"Johansen, Iris - Eve Duncan 03 - Body of Lies 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johansen Iris) Body of Lies IRIS JOHANSEN BANTAM BOOKS New York Toronto London Sydney
Auckland BANTAM BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN No One to Trust Body of Lies Final Target The Search The Killing Game The Face of Deception And Then You Die Long After Midnight The Ugly Duckling Lion's Bride Dark Rider Midnight Warrior The Beloved Scoundrel The Magnificent Rogue The Tiger Prince Last Bridge Home The Golden Barbarian Reap the Wind Storm Winds The Wind Dancer BODY OF LIES A Bantam Book This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. PUBLISHING HISTORY Bantam hardcover edition published April
2002 Bantam export mass market edition
published September 2002 Bantam domestic mass market edition /
March 2003 Published by Bantam Dell A Division of Random House, Inc. New York,
New York All rights reserved Copyright © 2002 by Johansen Publishing
LLLP Cover art copyright © 2002 by Yook Louie Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
2002052800 No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information
address: Bantam Books, New York, New York Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are
registered trademarks of Random House, Inc. ISBN 0-553-58214-3 Manufactured in the United States of America
Published simultaneously in Canada OPM 10 987654321 Chapter One Sarah Bayou,
Louisiana 1:05 A.M. October 4 The flatboat
glided slowly through the bayou. Too slowly, Jules Hebert thought tensely.
He had deliberately chosen a flatboat rather than a motor-boat because it would
be less obtrusive at this time of night, but he had not counted on this case of
nerves. Keep calm. The church was just up ahead. "It will be fine, Jules,"
Etienne called softly as he wielded the oars. "You worry too much." And his brother, Etienne, didn't worry
enough, Jules thought in despair. Ever since childhood it had been Jules who
was the serious one, the one who had to accept the responsibility while Etienne
ambled along through life with endearing blitheness. "You arranged for the
men to be waiting at the church?" "Of course." "And you told them nothing?" "Only that they would be paid well
for the work. And I parked the motorboat to bring them where you told me
to." "Good." "It will all go very easily."
Etienne smiled. "I promise you, Jules. Would I let you down?" Not intentionally. The affection between
them was too strong. They had been through too much together. "No offense.
Just asking, little brother." Jules stiffened as he saw the dark looming
silhouette of the ancient stone church in the faint moonlight as they rounded
the corner. It had been deserted for over ten years and exuded dampness and
decay. His gaze flew to the sparsely scattered plantation houses on either side
of the bayou. No one. No sign of anyone stirring. "I told you," Etienne said.
"Luck is with us. How could it be otherwise? Fortune is always on the side
of the right." That had not been Jules's experience, but
he wouldn't argue with Etienne. Not tonight. Jules jumped out of the boat as they
reached the landing, and the four men Etienne had hired streamed onto the boat. "Be careful with it," Jules
said. "For God's sake, don't drop it." "I'll help them." Etienne leaped
forward. "Christ, it's heavy." He put his massive shoulder beneath
one corner. "On the count of three." With great care they lifted the huge black
coffin onto the landing. Lake Cottage
Atlanta, Georgia Coffin. Eve Duncan woke with a start, her heart
pounding. "What is it?" Joe Quinn asked
drowsily. "Something wrong?" "No." Eve swung her feet to the
floor. "I just had a bad dream. I think I'll get a glass of water."
She moved to the bathroom. "Go back to sleep." Good heavens, she was actually shaking.
How stupid could she get? She splashed water on her face and took a few sips of
water before going back into the bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand was on and Joe
was sitting up in bed. "I told you to go back to sleep." "I don't want to go to sleep. Come
here." She went into his arms and cuddled close.
Safety. Love. Joe. "Want to make love?" "The thought occurred to me. Maybe
later. Right now, I want to know about your nightmare." "People do have bad dreams, Joe. It's
not that uncommon." "But you haven't had one in a long
time. I thought you were over them." His arms tightened around her.
"I want them to be over." She knew he did, and she knew he tried
desperately to give her the security and contentment that he thought would rid
her of them. But Joe should know better than anyone that the nightmare would
never entirely go away. "Just shut up and go back to sleep." "Was it about Bonnie?" "No." Eve felt a ripple of
guilt. Someday she had to tell him why the dreams of Bonnie were no longer
painful. But not yet. Even after this last year with him, she still wasn't
ready. Someday. "The new skull? You've been working hard
on it. Maybe too hard?" "I'm almost done. It's Carmelita
Sanchez, Joe. I should be able to notify her parents in a couple days."
Then there would be closure and, perhaps, peace for them. "And you know my
work never brings me anything but satisfaction. No bad dreams there." Just
sadness and pity and a driving passion to bring the lost ones home. "Stop
probing. Bad dreams don't have to have deep psychological implications. This
was just a crazy, disjointed ... It was probably something I ate. Jane's pizza
was a little too rich for—" "What was it about?" Joe wasn't going to give up. He would pick
at the subject until everything was out in the open. "A coffin. Okay? I
was walking toward this coffin, and it scared me." "Who was in the coffin?" He
paused. "Me? Jane?" "Stop trying to read something into
it. It was a closed coffin." "Then why were you scared?" "It was a dream. For heaven's sake, I
deal with dead people every day of my life. It's perfectly natural I should
have an occasional macabre—" "Why were you scared?" "Drop it. It's over." She pulled
his head down and kissed him. "Stop being a protective ass. The only
therapy I want from you right now is strictly physical." He went still, resisting. Then he relaxed
and moved over her. "Well, if you insist. I suppose I'll have to be a
gentleman and let you seduce me." Eve was surprised. She knew how stubborn
Joe could be. She smiled and gently tugged at his hair. "Damn right, you
will." "We'll talk about the coffin
later...." Sarah Bayou The coffin was in place in the altar of
the church. Jules bent to check the pedestal beneath
it to make sure it was sturdy enough to bear the weight of the specially
reinforced airtight coffin. He'd had it built to his own specifications and had
been assured there would be no problem, but it was his responsibility and he
was determined not to fail. Nothing must damage the coffin's precious contents. "I've paid them off. They're on their
way back," Etienne said from the doorway. He came toward Jules, his gaze
fixed on the coffin. "It looks so strange there.... We did it, didn't
we?" Jules nodded. "Yes, we did it." Etienne was silent a moment. "I know
you were angry with me, but now you understand, don't you?" "Yes, I understand." "Good. Well, here it is. We did it
together." Etienne put his arm affectionately around Jules's shoulders.
