“Weeks and Beeks might not be professionals, but they aren’t, weren’t, dumb,” Lovell said. “If anything, I think we’ll see a new crew move in.” A thought he’d been mulling over as he’d watched Daphne sleep. He’d much rather Weeks stick around—at least they knew what he looked like and where some of his talents lay. Who knew what the next person Daisy sent would be like? He paused on that thought.
“Do you think it’s possible this isn’t Daisy?” he asked his brothers. Both men cocked their heads. He exhaled. “Daphne thinks we’re being myopic focusing on her. And there are a couple of things that don’t add up,” he conceded. “But…”
“She already tried to kill you once and nearly killed someone else in the process,” Dulcie pointed out.
“That tends to weigh the scales in her favor,” Juan added. “What doesn’t add up?”
He didn’t have to think hard; he remembered every conversation with Daphne in detail. “The first thing she pointed out was that sending two people to kill me, rather than doing it herself, doesn’t line up with the psychology of a stalker. Apparently, she has some experience with them—which I don’t want to think too hard about—and in her experience, the relationship they have with the object of their stalking is very personal.”
“Not something they’d farm out,” Juan said with a nod.
Lovell nodded. “But it’s also possible that Daisy’s moved on from being motivated by, well, whatever the hell motivated her years ago, and is now just pissed.”
“Possible,” Dulcie said. “Would be interesting to get a professional’s point of view.”
“What else?” Juan asked.
He relayed what Daphne had told Ryan and Ava about Weeks and Beeks’s attempt to psychologically manipulate him into acting out of panic.
“You’re not sure about that one, are you?” Juan said.
Lovell crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the counter. “I dismissed it at first. Daisy only saw what she wanted to and doesn’t have the emotional intelligence or psychological makeup to understand other people’s motivations or character traits. But it was actually one of the things she got mad about. I’d forgotten about it until Daphne raised the question, but nothing infuriated Daisy more than when I didn’t act the way she thought I should.” His brothers remained silent, waiting for him to continue. They knew his brief marriage hadn’t been good, but he didn’t tend to talk about the details.
He exhaled again. “I hate that I let myself fall for her shit,” he said. “How did I not see through it?”
“Because there wasn’t anything to see through,” Daphne said, pushing through the door, startling all three men. A feat in and of itself, as none of them were easily caught by surprise.
“How are you feeling?” Dulcie asked.
“Need anything?” Juan offered.
“You should be lying down,” he said.
Her gaze swept over the three of them, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Still sore, but at least I can walk on my own. And well enough that you didn’t hear me clanging around. Some coffee would be good if it’s made; if not, a glass of water, please. I need to move around, not a lot, but at least a little. That said, I wouldn’t say no to a chair,” she said, replying to all their questions.
Juan pulled out a mug and poured her a cup of coffee from their always-full pot, and Lovell grabbed a stool. He’d considered a chair, but the stool would keep her closer to their height, and she wouldn’t strain her neck looking up as they talked.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the mug and gingerly climbing onto the stool. “Now, as to your question. People like Daisy? It isn’t a show—there’s nothing to see through. What you saw, what you experienced, was who she really was. But only at that moment. You didn’t see through it because there was nothing to see through.”
He got what she was saying but didn’t buy it. “I should have picked up on that. I should have picked up on the fact that she wasn’t stable.”
“And when did you have time to do that?” Daphne pressed. “You were together only a couple of months before you got married. How could you have possibly picked up on her instability in that time frame if she wasn’t, in fact, unstableduring those few months? What she gave you, what she showed you, was very real. A very real facet of herself.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped in that quickly in the first place,” he said.
She took a sip of her coffee and offered him a small smile. “Now that’s perhaps the real issue you’re struggling with. One that has nothing to do with Daisy and everything to do with yourself. I have some thoughts on that, but really, that’s for you to sort out.”
He was tempted to bait her into sharing; he didn’t think it would take much. But self-preservation held him back. Daphne Parks was an astute woman with a well of experience to draw on. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. Wasn’t sure he’d be able to absorb the arrows she’d release in his direction.
As if sensing his unease, she smiled again, a wide one this time. “It’s nice that you’re considering my theory, though. As vague as it is.”
“What is your theory?” Juan asked.
Daphne bobbed her head. “Not so much a theory of whatis, but a possibility of whatisn’t.” She took another sip of her coffee before continuing. “I take it Lovell already told you I have doubts about Daisy’s involvement.” His brothers nodded. “I’m woman enough to admit that I could be very, very wrong. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea to discount the rest of your life. You had a childhood,” she said, looking at him. “You served for however many years in the army?—”
“Ten years,” he replied. He’d enlisted at eighteen and discharged seven years ago at twenty-eight.
“Ten years,” she repeated. “Then had a brief interlude in Atlanta with Daisy, before coming here, what, six years ago?”
