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“I told you I don’t intrude.”

“You’re a liar. Up till now, your gift’s been more a game to you than anything else. Entertaining, interesting, lucrative. You told me once you were shallow, and that’s one absolute truth. Lucas wasn’t in love with you anymore, he was pulling away. Had to save your pride and make it seem amiable. And now, look at this, his new lady meets with a terrible death, and there you are, arms open to comfort. Did you weep a few tears when you went over to comfort him this afternoon?”

“I had every right to see Lucas. Decency—”

“Don’t tell me about decency.” The whip of Eve’s voice had Celina’s head snapping back. “You knew what John Blue was, where he was, what he was doing long before you came to my office. You watched him kill, over and over again. And you used them, used him, used me. One of the clerks uptown—you were smart to go uptown—at a craft shop remembers you, Celina. You’re a striking woman, and she remembers you coming in four months ago. Four months ago, and buying three yards of red corded ribbon.”

Her cheeks weren’t pale now. They were going gray. “That—that doesn’t prove—”

“You think it’s all circumstantial, and maybe. But it adds up so nice. Means, motive, opportunity.” She flipped out three fingers. “You knew the victim, you knew the details of the other murders, you had the murder weapon in your possession. We can trace it back to that uptown shop. It’ll take a little time, but we can do it. When we do, it’s as good as around your neck.”

She waited a beat to let that factor sink in. “You’re the only one who could have killed her. You’re boxed. Stand up to it, Celina. One thing you’re not, is weak.”

“No, I’m not.” She picked up her tea, wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’d rather a brandy, I think. Would you mind?” She gestured vaguely. “On the shelf by the kitchen. A double.”

Roarke obliged her, walked across the room.

“You love him very much,” Celina said to Eve. “We could say outrageously.”

“You can say whatever you like.”

“What would you do, how would you survive if he fell out of love with you? If you knew you’d become an obligation, a duty he didn’t quite know how to avoid, because being a decent man, he didn’t want to hurt you. To hurt you. How could you stand it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I let him go.” She closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them again they were clear. Steady. “I tried to let him go, to be reasonable and sophisticated. But it hurt.” She pressed a fist to her heart. “So much. Unbearably. Worse when he fell in love with her. I knew he’d never come back to me, there was no chance he’d love me again as long as he loved her.”

She looked up at Roarke as he brought her the brandy. “Men enslave us, even when they don’t mean to. I sought the first vision. I was grieving, and I sought it out. I don’t know what I intended to do, but I was so unhappy, so angry, so lost, and I opened myself up. And I saw him, as clearly as I see you. John Blue. I saw what he did.”

She swirled brandy, sipped. “It wasn’t his mother. It wasn’t the first. I didn’t know how many before. It was Breen Merriweather. I didn’t see him take her from the city. But I saw him lifting her out of a van. It was dark. Very dark. Her hands and feet were bound and she was gagged. I could see her fear. He took her inside, and all the lights, so many lights came on. So I saw everything he did to her in that horrible room, and I saw him bury her in the backyard.”

“And you started to plan.”

“I don’t know. That’s sterling. I didn’t know what to do, what I would do. I almost went to the police. It was my first instinct, I swear it. But I . . . didn’t, and I wondered who he was and how he could do the things he did.”

“So you watched him,” Roarke finished. “To find out.”

“Yes. I was fascinated and repelled, but I was able to link to him, and I . . . studied him. And I wondered: Why doesn’t he kill Annalisa? Everything would be the way it should be again, if he’d kill Annalisa. I wondered if I could pay him to do it, but that was too risky. And he’s mad, so he might’ve hurt me. And I realized,