"It gives me a good feeling. You, too?" "No." Jules closed his eyes as
the pain surged through him. "Not a good feeling." "Because you worry too much. But it's
over now." "Not quite." Jules opened eyes
that were full of tears. "Have I ever told you how much I love you, what a
good brother you've been to me?" Etienne laughed. "If you had, I would
have been the one who was worried. You're not a man who—" His eyes widened
in shock as he saw the gun in his brother's hand. "What are you—?" Jules shot him in the heart. Disbelief was frozen on Etienne's face as
he fell to the floor. Jules couldn't believe it, either. Dear
God, let him take that moment back. No, for he would only have to do it again. Jules fell to his knees beside Etienne and
gathered him in his arms. Tears ran down his face as he rocked him back and
forth. Little brother. Little brother... Control. He had one other task to perform
before he could allow himself to grieve. The motorboat taking the men away from
the church should be out of the bayou and on the widest part of the river by
now. He fumbled in his pocket for the switch
and pressed the red button. He could not hear the explosion, but he knew it had
happened. He had set the charge himself and he never allowed himself to make a
mistake. There would be no survivors and no evidence. It was done. Jules turned back to Etienne and tenderly
brushed the hair from his forehead. Sleep, little brother. He prayed Etienne
was at peace. He was glad it was too dim in the church to see the shock and
pain frozen on Etienne's face. No, the church was not that dim. It was
the coffin, huge, dark, and casting its shadow over both Jules and Etienne. Casting its shadow over all the world. ------------------- "No, Senator Melton," Eve said
firmly. "I'm not interested. I have enough work to keep me busy for the
rest of the year. I certainly don't need any more." "It would help us enormously if you
could see your way clear to changing your mind. It's a very sensitive situation
and we need your help." The senator paused. "And, after all, as a
citizen, you do have a patriotic duty to—" "Don't give me that crap," Eve
interrupted. "Every time a bureaucrat wants to be put first on the list,
he pulls out patriotic duty. You haven't even told me what this job is going to
be about. All I know is that I'd have to leave my home and my family and go
running off to Baton Rouge. I can't imagine a job important enough to make me
do that." "As I said, it's a very sensitive, confidential
situation and I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you until you're committed
to—" "Get someone else. I'm not the only
forensic sculptor in the world." "You're the best." "I've gotten a lot of press. That
doesn't mean—" "You're the best. False modesty
doesn't become you." "Okay, I'm damn good." She
paused. "But I'm not available. Get Dupree or McGilvan." She hung up
the phone. Joe looked up from his book. "Melton,
again?" "He won't give up. Lord save me from
politicians." Eve went back to the pedestal and began smoothing the clay
over the skull. "God, they're pompous." "Melton has the reputation of being
fairly down-to-earth. He's certainly popular. They say the Democrats are
grooming him for president." "I wouldn't trust any politician.
They're all bedfellows in Washington. They scratch each other's backs." "Sounds a little disgusting."
Joe studied her. "But you're intrigued. It's sticking out all over
you." "So, I'm curious. Melton's evidently
experienced at piquing people's interest." Eve didn't take her gaze from
the sculpture. "The only thing he'd tell me was that it was my patriotic
duty. Bull." "No more than that?" "He said we'll discuss it when I
commit." She smoothed the area under the eye crevice. "I wonder who
they think it is...." He watched her for a moment without
speaking. "Louisiana in October isn't too unpleasant. We could take a
jaunt down to New Orleans. The department owes me some time, and Jane might
like it." "You're not invited." She made a
face. "Highly confidential and top secret." "Then screw him." He thought
about it a moment. "Was that a little lacking in tact and understanding? I
know better than to try to get in the way of your job. If you're tempted, I
guess we could put up with being without you for a few weeks." "Why should I be tempted?" She
wiped her hands on a towel and moved over to stand at the window. The lake was
glittering blue on this fine autumn afternoon, and Jane was down on the shore
playing with the new puppy Eve's friend, Sarah Patrick, had given her. The girl
was tossing a stick for Toby, and the mixed-breed dog was running crazily to
retrieve it. They both looked so alive and healthy and wonderfully happy. Well, what was there not to be happy about
here in this place at this time? "Eve?" She glanced over her shoulder at Joe, her
protector, her best friend, her lover. He was the bedrock of her life, and
every moment with him and Jane was precious. She smiled at him. "Hell, no,
I'm not tempted. Screw Melton." ------------------- "She refused," Melton said when
Jules Hebert picked up the phone. "She suggested I get Dupree." "I don't want Dupree," Hebert
said curtly. "We need Eve Duncan. I told you that from the beginning. It
has to be her." "It looks like you'll have to make do
with Dupree. He has a decent reputation." Hebert drew a deep breath. He had seen
examples of Eve Duncan's work on academic Websites and compared it to that of
other leading forensic sculptors. It was like comparing a da Vinci masterpiece
with a cave drawing. He couldn't entrust this skull to a Neanderthal. It was
too important to him. It was important to Melton and the rest of them, too, but
Jules didn't care about them. Not now. Melton had a safe job in a safe world.
He sat in his office and lifted his finger and sent men like Hebert out to take
his risks and do his bidding. "You told me I had to find a way to verify.
Give me Eve Duncan and I'll do it." "You made the mistake; it's your job
to correct it." Jules's hand tightened on the phone.
