Page 74 of Lethal Torture

“I need to talk to your receptionist,” I say as we near the end of the tour.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Zinaida says. “Eva only took over the front desk of Sophie’s House this year. She’s not... great with men.”

Charlie, Sal, and Ana all nod emphatically.

“Noted.” I catch Zinaida’s eyes and hold them. “I’d still like to speak with her, if she’s willing.”

She grimaces. “It has to be her choice.”

“Sure.”

Zinaida turns to Sal. “Can you go ahead of us and give Eva a heads-up?”

We wait for Sal’s nod before we move into the front office, where a pale-faced very plain girl is standing by the desk. Her brown eyes are as sad and withdrawn as anyone’s I’ve ever seen.

“Eva, this is Luke.” Zin smiles at the receptionist. “He’s helping out with security.” Her tone is a great deal gentler than usual.

She nods without speaking, her hands twisting anxiously in front of her.

I stay just beyond the entrance to the office. “I’d like to go over some of your security concerns, Eva, if that’s okay with you?” I ask quietly. “Charlie and Zinaida will be with us, of course.”

“I guess.” Eva’s voice is barely audible, and she doesn’t meet my eyes. Her jeans and polo neck sweater hang off a painfully thin body, and her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail.

Zin leads us into her office. It’s a simple room with a skylight, bookshelves, and a comfortable sofa with a few chairs by a low coffee table. No desk. Nothing official, just a warm, relaxed, neutral space that could belong to any psychologist.

She turns to Eva. “Luke is helping tighten up security, so I’d like you to be honest when you answer his questions.”

Charlie smiles reassuringly at Eva and gives her a slight nod.

Eva takes the seat farthest from me, avoiding my eyes, her whole body curled protectively in on itself. I feel an unexpected lurch of old anger that I thought I’d laid to rest long ago.

Fuck any man who makes a woman feel that kind of fear.

I remember my sister sitting like that, for years after we left my stepfather’s house. Remember my mother curled into the farthest corner of the tattered old couch in our living room, rigidly still, terrified of provoking the abusive bastard. I didn’t think the memory had any power all these years later.

By the surge of tension in my body, though, clearly I was wrong.

Not that I let even the barest hint of that tension show.

Women like Eva have seen enough of the dark side of man to last them a lifetime.

“I’d like to help make Sophie’s House safer, Eva,” I say gently. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

She pulls at the sleeves of her sweater, shrinking into herself. “That will be fine,” she says in a small voice.

“I thought it might be difficult for you to focus with Sal and Ana running security in the same office as you. Have you found that?”

Eva glances nervously at Charlie, who nods encouragingly. “Um. Yes,” she says softly. “Sometimes, yes. For Sal and Ana, too.”

Zin looks surprised. “You never said anything—”

I shoot her a hard glance. She subsides. Eva fidgets uncomfortably.

“It’s fine, Eva,” I say quietly. “Zinaida and I both understand how difficult it is to work with others around you. We think it might be easier if security moved to another room.”

Luckily, she’s positioned in a way that she misses Zinaida’s obvious surprise and Charlie’s suppressed grin.

“Yes.” Eva almost smiles. “That would be good, I think.”