Taking Eve(17)
And what she wanted to do to the son of a bitch who had put him there.
Lake Cottage
DARKNESS. SMOTHERING … No breath. No breath.
Eve jerked upright in bed, her breath coming in swift, harsh pants.
Just another nightmare.
And no Joe to hold her and make the fear go away.
Joe …
She shook her head as much in impatience as to clear it of the remnants of that stupid nightmare. Was she a child to have to have someone to cling to and pat her on the back and tell her everything was all right? It was probably the storm and the edginess that seemed to be assaulting Joe that had caused that nightmare to return.
Forget it. Think of something else. Something that had nothing to do with that smothering feeling of—
Jane.
Love flowed over Eve, and the nightmare receded. She relaxed, then she stiffened again.
No call yet from Jane.
Eve turned over in bed after glancing at the clock. Stop worrying. It probably only meant that they were working hard to save Toby and hadn’t had time to call. It was easy to tell herself that she should stop worrying, she thought ruefully. Not so easy to comply. She couldn’t bear the idea of Jane’s being hurt if she lost Toby.
Strange how tough, wary Jane had always been vulnerable to dogs when she’d been so guarded with people. Perhaps not so strange when you realized that she had spent most of her life in foster homes and on the street. Eve would never have met her if Jane hadn’t been targeted by a man Eve thought had also killed her Bonnie. Jane had been ten years old then and smart, independent, and defiant. In the fight to keep her alive, somehow they had come together.
And it had been a golden retriever, Monty, Toby’s father, who had caused the breakthrough that Eve thanked God for every day of her life. Monty, Sarah Logan’s search-and-rescue dog, had been ill, and Jane had been working slavishly to get him well. The memory of that last night flowed back to Eve as if it was yesterday.
* * *
“EVE.”
She was surprised to see Jane, small, straight, a child of ten with all the presence of a grown woman, standing in the doorway of the study. “Hi. How’s Monty?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’m hungry. You want me to make you a sandwich, too?”
Something was wrong. She was too indifferent. Why had she left Monty’s side? “Sure. I’d like that.”
“You don’t have to come with me. I’ll bring it here for you.” She disappeared down the hall.
Was she worried about Monty? Was she scared? It was always difficult to know what Jane was feeling. But she was reaching out, and it was important that Eve be there for her.
She dropped down on the couch and rubbed her eyes and kept them closed for a moment. Too many things to think about.
“You asleep?”
Jane stood before her, holding a tray.
“No, just resting my eyes. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Jane set the tray on the coffee table. “I brought my sandwich, too, but I guess you don’t feel like company.”
It was Jane who never admitted the need for companionship. “I was just thinking I was a little lonely. Sit down.”
Jane curled up at the far end of the couch.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Eve asked.
“Yeah, sure.” She picked up her sandwich and nibbled at it. “You’re lonely a lot, aren’t you?”
“It happens.”
“But you’ve got your mother and Joe and Mr. Logan.”
“That’s true.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Are you lonely sometimes, Jane?”
She lifted her chin. “No, of course not.”
“I just wondered. Sometimes loneliness creeps up on you.”
“Not me.”
Try another road. “I’m surprised you’re not with Monty. I’m sure he needs you.”
A silence. “He doesn’t need me. Sarah said I was helping, but she’s the only one he needs. He barely knows I’m there.”
Ah, there was the pain. “I’m sure he does.”
Jane shook her head. “He’s Sarah’s dog. He belongs to her.” She didn’t look at Eve. “I wanted him to belong to me. I thought if I loved him enough, he’d love me more than Sarah.” She added defiantly, “I wanted to take him away from Sarah.”
“I see.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me how bad that is?”
“No.”
“It … was bad. I like Sarah. But I love Monty. I wanted him to belong to me.” Her hands balled into fists. “I wanted something to belong to me.”
“He does belong to you. He just belongs to Sarah more. It’s natural. He’s a search-and-rescue dog. She was first in his life.”