"There's always a way to get what you want, if you work at it. What's the
problem?" "My bet is that she's so mired in
domesticity that she can't see beyond her little cottage in Georgia. It's only
what you'd expect from a woman." "Never underestimate women. I've
known some that I'd rather avoid than come up against. Duncan is obviously very
strong-willed. You approached her in the way that I suggested?" "Yes, she seemed interested, but that
didn't make her accept." "Then we didn't press the right
buttons. There has to be some way. Tell me about her." "You know her reputation, or you
wouldn't be so sure she's the right one for the job." Jules looked down at the newspaper with
the picture of Eve Duncan that had first led him to call Melton. It was a photo
of a woman in her early thirties with a strong, intelligent face framed by
curly red-brown hair. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and looked out at the world
with an odd mixture of boldness and sensitivity. "I know about her
professional capabilities. I need to know more about her background. I need to
know how to manipulate her." "She's illegitimate and grew up in
the slums of Atlanta with a crackhead for a mother. In later years, the mother
gave up drugs, and she and Duncan became close. Eve got pregnant herself when
she was sixteen and gave birth to a child, Bonnie. She went back to school and
was working her way through when her seven-year-old little girl was murdered by
some nut who had killed eleven other children. They couldn't find the body, and
that spurred Duncan to become a forensic sculptor. She studied at Georgia State
and became one of the top forensic sculptors in the country. She works
freelance and also with several police departments nationwide." "And her personal life?" "She's living with Joe Quinn, a
detective with the Atlanta Police Department. They've been friends since her
daughter was murdered over twelve years ago, but they've only been living
together for the past two years. She's recently adopted a twelve-year-old girl,
Jane MacGuire, who grew up on the streets just as Duncan had done. They live in
a lake cottage outside of Atlanta. Her daughter, Bonnie, is buried on the
grounds." "You told me the body had never been
found." "Until last year. New information
emerged, and they located the skeleton in the Chattahoochee National Forest. DNA
tests confirmed that the skeleton was Bonnie Duncan." And Eve Duncan was now at peace, Hebert
thought. He knew the value of closure. He could imagine the dark world Eve
Duncan had lived in all those years. "Anything else?" Melton asked.
"I've got all the details; I can cross the T's and dot the I's if you need
it." So cut-and-dried. Jules was sure Melton
would relate all those details in the same detached way he'd revealed Eve
Duncan's past history. "That won't be necessary." He couldn't leave this to Melton, he
thought wearily. He'd have to work on Eve Duncan's weaknesses himself. She's so mired in domesticity that she
can't see beyond her little lake cottage in Georgia. She had a man and a child, and her own
personal cross was buried on that property near her home. She was probably very
happy. And why not? She had earned her peace. So the only way to get what he needed was
to destroy that peace. And he knew he would do it, just as he did everything
that needed doing. Drop everything and get to the airport. He had to get her to
leave Atlanta immediately. But there was one thing he had to do
before he left. "I'm going to Atlanta." "I'm glad to see you're taking
action. This had better be solved soon. Remember, you don't have much time to
clear up your mess. Boca Raton is set for October twenty-ninth." "You don't have to remind me. I can
take care of both matters." "We've trusted you for a long time,
but the Cabal isn't too pleased with you after that blunder with Etienne." And Melton was even less pleased. He was
probably looking over his shoulder and thinking he'd be next. Lily-livered
bastard. "I had to shoot him. It was
self-defense." "Was it?" Melton paused. "I
admit I've been wondering if you're playing a double game." "You have no reason to accuse me of
that." "Well, then, you'd better make sure
your mistake has no repercussions." "That's why I'm going to Atlanta.
I'll find a way." "See that you do." Melton hung
up. The threat had been veiled, but Jules
couldn't mistake Melton's intention to pressure him. He smothered the anger and
tried to compose himself. It was the first time in years that any of the Cabal
had been in the least critical of him. He had served them faithfully. Wasn't he
entitled to their trust? Well, they had trusted him with Etienne,
and he must make amends for that. Boca Raton. It would be all right. Jules had made the
advance preparations and the plan was proceeding nicely. He could leave the
matter alone while he concentrated on the Duncan project. Eve Duncan. Hebert leaned back and closed
his eyes. He would go soon, but another few moments wouldn't hurt. You'd think
after all these years that he'd become hardened, but it had never happened. Not
with the innocents. Get a grip. He had killed Etienne;
anything else would be easy in comparison. Joe Quinn, Jane MacGuire, and hadn't
Melton mentioned Eve Duncan's mother? Which one would he have to choose? ------------------- "Look at him." Jane's expression
was glowing with pride as she gazed at her puppy. "I think he's even
smarter than his daddy, Monty, don't you?" "Well... he's very good. But rolling
over isn't exactly the same as saving lives after an earthquake." Eve
smiled as she packed Carmelita's reconstructed skull in a box. "He's got a
way to go." "Well, he's only four months old. I have
to train him." Jane snapped her fingers and Toby bounced to his feet.
"Maybe I should go out to California and let Sarah help me. I bet she
could teach him in no time. She offered to do it when she gave him to me." Providing Sarah had time to do it, Eve
thought ruefully. Besides traveling all over the world with a canine rescue
group, Sarah was trying to adjust to marriage and keep her golden retriever,
Monty, and his mate, Maggie, content and peaceful. Peaceful wasn't that easy
when it came to dealing with an untamed wolf like Maggie. "That could be a
good idea. We'll ask her when she might have a chance to do it." She
addressed the label on the box ready for collection. "But not until your
school breaks for the Thanksgiving holidays." "I could make it up. I'm ahead
anyway." In more ways than in her studies. Jane's
background had ensured that in both experience and character she was twelve
going on thirty. Eve was glad to see this wild enthusiasm over the puppy.
Heaven knows the girl had been cheated out of most of the joys of childhood.
"Maybe. We'll talk about it." "Are you going to the FedEx office?
Can Toby and I go with you?" "Sure. Right after I go and put some
fresh flowers on Bonnie's grave. I haven't been up there this week." "The chrysanthemums by the side of
the house? I'll get them. Toby and I will go with you. He needs to stretch his
legs." "What are you talking about? That
puppy dashes around every minute of the day." "Running up hills is different. It's
good training and helps the lungs." She ran out of the cottage.
"We'll meet you." Eve smiled and shook her head as she went
out onto the porch. They'd be there long before she reached the grave, and
she'd be lucky if Toby didn't tear up the flowers Jane put down on it. Not that it mattered. Flowers were only
flowers. And Bonnie would have loved to see the puppy tearing around, full of
life and joy. She started on the path around the lake. To her surprise Toby was being
comparatively sedate, lying on his back beside the grave while Jane scratched
his tummy. "I told you hills were different," Jane said. "He got
tired. He needs to get in shape." She turned around and began picking
weeds from the grave. "It doesn't need much cleaning at this time of year.
I was up here three days ago and there was hardly any clover or anything." "You were up here?" "Sure. I know it's important to you.
