08. Conspriracy In Death by J.D. Robb

Author:J.D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2011-11-24T08:00:00+00:00

he knew she needed. "Just how quick can you pack?"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The sun was already dipping down in the western sky,

sending shadows to droop over Chicago's jagged skyline. She saw the last

glints of it shimmer and bounce off the lake. Should she remember the lake?

she wondered. Had she been born there, or had she just passed through to

spend a few nights in that cold room with the broken window? If she could

stand in that same room now, how would she feel? What images would dance

through her head? Would she have the courage to turn and face them? "You're not a child now." Roarke slipped a hand over hers as the transport began its gentle descent into the Chicago Air and Space Complex. "You're not alone now, and you're not helpless now." She continued to concentrate on breathing

evenly, in and out. "It's not always comfortable to realize you can see what goes on in my head." "It's not always easy to read your head, or your heart. And I don't care for it when they're troubled and you try to hide it from

me." "I'm not trying to hide it. I'm trying to deal with it." Because the descent always made her stomach jitter, she turned away from the view port. "I didn't come here on some personal odyssey, Roarke. I came here to gather data

on a case. That's priority." "It doesn't stop you from wondering." "No." She looked down at their joined hands. There was so much that should have

separated them, she thought. How was it nothing did? Nothing could. "When you went back to Ireland last fall, you had issues, personal issues to deal with,

to face or resolve. You didn't let them get in the way of what had to be

done." "I remember my yesterdays all too clearly. Ghosts are easier to fight when you know their shape." Linking their fingers, he brought hers to his lips in a gesture that never failed to stir her. "You never asked me where I went the day I went off alone." "No, because I saw when you came back you'd stopped grieving so much." His lips curved against her knuckles. "So, you read my head and heart fairly well, yourself. I went back to where I lived as

a boy, back to the alley where they found my father dead, and some thought I'd

put the knife in him. I lived with the regret that it hadn't been my hand that

ended him." "It's not a thing to regret," she said quietly as the transport touched down with barely a whisper. "There we part ways, Lieutenant." His voice, so beautiful with that Irish lilt, was cold and final. "But I stood

there, in that stinking alley, smelling the smells of my youth, feeling that

same burn in the blood, the fire in the belly. And I realized, standing there,

that some of what I'd been was still inside me and always will be. But there

was more." Now his voice warmed again, like whiskey in candlelight. "I'd made myself different.

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