"It was more than seducing him. It was using the sex to crush him, and her mother. To punish and to profit. She hadn't worked up to killing yet, but it was only a matter of time. Why damage when you can utterly destroy? She got what she wanted from that, but still couldn't forget that rejection."

She couldn't remember what it felt like to be a fifteen-year-old girl.

Small wonder, Eve thought. She'd never been a normal teenager. And neither, it seemed, had Julianna Dunne.

"Calls him on his wedding night," Eve went on. "She's careful what she says in case he reports it, but she says enough to know he'll be upset, shaken up, and that he won't be able to stop himself from thinking about her on his wedding night. Plant the seed,"

"What are you going to do about him?"

"He's worried enough about his family to work with the locals. He's going to talk to Parker as well, and my impression is Parker will go the extra mile with ranch security. I'll talk to the cops down here, make sure they're doing their job. Then I'll do mine and find her."

"Then we're off for New York now?"

She stared out the window. "No." Then shut her eyes. "No, we'll go into Dallas."

CHAPTER 13

When the Dallas skyline swam into view through waves of heat, it triggered no memory inside her, but instead brought on a vague puzzlement. It had the towering buildings, the urban sprawl, the jammed spaces. But it was so different from New York.

Age, she realized, was part of it. All of this was young when compared to the east. Brasher somehow, but without the edge.

Dallas was, after all, one of so many settlements that had grown into towns, then towns that had boomed into cities, long after New York, Boston, Philadelphia were established.

And the architecture lacked the fancy fuss found in the older buildings of the east that had survived the Urban Wars or been restored afterward. Here the towers were sleek and gleaming and for the most part unadorned.

Blimps and billboards announced rodeos, cattle drive tours, sales on cowboy boots and hats. And barbecue was king. They might as well be driving on Venus.

"There's more sky," she said absently. "More sky here, almost too much of it."

Sun flashed blindingly off steel towers, walls of glass, the ringing people glides. She pushed her shaded glasses more securely on her nose. "More roads," she said, and could hear the steadiness in her own voice. "Not as much air traffic."

"Do you want to go to the hotel?"

"No, I... maybe you could just drive around or something." He laid a hand over hers, then took a downtown exit.

It seemed more closed in, with the blue plate of the sky like a lid over the buildings, pressing down on the streets jammed with too many cars driving too fast in too many directions.

She felt a wave of dizziness and fought it back.

"I don't know what I'm looking for." But it wasn't this abrupt sense of panic. "He never let me out of the goddamn room, and when I... after I got out, I was in shock. Besides it was more than twenty years ago. Cities change."

Her hand trembled lightly under his, and his own clamped on the wheel. He stopped at a light, turned to study her face. It was pale now. "Eve, look at me."

"I'm okay. I'm all right." But it took a great deal of courage to turn her head, meet his eyes. "I'm okay."

"We can drive to the hotel, and let this go for now. Forever, if that's what you want. We can drive straight to the airport and go back to New York. Or we can go to where they found you. You know where it was. It's in your file."

"Did you read my file?" "Yes."

She started to pull her hand back, but his fingers closed tight. "Did you do anything else? Run any searches?" She asked. "No. I didn't, no, because you wouldn't want it. But it can be done that way if and when you do."

"I don't want it that way. I don't want that." Her stomach began to hitch. "The light's turned." "Fuck the light."

"No, just drive." She took a deep breath as horns began to blast behind them. "Just drive for a minute. I need to settle down."

She slid down a bit in the seat and fought a vicious war with her own fears. "You wouldn't think less of me if I asked you to turn around and drive out of here?"

"Of course not."

"But I would. I'd think less of me. I need to ask you for something."

"Anything."

"Don't let me back out. Whatever I say later, I'm telling you now I have to see this through. Wherever it goes. If I don't, I'll hate myself.

I know it's a lot to ask, but don't let me rabbit out."

"We'll see it through then."

He wove through traffic, turning onto roads that weren't so wide now, weren't so clean. The storefronts here, when they weren't boarded up, were dull with grime.

Then everything began to spruce up again, slowly, as if some industrious domestic droid had begun work at one end and was polishing its way down to the other.

Small, trendy shops and eateries, freshly rehabbed apartments and town homes. It spoke, clearly, of the gradual takeover of the disenfranchised area by the upwardly mobile young urbanite with money, energy, and time.

"This is wrong. It's not like this." Staring out the window, she saw the shamble of public housing, the broken glass, the screaming lights of yesterday's slum quarter superimposed over today's brisk renewal.

Roarke pulled into a parking garage, found a slot, cut the engine. "It might be better if we walked a bit."

Her legs were weak, but she got out of the car. "I walked then. I don't know how long. It was hot then, too. Hot like this." "You'll walk with me now." He took her hand.

"It wasn't clean like this." She clung to his hand as they walked out of the garage, onto the sidewalk. "It was getting dark. People were shouting. There was music." She looked around, staring through the present into the past. "A strip club. I didn't know what it was, exactly, but there was music pouring out whenever someone opened the door. I looked inside, and I thought maybe I could go in because I could smell food. I was so hungry. But I could smell something else.

Sex and booze. He'd smelled like that. So I ran away as fast as I could. Someone yelled after me."

Her head felt light, her stomach clutched with a sharp, drilling hunger that came from memory.

"Little girl. Hey, little girl. He called me that. I ran across the street, through the cars. People shouted, beeped horns. I think... I think I fell, but I got up again."

Roarke kept her hand in his as they crossed.

"I couldn't run very far because my arm hurt so much, and I was dizzy.

Sick."

She was sick now. Oily waves pitched in her belly and rose into her throat. "Nobody paid attention to me. Two men." She stopped. "Two men here. Must've been an illegals deal gone bad. They started to fight. One fell and knocked me over. I think I passed out for a minute.

I must have because when I woke up, one of them was lying on the sidewalk beside me. Bleeding, groaning. And I crawled away. Into here. In here."

She stood at the mouth of an alley, tidy as a church pew now with a sparkling recycler. "I can't do this."

He wanted to scoop her up, carry her away. Anywhere but here. But she'd asked, and he'd promised to see her through it. "Yes, you can."

"I can't go in there."

"I'm going with you." He brought her icy hand to his lips. "I'm with you, Eve. I won't leave you."

"It got dark, and I was cold." She made herself take the first step into the alley, then the second. "Everything hurt again, and I just wanted to sleep. But the smell. Horrible smell from the garbage.

The recycler was broken, and there was garbage all over the alley.

Someone came in, so I had to hide. If he comes after me, if he finds me, he'll take me back to the room and do awful things to me. I hide in the dark, but it isn't him. It's somebody else, and they're pissing against the wall, then they go away."

She swayed a little, didn't feel Roarke's hand steady her. "I'm so tired. I'm so tired, I'm so hungry. I want to get up, to find another hiding place. One that doesn't smell so bad, that isn't so dark. It's awfully dark here. I don't know what's in the dark."

"Eve." It worried him that she was speaking as if it were all happening now, that her voice was going thin and shaky as if she were in pain. "You're not hurt now, or alone, or a child." He took her shoulders, squeezed them firmly. "You can remember without going back."

"Yeah, okay." But she was afraid. Her belly was slick with fear. She concentrated on his face, on the clean, clear blue of his eyes until she felt steady again. "I was afraid to be in the dark, afraid to be out of it. But..." She looked back to where she'd huddled. "I couldn't get up anyway because I was sick again. Then I don't remember anything until it was light."