You love Bonnie." Jane straightened the flowers "There. I was going
to brush those maple leaves off, but the red color looks kind of pretty. Like a
cozy little blanket." "Yes, it does." Eve looked down
at the fallen leaves. A blanket for her Bonnie. The phrase spoke of home and
shelter from harm. Everything she'd wanted for her daughter. "Is it okay?" Jane asked. "It's beautiful." Eve swallowed
hard. "Have I told you lately how much I love you, Jane?" "You don't have to tell me."
Jane didn't look at her as she jumped to her feet. "You keep thinking
you're cheating me or something. It doesn't have to be even. I don't expect
it." "It is even. It's just...
different." "Right. I'll see you at the car.
Maybe we can rent a video while we're in town, now that you're finished with
Carmelita. Joe said he wanted to see that new sci-fi spoof." The girl
streaked off with Toby romping at her heels. Still a few problems there, but they'd
come a long way. They had such a strong foundation that Eve couldn't believe
they wouldn't work everything out eventually. Time to go. She looked down at the grave.
"Goodbye, Bonnie," she whispered. She turned and started to follow
Jane. A sudden chill went through her. She whirled and looked back up the hill.
"Bonnie?" Nothing. No sound. No rustle of trees... Yet, had there been ... something? Imagination. She must have been working
too hard on Carmelita. Bonnie never gave her this sense of menace.... "Eve!" Jane was waving at her
from the bottom of the hill. "Toby's treed a squirrel. Or maybe it's a
raccoon. Come and see." Eve turned around and her pace quickened.
"I'll be right there." Chapter Two
The child could
be the key. Jules Hebert faded away into the bushes as
Eve left the grave site. The expression on the woman's face had told it all.
She was a mother, and radiated the love, endurance, and tenderness that all
mothers possessed. The death of a child could move a woman to do almost anything. Jane MacGuire? The idea made him sick. He did not like to
kill children. He stopped and leaned against the birch tree at the bottom of
the hill. He could do it. He could do anything he had to do. He had proved
that. But maybe it wasn't necessary. He had to
clear his head and think. Would he have to do this? Would it even bring the
result he wanted? The situation was critical, but wouldn't it be better to
explore other avenues? Everyone had secrets. Suppose he probed and pried until
he knew every detail of these people's lives. He had always been good at that.
He might be able to find something he could use.... It would take time. Not if he bent all his will and effort to
the task. He had come to admire Eve Duncan. With her strength and intelligence,
she reminded him of his own mother. Surely, he could wait a few more days. Boca Raton. Three days. Taking any more time would be
irresponsible. He could allow himself three days to find another option. Then he would have to kill the child. ------------------- "I need to talk to you." Jane's
voice was hesitant. "Could you spare a moment, Eve?" "I don't have time to—" Eve
looked up from the skull she was charting and saw that Jane was so pale her
freckles stood out. "What's wrong? Is it Toby?" "Toby's fine." Jane moistened
her lips. "I didn't know what to do. I thought about telling Joe, but it's
really you ... I tried to fix it, but I couldn't. And then I didn't want you to
go up and see—I had to tell you." "What are you talking about,
Jane?" "Will you come with me?" Jane
moved toward the door. "You have to see—" "See what?" "Bonnie..." "What do you mean—" Jane was gone, running down the porch
steps and down the path. "Jane!" Eve ran after her but didn't catch up
until she was almost up the hill. "Why are you—" Then she saw it. "I didn't know what to do."
Jane's voice was uneven. "I tried to clean it up." Blood smeared, dripping over the
headstone. Eve shuddered. "What did you— What
happened here?" "I don't know. I came up today to
clean off the weeds and it was like this. No, not like this. I made it worse.
I'm sorry, Eve." "Blood." "No, I don't think so. At first, I
thought... But it's paint or something." She edged closer to Eve. "I
couldn't get it off." "Paint?" Jane nodded. "Someone drew a big X
through Bonnie's name and everything else on the tombstone." She took
Eve's hand. "Who would do this to you?" Eve couldn't imagine who would commit a
horror like this. She felt ... bruised. "I don't know." It was hard
to think. "Maybe some kid who thought it was funny to desecrate a
grave." But not her Bonnie's grave. Not her Bonnie. "I can't think of
anyone else." "I'm gonna get him," Jane said
fiercely. "Maybe he'll come back. I'll wait here and when he does, I'm
gonna get him." Eve shook her head. "It would only
make it worse." She turned away. "Come on, we'll get back to the
cottage and see if we can find something to clean it off with." Jane fell into step with her. "We'll
tell Joe as soon as he gets home. He'll get him." "Not until we clean up the
tombstone." "You're afraid he'll be so mad, he'll do something to
him. He should do something. I'll help him." Jesus, she couldn't handle this right now.
Eve knew very well Joe's response would be just as violent and protective as
Jane's, and she was too shaky to play peacemaker. Besides, she didn't want to
be a peacemaker. Shock was quickly being replaced by anger. She wanted to wring
that sicko kid's neck. Not a good example for Jane. And Joe was an ex-SEAL and
would think little of doing just that. "Just go to the shed and see what
you can find. There may be some turpentine left from last spring when we
painted the porch." ------------------- "Having trouble?" George Capel glanced impatiently at the
man in a blue Saturn who had cruised to a stop beside him on the side of the
road. What a stupid question, when he was standing here with his head under the
hood of the Mercedes. "Not unless you're a mechanic. It's dead as a
doornail." "Sorry. I'm a computer
salesman." The man in the Saturn grimaced. "And believe me I've had
my share of breakdowns. I remember once in Macon, it was the middle of the
night and I—" He stopped. "But you're not interested in that. What
about a jump?" "We can try." Capel glanced at
the man's neat blue suit. "Better be careful. I've already got grease on
my shirt." The man smiled. "I'm always
careful." Ten minutes later Capel was cursing a blue
streak when the car still failed to start. "Piece of crap. For God's sake,
it's a Mercedes. Do you know how much this car cost me?" "A bundle. New?" "Last year." "Sorry I couldn't help. Maybe you'd
better call for a tow truck." "When my car's dead, my car phone's
dead, too. Do you have a cell phone?" The other man smiled. "You seem to be
having trouble with mechanical objects. I remember a Stephen King book about machines
gone amok. I listened to it on Books on Tape when I was driving through
Iowa." Capel tried to keep his temper. "Do
you have a phone?" he repeated. "Sure, but it's back at the motel on
the charger. I was only going to go out and find a restaurant to have
dinner." He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. "But hop in and
I'll give you a lift to the nearest service station. I'm new in this area. Do
you know where one is?" "There's a Texaco two miles
ahead." Capel hesitated, gazing at the Mercedes. "I don't think it's going
anywhere." "That's for sure. Piece of lousy
junk." Capel strode over to the passenger side of the Saturn and got in.
