Echoes (35 page)
Matt's voice broke through her thoughts. "I work for CPS in Sonoma. Sofie's a qualified foster-care provider."
"In Sonoma, maybe. I'm not sending this child to California. She's a witness."
Sofie looked up. "I live in the Bronx. I was in Sonoma on a professional sabbatical, but my official address is not far from here." She gave the street address of her Belmont apartment. Though she hadn't planned to return permanently, Matt would have to understand her first duty was to Carly.
He said, "I'll have Sonoma CPS fax you Sofie's paper work. I can personally vouch for her."
He must have understood or he wouldn't be paving this road for her. He made an impressive advocate, but Officer Mantero still waffled.
"Carly will need protection—"
"That a local foster family may not be able to provide."
"And you can?"
Matt drew himself into the vigilant stance Sofie had noted before. "It's what I do."
And so well. God must have put Matt Hammond in her path for this moment. Her heart rushed with gratitude. She hoped he knew how much it meant.
The officer looked from Matt to her to Carly. Maybe it was the child's silent plea that settled her. "We'll go by the station and get that fax. If everything clears, I'll release her to you until we know how it's going with her grandma."
Sofie gave the policewoman her cell number, and Matt, one of his cards. Sofie stood and gathered Carly to her. "Should I take her to the hospital to see Grandma Beth?"
"Better wait for now. We'll let you know."
Outside, Sofie handed Matt her keys and said, "Do you mind driving?"
"You'll have to direct me."
"Of course." She got into the back seat with Carly, kept an arm around her shoulders. Could this beautiful girl truly be the precious child she'd lost? If only she hadn't come back to her in such heartbreaking circumstances. But then, maybe these were the only circumstances that would have allowed it.
The police had kept the photos, and she hoped never to see them again. If Eric's disorder had gotten so extreme, he had to be stopped. But that didn't mean she wanted him to suffer. And she was certain Carly didn't either. She pressed a kiss to Carly's head. "Are you okay?"
Carly shook her head, misery written on her face. "I wish I'd never seen anything. I wish I didn't know."
"He needs help, Carly. If you hadn't told us, others might have gotten hurt."
She gulped big sorrowful tears. "I didn't want to get him in trouble."
"He got himself in trouble."
Why had he done such cruel and senseless things? Where was the man they'd known, and loved? Had that capacity for cruelty always been there? Or had something in her, in their relationship, held it at bay?
When their souls were rent apart, she had turned the pain on herself. Had he vented it on others? Or was it all part of a compulsive disorder? Could he be reacting to threats he felt he had to control?
She remembered his arms closing around her as he whispered, "What are you doing out here?"
"Just looking at the night."
"Don't you think that makes you a target?"
She had turned, humor touching her lips. "A target for what?"
He'd laughed. "Come inside, where nothing can happen."
She had teased him with all the things that could happen to someone inside until she sensed he no longer found it amusing. Then she'd gone in, where he felt a greater measure of control, and thought how wonderful it was to have someone so concerned, so watchful.
As Matt parked behind the building, she bolstered herself to go in. What would she tell Momma? Pop? Any of them? No matter what they thought or said, she had to take care of Carly.
They went in through the back and up the stairs. No one accosted them. Sounds of young children came down from above, but neither of her sisters appeared. Pop would be at work, of course, and if Momma had walked to the studio as usual, she might not have heard anything—yet.
It felt like a reprieve. When it came, the outcry would be extreme. How could she get involved again with what had almost killed her? How could she do that to herself? To them?
She unlocked the apartment door and let Carly and Matt inside. Blue shadows underscored Carly's red-rimmed eyes. Sofie rested a hand on her shoulder. "Are you hungry?"
Carly shook her head. "Just tired. I didn't sleep much."
Of course not, crammed into the closet with the awfulness of what had happened. "Do you want to lie down?" At the weary nod, she took the child into Nonna's room, pulled back the blanket and crocheted coverlet. Tucking her in, Sofie ached with tenderness. "Can I bring you anything?"
