guessed, Eve? We tried so hard to avoid being trapped, yet it happened to both of us. Terrible traps.”
“Mine wasn’t terrible,” she said curtly. “Bonnie is—was the highlight of my life and always will be.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t feel trapped when you found you were pregnant?”
“No, I felt stupid and angry with myself, but I always knew that I could find a solution. Afterward, there was no question of traps or anything else that wasn’t founded in love.” She gazed directly in his eyes. “Bonnie was all love. She bridged gaps. She made me try to understand myself and everyone around me. Do you realize what a wonderful gift that can be?”
“And you’ve never regretted having her even after all the pain you’ve experienced?”
“Regret? She lived. She lit up my world.”
He looked down into the coffee in his cup. “And then she was taken away from you.”
“Was it you, John?”
He lifted his gaze. “No.”
She was believing him, she realized incredulously. No, she mustn’t trust him. “Then you know who did it?”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t tell me that.” Her voice was shaking. “You have to know something. You have to tell me.”
“I’ll think about it.” He sat up straight in the chair. “Though it would probably be better if I just sent you back to your police detective. Did you tell him about me?”
“Of course.”
He gave her a shrewd glance. “Not everything.”
“Details? No, he wouldn’t be interested.”
“I bet he would.”
“How did you know about Joe?”
“I know everything about you, Eve.” He finished his coffee. “One of Nate Queen’s principal duties was to compile and update dossiers on you. I know about your lover, your work, and your adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire.” He smiled. “She’s a very good artist. You’ll recognize one of her paintings on the wall as you go down the hall.”
She tried to hide her shock. She had naturally assumed Jane was not involved at all with John Gallo. “Why would you want to go to a gallery to buy her painting?”
“Curiosity? I’m very inquisitive. It’s my nature, and while I was in prison, it was developed into a fine art form. She’s very beautiful. She resembles you. I found that odd since you’re not related.”
“Coincidence. But you didn’t talk to her? Ask her questions?”
He shook his head. “I just stayed in the background and watched and listened.” He paused. “Just as I did with you.”
“Why?” Her voice vibrated with intensity. “Were you ashamed? Was it guilt?”
“There’s always guilt.” He stood up. “We’re all flawed, some more than others.” He smiled down at her. “And I’m the most flawed man you’ll probably ever run across. I was starting down that path when we came together, and I went into overdrive after I left you.” He headed for the door. “Bill Hanks will take you to your room. I’ve confiscated your phone, and you’ll find the house phones won’t work without a code inserted.”
“I want my phone. I need to call Joe Quinn. I won’t have him worried. You can monitor the call if you like.”
“Oh, yes, Joe Quinn.” He glanced back