Page 35 of Girl Anonymous

He interrogated her about her activity before the explosion (“I was moving Mrs. Arundel’s art”); why she was doing that (“I’m a fine arts mover”); what event led her to return to the library in the first place (“I left my reading glasses”).

At which point Dante said, “Son of a bitch.”

“Yes,” she agreed, knowing he would realize she meant him.

“You’re positive about that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you two quit flirting and concentrate?” Jack asked in irritation.

Startled, because she had never as far as she knew in her life been caught flirting, and embarrassed, because she thought he might be right, she blurted, “I left my reading glasses, Mrs. Arundel wanted to be alone so I left her again, before the elevator opened, I heard the blast… No wait.” She had to think. “I heard a crash, like she fell out of her chair. I turned—and the explosion knocked me down. Or…the explosion roared over top of me, and I threw myself down on the floor.”

“You don’t seem very sure of what happened.” Jack hadn’t been friendly before. Now he was positively accusatory.

“I do remember. I just think… I think I must have been unconscious for a few seconds. Then. Then I wanted to—”

“Rush right in and save Mrs. Arundel.” No one had ever sounded as nasty as Jack Arundel.

She shook her head. She was sweating, and she felt lightheaded.

Dante offered her a handkerchief.

She couldn’t take it. She trembled, clutched the arms of the chair, and she didn’t dare let go or she would topple off. “I was afraid. I was too afraid. If I hadn’t used precious seconds being scared, I might have saved her.”

Dante put his arms around her and pulled her face into his chest. He aimed all the old Anglo-Saxon curse words at Jack, then went on to French.

Vaguely, through the mist of nausea and well-remembered fear, she heard Jack answer, “It’s my job to be an asshole. You know that, Dante. Hell, she could be the best actress in the world—”

In a fit of anger, she shoved Dante away. “I could be, but I damned well picked myself up and ran into the flames, and she was alive when I dragged her out of there. She wasaliveandshewastalking to me. I wish… I’d give anything to have not hesitated, but I did, and I can’t undo what I did. I’m the one who has to live with it.” She closed her eyes against the focus of their gazes.

A moment of silence, then from Jack, “Right. Good actress or telling the truth. Miss Daire, please remain in the area—”

“My home is in Gothic.” Just off the Pacific Coast Highway.

“Close enough,” Jack conceded.

“I work moving fine art to different parts of the country.”

“I will ask that you stay within the California borders.” Jack wasn’t really asking. He was telling.

She thought about that, and nodded. “I can do that. For a few weeks. I’m sure that going forward, that won’t be necessary.”

Jack gave her one last considering stare, and left.

Dante handed her a hankie. “I’m sorry he was a jerk, but—”

“I’m a suspect.” She blotted her face. “You’re right. He’s upset that his aunt has died, and he’s frustrated because he doesn’t know how the explosive was set. I appreciate that. Who is supposed to do this kind of investigation? The local police? The FBI?”

Dante shook his head and sighed. “It seems as if every department and agency is involved, and no one trusts the other. With the multiple attempted assassinations, the confusion and frustration seems to get worse and worse.”

“When will there be results?”

“There’s lab work to be done.” He stopped.

“And?”

“It’s all technical, and of course I can barely pry information out of law enforcement—”

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