Echoes in Death(131)

“Did he help you?”

“He was on top of me. My husband. The devil. His face. My husband.”

Pale as ice, Daphne pressed her hands to her temples. “Now my husband’s the devil, and he’s choking me, hitting me. He said he’d kill me for this. Kill the whore. Worthless whore. I was going away, finally going away. This time I wouldn’t come back. He’d end it this time. But he jumped away. And the devils, they fought. I saw in the light, through the smoke, the one struck the other with the vase, and the lilies scattered.”

Her eyes, glassy now, stared through Eve.

“I hate the smell of them. I had to have lilies because my husband said, and I hated the smell. They were scattered on the floor and the devil—no, no, my husband was on the floor. Blood, so much blood. Then the other, he laughed, and he came back. He raped me again. It didn’t matter. It just didn’t matter. I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anymore.

“Then it was quiet. So quiet. Dark and quiet, and I got up. It must have been a terrible dream. I didn’t feel anything. But I could smell the lilies and the blood, and he was on the floor. I had to help him because he’s my husband. Anthony? He got up. Blood on his face. He hit me.”

Absently, she lifted a hand to her cheek. “He hit me, I fell back. I fell, I think, and went away again. But I came back. The room, it’s spinning, it won’t stand still. The devil—who is it—the devil was shouting and storming around the room. I tried to get up. I got up, but I think I fell. Did he hit me again? I don’t know, I swear I don’t. ‘I’ll kill you, and they’ll think it was him, they’ll think it was the one you fucked. Whore. You let him have you. No one will ever touch you again. I’ll kill you.’”

Trembling now, her hands rubbing hard over her heart, she said it again and again. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you. I couldn’t run. Did we fall? I think we fell, and the vase was in my hands. He grabbed my ankle, tried to, grabbed it, I don’t know. It’s so mixed up. I hit him. I hit him with the vase, hit him as hard as I could. Stop, please stop. And hit him. And he stopped, and it was quiet. And I couldn’t feel anything. I just wanted to go away. I just wanted to be somewhere else. Away from the devils and the smell of blood and lilies.

“Then there were angels—you,” she corrected. “You were there. And then I was in the hospital.”

She let out a broken sob. “I killed him. I killed my husband.” Weeping, she curled herself into a ball. “I’m so sorry. Tish, I’m so sorry. I didn’t remember at first. I swear, I didn’t remember. I killed him.”

“Be quiet.” Tish leaped to wrap arms around her sister. “Daph, you be quiet. I’m calling a lawyer.”

“Yes, I’d recommend that,” Eve said. “Just hold on a minute.”

“I’m not giving you the chance to—”

“Shut up,” Eve ordered. “You want to help, hold on to her. Daphne, you killed Anthony Strazza.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry.”

“You killed Anthony Strazza in self-defense. Everything you’ve told me corresponds with the evidence gathered through this investigation. Your statement here, your recounting also corroborates the confession given by Kyle Knightly. You should contact Randall Wythe. He may advise you to hire another lawyer, one with criminal expertise, but I’m telling you, on the record, no charges will be brought against you.”

“But … I—”

“You were attacked and brutalized by Kyle Knightly. You were further attacked and brutalized, and your life was threatened, by Anthony Strazza. I believe Dr. Mira will agree your state of mind was one of panic, confusion, and survival.”

“I will,” Mira confirmed.

“What you’ve told me here corresponds to what I evaluated on scene, through interviews, what the chief medical examiner concluded. I’m going to need you to come in tomorrow, with your attorney, and go through this again. The APA will be present at that time. And at that time, I’m telling you, this will be determined self-defense.”

Still clinging to Tish, Daphne stared at Eve. “You’re not going to arrest me?”

“For what? For defending yourself against a brutal attack and the threat of death? No. Record off.”

Eve picked up a cup of tea that had gone cold, downed it to soothe her own throat. “You have people to support you. Remember it. Remember this, too. Even without the circumstances of the attack Saturday night, Anthony Strazza would have made good on his threats, sooner or later. He’d have kept at you until he’d gone too far. You stopped that from happening, and that’s no crime. It’s no sin. It’s not wrong.”