by V. K. Powell
“That kind of caring must make you feel very loved.”
Bessie had probably sacrificed a lot early in life to nurture her after her parents died. But Bessie didn’t dwell on the past. She and Ruth had given her every advantage they could. “Yes, I always knew they loved me.”
The kitchen grew quiet again as Greer placed the warm lasagna on the table, along with toasted garlic bread and a salad. As the tangy fragrances of tomato sauce and garlic filled the air, she poured them each a glass of wine and invited Eva to sit. “I know it’ll be hard, but you should try to eat, at least a little.”
Eva took a couple of gulps of wine and returned the glass to the table with a shaking hand. She pushed the lasagna and salad around on the plate with her fork but didn’t taste either. “Have you ever killed anybody?”
“Not directly.” Greer regretted her answer immediately. “If you mean in the line of duty, the answer is no. I’ve been lucky.”
“I was trying to imagine what it would feel like to hold another person’s life in your hands and know you were about to end it. What would flash through your mind? Would you consciously choose or would you decide without thinking in the immediacy of the moment?” Eva’s voice sounded strained, as if she was on the verge of tears.
“Don’t think about those things tonight, Eva. You’ve been through a lot.”
“That’s what I did today, you know. I ended another person’s life.” She pushed her plate away and rose from the table. “I have to talk to his family.”
“Eva, don’t do this to yourself. Go upstairs and take a long bath while I clean up down here. Then we’ll discuss this more. Will you do that for me?”
“Did he have a family?”
Greer considered which would be worse, to have no one from whom to seek absolution or to face the loved ones left behind. Each was its own special hell. Her answer wouldn’t comfort Eva. “No, Tom had no family and he wasn’t married.”
Eva’s eyes filled with tears as she looked toward the stairs and back at Greer. Her expression was like a lost child, unsure what to do next. “Where should I go?”
“The second floor’s all yours. Pick any room you like. They both have en suite bathrooms. I’ll be up in a few minutes to check on you.”
Eva retrieved her overnight bag from the entry and started toward the stairs. Her guilt hung like a yoke around her neck. She didn’t know how to handle her culpability in Tom’s death or how to seek forgiveness—if such a thing was even possible.
As she slowly ascended the stairs, Greer asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” But her answer sounded hollow.
Eva reached the second-floor landing and looked at the similar bedroom suites on either side. One contained pictures and personal items and had a more lived-in look. She chose the one with a simple cream-colored duvet, white sheer curtains, and no sign of personal touches. After she pulled a robe from her bag, she headed for the bathroom and thought about her earlier conversation with Greer as hot water filled the tub and steam coated the large mirror.
What would she have done if she’d known Tom would die this afternoon? She certainly wouldn’t have asked him to go with her to meet the informant. But what if she’d known only seconds before the shooting? Could she have done anything to prevent it? Would she have risked her own life to save his? She wondered how law enforcement or military personnel made such a decision in a fraction of a second, then lived with it forever.
It had only been four months since Paul’s death, Tom had died at her side today, and someone was probably targeting her. One of those things was enough to put her on edge, but she’d hit an ill-fated trifecta. Talking with Greer about her father and love had made her more anxious. She usually gathered information through personal chats, not disseminated it. But something about this one nibbled at her beliefs about her life and choices.
Eva stripped and settled into the hot water, enduring the prickly sting as partial justice for her failings. She couldn’t name anyone, aside from her brothers, that she was certain she’d risk her life for. She felt a responsibility, but not a real connection, to every person she’d interviewed in the course of her work. If she was honest, she’d never had the sort of connection she’d witnessed between Greer and Bessie or her friends with their partners. She couldn’t even maintain a relationship with a pet because she wasn’t home long enough.