"Let's go. I didn't need this. I left the office early because I've got
tickets to the basketball game tonight. And then this has to happen. Damn, I
hate car trouble. The sooner we get this over with, the better." "That's what I think. I hate
unpleasantness." Jules Hebert got into the driver's seat. "Let's get
it over with." ------------------- Joe turned away from the grave.
"We'll replace the headstone." "I've got almost all the paint
off." "But every time you look at it,
you'll remember. We'll get a new headstone. I'll see to it when I go into work
tomorrow." He looked at her. "You haven't seen anyone around the place
in the past few days?" Eve shook her head. "Don't worry, it won't happen
again." "It's a big property. It's hard to
keep trespassers off it." "It won't happen again," Joe
repeated. "Go on back to the house while I take a look around." She looked at him warily. "Hey, I'm a cop. Let me do my
job." But this wasn't a cop standing before her.
He was in protective mode, and Joe could be lethal when he was this angry.
"I don't want you to do your job too well. It was vandalism." "It hurt you," Joe said flatly.
"I won't allow that. Never again." "And I won't allow you to kill some
kid who thought this was just one big giggle." He was silent a moment. "If it's a
kid, he may get by with learning a lesson he won't forget. Satisfied?" "No." But it was all she was
going to get from him. Eve was beginning to hope they'd never find out who did this awful thing. "You can't
call a forensic team out here to solve a case of vandalism." "I'm pretty good on my own." Joe
turned away. "Go on back to the cottage. Jane needs you. She's pretty
shook up." "Not anymore. She wants to do the
same thing as you. She said she was 'gonna get him.' " "Good. Smart girl. But she doesn't
have to bother." Eve watched in exasperation as Joe
disappeared into the bushes. He was on the hunt, and there wasn't anything she
could do about it. She turned and went down the hill. ------------------- Joe found the footprints almost
immediately. Not running shoes or mountain boots like
most kids wore in this area. Regular shoes. Size eight or nine, and the imprint
was shallow so the wearer wasn't very big. And he hadn't tried to brush the
footprints away. It was stupid enough to be a kid. Joe followed the prints down
the hill. Car tracks. It was getting dark. Joe turned on his
flashlight as he knelt down and looked at the tracks. He didn't know enough
about tire imprints to identify them. He'd go back to the cottage and get some
plaster to make a mold, and then run it through the database at headquarters. He didn't like any of this. His hand
clenched on the flashlight as he thought about the grave and Eve's expression when she'd told him about the
defacement. He was going to get that son of a bitch. ------------------- Hebert's phone rang as he was getting back
in the car. "I hadn't heard from you,"
Melton said. "Do I have to remind you that time is of the essence?" "No." "The situation may be escalating.
Have you thought any more about getting Dupree?" "Forget Dupree." Jules wearily
leaned back in the seat. "That may not be necessary." "Why not?" "Things are looking up. I want you to
wait one day and then call Eve Duncan again and make her the same offer." "She was quite adamant." "Try her." "Whatever you say. It's good that
things are proceeding so well." Melton hung up. There was nothing good about this but the
end result, Jules thought. It had been a hideous night. The man had been harder
to break than he had thought, and torture was always worse than a clean kill.
As he punched the end button, he noticed there was blood on the phone. He
looked down at his hands. Blood on them, too. He wiped his hands with a tissue, and then
the phone. He glanced at the sheet of paper on the seat beside him. Good. No
blood on the paper. He didn't want to leave any traces. He looked out the window at the drainage
ditch several yards away from the road. The water should wash away any evidence
he had left behind. He wished he could cleanse his mind and
soul as easily. ------------------- "I ran into the FedEx man
outside." Jane dropped her schoolbooks on the coffee table and tossed the
FedEx letter on Eve's desk. "Who's it from?" "Search me. No return address.
Where's Toby?" "Outside by the lake. He chased some
ducks this morning." "Well, he has retriever blood." "And he turned tail when one got mad
and bit his nose." Eve grinned. "Some retriever." "Poor Toby." Jane started for
the door. "That must have hurt his pride. I'll have to go soothe his
feelings." "He's forgotten already. I saw him
chasing a butterfly an hour later. Maybe he thought that wouldn't be quite so
dangerous." Jane giggled. "A little more respect,
please." She ran out the door and down the steps. "Toby!" Eve was still smiling when she picked up
the FedEx letter and tore it open. Thank heaven for Toby. He had completely
taken Jane's mind off that horror of two days ago. She only wished Joe would be
similarly distracted by— My God. ------------------- "Come home, Joe," Jane said as
soon as Joe picked up the phone. "Right away. You've got to come
now." "Easy. What's wrong?" "Eve. She's just sitting there. She
told me nothing was wrong, but she's just sitting there." "Maybe nothing is wrong." "Don't you tell me that." Her
voice was shaking. "You come home, Joe." "I'm on my way." ------------------- "Eve?" It was Joe. She curled up tighter at the
end of the couch. Go away. Go away. "What the hell's wrong?" She put it into words. "Go
away." He sat down beside her. "Stop closing
me out. I'm not going anywhere. Now what's wrong?" "I don't want... to talk about it
right now." "Well, I do. That's what a
relationship is about. Sharing." "Sharing what? Sharing lies?" He went still. "What are you talking
about?" "I told you, I don't want to talk at
all." She just wanted to close herself away and try to heal the raw wound.
"Go and see about Jane. I think I scared her." "You're scaring me. Did something
happen to Bonnie's grave again?" "I don't know," she said dully.
