In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

that everyone would pretend that they hadn't seen everyone else were dashed as Sam and Phoebe strolled toward her, holding hands.
    Eve stuck hers in her pockets. "How's it going?"
    "A gorgeous day."
    Phoebe's lips curved, but her gaze was steady and direct and made the back of Eve's neck itch. Deliberately Eve focused on a point in the center of Phoebe's forehead.
    Don't look in her eyes, she reminded herself. Don't make direct visual contact.
    "Sam and I were taking advantage of it." Phoebe shook back her hair and it tinkled musically from the silver rings woven through it. "I saw your interview with Nadine Furst of Channel 75 on the entertainment screen before I came out. You looked very strong and determined."
    "I am determined."
    "And strong. Roarke tells us the two of you need to go out of town tomorrow."
    "Yeah. It's case-related," Eve replied uneasily, avoiding looking at Sam.
    "Is there anything we can do for you here while you're gone?"
    "No, thanks. Not unless you run into Julianna Dunne and want to make a citizen's arrest."
    "I think we'll leave that to you and Delia. I need to check on something in the greenhouse. Sam, talk Eve into finishing your walk with you."
    Before either of them could speak, Phoebe was gliding off with a swish of flowing, flowered skirts.
    "I'm sorry," Sam said immediately. "She knows there's some kind of tension. I didn't say anything to her."
    "Okay."
    "It's not okay." For the first time since she'd known him, Eve heard temper in his voice, saw it on his face as he turned to her. "I'm making you uncomfortable and upset in your own home. You and Roarke opened that home to us, and I abused the privilege. I was about to work up to talking Phoebe into moving to a hotel for our last few days, but you drove up..."
    He trailed into silence, and like Eve, stuck his hands in his pockets as if he didn't know what else to do with them.
    They stood like that a moment, staring out at the lawn, at the color and the green. She was no sensitive, but Eve thought the misery pumping off the man would have dented a steel wall.
    "Look, let's just put it away. It's a couple of days, and I'm not here half the time anyway."
    "I have a code," he said quietly. "Part of it's Free-Ageism, part of it's simply the way I believe a life should be led. To cherish family, to do good work. To enjoy the time we're given in this lifetime, and to try as best as we're able to cause no harm. With the gift I was given comes another responsibility, another code. To respect, always, the privacy and the well-being of others. Never to use what I've been given for my own gain, my own amusement or curiosity, or to cause harm. That's what I did."
    Eve let out a heavy sigh. He'd hit her exactly where she lived. "I understand codes. Living by them, living up to them. I also understand mistakes. I know you didn't do it on purpose, and you'd probably bite off your own tongue before you discussed this with anyone but me. But I barely know you, and it's hard having someone who's practically a stranger look at me and see that kind of... ugliness."
    "Do you think I see ugliness when I look at you?" His hand came out of his pocket, started to reach for her, then retreated. "I don't. I saw the ugliness of a memory, the horror no child should know exists much less experience. I'm not a violent man, by nature or creed, but I wish I could..."
    He trailed off, his face flushed with fury, the hand at his side balled into a fist that looked oddly capable.
    "I wish I could do what any father should do." He steadied himself, opened his fist again. "But when I look at you I see strength and courage and purpose beyond anything I've ever known. I see my daughter's friend, a woman I trust with my child's life. I know you're going back there tomorrow. Roarke said you were going to Dallas. I'll pray for you."
    She stared at him. "Does anyone manage to stay pissed-off at you?"
    His smile was slow, tentative. "Phoebe manages it for short spaces of time."
    "Then she's tougher than she looks. We'll put it away," she said, and held out a hand.
    ...
    When she walked inside, she saw Summerset polishing the newel post while the cat sat like a furry Buddha on the bottom step. They both gave her a long, gimlet stare.
    "Your bag is packed for your trip. Roarke indicated a single day's supply of clothing would be sufficient.
    "I've told you, I pack for myself. I don't want you poking your bony fingers through my things." She stepped over the cat, who studiously