Her lips tightened. "And I want to kill the son of a bitch who did that to him."

"I know," he said. "Give me a chance and I'll do the job for you. For that poor kid and for what his killer is doing to you." He slammed the refrigerator door. "I was hoping this damn obsession was lessening but along comes a nasty case and you're right back where you were."

She stiffened. "This is what I do. This is what I am. Why are you so angry about it now?"

He didn't speak for a moment. "Because I'm tired. Because sometimes I can't stand to see you in pain. Because the years pass and I think the miracle will happen and it never does."

He was talking about Bonnie. She felt a ripple of shock. She couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken about her daughter. Yet Bonnie was always there, a silent presence. "I'll find her someday."

"A miracle," he repeated. "After all these years that's what it would take." He turned his back on her and moved to the stove. "Go get cleaned up. If I upset you any more, you won't eat and I'll be defeating my purpose."

She studied him. Something was definitely wrong. His motions were jerky and that remark about Bonnie was an instant tip-off. She would have noticed earlier if she hadn't been distracted by both her work and the aftereffects of that call from Montalvo. "I'm not the only one who's upset. What the devil is wrong with you?" She crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from shaking. "And don't tell me that you're just fed up with living here with me. If you don't want to stay with me, no one is forcing you."

"Particularly not you."

"Shut up." She tried to steady her voice. "I don't have any right to ask you to stay. I'm an emotional cripple. As you said, I'm obsessed and I'll probably remain that way for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder why you haven't left me before this."