“Hardly. She’s old enough to be his mother.”
“It never stopped Oedipus and Jocasta.” Sofie’s comment was dry.
“True, but Mrs. Bull has a daughter. More likely it’s her.”
Evan’s hand tightened on Sofie’s shoulder, and she felt his thoughts. There might be an end to this confinement soon. She didn’t know whether she was happy or sad.
While it’s wonderful to have you to myself, I want to do other things with you. Walk in the park, go to the theatre, and take you for more lunches. Dinner, even.
She laughed for sheer happiness, and immediately felt ashamed, in the midst of such unhappiness.
Be happy. Please.
If you are.
She received no answer except a brief extra pressure on her shoulder.
Cristos continued as though he was oblivious to the exchange, but Sofie knew that at some level he knew. “Mrs. Bull has no alibi for any of the murders, and neither does her daughter, apart from the British murder. The profilers aren’t convinced it’s the same perpetrator.”
“Do they think they’re connected?” Evan’s voice came sharply, and Sofie knew without having to probe his mind that he was thinking the same thing as she. The link between Mrs. Bull and Gwyneth was Archie Hamilton.
“It seems probable. The points are similar. The rune is the same, although by a different hand. The victim was drugged with belladonna. Unusual enough to connect them.”
“Yes.” Evan drained the emotion from his voice.
“They’re looking at you again, Evan, but you’re not on the list of potential victims any more. The FBI think Dr. Adams is a target.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what this person wants. I don’t think it’s a typical serial murder. This person has a purpose other than killing for kicks.”
Sofie realized she had thought the same. She had courted CASKU, spent time learning the techniques of the department and mixed with the lecturers in profiling at Quantico. She knew serial killers escalated the severity of their attacks, and the gaps between each murder, rather like an addiction. These murders were done with a precision, but no escalation. There was no frenzy there, no indication of any emotional involvement.
“I agree. There is something beyond the murders. They are a means to an end, not an end in themselves.”
Cristos sighed again, but this sigh was different. It was a happy, satisfied sound. “A woman of perception. One who can take the leap. Any time you want to join my department, ma’am, just let me know.”
For the first time Sofie considered the proposal. It seemed like the answer to her.
Wait.
She didn’t need Evan’s terse reminder to know this wasn’t the time to hurl herself precipitately from one career to the next. “Send me a proposal.”
“In the post.”
The answer was so prompt Sofie knew he meant it.
Cristos got back to business. “I’m sending someone of my own to watch the business at Bull’s Art Gallery.”
“An artist?” Evan sounded amused.
“Expect to see an exhibition centered around the Tarot in the near future.”
Evan grinned. “Not me, then, though I daresay I could hack something on the computer.”
“She’s good. She’d know. I’ve found a psychic who is an artist. Your sister was an artist, wasn’t she?”
Evan stopped grinning. “Yes, she was.”
The words were terse, but informative. Sofie reached for Evan. He looked so bleak. He responded to her with a squeeze of her hand. “Are they closing in?”
“I’ll talk to Bent as soon as we’re done. Knowing them the Feds will be there as soon as they have a sniff of a warrant.” Cristos sounded dryly amused. All Sofie could think was that this nightmare might be over soon, for her and for any other potential victims.
“Do you think we’ll ever find the motive?”
“The real reason, you mean?” Cristos’s voice brightened. “Some serial killers remain a mystery, and this more than most, but once they have the perpetrator in custody I’ll apply for permission to interview him. Or her.”
“Her?” Sofie hadn’t studied the profilers for nothing. “That would be unusual, wouldn’t it?”
“Unusual, but not unheard of. For now, stay where you are. Bent has your number, so do I. I’ll let you know as soon as there are any developments.”
Cristos cut the call.
An image came to Sofie’s mind, deeply vivid. A woman with dark hair and eyes, a woman of presence. She knew without him telling her that she was seeing Meghan, Evan’s dead sister. She examined the fine bones, the look of determination. There was a hardness about the face that seemed to proclaim a struggle of some kind.
