Absently, she lifted a hand to her cheek. “He hit me, I fell back. I fell, I think, and went away again. But I came back. The room, it’s spinning, it won’t stand still. The devil—who is it—the devil was shouting and storming around the room. I tried to get up. I got up, but I think I fell. Did he hit me again? I don’t know, I swear I don’t. ‘I’ll kill you, and they’ll think it was him, they’ll think it was the one you fucked. Whore. You let him have you. No one will ever touch you again. I’ll kill you.’”
Trembling now, her hands rubbing hard over her heart, she said it again and again. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you. I couldn’t run. Did we fall? I think we fell, and the vase was in my hands. He grabbed my ankle, tried to, grabbed it, I don’t know. It’s so mixed up. I hit him. I hit him with the vase, hit him as hard as I could. Stop, please stop. And hit him. And he stopped, and it was quiet. And I couldn’t feel anything. I just wanted to go away. I just wanted to be somewhere else. Away from the devils and the smell of blood and lilies.
“Then there were angels—you,” she corrected. “You were there. And then I was in the hospital.”
She let out a broken sob. “I killed him. I killed my husband.” Weeping, she curled herself into a ball. “I’m so sorry. Tish, I’m so sorry. I didn’t remember at first. I swear, I didn’t remember. I killed him.”
“Be quiet.” Tish leaped to wrap arms around her sister. “Daph, you be quiet. I’m calling a lawyer.”
“Yes, I’d recommend that,” Eve said. “Just hold on a minute.”
“I’m not giving you the chance to—”
“Shut up,” Eve ordered. “You want to help, hold on to her. Daphne, you killed Anthony Strazza.”
“Yes, yes. I’m sorry.”
“You killed Anthony Strazza in self-defense. Everything you’ve told me corresponds with the evidence gathered through this investigation. Your statement here, your recounting also corroborates the confession given by Kyle Knightly. You should contact Randall Wythe. He may advise you to hire another lawyer, one with criminal expertise, but I’m telling you, on the record, no charges will be brought against you.”
“But … I—”
“You were attacked and brutalized by Kyle Knightly. You were further attacked and brutalized, and your life was threatened, by Anthony Strazza. I believe Dr. Mira will agree your state of mind was one of panic, confusion, and survival.”
“I will,” Mira confirmed.
“What you’ve told me here corresponds to what I evaluated on scene, through interviews, what the chief medical examiner concluded. I’m going to need you to come in tomorrow, with your attorney, and go through this again. The APA will be present at that time. And at that time, I’m telling you, this will be determined self-defense.”
Still clinging to Tish, Daphne stared at Eve. “You’re not going to arrest me?”
“For what? For defending yourself against a brutal attack and the threat of death? No. Record off.”
Eve picked up a cup of tea that had gone cold, downed it to soothe her own throat. “You have people to support you. Remember it. Remember this, too. Even without the circumstances of the attack Saturday night, Anthony Strazza would have made good on his threats, sooner or later. He’d have kept at you until he’d gone too far. You stopped that from happening, and that’s no crime. It’s no sin. It’s not wrong.”
“I remember hitting him. I dreamed about it, and I was afraid to tell you. I wanted to believe it was just a dream. I was afraid to tell anyone.”
“Now you have. It’s going to take a while before you’re not afraid. This is the start.”
Eve got to her feet. Tish rose with her.
“You needed her to say it all, on the record. For her own sake.”
“I needed her to say it all, on the record.”
Tish stepped forward, held out a hand. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t owe you. We’ll all come in tomorrow. We’ll come with her. Can Dr. Mira be there?”
“I can and will,” Mira assured her. “I’m going to stay for a bit now. Is that all right, Daphne?”
“Yes, yes, please. I feel—it broke, and I feel. I’m still not sure. Lieutenant Dallas, I can agree to truth testing. I’ll do that if it helps.”
“I’m pretty good at being a truth tester, and Mira’s the same. This guy, too. Set up the time tomorrow to work with Dr. Mira’s schedule.”
“Will you be there?”
“I’ll be there. You’ll get through it, Daphne. We’ve got to go,” she said to Roarke.
He put an arm around her in the elevator, felt the light tremors. He said nothing, just kept an arm around her until they stepped outside.
“You knew. You knew before you had Knightly in the box.”
“Yeah.”
“When did you know?”
“Had to wonder when I saw the crime scene. Had to wonder more when I talked to Morris. It’s the only thing that made sense. Her finishing him off, I mean. Then getting a sense of Strazza, getting a sense of her, it got pretty clear she’d done it, and I leaned toward either self-defense or just snapping.”
“It’s what made you so sad.”
“I couldn’t tell you. It felt like it would be…”
“A betrayal,” he finished, turning her to him, ignoring the helpful doorman who held open the door of the car.
“When I put it together it was too much like looking in a mirror, or hearing too many echoes. I needed her to get it out, one way or the other.”