“I wish I could change it.” The bitter sense of failure turned his voice to ice. “I wish to God I could.” Before he realized the glass was leaving his hand, he was heaving the snifter against the wall. “How do you know what I felt when I walked into that filthy room and found her like that? How the hell do you know what it’s like to face it and know you couldn’t stop it? She was a person to me, too.”

“I’m sorry.” The tears that spilled over now spilled for all of them. “Alexi, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He tossed back. “It was the truth.”

“Facts. Not truth.” He’d tried to soften the blow, to cushion her when his own emotions were raw. He’d needed to comfort. His eyes had been dazed with fatigue and pain and the kind of grief she might never understand, but he’d needed to shield her. And she hadn’t allowed it. “Hold me, please. I need you to hold me.”

For a moment she was afraid he wouldn’t move. Then he crossed to her. Though his arms were rigid with tension, they came around her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she murmured, but he only shook his head and stroked her hair. Grieving, she turned her face into his throat. “I wanted to make it a lie somehow. To make you wrong so it could all be wrong.” She squeezed her eyes closed and held tight. “She was somebody.”

He stared blankly over her shoulder as he remembered one of the last things Rosalie had said to him. She treats me like somebody. “I know.”

“You’ll catch him,” she said fiercely.

“We’ll catch him. We’ll put him away. He won’t hurt anybody else.” Though her words still scraped against him, he rocked her. He would tell her the rest and hoped it helped. “She had a knife.”

“I saw it. She showed me.”

“She used it. I don’t know how bad she hurt him, but she put up a hell of a fight. It’s recorded.”

“Recorded?” Eyes dull with shock, she leaned back. “My God. The tape. I gave her my mini recorder.”

“I figured as much. For whatever consolation it is, the fact that you did give it to her, and she decided to use it, is going to make a difference. A big one.”

“You heard them,” she said through dry lips. “You heard—”

“We got everything, from the deal on the street until…the end. Don’t ask me, Bess.” He lifted a hand to cup her face. “Even if I could tell you what was on the tape, I wouldn’t.”

“I wasn’t going to ask. I don’t think I could bear to know what happened in that room.”

Calmer now, he searched her face. “I’ve only got a few hours. I have to go in first thing in the morning. Do you want me to stay with you tonight, or would you rather I go?”

She’d hurt him more than she’d realized. Perhaps the only way she could heal the wound was to admit, and to show him, that she needed comfort. Needed it from him. Drawing him close, she laid her head on his shoulder.