Page 94 of Delusion in Death
“I was so pissed, but not…I don’t know. Upset? I don’t know if that’s the word. But I kept looking at her, listening to her. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Blame, blame, blame. And there’s Mira, so calm. Unshakable, the way she can be. Part of my head’s thinking, look how different they are. Like opposite sides. And Mira had some bad shit in her life, but it didn’t turn her into some monster. I didn’t let Stella turn me. So what has she got? She’s got nothing but what I let her have. I know it. I always did. But…”
“What happened in Dallas was vicious. You had to work through it.”
“I know it took a piece out of you, too. And I know the time since hasn’t been easy for you. It’s going to be better.”
“I can see it.”
“She wasn’t going to walk off with that kid, or hurt her. Then when I saw it was Bella. Jesus. Over my dead body, you worthless cunt.” Eve took a breath. “She wanted me to shoot her. It’s weird, right? Even though it’s my dream, my inner whatever running the show, she wanted me to shoot her, then it’s like I killed her. I guess there was some stupid little seed of guilt in there I had to dig out and crush. Punching her felt so damn good. Mira’d probably have something to say about that.”
“I believe she’d say, Brava.”
“It’s going to be like it was with Troy, when I worked through that. She may come back, but she can’t hurt me anymore. That’s done.”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “I can’t tell you what it means to me.”
“You don’t have to. There’s probably some crap in here that still needs shoveling, but everybody’s got crap, right? It’s what you do about it. Choices. I’ve got to take a good look at mine, at some point. And now, I’ve got to start looking at choices people made in the Urbans that helped build the maze that led to the choices Callaway’s made.”
“As I said, some dream.”
“You got telepathy, I’ve got dreams. And I’m going to use them to kick some ass.”
•••
She compiled the notes, the data, the images, shuffling them together for the morning briefing. She rose just as Roarke stepped into her office.
“I’ve got to get in, start setting this up.”
“Before you do. Gina MacMillon.” He offered her a disc. “You may want to familiarize yourself on the way in. I’ve copied the files to your office comp.”
“Thanks. Interesting?”
“Very,” he said as she pocketed the disc. “She was married to a William MacMillon, and while he was listed as the father on the birth record—that record wasn’t recorded until the child was more than six months old.”
“That is interesting.”
“Also interesting. William MacMillon had filed for divorce, ultimately citing desertion. He filed eight months before the birth of the child, and the claim on the old documents states she’d abandoned him and the family home six months previously.”
“Fourteen months? If he was telling the truth, it’s either the longest gestation on record, or the kid wasn’t his. I’m going with the second option.”
“Better. I dug up a deposition where MacMillon states his wife had become involved with a religious cult, specifically names Menzini as an influence.”
Eve’s eyes sharpened as she turned to her board. “The wife takes off with Menzini’s group, gets knocked up. Somewhere in there has a change of heart—or re-engages her brain. Goes back to the husband—with a kid. He forgives her, takes responsibility for the kid.”
She paused a moment. “I’ve got some problems with that unless MacMillon is registered as a saint, but the time line reads like that.”
“It does. Love, if love it was, makes saints or sinners out of men.”
“I think mostly people are just born that way. So, the bio father maybe comes for the kid, and Karleen MacMillon’s now listed as an abductee.”
“And both Gina and William listed as dead, killed during the home invasion where the child was taken.”
“And eventually Gina’s half sister finds the kid, takes her as her own—changing the name. Protect the kid.”
“It reads that way.”
“I’d like some verification instead of speculation, but I can push on it. Maybe there’s family or somebody in the know still alive. I’ll put some work into finding out.”
“I have one more,” Roarke told her. “I had a quick word with Crystal Kelly.”