"No thanks. But . . . you're not leaving, right?"
Sofie caressed her face. "No, sweetie. I'll be right outside." Facing Matt. She started to close the door, but Carly called, "Please don't."
She left a gap. "Okay, honey. Rest now."
Matt stood at the window that overlooked Nonna's once-bustling restaurant. This time of the morning only Arthur Avenue's Little Italy markets had shoppers. The street below was quiet except for the occasional car. She joined him.
He slid an arm around her. "She's a sweet girl. This must be eating her up."
Of all the things he could be feeling, concern for Carly had come first. She raised tear-swept eyes. "She's strong."
"Even so, it's not easy, what she did. I've seen battered kids defend their abusers. She turned evidence on the only person she has."
"I don't think she foresaw all of this."
"No doubt. But once she realized people had been hurt, she didn't keep it to herself."
"I think she would rather he'd hurt her."
"You're probably right." He turned her in his arm. "Sofie, how can you hang on to someone like that?"
"He's not—He wasn't like that."
"You must have seen something or you wouldn't have felt the need to shield Carly. Why did you come between them?"
"I can't think about that, Matt." Recalling that day was like stepping into quicksand.
"But you'll admit things weren't right."
"They weren't easy."
"It's never easy. But you said yourself it was destructive."
"Self-destructive. I hurt myself, Matt. No one else did that to me."
"It's healthy to take responsibility for your actions. It's not healthy to ignore all the instigating factors."
She pressed a hand to her face.
Matt turned back to the window. "He spied on you."
He hadn't let go anymore than she.
"He enjoyed your suffering."
"He shared it."
"As he shared the pain of his other victims? The ones whose pets he killed, whose accidents he caused?"
"That's not the man I knew." A tear trickled down her cheek as the memory came.
"I have never been happy before, Sofie. You've taught me
happiness."
"Don't be silly,"
she'd laughed.
"I'm not."
"What about Carly, then? Weren't you happy to have her?"
"I was afraid. Loving her hurts."
She hadn't pressed him to clarify, because she'd understood. It was possible to love too much. But now she realized Matt was waiting for an explanation. "When he said there was no one else in the world for him, he meant it. He never looked at anyone else. In a neighborhood where guys check out every woman they pass, his eye never wandered. He made me feel . . . peerless."
"Because you were. How many friendships did you maintain?"
"I meant—"
"I know, Sofie. But what you're saying is he isolated you."
Matt didn't understand that for the first time in her life she hadn't been one of many, the third sister sandwiched between two brothers, lost in the crowd of cousins, aunts, nieces, nephews. "He cherished me."
"As he cherishes his daughter. He has photos to prove it."
She understood Matt's position. He couldn't understand hers.
"I believe you loved him, Sofie. What I don't get is how you can excuse what he's done. Now that you know."
"I'm not excusing it." How could he think that? "I'm horrified."
"But . . ."
"When you love someone it doesn't stop because of things they do. There's more to him than this, and—"
"And that's what you want."
"No." She gripped his hands. "I could never be with him again. But it doesn't change the fact that I did once love him, just as Carly does, even though she can't bear it anymore."
He released his breath, unwilling to force the point. "He'll come looking."
She shook her head. "He has no reason to believe I'm here."
"He knows Carly called you. He didn't find her at Grandma's, even when he pushed her down the stairs."
"You don't know that. It could have been an accident. He might have turned suddenly, or maybe she blocked his way as he tried to get by."
Again he didn't press the point. "He can't go back to work, can't go home. He'll go to places he knows, people who will help and defend him. He'll have a version of what happened. He'll believe it. And it'll be his mother's word against his—if she pulls through, and if she accuses him."
"Carly—"
"Do you think Carly will sit across a courtroom and say anything that could hurt him? Her testimony makes it an accident. The only witness heard no sign of struggle, no raised voices. She hadn't even had time to think when she answered as much as she did, and she defended him. Once she realizes the trouble he's in . . ."
