"I think you would."

"You're wrong." Her hands clenched into fists. "You're completely wrong."

"Why did the sight of his face drive you into shock?"

"I was scared."

"Yes, you were." He paused. "Who do you know with blue eyes?"

"That's an idiotic question. I know dozens of people with blue eyes." She whirled on her heel and threw open the door. "I'm not going to listen to you anymore. Just stay away from me."

"I will," he said quietly, as he followed her down the steps. "You need to be alone to sort things out. If I can help, I'll be here for you."

"I've had enough of your help." She started down the driveway toward the trees bordering the gates. "And I have no intention of trying to sort anything out. I just don't want to be around you."

"Intentional or not, you're not one who can bury her head in the sand." He sat down on the steps. "You'll start asking yourself questions in spite of yourself. It's not going to be easy, but you have the courage to face it. When you stop running away, come back and we'll talk."

"I don't want to talk." She could feel his gaze on her back as she stalked into the trees. And she wasn't running away, dammit. She was angry and wanted to be alone. It was a natural reaction when someone you trusted betrayed you. And she wasn't burying her head in the sand. Perhaps he had been able to stir memories that the police and psychoanalysts had never been able to bring to the forefront. That didn't mean she'd intentionally hidden them from- Blue eyes.

She skittered quickly away from the thought. She wouldn't think about it. She wouldn't think of anything Silver had said. He was wrong. There was nothing that- Running away.

If she was too panic-stricken to think about his words, then there might be truth in what he said.

God, she didn't want there to be truth. She didn't want him to be right.

She could ignore it. She could ignore him.

The hell she could. It wasn't honest, and she always tried to be honest with herself.

Or maybe she hadn't been.

She stopped in the shadow of one of the giant oaks as the thought occurred to her. Maybe the honesty was only on the surface. Maybe she hadn't had the guts to delve deep.

But Silver had said she would have the courage, and he knew her better than anyone.

She leaned her cheek against the rough bark of the tree and closed her eyes.

Blue eyes . . .

The sun was going down when Kerry came back to the house. Silver was still sitting on the top step where she had left him hours before.

She braced herself. She'd hoped to have a little more time before she faced him. "Don't you have anything better to do than hang around here?"

"No." He smiled. "Well, there were a few earth-shattering matters that might have required my attention, but I figured you were more important. When you turn up the heat, it's only right that you stick around to make sure the subject doesn't boil over."

"I'm not one of your 'subjects.'"

His smile faded. "Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. But I believe you know that I don't regard you that impersonally. What's between us is definitely on a personal level."

Yes, it was. So personal that sometimes she couldn't bear the intimacy. "And I wasn't about to shatter into pieces because you behaved like an asshole and broke your promise." She sat down on the step beside him. "Though I'll never forgive you for doing it."

He looked away from her. "I knew that was a possibility."

"Of course you did. But you couldn't resist diving in and trying to fix things to suit yourself."

"It's what I do." He didn't speak for a moment. "And since you're not spitting fire and brimstone at me, I must have started you thinking."

"I'm too tired to be angry right now. That may come later."

"Soul-searching can be an exhausting process."

"Don't be pretentious. I wasn't searching my soul. My soul is fine and dandy." She paused. "But just maybe you were right about me hiding from what happened that night."

His glance shifted back to her. "Hallelujah," he said softly. "Breakthrough."

"I said maybe." She moistened her lips. "I can't think of any other reason why I didn't- If it was right there in my memory, why didn't it come to the surface in all these years?"

"You tell me."

Her linked hands clenched together. "Blue eyes."

He didn't speak.

"Dammit, don't just sit there like some kind of all-knowing sphinx."

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to ask the question again? Okay, who do you know with blue eyes?"

"I told you that-" She drew a deep breath. "My entire family has blue eyes. I have blue eyes. My aunt Marguerite had blue eyes. My brother, Jason, has blue eyes."

"And?"

She couldn't speak for a moment. "My father has blue eyes," she said jerkily. "There. Are you satisfied?"

"Are you?"

"Stop acting like a shrink. Answering a question with a question." But she had to get it out. So just say it. "My father and mother were getting a divorce. I remember . . . ugliness. The fights were very bitter. They were fighting about everything. Me, Jason, the house we lived in. The brownstone was my father's family home, but my mother wanted it. When my father took Jason away on that trip to Canada, I was almost glad he wasn't there anymore."

"A natural reaction."

"I felt guilty about it." Strange that she could remember that day her father left the house now when she hadn't all these years. The memory of watching Jason and him get in the yellow taxi that had pulled up in front of the brownstone and feeling only relief. "But I was hurt that he was taking Jason and not me. I thought he didn't love me anymore. I knew he didn't love my mother anymore. Why should he love me?"

"A child is different."

"He took Jason. He never asked me to go. When my father and mother argued, it was always about whether he was going to get Jason. Mother said that Jason and I should stay together, but he wanted his son."

"I believe I'm beginning to develop a dislike for both your parents. You shouldn't have been witness to any of those battles."

She shrugged. "When there's so much hate, it spills over and feeds on itself."

"Like a fire."

She met his gaze. "Like that fire."