She remembered the hundreds of times her father had left the family in search of the next big story, promising the current trip would be his last. As a child she blamed herself for not being enough to hold him. In adulthood, she realized his dreams and his demons had driven him from place to place. Some people just weren’t suited to domestic life. Eva couldn’t imagine doing to a partner what her father constantly did to her mother. As a compromise, she didn’t get involved.
But maybe Greer was right. Her father’s departures didn’t mean he loved his wife or children any less. He came back for a reason; maybe that was his definition of love. She’d assumed her lifestyle prohibited a fully committed and loving relationship. That premise was based on a model that appeared to have flaws. Perhaps she abandoned her sexual liaisons so she wouldn’t become too invested. What if her job was only an excuse to keep from getting hurt?
Eva splashed water on her face and relaxed into the huge soaker tub. It couldn’t be that simple. She kept her trysts short and uncomplicated to protect lovers from the uncertainties and disappointments of her life—at least that’s what she told herself. She closed her eyes and prayed the warm water would dissolve the emotional distress of today. Her guilt over Tom’s death and her unflattering personal history weighted her down like an anchor.
*
As Eva sluggishly climbed the stairs, Greer tried to reconcile the emotionally burdened woman with the confident, fearless reporter she’d been dealing with. This story didn’t feature some anonymous person gunned down in an old warehouse. Not only had Eva known and liked Tom Merritt, she’d been standing beside him when he was killed. Was Eva even more drained because she’d probably been the intended target?
Greer was angry at herself for not insisting that Eva take her to the meeting. If she’d been closer, she might’ve been able to prevent Tom’s death. All the seemingly unrelated bits of the case that hadn’t yet fallen into place confused her. She wanted to help Eva, but her own emotions were frayed, her control tentative. However, naked fear had settled closest to her heart—fear that someone would harm Eva and she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
This woman, with the energy of an overcaffeinated teenager and the determination of a marine on a mission, was beginning to matter to her. Greer panicked again and her chest tightened. Eva, not Tom, could be dead. She didn’t know Eva well enough to care about her. But beneath her finely honed defenses she experienced a flicker of hope when she saw Eva, desire when they were near, and arousal when they touched. God, how could this have happened?
Greer threw the dishcloth into the sink and paced. It was ludicrous to invest in any woman, especially one who would soon be leaving New Hope. Eva Saldana was simply a woman in pain and Greer wanted to help her, nothing more. She took another drink of wine and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
When she walked by her old room on the way to the guest bedroom, she slowed. Something was out of sync. She turned toward the space she hadn’t entered in two years. Eva lay under the old cream duvet—in her bed—the bed she and Clare had shared for ten years.
Chapter Twelve
Greer stood in the doorway of her old bedroom, unable to move because of the pain. A kaleidoscope of pictures flickered through her mind: Clare lying in that same position, her long strawberry blond hair fanned out across the pillow; Clare’s hand outstretched, summoning Greer to join her; Clare nude, rolling playfully from her; the two of them making love in the same bed that another woman now occupied.
The scent of Clare’s flowery perfume filled her nostrils and she inhaled it like a drug.
The distinctive moans of pleasure Clare made as she climaxed filled her head. The taste of Clare in her mouth overpowered her and she licked her lips. As the memories washed through her, Greer swayed unsteadily and grabbed the door frame. Her pulse raced. Why hadn’t she told Eva to take the other bedroom? “Oh, God.”
Eva sat up and looked at her. “What’s wrong? You’re so pale.” When Greer didn’t answer, Eva’s gaze swept around the room and settled on her again. “This was yours and Clare’s room, wasn’t it?”
Greer could only nod.
“I chose the one that looked unused. I’m so sorry. I’ll go.”
Greer stood still. Sooner or later someone would sleep in this room. Clare would’ve liked Eva, so why couldn’t it be her? She needed a safe place and a friend to talk to. Greer steadied her breathing and her heartbeat leveled. “It’s okay. I was surprised. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this room, much less seen anybody else in it.” As she spoke, tears ran down her cheeks. She swiped at them and turned to leave.