“She was lovely.”
“Very beautiful,” Evan agreed. Sofie heard pain in his reply, and wondered why.
Then she saw it. His hand left her shoulder and she saw Evan and Meghan. Naked, in bed together, kissing in a most unsibling-like way.
“Oh God!” Her exclamation was involuntary. Was she seeing what had happened, or what he wanted to happen? She knew those strong shoulders that look of dreamy repletion. It was in both their faces. She saw them as if she was floating above the bed.
She slammed a barrier down, one she didn’t know she could use, but it was as rigid as inch thick steel.
Evan walked away. “You weren’t supposed to see that. I only wanted to show you what Meghan looked like.”
“Did you want to do that with her?” Sofie’s voice shook.
She tried to think of a Freudian explanation, and was almost succeeding in rationalizing the hateful image away when he said, “No. We did it. I went to bed with her. It’s how I could link with her when she died.”
Sofie stood up and pivoted on one heel to face him. He had his back to her, staring out of the long windows. “Dear God!”
The image was gone, but its echo remained, forever burned into her mind. Evan and Meghan, brother and sister, twin brother and sister. “No!”
“Yes. You saw how beautiful she was.”
His voice was flat, as though all emotion had been drained out of it. Sofie swallowed. He continued, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “I didn’t grow up with her. When we met, I fell for her hard, and we – “
“How could you do such a thing? Evan, I can’t love a man who does that, you know it’s impossible!”
They stared at each other. Where there had been intimacy yawned a cavern of regret and horror. Sofie couldn’t imagine going to bed with a man who had committed incest, and done it freely. There had been nothing but desire in both the faces in the image, no regret, no fear, nothing that indicated they shouldn’t be where they were, shouldn’t have done what they had.
“Am I a poor second to your sister, then? You were looking at her in the same way. Do you tell everyone you sleep with that you love them?” Bitterness filled her soul. How could she have been so carried away?
The door behind them buzzed, and opened noisily, allowing entrance to the only other person with free access, Miranda Howell.
“Good morning, Miranda. Your timing, as always, is impeccable.”
Sofie furiously realized Evan sounded normal. She marshaled her emotions and managed to steel herself to him. “I think we’re done here.”
Sofie walked past Evan up the stairs towards the guest room, but before she opened the door she heard him. “Don’t bother. I’ll go. You have to stay here.”
“I can’t throw you out of your own apartment.”
“Think nothing of it.”
He grabbed up his leather jacket from the back of a chair, and went to the computer desk to locate his keys. His glance up to the gallery where she stood against the rail was bleak. “I’ll call you. Don’t leave, it’s not safe.”
The heavy outer door slammed behind him.
Sofie blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes, knowing this wasn’t the time. It had been wonderf
ul, and now it was ruined.
At least, that was her first thought. She didn’t know if she could sleep with him again, knowing he’d slept with his sister. Right now she was so confused her mind was in turmoil. Her body yearned for him, ached with his possession and knew he was the only one for her, but her mind revolted from the thought of him touching her again.
She wanted him, but she couldn’t have him. Perhaps distance would help to rationalize her mind.
Remembering she wasn’t alone Sofie went downstairs. Miranda seemed busy at the computer. She’d logged on to her account, and was scrolling down a long list of figures. Seemingly oblivious to Sofie’s presence, she didn’t look up as Sofie went past on her way to the kitchen. Not until Sofie had placed a steaming cup of black coffee at her elbow did she glance up and nod her thanks. Only when Sofie reached for her mobile phone did Miranda pause and lay her hand gently over Sofie’s. Grey eyes met blue. “Who were you thinking of calling?”
“Harry Bent. I need to get out of here.”
“Will you let me talk to you first?” Miranda’s gaze was steady.
Sofie faltered. What harm could it do? No, her mind was firm. “What good would it do?”
Miranda took her hands off the keyboard and turned to face her properly. “You might get the whole story.”
Sofie shrugged. “I don’t need it. I saw for myself.”