"You think your father set the fire that killed your mother."

"I don't know. All afternoon I've been trying to fight my way through the resentment and bewilderment I felt toward him. He hated her. He didn't love me. He didn't want her to have the house. So what happened? The house burned down. My mother died. I ended up in a hospital for two years."

"But you were a witness. He could have found an opportunity to kill you while you were lying helpless during that period."

"But it would have been taking a chance. Who knows? I was in a coma. I could have slipped away at any time. And after I woke up, I didn't remember anything, so he would have been safe. It wasn't necessary to get rid of me."

"Then you do think he did it?"

"I must have thought it was him. I didn't want to believe he was a murderer. If I did, I wouldn't have blocked that memory."

"A man with blue eyes. Not good enough evidence. What else do you remember?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. You pulled that out of me by sheer brute force."

"But you fought me. You didn't let me dig deeper."

"I saw his eyes. The rest of his face was in shadow."

"The eyes were only your first impression. You thought you recognized him and it sent you into shock. I can help you remember his other features."

"It was too dark," she said quickly.

"It wasn't too dark for you to realize he had blue eyes."

"I must have seen the glint from the reflection of the fire."

"Or it could be that it happened in a split second and you only received a quick impression. If I freeze that moment, you'll have time to look at separate features."

"And now you're stopping time? It boggles the mind. My, my, what next?"

"You never can tell. I'm a man of infinite possibilities." His gaze searched her face. "You're scared, aren't you?"

"I'm not-" She stopped. "Maybe. It's too new. I never realized I suspected my father of being a murderer."

"Suspect is the key word. Don't you want to know?"

She wasn't sure she did. Every time she thought about it she felt a rising panic. "It's . . . difficult. I could be wrong. It could be a complete stranger."

"And you don't want it to be your father. There's a basic instinct that makes us want to believe in the goodness of our parents. You recognized it in Carmela. That's probably why you were in denial all these years."

"You have it all figured out. It's not that easy."

"I never said it was easy." He paused. "You're not ready yet, are you? You won't let me help you."

"I believe I've had enough of your help."

"No, you haven't. But that's okay. You need time to absorb the shock and become accustomed to the idea that you can't hide any longer."

"I'm glad you think it's okay." Her voice was laden with sarcasm as she got to her feet. "I'd hate not to have your approval. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find George and see if he's found out anything more about that woman friend of Trask's."

He nodded. "You do that." He stood up. "And, as I'm sure you'd prefer I stay out of your way for a while, I'll tend to a few of those earthshaking matters I mentioned."

"What?"

He smiled. "I got a phone call from Travis. Rosa's arriving at the airport in a couple hours."

"Louisville DFACS has released her?"

"Into Ledbruk's custody. It took some high-level arm-twisting to ignore all the red tape connected with kids removed from the parental home, but they finally did it."

Relief rushed through her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were a little preoccupied. I'm going to pick her up and take her to the safe house Ledbruk's arranged for her."

"Why not bring her here?"

"You promised Carmela that Rosa would be safe. Do you really think we'd provide the safest haven for her? You're a prime target, and Trask would get the greatest enjoyment out of taking me out."

He was right. The greater distance Rosa was from either of them, the safer she'd be. Kerry just didn't like the idea of a child not having anyone but Secret Service agents around her. "She's only twelve."

"I'm sure Ledbruk will arrange to have a female agent stay with her. And I'll get a phone number from Ledbruk where you can call her."

She guessed that was as good as it was going to get. "Explain everything to her. Tell her Carmela will be-"

"Oh, for God's sake, I'm not going to just throw her out of the car and into the arms of the law," he said sharply. "I do have some sensitivity. Hell, I like kids." He started down the steps. "I'll see you when I get back."

He was angry again, and she could almost feel the sting of the barbs in his voice. Well, she couldn't help it. She wasn't about to try to soothe him right now when she was being jabbed by a few thorns of her own.

A few? That was an understatement. She felt torn and bruised and, yes, scared. Silver had ripped aside the dark curtain of lies she'd been telling herself for years, leaving her naked and vulnerable. She wanted that curtain back. It had hidden a horror she didn't want to face yet.

But when would she want to face it? She couldn't go back. Silver, with his usual brutal efficiency, had made sure she wouldn't be able to deceive herself again.

What was she thinking? Fear was one thing, self-deceit was another, and she'd had her fill of it. She wasn't prepared to delve deep into that memory right now, but she'd have to confront it soon.

"Good." Silver was looking at her over his shoulder as he paused before getting in the car. "That's what I hoped when I-"

"I don't care what you hoped," she said coldly. "And stay the hell out of my mind. You've worn out any welcome you might ever have had."

He shrugged. "It was only a matter of time before that happened. It's not as if I wasn't expecting it." He opened the car door. "I'll see you later."

She had hurt him. She could sense the rawness of his pain as if it were her own. Jesus, she couldn't let him do this to her. She pushed him away, blocking him. That was better. She was stronger than she had thought. She had learned a great deal from him in the past days. Soon she might be entirely free of him. No closeness. No togetherness.

Wrenching pain. Terrible loneliness.