Darker Than Night

69

When Quinn was alone with Claire, he went to her and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. He’d expected her to be trembling, but she was steady. Strong inside, even if she looks frail as a bird.

“Can I go with him?” she asked.

“You can, but there’s no point to it at this hour. He’ll go through the booking procedure; then he’ll be moved to a holdover cell. You get referrals in the morning and contact an attorney. In the meantime I’ll see he gets a public defender to protect his rights. I promise you that.”

He could see her thinking about it, trying to sort out her allegiances. Should I take the word of the arresting officer? Who saved my life. Or should I stand by my husband? Who tried to kill me.

It took her longer than it should have to make up her mind.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Do you think you might need medical attention?” Quinn asked. “I mean, for your pregnancy.”

“No. I’d be able to tell if I were hurt that way.”

“Someone will call you tomorrow morning. We’ll send a car for you.”

She nodded.

“Sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Okay as anyone can be, lost in all the questions.”

“We’ll sort things out and have the answers for you. Meantime, try to worry as little as possible.”

“Easy to say.”

“Yeah, I know. Like so many things.”

“I didn’t expect this!” she said, then bit her lower lip and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t look as if she were going to cry, though.

Quinn glanced down at her pregnancy, which was beginning to show, and thought of what she faced alone. God help her.

“It’ll all be okay after a while,” he lied, and patted her gently on the shoulder. He felt suddenly cheap, conning her along, even though he was trying to help. “Better, anyway.”

He could find nothing else to say to this woman whose husband had been about to murder her, so he turned away.

After Quinn left, Claire went to the door and locked it, then trudged back into the bedroom.

Jubal! How could this be happening?

She’d never felt this way, as if she were alone at the edge of a cold hell. As if there were some dark inadequacy in her. As if this were all because of something she’d done.

Was it…was it something I did?

Or didn’t do?

She sat stunned on the edge of the bed and tried not to sob.

Was it?

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to throw herself on the bed like a child and beat the mattress with her fists until she was exhausted.

Her misery was a weight that would never lift. She felt beyond crying, but tears that were someone else’s tracked down her cheeks.

She wanted to die.

The baby!

She didn’t want to die.

She wanted chocolate.

In the dark closet near the door, the Night Prowler waited.