Miranda’s eyes widened in understanding and she didn’t resist when Sofie went upstairs. Only then did she remember that her mobile was still on the computer table.
It didn’t take long for her to pack. She didn’t know how long it would take for the case to be cleared, but until then Harry Bent had made it clear she was to be here at Evan’s or at a designated safe house with an agent or two close by. Perhaps one of them would have dark hair, penetrating eyes and a sexy body, but she doubted it. After this Sofie thought she might prefer celibacy. She’d ring Harry; let him take her away somewhere safe.
Taking her bag downstairs Sofie took her last look out of the window, at the glorious view, and tried to sort out the confusion in her mind. It was impossible, just impossible for her to carry on here.
It wasn’t the end of the world. It just felt like it.
*
Sofie crossed the large living area to collect her mobile phone. There was nothing to keep her here any more. Nothing could erase that terrible image, nothing could remove it.
She blamed herself, rushing in. Evan had a searingly sexy body and a presence that commanded attention. He’d overwhelmed her with his presence, and when she’d discovered what she’d thought to be a caring, loving nature under the hard exterior, she’d imagined she was in love.
Perhaps she was in love. She certainly felt tragic now, as though she’d lost her last hope. She gave herself a mental shake. That was foolish. She was only thirty years old, plenty of time. Why then, did it feel like her last chance for love?
The phone had gone. When she turned accusing eyes to Miranda the older lady raised an eyebrow and revealed it in her left hand. “I’ll give it you when you’ve listened to me. You know, don’t you? About Meghan?”
Sofie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes. I saw it.”
She received a sharp, astonished look, gray eyes wide in the pale face. “He linked with you?” Sofie nodded, swallowing back her pain. “I thought he’d never do that again. Not after – not after the last time.”
“I don’t think we can go on.” The words were torn out of Sofie’s throat. Articulating it made it so much worse. “I can’t, knowing what he did, seeing it.”
She made a movement, as though to grab the phone but Miranda was quicker. She moved the damned thing out of reach and stopped Sofie by laying a hand on her forearm. Sofie barely restrained a violent reaction to her touch. “Listen first. I want you to know it all. The whole story. Will you do that?”
The words were sharp but the look was imploring. Unable to deny her, Sofie nodded. She could bear it just a little longer. Perhaps she owed it to Miranda, if not to Evan.
“You must know he loves you.” Why did Miranda have to remind her? It wasn’t the kind of love she wanted, the love of a man who could do that with his sister. “After the last time I didn’t think he would ever risk it again. You must mean a lot to him.” Miranda swallowed, but she didn’t look away, fixing Sofie with a frank stare. The lines around her mouth increased with tension. “If you leave him after hearing it all, it will confirm what he thinks about himself. I’d do a lot to prevent that. He hates what he did.”
“I know that.” Hating it afterwards didn’t make it right.
“Yes. Perhaps you do.” Miranda began, speaking quickly, as though she’d been sitting at the computer working out what she would say. “Evan always knew he was adopted, but not that he was one of twins. My husband and I were told about the twin sister, and we felt very strongly that they shouldn’t have been separated. The girl went first, leaving Evan for us. We looked for her, but it was no use.”
She looked away then turned back, suspiciously bright-eyed. “He was sixteen when we told him about his twin. He said he’d always known there was someone else. We started the search again, but we didn’t find her. That was when Evan turned to the computer, to try to search for her. It helped, but not enough. He went inside himself then. I thought I’d lost him in every way that counts. Evan was a sensitive boy, too sensitive, but he learned to put a shell over his feelings. When he slept with a girl for the first time he did it without protection, and we discovered his gift. Neither of them could get any peace until he’d learned to build a shield, and it was Cristos, an old friend of my husband’s who helped him do that. Without his help Evan might have died. It was a bad year.” She bit her lip and a single tear coursed down her dry cheek. Miranda made no effort to brush it away. Sofie watched its path, transfixed. “Then David – my husband – died. I married Cristos, but realized it was a mistake, and left him. Shortly after that Evan went to jail trying to help me make money. It was the most stupid thing. I didn’t need his help, I was making more than enough. I think he wanted to show me how clever he was. Cristos helped reduce Evan’s sentence, and gave him a choice.” Her voice became flat. “He wanted to use Evan’s gift for himself. That was when our marriage broke up. But Cristos still employed Evan when he came out. He got him early release on the condition he worked for the Agency.”
