He had heard that many times before, but it was clear she needed to express it again. “So why did you give in to Sheriff Nalchek?”
“I don’t know.” She poured her coffee and came back to Joe. “He wore me down. He sounded young and eager and full of the horror that only comes the first time that you realize that there are vicious people out there who can do monstrous things to innocent children. I got the impression that he was an idealist who wanted to change the world.” She sat down beside Joe and nestled close, her head against his shoulder. Her cheek felt right, absolutely perfect against him. He wanted to hold her closer, but he could wait. He could sense the slight tension of her body, the disturbance that made her want to touch him. She probably didn’t even realize that she was in need and wanted his touch to be comforting. But he knew it and would give her what she needed.
“He kept telling me that this little girl was different,” she said. “That he was sure that he’d be able to find out who she was and who had killed her if I’d just give him a face to work with. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. In cold cases like this, the chances are always better if the officer in charge is enthusiastic and dedicated.”
“Like you.” Joe’s lips brushed her forehead. “Maybe he thinks he’s found a soul mate.”
“Oh, I’m dedicated. Enthusiastic?” She wearily shook her head. “Not now. I’m too tired. There have been too many children in my life who have been killed and thrown away. I’m not as enthusiastic as that young officer is. I’m only determined … and sad.”
“Sad?” Joe straightened and looked down at her. “Yes, I’m definitely feeling the sad part. But it’s not only about that skull in the box over there, is it?” His hand gently cupped her cheek. “Jane?” He had thought the root of Eve’s depression might be Jane MacGuire, their adopted daughter who Eve had just dropped off at the airport to catch her flight to London. “I could have taken her to the airport. I thought you wanted to do it.”
“I did want to do it. It may be the last time we see her for a while. She’s off to new adventures and finding a life of her own.” She tried to steady her voice. “Just what we wanted for her. Look what happened when she came back from London to try to help me. She got shot and almost died. Now she’s well and going on with her life.”
But Eve was having problems coming to terms with the fact that Jane’s life as an artist often took her far away from her, he thought. He had seen this coming. In Eve’s line of work as a forensic sculptor and his job as a police detective, sometimes the evil came close to home. Most recently Jane had been one of the targets. Those weeks with her daughter, while she had been recuperating, had been strained and yet poignantly sweet for Eve. Jane had come to them when she was ten years old and she had been more best friend than daughter to Eve. But that hadn’t changed the love that had bound them all these years. For Joe, the relationship had been different, the love was there, but it had built gradually, and he’d always known that Jane belonged to Eve. That was okay with him because he belonged to Eve, too. She was his center and Jane had always understood. But now that Jane was out on her own and becoming a successful artist, it was terribly hard for them to adjust to the fact that most of the time she was thousands of miles away.
“It’s exactly what she should be doing,” Eve said. “What’s here for her? Hell, I’m a workaholic and always involved with a reconstruction. You’re a police detective who they tap to work cases that don’t give you normal hours either. It was just … difficult … to see her get on that plane.”
“And you didn’t let her see one bit of that pain,” Joe said quietly. “You smiled and sent her on her way.”
“That’s what every parent does. It always comes down to letting them go.”