"It doesn't matter." "Jane said you got a FedEx. May I see
it?" She got to her feet. "Not now." He was silent a moment. "Let me help
you. You're not being fair to me, Eve." She whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "I'm
not being fair? My God, how do you have the nerve to say that after what
you've done to me?" He went still. "And what have I done
to you?" "Lies. You lied to me, Joe. The
cruelest lie, the cruelest thing you could have done to me." She drew a
deep breath, her gaze fixed desperately on his face. "You're not asking
what that was. Because you know, don't you, Joe? I wasn't really sure until I
saw your face. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe you'd do this to me." He glanced around the room. "Is that
the FedEx?" He crossed to the desk and picked up the single sheet of paper
and scanned it. She could see the line of his spine stiffen as if he was
bracing himself before he turned to face her. "Was there a return address?" She stared at him, stunned. "Christ,
is that all you have to say?" "No, but I have to know who wanted to
hurt you this much." He grimaced. "And who wanted to hurt me." "I don't care who it was. All I care
about is that you lied to me." She closed her eyes as waves of fresh pain
broke over her. "And that the little girl I buried on that hill is not my
Bonnie. Jesus, I can't believe it." "But you clearly do believe it. And
I'm sure you verified this particular scrap of poison." "It's not a scrap." She opened
eyes glittering with tears. "It's the official report from the Georgia
forensic lab stating that the DNA of the little girl found in Chattahoochee
National Park did not match Bonnie Duncan's. It was signed by Dr. George
Capel." "And you called George Capel?" "I tried, but he was out of the
office. So I talked to the head of the department. He couldn't find the
official paperwork on the results, but he finally tracked down some of the
transcripts from the work in progress. Shall I tell you what they were?" "Don't bother." "I was in Atlanta and you took the
call that day. When I came home, you told me that Bonnie had been found." "Yes, I did." "You deliberately lied to me." "Yes." The agony was exploding inside her.
"How could you do that?" she whispered. "How could I not do it?" Joe's
voice was harsh with pain. "I'd watched you suffer for twelve years. I'd
seen you search for Bonnie in every one of those faces you re-created. It was a
wound that never healed, that would never heal until you found Bonnie. Sarah
Patrick searched all through that National Forest, and we'd almost given up
hope when they found the skeleton. The chances of another skeleton being found
there were practically nil at that point. So I prayed every night that skeleton
would be Bonnie's." He threw the report on the desk with barely controlled
violence. "And then it didn't happen, goddammit. It was going to go on and
on. But it didn't have to. All I had to do was tell one lie, and you'd be at
peace." "A terrible lie. You ... cheated
me." "You want me to say I'm sorry? I'm
not sorry. Yes, I am. I'm sorry you found out and it's hurting you. But I'd do
it again if I thought I had a chance of keeping it from you." His words
came fast, hard, and full of passion. "I love you. You've been the
center of my life for over twelve years. I'd do anything to take you away from
the hell you've been going through all that time. I'd lie. I'd kill. Anything
to keep the pain away." "Well, you didn't do it." "No, I didn't do it." Eve raised a shaking hand to her lips as
she thought of something else. "Jesus, I received an official notification
two weeks later, verifying the telephone call. You did that, too?" "I bribed someone in the lab to do it
for me. I knew you'd expect it." "You were very ... thorough." "It was important to me. Maybe the
most important action I'd taken in my life." Joe was silent a moment, his
face pale, strained. "So now what?" "I don't know. I trusted you, and you
betrayed me in the most terrible way possible. I can't even think." Eve
moved heavily toward the bedroom. "I'm going to bed. All I want to do is
sleep." "You won't sleep. You just want to
get away from me." "I can't look at you right now." "You love me, Eve." She did love him. She doubted if that
could ever go away, and that was part of the pain she was feeling. "But
could I ever trust you again? You don't lie to people you love." "The hell you don't." She shook her head and closed the bedroom
door. She leaned back against it. Jesus, she felt empty. It was as if
everything had been drained out of her, leaving nothing but an aching hole. Was
Joe feeling this emptiness? No, he'd be full of sorrow for her, and anger and
desperation at the situation. She knew him so well, his mind, his character,
his body... But not well enough. She'd never have
guessed he'd do this. She moved over to the bed and lay down,
staring into the darkness. ------------------- "I made you some coffee." Jane
handed Joe the mug and sat on the porch step beside him. "Thanks." He set the coffee down
on the step. "Do you think we have a chance of
getting Eve to eat something?" He shook his head. She didn't look at him. "I
eavesdropped, you know. I had to know why she was hurting." "Me." "Yeah. You shouldn't have done it,
Joe." He didn't answer. "Unless you were sure you wouldn't
get caught." He looked at her. "I was sitting out by the lake with
Toby, thinking that maybe I
would have done the same thing if I hadn't been scared of her finding out.
She's been really happy since we brought Bonnie home. I mean ... that other
little girl. So is it better for her to be happy or to be sad?" She shook
her head. "I don't know...." He should have known that Jane wouldn't
see everything in black or white. She had been in and out of foster homes since
she was a baby and had seen too much in her short life. "Let me clarify.
It was a wrong thing to do for a right reason." "You told her you'd do it
again." "I probably would." His lips
twisted. "And that wasn't a lie." "Well, be smarter about it next
time." "There may not be a next time. I may
not get the chance to be close enough to her to—"
He rubbed his aching temple. "And I thought I was being smart, or at least
careful. I bribed the supervisor who ran the test very well to lose that result
sheet." "But he sent it to Eve. Did you make
him mad?" Joe shook his head. "And he didn't
even try to hit me up for more money." "What would you have done if he
had?" "Scared the hell out of him. Capel
was money-hungry, but not stupid." He sat up straighten "I shouldn't
be talking like this to you. The welfare people would whisk you away from us in
a heartbeat if they could hear me." "I wouldn't go." She leaned
against his shoulder. "Screw them all." "And that comment would be another
mark against me." He put
his arm around her. "I want to make sure of something, Jane. Don't ever
take my side against Eve. I'm wrong and she's right. Do you understand?" "Sure." "Then hadn't you better go in and
talk to Eve?" She shook her head. "She won't want
me. Not when it's about Bonnie. She's never been sure how I... She'd worry
about not hurting my feelings, and she's hurting enough herself right
now." He closed his eyes. "God, you've got
that-right." He had felt her pain as if it were his own. It was his
own. She took his hand. "So maybe I'll
just stay out here with you for awhile. Okay?" His hand tightened around Jane's.
