Echoes in Death
Page 34
“Don’t be stupid now. Did he threaten you with physical harm?”
“Yes.” Daphne covered her face with a hand. “But—”
“Did he threaten to harm your sister, your parents?”
She dropped her hand as tears fell. “Not at first. Not at first, don’t you understand? He was so kind, so attentive, so romantic. He made me feel so special, he told me I was … I was perfection. Then I’d do something to upset him. He was sorry he struck out at me, he’d be so sorry.”
“Until he did it again.”
“Yes. He said my family wasn’t my family. He was all I needed. And they weren’t mine in any case. Just substitutes, just obligated to house and clothe me. I knew that was wrong, but he’d get so angry. Once, just once, I was so angry, too. Not shocked and afraid, but very angry. I slapped him and I tried to run. I shouted I was going to my family. And he … hurt me. More than he ever had before. He kept hitting me, and he broke my wrist, and he said if I ever tried to leave him he’d kill them. That he knew how so no one would know, and he’d kill them, and it would be my fault.”
“So you didn’t leave him.”
Daphne shook her head. “If I did what he wanted, he hardly ever got angry. If I wore the right dress, said the right thing, he could be very pleased with me. He could be kind, even gentle when he was pleased with me. I tried to make him pleased with me.”
“But sometimes he hurt you anyway.”
“It would be my fault if a man looked at me too long or said something my husband didn’t like. It was an insult to him, and I’d instigated it. I had to be punished, be reminded how to behave properly. If I begged him to stop or tried to crawl away, he’d hit me harder, longer. He would choke me until I passed out, and later I’d wake up.”
“There was a white silk cord and a white silk blindfold in his bedside drawer.”
Daphne’s face flushed; her breath released on choppy hitches. “He’d use the cord to tie me, and the blindfold. He’d rape me, and hurt me. But it wasn’t rape because I belonged to him. He said it wasn’t rape, but I knew it was. I knew, but I stayed. I didn’t know what to do. He was important, and everyone would believe him. He had the droids watch me. He knew everything I did. If I left the house, he knew. I couldn’t leave unless he said I could.”
“How long did this go on?”
“He hit me the first time on our honeymoon. He was very sorry, but I’d insulted him, upset him by flaunting myself on the beach. And men had been ogling me.”
“So the abuse started at the beginning of your marriage and continued. Escalated.”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter now. It’s over now, isn’t it? I just want to forget.”
“You’re not going to.” Eve said it flatly. “On the night you were attacked. You came upstairs with Strazza. Was he pleased with you?”
“No.” She brushed away a tear. “No, he wasn’t. People had stayed too long, and I had failed to be a good hostess. A good hostess knows how to end an evening. He gripped my arm so hard, and I knew he would hurt me, but the devil was in the room.
“Please don’t make me say all that again.”
“Kyle Knightly, disguised as a devil, struck Strazza, assaulted you. Is this correct?”
“I don’t know who it was. But if you say that’s who it was … Yes. Please. I don’t want to think about it.”
“You remember more than you did. You lied to me when I asked you yesterday. If you lie it’s going to eat at you and eat at you. You won’t forget, and you won’t have a prayer of moving on. Knightly restrained you, then your husband. Is this correct?”
“Yes, but he let me go again when my husband was tied up, after he struck him in the face. He let me go, he held a knife—no, it’s not a knife, it’s smaller and silver and sharp—to my husband’s throat and told me he’d slit it unless I took off my clothes. Slow, he said. Take them off slow. I didn’t want to. I wanted to run, but Anthony said: ‘You stupid bitch.’ And I did. I took off my clothes, and I laid back in bed because the devil said to. He tied me again, and he slapped me, hard, hard, and he raped me. The lights were red, and there was smoke. I think.
“He said it was hell. Fire and brimstone, sulfur and smoke. He cut me and he hit me, and he raped me, and he laughed. He left us after he hurt my husband again, after Anthony told him the combinations to the safes.”
“What happened when he was gone? When it was just you and Strazza.”
“My husband raged at me. I was a whore, a weak, filthy whore. I’d let the devil have sex with me. I’d said it was the best I’d ever had. I tried to tell my husband the devil forced me, had said he’d kill me if I didn’t say it, but my husband was so angry. There was blood on his face, his face was red and black, like the devil. Then he came back, the devil came back and he hurt Anthony again, and he raped me again. He took a pill, and raped me again, and choked me. He’d choke me, like my husband would, and I’d go away, and I’d come back and he’d rape me again. My husband, the devil. Again. Why doesn’t he kill me, why isn’t it over? And he went away again. I think. I think. It’s mixed up.”
Her eyes brimmed over. “It’s mixed up.”
“What do you remember? He went away again. Then?”
