Eliza paused by her door, waiting for Walker to step through.
Opened or closed? She indicated the door.
He was busy looking around. It looked like an ordinary office, much smaller than his. There was no incense; there were no candles, no voodoo masks, not even a cluster of books about out-of-body experiences by ghosts who roam the earth. Instead, the only books she had lined up on the single shelf that ran along the sill of her window concerned investigative techniques. He didnt know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Maybe he was a little of both. Im a private person.
Closed, she concluded with a nod, shutting the door behind her.
Rounding her desk, she sat down behind it. She would rather have sat beside him, unencumbered by the desk, but she knew that he preferred the traditional. Besides, she knew she still made him uneasy. Gentling techniques took time.
Folding her hands before her, she smiled at him. I take it I passed muster.
Excuse me?
Maybe the term was too old-fashioned for him. Itd been one her great-aunt liked to use. Youre here. That means you had me and or the agency investigated. Im just assuming that our passing grade was impressive enough to you to bring you here.
Walker shifted in his chair. More body language for her to read, he upbraided himself. He didnt like being so easy to read. Moving to the edge of his chair, he locked eyes with her. Do you do that sort of thing all the time?
Do what? she asked.
Read a persons thoughts?
Even as he asked the question, Walker didnt know if he actually bought into that on any level. It seemed like a bunch of garbage.
But there was just something about her eyes, about the way
she looked at him, into him, that made him think Eliza Eldridge could actually see his thoughts if she was so inclined.
Maybe he was losing his mind, he thought. Given the stress hed been underand was still under, if he was honest with himselfit was small wonder. Not every man lost his child and then his wife within a few months of each other.
I cant read a persons thoughts, Mr. Banacek. Like everyone else, I read expressions, and, at times, I sense thoughts or emotions. Perhaps a little better than most people. The smile she offered him somehow made her statement almost intimate. But I dont read minds, cards or the bumps on your head if you have any. Thats strictly carnival stuff. The business the people in this agency and I are in is a very serious one, and I for one cant think of anything more worthwhile than recovering children wrongfully separated from their families.
He believed her. As long as he looked into her eyes. Striving to hold on to reason, he looked somewhere else. Very altruistic.
Because he was in more pain than he would admit or perhaps even realized, she gave him a great deal of leeway and took no offense at his tone. She knew it was the skeptic in him.
Ill settle for noble. It was time to get down to business. So, you didnt come to verbally go ten rounds with me, Mr. Banacek. You came because you werent so sure you didnt believe me anymore.
The smile came from nowhere. He wasnt even conscious of it until he saw his reflection in the window behind her. I thought you said you didnt read minds.
I dont. He had a nice smile, she thought, but it didnt reach his eyes. And wouldnt, until he found his daughter. I was doing my impression of Sherlock Holmes for you. I was deducing.
But you did have that dream about Bonnie.
I did have that dream about Bonnie, she assured him with quiet intensity.
If he were someone else, listening to himself talk, he would call himself a fool. And yet, here he was, grasping at straws. And in your dream, she was alive.
Very much so. Reaching, Eliza placed her hand on top of his. She is alive, Im sure of it.
He couldnt believe he was actually asking questions like this. But he was a man who had come face-to-face with his desperation all over again.
How often are these dreams? He stopped, trying to find the right word that wouldnt make him look like some talisman-clutching fool. He was angry at himself for being here, for hoping. But he continued to do both.
Accurate? she supplied. She took a breath, wondering how to phrase this to his satisfaction. He hadnt come here wanting to be convinced, hed come here daring her to convince him. Theres no easy answer for that.
Double-talk. He might have known. Disgust filled him. I thought so.
No, she countered, raising her voice ever so slightly as he rose from his seat, you didnt. He sat down again, his body language telling her that he was ready to walk out in a heartbeat unless she said something to convince him to remainand said it soon. Otherwise, you wouldnt have come here, when doing so flies in the face of everything you hold logical. And to get back to your question, it isnt easy to give you a straight answer because my dreams arent predictions. Theyre things that somehow, on some level, I sense. At times, theyre other peoples pastsat others, their futures.
Belatedly he realized he was holding his breath, and released it. This wasnt true, none of it. Why was he even listening to her?