"Okay." ------------------- Eve was still awake when Joe came into the
bedroom a few hours later. He knelt beside the bed. "Don't
stiffen up. I won't stay long. I won't even touch you." He was silent a
moment. "I just want you to remember a couple things while you're thinking
what a bastard I am." "You're not a bastard." "I want you to remember what we have
together. I want you to remember what we are to each other." He paused.
"And sometime it's going to occur to you that I lied because I wanted
Bonnie out of our lives. It's not true. If I'd thought you could heal and live
a halfway normal life, I'd have kept searching for her till the day we died.
But it's still an open wound for you." Eve could see his hand clench in
the half darkness. "And it hurts me. I wish I'd known her. I wish
she'd been our daughter. Then maybe you'd forgive me for doing this. Because I
would have done the same thing if Bonnie had been mine. Do you believe
me?" "I believe ... you believe it." Joe bent and rested his forehead on the
bed only an inch from her hand, but not touching her. "I guess that's all
I can ask right now. The ball's in your court, Eve." He got to his feet
and moved toward the door. "I'll see you in the morning. Try to
sleep." Not likely. Every word he'd spoken had
been like little knives, tearing her apart. He was tearing her apart.
She was so full of anger and a bitter sense of betrayal, and yet she had wanted
desperately to reach out and comfort him. It seemed impossible that those
conflicting emotions could exist side by side. How could she stand this? Jesus, she wished she could cry. ------------------- Jane knocked, then opened the door.
"Hi, do you want me to fix some breakfast?" Her gaze went to the
suitcase on the bed. "Uh-oh." "It's after eight. You've missed the
school bus." "Joe said it was okay if I stayed home today. He told me
to take care of you." She came into the room. "Where are you going?" "I'm glad you didn't go." Eve
put a smock and pair of jeans into the suitcase. "I thought we'd go and
spend a week or two with my mother. Why don't you go pack a bag?" "Can I take Toby?" "Of course. Mom loves that silly
mutt." She threw tennis shoes and socks into the bag. "We'll do all
kinds of neat things. Maybe go to the zoo to see the new pandas. What do you
think about that?" Jane didn't answer; Eve glanced at her
inquiringly. Jane moistened her lips. "I know what
Joe did. I listened last night. He feels real bad about it, Eve." "I know." Eve went to the
bathroom and brought back her toothbrush and an armful of toiletries. "I
know he does, Jane." "Are you going to come back?" "I don't know right now. I can't seem
to think. I have to put some space and time between us. It was a ... terrible
thing he did, Jane." She closed the suitcase. "I know you love Joe,
but I can't look at him every day without—" She swallowed hard. "Why
don't you go get packed?" Jane slowly shook her head. "I'm
going to stay here." "What?" She crossed the room and put her arms
around Eve. "You said you needed to think. I'd only get in the way. If I
were you, I'd want to just hide my head under a blanket and not see anyone or
anything." She stepped back. "And besides, Joe needs me. He needs me
a lot." "And you think I don't?" "Not now. Maybe later." Jane
smiled. "It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you or don't love you.
You know that?" "I know that." "Good." Jane turned away.
"I'll fix you some breakfast before you leave. Bacon and eggs?" "Fine." Eve's gaze followed Jane
as she left the room. Jesus, the girl's instincts were on target. Eve had felt
guilty for wanting to run away and isolate herself from Joe and everything that
reminded her of him. She had responsibilities, and Jane was one of them. But it
seemed Jane had made her mind up, and Eve wasn't included in that decision. She was on her way to the closet to get
another armful of clothes when the phone rang. "Ms. Duncan, I'm sorry to trouble
you," Melton said when she picked up the phone. "But I felt bound to
try one more time, since the task is so extremely urgent. I wonder if you'd
reconsider your decision..." ------------------- "You won't change your mind?"
Joe asked. "I don't like the idea of you traipsing off somewhere without
my knowing more—" He stopped as he saw Eve's
expression. "Okay, it's none of my business." He frowned. "The
hell it's not. You'll always be my business." Eve ignored the last remark. "Take
care of Jane. I've told her I'll call her every three days and touch
base." She picked up her suitcase. "I've called Mom and asked her to
take Jane whenever you're working." "Very efficient." "I'm trying to be." She met his
eyes. "It's not easy right now, and concentrating on this job will
help." "You won't phone me?" "Probably not. That would defeat the
purpose." She moved toward the door. "Good-bye, Joe." He watched her get into the car and drive
down the road. He felt hollow and lonely ... and scared. "Shit." He turned, got out his
phone, and dialed. "She's gone," he said when Logan picked up.
"What did you find out about Melton?" "Nothing really bad. Politically
savvy. Elected to the Senate two years ago from Louisiana and done a fairly
good job. He has friends in high places and may be up for the presidential
nomination in a few years." "Why would he be connected with a
hush-hush job like this reconstruction?" "Search me." Logan paused.
"If you're that concerned, you could follow her." "I told you what happened. Unless I
have a damn good reason, she's not going to want me on the same continent.
Maybe not even then." "Well, I can't give you a good reason
yet. I'll keep checking. Maybe you should just give her some time to herself.
That would be the smart move." "I'm not feeling very smart right
now. And I don't want advice. Do you think I would have called you if I hadn't
known you knew every politician in Washington?" "No, you've never forgiven me for
that year I lived with Eve. You should know that's water under the bridge.
We're just friends now." Logan paused. "Which appears to be more than I can
say for your relationship at the moment." "If you're friends, then find a way
to protect her. God knows I can't do it right now." "She may not need protection." "I don't like what was done to that
grave. And Capel hasn't shown up for work for the last four days." "I don't see a connection with Eve's
trip." "I don't, either. I just don't like
it. And I don't like not being able to make sure there's no connection."
Joe paused. "Get Galen to go to Baton Rouge, will you?" "The U.S. government doesn't exactly
approve of Galen." "Tough." "And Galen is freelance. He takes
jobs where he pleases." "You're friends. Use it." "An order?" "Please," Joe said through
gritted teeth. "Send Galen." "That's better. I'll ask him and call
you back." Joe went back to the window, but Eve was
already out of sight. Soon she'd be on that plane for Baton Rouge, traveling
far away from him at jet speed. She couldn't be any farther away from him
than she'd been a few minutes ago in this very room. She couldn't wait to get
away from him. The wall she'd put between them had been almost tangible, and
her expression... Forget the hurt. He couldn't expect
anything else. He should even have anticipated Eve would take this
reconstruction job. Whenever she was in pain or lonely, she always submerged
herself in her work. And that's what he should do. He'd take
that tire print down to the precinct and then go see what he could find out
about Capel. Maybe if he kept himself busy enough, he
might be able to block out the memory of Eve's face before she'd walked out the
door. Maybe. Chapter Three
A BIG, PORTLY MAN IN A DARK BLUE SUIT
HURRIED UP to
Eve as soon as she got off the plane. "Welcome to Baton Rouge, Ms. Duncan.