“He went away, and my husband was like a madman. He broke the chair, he beat and beat and the chair broke. His face, red and black, and he was standing in that red light, and I thought, Help me. Help me. It hurt, my throat, when I tried to talk, but I said: ‘Help me, Anthony. Hurry. He’ll come back.’”
“Did he help you?”
“He was on top of me. My husband. The devil. His face. My husband.”
Pale as ice, Daphne pressed her hands to her temples. “Now my husband’s the devil, and he’s choking me, hitting me. He said he’d kill me for this. Kill the whore. Worthless whore. I was going away, finally going away. This time I wouldn’t come back. He’d end it this time. But he jumped away. And the devils, they fought. I saw in the light, through the smoke, the one struck the other with the vase, and the lilies scattered.”
Her eyes, glassy now, stared through Eve.
“I hate the smell of them. I had to have lilies because my husband said, and I hated the smell. They were scattered on the floor and the devil—no, no, my husband was on the floor. Blood, so much blood. Then the other, he laughed, and he came back. He raped me again. It didn’t matter. It just didn’t matter. I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anymore.
“Then it was quiet. So quiet. Dark and quiet, and I got up. It must have been a terrible dream. I didn’t feel anything. But I could smell the lilies and the blood, and he was on the floor. I had to help him because he’s my husband. Anthony? He got up. Blood on his face. He hit me.”
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.”
He kissed her, turned her to the car, rounded it, and got behind the wheel. “She’s no more a murderer than the child you were.”
“No. If she’d just snapped, I’d have thrown what weight I could toward diminished capacity, and I wouldn’t have been wrong. But I kept asking myself if it was because of her, because of the circumstances, or if it was because of me.”
“It’s all. Because of you, you were able to see her and the circumstances more clearly, understand them more clearly. I’m unspeakably proud of you. Don’t say it’s your job,” he told her before she could. “This was more. Strazza was your victim, but so was she, in every sense. You uncovered the truth for and about him, but you stood for her. The one who most needed it.”
“She’ll get through it.”
“I believe she will.”
“So will the Patricks, even though this is going to shake their foundations and leave a hell of a crack in them.”
“They have each other, as you said. So do we.” He lifted her hand, kissed it. “I want that walk with you.”
“Until we’re half frozen, then we can thaw out by the bedroom fire.”
“What do you say we get a little drunk by that fire, see what happens next?”
“I say: I know what happens next, and I’m all for it.”
Steadier, much steadier, she looked out the window. Snow blackened against the curbs, people rushing to get somewhere else, traffic thoroughly pissed off. Horns blasting and ad blimps blaring.
The city she loved, Eve thought. Her place. It looked absolutely perfect to her.
TITLES BY J. D. ROBB
Naked in Death
Glory in Death
Immortal in Death
Rapture in Death
Ceremony in Death
Vengeance in Death
Holiday in Death
Conspiracy in Death
Loyalty in Death
Witness in Death
Judgment in Death
Betrayal in Death
Seduction in Death
Reunion in Death
Purity in Death
Portrait in Death
Imitation in Death
Divided in Death
Visions in Death
Survivor in Death
Origin in Death
Memory in Death
Born in Death
Innocent in Death
Creation in Death
Strangers in Death
Salvation in Death
Promises in Death
Kindred in Death
Fantasy in Death
Indulgence in Death
Treachery in Death
New York to Dallas
Celebrity in Death
Delusion in Death
Calculated in Death
Thankless in Death
Concealed in Death
Festive in Death
Obsession in Death
Devoted in Death
Brotherhood in Death
Apprentice in Death
Echoes in Death
ANTHOLOGIES
Silent Night
(with Susan Plunkett, Dee Holmes, and Claire Cross)
Out of This World
(with Laurell K. Hamilton, Susan Krinard, and Maggie Shayne)
Remember When
(with Nora Roberts)
Bump in the Night
(with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
Dead of Night
(with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
Three in Death
Suite 606
(with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
In Death
The Lost
> (with Patricia Gaffney, Mary Blayney, and Ruth Ryan Langan)
The Other Side
(with Mary Blayney, Patricia Gaffney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
Time of Death
The Unquiet
(with Mary Blayney, Patricia Gaffney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
Mirror, Mirror
(with Mary Blayney, Elaine Fox, Mary Kay McComas, and R. C. Ryan)
Down the Rabbit Hole
(with Mary Blayney, Elaine Fox, Mary Kay McComas, and R. C. Ryan)
About the Author
J. D. Robb is the pseudonym for the New York Times bestselling author of more than two hundred novels, including the futuristic suspense In Death series. There are more than five hundred million copies of the author’s books in print. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Epigraphs
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Titles by J. D. Robb
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.