Miranda forced a slight smile. Sofie’s heart ached for her, but none of this would change her mind. Miranda carried on with her narrative, steadily telling her story, her voice devoid of the emotion Sofie saw in her eyes. “One day Evan rang me and told me he’d met someone. It was Meghan. She was an artist, a painter, and she had an exhibit at the Bull Gallery. Evan didn’t know she was his sister. But she knew. She’d come to New York to find him.”
Horror gripped Sofie. She felt sick. “No!” She was beginning to see where this was leading. Evan knew he was a twin, but couldn’t find his sister. But she knew him, and who he was.
“Oh yes, I’m afraid so. She told me just before she died.”
Sofie head spun. “Wh-what happened?”
“When they linked, he knew. He went to bed with her, and discovered it for himself.” Sofie felt sick. That moment of opening had been so intense, so raw that she knew it must have wrenched Evan too deeply for words. It must have destroyed him. “Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”
Miranda shook her head slowly. “She never said. I think it was a mixture. She really did love him, and it must have been intense. I don’t think she considered what it would do to him, she seemed so desperate to have him to herself. In her mind it wasn’t wrong.” She paused and lifted eyes filled with tragedy to meet Sofie’s. “Evan tried to kill himself. He couldn’t close to her. She wouldn’t let him.”
Sofie’s sharp gasp filled the large space with a breathless sound of horror.
“He took pills. I don’t sleep well and sometimes I take sleeping pills. I don’t take them all the time, only when I n
eed them. If I hadn’t needed them that night, Evan would have been dead. He’d been to see me earlier in the day, and I knew how deep it went, though he didn’t tell me.” She began to weep, large tears rolling down her face but when Sofie lifted her hands, she held up her own as if to ward her off. “No, I won’t be able to tell you more than one time. I called Cristos and we came round here. It was almost too late. We got to him in time to make him vomit most of the pills. He slept, and we waited. We sorted some things out then, Cristos and me.
“Evan woke, but something was gone. His energy, the essence of him was locked away. He hated himself; felt he should have known what she was doing. Then Meghan was killed. I thought it would break him. He was determined to discover who did it and when the FBI wouldn’t tell him he went to see you.”
“And then he met me.” Sofie realized several things. How unselfish Evan had been to take care of her when he’d been through such a traumatic experience. How brave he was to open himself up to her, after being used and hurt so badly. Miranda’s account had been spare, and recited with little emotion, but Sofie didn’t need histrionics to understand how much it had damaged him.
She couldn’t leave him now. If he were brave enough to face such a terrible thing, then she would have to learn to live with it, too. Her decision, which had seemed so irrevocable half an hour before, now struck her as unutterably selfish. She owed Miranda a great deal.
“He met you. He seemed to come alive. I haven’t seen him so happy in years. But that’s not why I told you, my dear.” Miranda smiled, a half smile, but the tears were drying on her cheeks. Sofie got up, murmuring something about coffee. She would have preferred a strong drink, but coffee would do. Miranda’s voice floated to her. “I told you because I think Meghan was sent to him. I don’t think their meeting and sleeping together was an accident. She knew she was his twin, and she did it anyway.”
Sofie stopped dead. She forced herself to reach for the glass jug and pour fresh coffee, just as if nothing had happened. But her hand shook and she had to rest the jug against the granite counter for a moment before replacing it on its stand. Miranda spoke from just behind her. “Someone had encouraged Meghan to do this. Someone wanted Evan, and they wanted him broken. With what has happened recently I think it was Mrs. Bull.”
Lynne Connolly Page 20