Joe was silent. “I hope the eliminating won’t be necessary in this case.”
Jock was surprised at that far-from-subtle warning. Joe Quinn was an ex-SEAL, and his instincts were often as violent and lethally efficient as Jock’s. “I’ll have to see, won’t I? Do you think you could stop me?”
“I’d try like hell if you went off the track. Cara wouldn’t let me do anything else. Which would put me up against you, and that would be the last thing you’d want to happen. Either way, you’d lose. So be damn sure, Jock.”
He was right, there was no way he could ever challenge anyone Cara loved as she did Joe Quinn. “I’ll be sure. Just take care of her. I’ll get back to you.” He cut the connection.
CHAPTER
6
“I love this place,” Darcy said as she looked down from the porch at the barbecue area directly below them where Eve, Joe, and Michael were gathered together in front of the grill. The laser lights were lit on the trees surrounding the entire area, and it appeared as if thousands of emerald fireflies were glittering off and on every branch. “And those lights are amazing. Not what I’d expect from such a bucolic setting.”
“Eve’s adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire, sent them to Michael last year,” Cara said. “She’s an artist, and she has a wonderful eye. She did that painting of Eve on the wall in the living room. She knew Michael would love those lights. She came and installed them herself to get just the right effect.” She handed Darcy a glass of lemonade. “And I think Michael was happier to have her here to do it than to have the lights themselves.”
“I can see that,” Darcy said. “He’s incredibly affectionate, isn’t he?”
“He’s incredible in all kinds of ways.” She sipped her lemonade. “But the affection isn’t that unusual when he has parents like Eve and Joe. It’s all love and family here. Anything else would be truly incredible.”
“I guess you’re right.” She looked down at Michael, standing next to Eve. “It just seems unusual to me. It’s like the last scene on a family sitcom when they’re wrapping up everything all touchy-feely so they’ll get renewed for the next season.”
Cara gazed at her openmouthed. Then she started to laugh. “Only you would make that comparison. Yes, I definitely think Eve and family will get renewed for next season.”
“So do I,” Darcy said. “They’re wonderful. Do you know how lucky you are they took you in?”
“No question.” She glanced sideways at Darcy before she asked. “You’ve been very quiet since we got home from Michael’s karate lesson. How did it go with you and Eve?”
“How do you think it went? Eve told me I’d have to brace myself, and she was right. She didn’t want to show me the photos of that skull before she started work on it, but I made her do it. I had to know everything I could about what happened to Sylvie.” She shivered as she looked away from Cara. “I nearly threw up again. I’m not what you could ever call tough. The only thing that saved me was that I got so angry that it seemed to burn everything away, but what I wanted to do to the person who had done that to her.”
“Eve said that the cremation had been done after Sylvie was shot,” Cara said gently. “And the bullet killed her instantly.”
“I know,” she said jerkily. “She told me all that. But at that point it didn’t help. I couldn’t understand how anyone could—” She drew a deep breath. “She said she thought it was done to either make it difficult for her to reconstruct, or to inject an element of horror and shock to that skull.” She moistened her lips. “I felt that horror and shock. Anyone who had known Sylvie would have. She was so gentle, like a leaf drifting among us, and he tried to make her into a monster.”
“But Eve didn’t let him,” Cara said. “She brought her back. She brought her home to you.”
“And I’ll always be grateful to her.” She looked down at Eve. “She’s just as wonderful as you always told me. She was supposed to turn Sylvie back over to Forensics today, but I asked her if we could keep her here for a couple more days. She got Joe to pull strings.”
“It was important to you?”
“It seemed that way. I just wanted to be able to look at Sylvie every now and then and try to understand and get my head together. I’m so filled with anger and sadness, and yet I look at that reconstruction that Eve did of Sylvie, and I think I see something I’ve never seen before.” She shook her head. “Or maybe I saw it, and I didn’t notice. Eve made her look stronger, brimming, shining, with life.”
“Eve never makes her reconstructions look anything,” Cara said. “She just sculpts what’s there.”
“Michael said she fixes them.”
“But never changes them.” She took a step closer and slid her arm around Darcy’s waist. “I’ve always thought some people have a shining inside. Maybe Sylvie was one of those people, and it’s only now that we’re allowed to see it.”
“Maybe.” She smiled with an effort. “As I said, I’m only trying to understand what’s happening to me. I’m not up to going very deep into philosophy or theology right now. Not that I ever am. I really like accepting the role of the dumb blonde on occasion. It’s much more comfortable for me.”
“And totally deceptive.” But Darcy had gone through enough trauma and soul-searching for one day, Cara thought. She was still in the healing process, and Cara could see her changing with every passing hour. “But by all means, let’s go down and join the family and see if you can fool them.” She nudged her toward the porch steps. “Though you’ll have to be very sharp to get that past Michael…”
A few minutes later, Cara was sitting on the bench by the barbecue pit and watching as Darcy was being drawn into the magic circle of laughter and warmth that Michael, Eve, and Joe were generating. She could see any hint of artifice and stiffness melting away from her as she threw back her head and laughed at something Joe had said. This was what she had wanted for Darcy. Cara had been given this gift all those years ago, and she knew the value. She had come to Eve almost as broken and hurting as Darcy and she had—
Her cell rang, and she pulled it out of her jacket pocket.
Jock? He’d promised he’d call her when he—
Not Jock.
She stiffened as she read the ID.
Sergai Kaskov.
She hesitated, then pressed the access. “Hello, Kaskov. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. I’m not supposed to be in New Orleans for another week.”
“And you’re clearly so shocked that you forgot to call me grandfather again,” he said dryly. “Though it’s not surprising since I only see you for one month a year. It does tend to distance us, doesn’t it?”
“I’m sorry. I did forget. But that one month is more than we were ever together from the time I was three. My mother didn’t even see fit to bring me to see you until I was eleven.” She paused. “So the distance was already there and established.”
Silence. “I can always count on you to be entirely frank with me. Perhaps that’s why I look forward to these visits so much. No one else is that brave.”
“Because you’d shoot them?”
He chuckled. “I haven’t shot anyone in a long time.”
But he didn’t mention if he’d given that order to one of his men. She wasn’t going to ask him. Their periods together were too difficult without further conflict. “Why are you calling me?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I had your last concert in Connecticut recorded, and it was exquisite. You’re getting better all the time. I thought you were superb when I first heard you when you were only eleven, but now you’re reaching your full potential. I wanted to let you know I’m pleased.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice was mocking. “I know how little that means to you. But it does mean something to me, so I thought it would be amusing to express it. And, as it happens, I had a few other items on my agenda to discuss, so I decided I’d indulge myself.”