“Please don’t go. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
Greer couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. She hadn’t been able to at Clare’s funeral; her shock and guilt had coalesced into a rage so profound that it blocked all other emotions. And she hadn’t allowed herself to engage the grief long enough since then to purge it. Right now all she wanted was to cry. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed and sat down. “I miss her so much.”
Eva drew Greer down on top of the covers beside her and wrapped an arm around her. “Tell me about Clare.”
A small sob escaped her lips. “I’m not sure how—” Eva’s steady hand along her side and the soothing cadence of her voice calmed and soothed the turbulence inside.
“Take your time.”
After a few minutes, Greer said, “She was magnificent. Reddish blond hair, blue eyes, and the heart of an angel.” Emotion bubbled up and her voice cracked. “She loved me and—” Something ripped loose in her chest and she wailed. The sound was foreign and frightening as it came in waves accompanied by a continuous flood of tears.
“Let it go.” Eva stroked her back and whispered through her own tears, “We honor them with our memories.”
Greer nestled against the cover separating her from Eva and allowed herself to be comforted. She didn’t try to stop the tears or temper the ache that flowed from her. She thought about the love she and Clare had, the time they shared, and the bottomless pit of emptiness that now served as her heart. With each memory of their life together, Greer savored the intimacy and ached for the bond now missing. She’d floundered since Clare died, touching but not feeling, joining but not engaging, going through the motions of living but not experiencing life. “How do you—let them go—when it hurts so much?”
Eva whispered, “We never let go. We carry them in our hearts. The pain doesn’t end. It only becomes more bearable.” Her voice was tight with emotion as she stroked Greer’s back. “Eventually we’re able to talk about them, to share our memories with others who loved them, and to move forward a little at a time. But first we grieve.”
Greer heard the pain in Eva’s voice, her sorrow fresh and raw, as her tears soaked through the fabric between them. The death of her new friend and peer so soon after the loss of her brother was taking its toll. Eva Saldana had never tried to mask or suppress her emotional vulnerability. Greer both admired and wondered about her capacity to feel so freely and emote so easily. Here in Eva’s arms, for this moment, Greer wanted to release the restrictive bands around her heart and let the pain out.
“How do you grieve a loss so deep it threatens to break you?” Greer had asked herself and Bessie that question so many times it seemed a mantra. The essence of Clare was woven through her as intricately as the vital systems that supported her life. Was it possible to disengage without destroying?
“Cry. Let the feelings out. Don’t think about it. Don’t worry what happens next.” Eva rocked her gently. “Just cry.”
And she did. Eva held her, rocking and whispering reassurances, as they both wept. It seemed forever, yet no time at all until the tears slowed and eventually stopped. She felt relieved and instantly guilty. “I killed her, you know.” The words rushed from her lips before she could stop them.
“What?” Eva rolled Greer toward her and searched her face. “Why do you blame yourself?”
The question shook Greer. She’d borne that burden for two years but no one had ever asked about it directly. Nausea settled in her gut as she recalled the hopelessness of that day. “I put her in harm’s way—I can’t talk about this.”
“You don’t have to. Maybe I’m trying to understand what I’ve done. I got Tom involved in this case. I put his life in danger. I killed him as surely as if I pulled the trigger.”
Greer relented as the sadness and horror on Eva’s face transformed her lovely features into a mask of despair. Today’s events had obviously affected Eva more than she thought. Perhaps someone with fresh grief and guilt of her own could understand the depth of Greer’s loss. She clamped her fists together until her fingers turned white. Could she utter the words she’d directed at herself every day since Clare’s death?
“I—I put her in the line of fire.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I asked her to meet me at the station because I was running late. If I’d picked her up at the hospital like we’d planned, she wouldn’t have crossed Young’s path. She’d still be alive.” A bitter taste crawled up her throat and Greer thought she might vomit. “I killed her.”