"What about the photos?"
"Maybe he hired someone to protect his daughter. Maybe that person photographed anything suspicious that happened with the people she knew."
"But the names."
"The names suggest maliciousness, but it's only circumstantial. There's no proof he committed the crimes, only that he documented them."
Matt had practiced law. He would know. And it all had such a terrible ring of truth. Sofie pressed her fingers to her temples.
He raised her chin. "I know you want to protect Carly, but you've put yourself in the center of the storm. Who's going to protect you?"
She swallowed back the tears that filled her throat. "I can't leave her alone in this."
"I know."
"Can you—will you—stay?"
He searched her face. "I have to know that if it comes to it, you won't take his part against me."
"In what way?"
"In any way. Eric is not innocent in this. He is not a victim. He's a victimizer. If he finds you, he'll manipulate you. If you plan to give in, I'm going home today."
She shook her head, blinking back the tears. "I won't." She had worked too hard to come back from that place.
"I might not have his Svengali lure, but I want a chance with you."
She couldn't think of that now.
"I'll fight for you. But I can't fight what's inside you."
No one could.
"So tell me now, Sofie. Tell me if you're here to get him back."
Her heart hammered. Did Eric want that? Her chin trembled. It would never be the same. She could not erase what she knew. "No, Matt. That's not what I'm here for."
Some of the tension left his shoulders. He drew her in and kissed her. Her heart rushed. Warmth flooded her. She reached her arms around his neck, and he raised her off her feet. She soaked in the size and strength of him.
"Um . . . Sofie?"
They startled and turned. Her feet found the floor. "What is it, Carly?"
"My stomach hurts."
"Let me make you some peppermint tea." She went to the cabinet and drew out the box she'd kept there for Nonna. Carly came and sat at the small table in the kitchenette with her glance flicking between them. For just one moment, she wondered if the child's stomachache had anything to do with Matt's kiss.
R
ese pulled the helmet onto her head. Sofie's leaving had agitated Lance to such a degree she hesitated to climb astride his Harley. She knew too well how he worked out his anxiety. But it was the least she could do when he'd stayed—and not blamed her for it. At least she didn't think he blamed her.
She wrapped her arms around his leather-clad waist as they eased out of the driveway and took off for the wilderness of upper central California's wine country. Her own constricting leathers provided protection against road hazards, a timely reminder as Lance opened the throttle. She forced her body to meld with his, matched his motion and let her tension melt away.
Lance knew his limits. He knew his vehicle. He knew God.
When he'd taken them as far as he needed to, he slowed, swerved the bike to the side of the road, and stopped. Her thigh muscles complained of clenching, but she'd survived his therapy fairly well. He took her hand and pulled her through a loose wire fence. She recognized the stretch of pasture along the Petaluma Highway where he'd attempted their first date, a picnic she'd been too aggravated to enjoy.
He led the way to the single windblown tree, took off his jacket and laid it on the ground just as he had that first time. "Remember this place?"
"How could I forget?" They'd fought, and he'd driven like a maniac back to the villa. Too shaken up to fire him on the spot, she had intended to the next morning. Somehow he'd talked her out of it. Or she'd talked herself.
She sat down on the jacket. "What are we doing?"
He knelt behind her, rubbing her neck and shoulders. She'd obviously not relaxed as thoroughly as she'd let herself believe.
"This is where I was going to propose to you—pack a picnic and everything."
"To prove how wrong I was?"
"Nah. Just to bring it full circle."
She melted into the massage. "I'm glad I didn't fire you."
He kissed the crook of her neck. "I was pretty cocky."
"You still are."
"Yeah, well." A breeze carried the scent of grasses, and she guessed what was coming before he said, "Rese . . ."
"I know."
He leaned around to see her face. "You know what?"
"How worried you are about Sofie." He had hardly eaten, and it took great effort to get his attention, even while he worked.
He sat down, stretched his legs to either side of her, and encircled her shoulders in his arms. "I am worried."