‘You’re missing her biggest motivation, her biggest demon,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘You. She feels she has to prove herself to you, Kay.’
‘She has no reason to feel that way.’ What he said was piercing. ‘I don’t want to feel I’m the reason she takes her life into her hands with all of these dangerous things she feels she must do.’
‘This is not about blame,’ he said, getting up from the table. ‘This is about human nature. Lucy worships you. You’re the only decent mother figure she’s ever had. She wants to be like you, and she feels people compare her to you, and that’s a pretty big act to follow. She wants you to admire her, too, Kay.’
‘I do admire her, for God’s sake.’ I got up, too, and we began clearing dishes. ‘Now you really have me worried.’ He began rinsing, and I loaded the dishwasher.
‘You probably should worry.’ He glanced at me. ‘I will tell you this, she’s one of these perfectionists who won’t listen to anyone. Other than you, she’s the most stubborn human being I’ve ever come across.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
He smiled and put his arms around me, not caring that his hands were wet. ‘Can we sit and talk for a while?’ he said, his face, his body close to mine. ‘Then I’ve got to hit the road.’
‘And after that?’
‘I’m going to talk to Marino in the morning, and in the afternoon I’ve got another case coming in. From Arizona. I know it’s Sunday, but it can’t wait.’
He continued talking as we carried our wine into the great room.
‘A twelve-year-old girl abducted on her way home from school, body dumped in the Sonora desert,’ he said. ‘We think this guy’s already killed three other kids.’
‘It’s hard to feel very optimistic, isn’t it,’ I said bitterly as we sat on the couch. ‘It never stops.’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘And I’m afraid it never will. As long as there are people on the planet. What are you going to do with what’s left of the weekend?’
‘Paperwork.’
One side of my great room was sliding glass doors, and beyond, my neighborhood was black with a full moon that looked like gold, clouds gauzy and drifting.
‘Why are you so angry with me?’ His voice was gentle, but he let me know his hurt.
‘I don’t know.’ I would not look at him.
‘You do know.’ He took my hand and began to rub it with his thumb. ‘I love your hands. They look like a pianist’s, only stronger. As if what you do is an art.’
‘It is,’ I simply said, and he often talked about my hands. ‘I think you have a fetish. As a profiler, that should concern you.’
He laughed, kissing knuckles, fingers, the way he often did. ‘Believe me, I have a fetish for more than your hands.’
‘Benton.’ I looked at him. ‘I am angry with you because you are ruining my life.’
He got very still, shocked.
I got up from the couch and began to pace. ‘I had my life set up just the way I wanted it,’ I said as emotions rose to a crescendo. ‘I am building a new office. Yes, I’ve been smart with my money, made enough smart investments to afford this.’ I swept my hand over my room. ‘My own house that I designed. For me, everything was in its proper place until you . . .’
‘Was it?’ He was watching me intensely, wounded anger in his voice. ‘You liked it better when I was married and we were always feeling rotten about it? When we were having an affair and lying to everyone?’
‘Of course I didn’t like that better!’ I exclaimed. ‘I just liked my life being mine.’
‘Your problem is you’re afraid of commitment. That’s what this is about. How many times do I have to point that out? I think you should see someone. Really. Maybe Dr Zenner. You’re friends. I know you trust her.’
‘I’m not the one who needs a psychiatrist.’ I regretted the words the instant I said them.
He angrily got up, as if ready to leave. It was not even nine o’clock.