Eva slid her hand up Greer’s chest. “Oh, darling, you didn’t kill Clare any more than I killed Tom. But the difference between knowing and feeling is huge, isn’t it? We both have to come to terms with that.” Eva hugged her again and some of the tension disappeared. “I’m so sorry about Clare, so very sorry.”
Greer had no idea how long they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, giving and receiving comfort. As the ache in her chest slowly subsided, she realized she’d been holding another woman for hours with no sexual intent. Their intimacy intoxicated her. Her interactions the past two years had lacked this kind of familiarity, which didn’t necessarily come from sex. It rose from a deeper place, from a union of more than the flesh—the joining of two souls at the point of greatest vulnerability. Suddenly she felt awkward and shifted toward the edge of the bed.
“Are you okay?” Eva asked.
“Yeah.” But Greer wasn’t sure. Was she all right with being used and discarded, as she and Eva had earlier agreed to do? Eva had opened a door that Greer planned to keep closed forever. Could she go back to one-night stands after this tiny taste of real intimacy?
Eva seemed to pick up on Greer’s mood. “Why don’t we change the subject?”
Greer relaxed as she pushed the disturbing thoughts aside. “Good idea. I’m sorry for this. I was supposed to be taking care of you tonight.”
“We sort of took care of each other.” Eva gave Greer more space on the bed, paused for several seconds, then asked, “Do you trust Jake Johnston?”
Greer resisted the intrusion and the return to reality. Before Eva came to town she would’ve answered that question with a quick, definitive yes. But she couldn’t easily dismiss her emotional connection with Eva, and, lately, she had begun to doubt JJ, which she truly detested. She didn’t want to believe that any cop, especially JJ, engaged in deceitful or unprofessional practices. Integrity and honor were basic to law enforcement. If you corrupted your values, you’d better find another profession. If she let these basic principles waver, she weakened her foundation.
“Yes, I trust JJ.” Her answer lacked conviction. “I owe him a lot.”
Eva paused, seeming to weigh her next comment. “I’ve heard how he helped you after Clare’s death. That kind of support deserves loyalty.”
“Without the sergeant and JJ, I probably wouldn’t be a cop now. You can’t get that close to someone and not trust him. JJ has faults, but he isn’t professionally dishonest.�
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“Then I trust your instincts. I’m trying to figure out who’s behind all this. And JJ hasn’t supported you lately. He’s the only person I’ve met who’s been uncooperative, even openly hostile.”
Greer agreed with everything Eva said but didn’t want to take sides against her friend. “Something’s going on with JJ, and I need to find out what it is. He hasn’t been himself since the sergeant assigned me this review. I’ve been trying to talk to him, but he keeps avoiding me. After today, I’m afraid that just got worse.”
“Would you let me talk to Agent Long?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, what could you say? You don’t know who shot Tom or the sergeant.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Thanks, but it’ll take more than a vote of confidence to clear this up.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help, if you’ll let me.”
Eva shifted in bed and the sheet slipped below her breasts. Greer tried not to stare but was suddenly very aware that Eva was nude under the covers and she was still fully clothed on top of them. The intimate but platonic closeness they’d shared earlier now disappeared as Greer’s body ached. She averted her gaze but not before Eva noticed her discomfort.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled the covers over her exposed flesh. “So what happens now—with the case, I mean.”
Disappointment washed over Greer when Eva’s breasts disappeared from sight, followed by a twinge of guilt. She couldn’t have sex with Eva in this room, in this bed. She would be betraying Clare. If she ever started a new life with someone, they would have to begin somewhere they could make new memories. Besides, tonight wasn’t about sex. She and Eva had shared something deeper and more intimate. Uneasy, Greer turned and rose from the bed to put some distance between them.
“I’d like to go through Paul’s personal things that you picked up at the station. We might’ve missed something, and a second look could be helpful. But we have to keep this on the QT because the SBI is officially in charge of the case.”