In Death 20 - Survivor in Death

coming to kill me.”
    “They’re not. It was a dream.” Roarke sat, Nixie curled in his lap. “A very bad dream. But you’re safe here, as you can see. With me, and the lieutenant and Summerset.”
    He patted the bed, and the cat gathered his porky self and leaped up nimbly. “And here, here’s Galahad as well.”
    “I saw the blood. Is it on me?”
    “No.”
    “We’ll get a soother in her.” Opening a wall panel, Summerset pressed buttons on a mini AutoChef. “She’ll be the better for it. Here now, Nixie, you’ll drink this for me, won’t you?”
    She turned her face into Roarke’s shoulder. “I’m afraid in the dark.”
    “It’s not very dark, and we’ll have more lights if you like.” Roarke ordered them up another ten percent. “Is that better, then?”
    “I think they’re in the closet,” she whispered, and her fingers dug into his shirt. “I think they’re hiding in the closet.”
    That, Eve thought, was something she could do. She went directly to the closet, opened it, did a complete search while Nixie watched her.
    “Nobody can get into this place,” she spoke flatly. “Nobody can get past us. That’s the way it is. It’s my job to protect you. That’s what I’ll do.”
    “What if they kill you?”
    “A lot of people have tried. I don’t let them.”
    “Because you’re a major butt-kicker.”
    “You bet your ass. Drink the soother.”
    She waited, watched, while Nixie drank, while Summerset took over. He sat on the bed, talking to the child in a quiet voice until her eyes began to droop.
    And waiting, watching, Eve felt raw and scraped inside. She knew what it was to be chained in nightmares where something unspeakable came for you. The pain and the blood, the fear and the agony.
    Even after it was over, the dregs of it stained the edges of your mind.
    Summerset rose, stepped away from the bed. “That should help her. I have her room on monitor, should she wake again. For the moment, sleep is the best thing for her.”
    “The best thing is me finding who did this,” Eve stated. “Yeah, her parents will still be dead, but she’ll know why, and she’ll know the people who did it are in a cage. That happens, it’ll be better than a soother.”
    She walked out, straight to her own bedroom. Cursing, she sat on the arm of the sofa in the sitting area to drag off her boots. It relieved a little tension to heave them across the room.
    Still, she was glaring at them when Roarke came in.
    “Will she have them all of her life?” Eve pushed off the sofa. “Will she relive that in her dreams all her life? Can you ever get rid of the images? Can you cut them out of your head like a fucking tumor?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I didn’t want to touch her. What does that say about me? For Christ’s sake, Roarke, a little kid, screaming, and I didn’t want to touch her, so I hesitated. Just for a minute, but I hesitated, because I knew what was in her head, and knowing it, put him in mine.” She yanked off her weapon harness, tossed it aside. “So I’m standing there, looking at her and seeing my father, and the blood. All over me.”
    “I touched her, and you showed her there were no monsters in the closet. We each do what we do, Eve. Why ask yourself for more than you can do?”
    “Goddamn it, Roarke.” She whirled around, spun by her own demons. “I can stand over a body and not blink. I can grill witnesses, suspects, and not break stride. I can wade through blood to get where I need to go. But I couldn’t cross the room to deal with that kid.” It sat in her belly like lead. “Am I cold? God, am I that cold?”
    “Cold? Sweet Jesus, Eve, you’re nothing of the kind.” He went to her, laying his hands on her shoulders. Firming his grip when she started to shrug him away. “You feel too much, so much I wonder how you stand it. And if you have to close off certain things at certain times, it’s not coldness. It’s not a flaw. It’s survival.”
    “Mira said . . . she said to me not long ago that once--before I met you--she’d figured I had maybe three years left before I burned out. Before I couldn’t do the job anymore.”
    “Why?”
    “Because the job was it. It...” She lifted her hands, dropped them. “It was all I had at the center of it. I didn’t--maybe couldn’t--let anything else in. And maybe, no matter how much I felt, there was too much cold with it. If things had gone on that way--I think I’d have been more than cold .. .