I'm Paul Tanzer with the mayor's office. Senator Melton thought you'd be more
comfortable with a fellow southerner. He asked me to meet you and make sure you
were comfortable. Did you have a good flight?" "Fine." It was a lie. It had
been a lousy flight. The air had been smooth, but she'd felt hollow and alone
and completely depressed every mile of the way. "I thought Senator Melton
was going to be here." "He'll be here tomorrow. He has to
attend a fund-raiser dinner tonight in New York." Tanzer was guiding her
toward his Cadillac in a parking space. "But I'm going to get you settled.
Don't you worry, little lady." Eve gritted her teeth at that patronizing
last sentence. "I'm not worried. I just want to get to work. That's what I
consider settled." "Very admirable." Tanzer helped
her into the car. "But I know you'll want to see a
little of Baton Rouge while you're here. Actually, you're very lucky the
senator picked me to take care of you. I know everything that's going on in
this city. Is this your first visit?" "Yes. I'm not much of a
traveler." "Then by all means we must see that
you get a taste of Baton Rouge." Tanzer wasn't listening to her. "What
hotel did you book me into?" "Senator Melton decided it would be
better if you didn't stay at a hotel. We've rented a wonderful plantation house
about an hour outside the city. It's close to the church where you'll be
working. It will be much more pleasant for you to just stroll over the bridge,
and I'm sure you'll like your quarters. The house is very old and elegant. Of
course, many things are old here in Baton Rouge. It has a real atmosphere of—" "Wait." She tried to slow him
down. "I'm going to be working at a church?" "Well, it used to be one. It's been
shut down for the last ten years. It was built in the 1800s and is pretty
decrepit. Our city government can't decide whether to tear it down or pour
money into restoring it, and welcomed Senator Melton's offer to rent it for
awhile. Is there a problem?" "I don't care. If I'm on site, then
maybe I could start this afternoon." "That's not possible. We'll have to
wait for Senator Melton." Tanzer beamed. "But I'll tell him how eager
you are to start. He'll be very impressed with your initiative." "I don't have any desire to impress
Senator Melton." Eve tried to hold onto her patience. After all, the man
was just doing his job. "And if you'll give me his number, I'll tell him
myself." "Certainly." Tanzer wrote a
number on one of his cards and handed it to her. "But it may be difficult
to get in touch with him. He's a very busy man. Now, let me point out a few of
our local sights to you..." Tanzer never ran out of either sights or
conversation for the next hour. Eve was deeply grateful when he finally nodded
at a white-columned house up ahead. "Here we are. I told you it was
pleasant. Rather like Tara from Gone with the Wind. Very picturesque,
and the bayou winding in front of it is quite lovely. It will be like being in
Venice, and our weather isn't bad at all this time of year." That's what Joe had said. Eve quickly
blocked the thought. Stop thinking about Joe. Easy to say. Joe was such an
integral part of her life that everything reminded her of him. Tanzer helped her out of the car.
"Most of the house is closed, but you have quite a charming apartment.
Four bedrooms and a lovely marble bath. There's even a very well-stocked
library. I've seen that there are several romance novels there for you."
He knocked on the door. "Marie Letaux is the cook and housekeeper. She's
Cajun, and has a real flair for the local cuisine. She comes highly
recommended. We were very lucky to get her." The door was opened by a
small, dark-haired woman in her late thirties. "Good afternoon, Marie.
This is Ms. Eve Duncan. I've just been telling her what a marvelous housekeeper
you are and how well you're going to take care of her." Marie Letaux gave him a cool glance.
"I'm Madame Letaux. And she takes care of herself. I take care of the
house and cooking." For the first time in two days Eve felt a
smile tug at her lips as she saw Tanzer blink. "Absolutely right, Madame
Letaux," she said. "I wouldn't have it any other way." The housekeeper looked at her appraisingly
and then slowly nodded her head. "You may call me Marie." "Thank you." Tanzer forced a smile and turned to Eve.
"I'll just carry your suitcase up to your room. Isn't this place as great
as I told you?" She glanced around the foyer. A gleaming
oak floor led to a staircase that might have come straight from the house in
the novel to which Tanzer had compared it. Fine wood everywhere and delicately
painted murals on the walls. "It's very nice." The bedroom was even nicer, with its
fourteen-foot ceiling and huge four-poster bed. Eve threw her handbag on the
satin-covered bed and went out on the wrought-iron balcony facing the bayou. The view was lovely. The winding waters of
the bayou snaked past the house, and cypress and willow trees formed a green
veil over the banks. An arched footbridge crossed the murky waters leading to
what appeared to be a mossy island. Near the bend of the bayou was a dark
looming structure that she— "Didn't I say it was
picturesque?" Tanzer said, behind her. "Now, how about going out to
dinner at a nice seafood restaurant I know, and then I'll take you for a tour
of the city." Lord, he was persistent. "I don't
want to go anywhere. I'm tired and I just want to take a shower and rest. Thank
you for the offer." He nodded. "You see? You couldn't
have worked anyway. It's just as well that Senator Melton was delayed in New
York." "I'm seldom too tired to work."
Eve turned back to the bayou. "Is that the church?" "Yes." Tanzer nodded at the
ornate entrance of the huge crumbling structure a few hundred yards away.
"See, it's only a short distance." "It looks completely deserted." "Perhaps it is. I wouldn't
know." "Is that where the skull is
now?" He shrugged. "I wasn't told. It's
where you'll be working." "Is there someone I should
contact?" "Senator Melton will know." It was like trying to draw blood from a
turnip, and Eve had had enough. She held out her hand. "I won't keep you
any longer. Thank you for everything." "Oh." Tanzer shook her hand.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" "I'll be fine. Thank you." "Well, you only have to call my
office if you change your mind. I'm at your disposal." "I'll remember." She waited
until he'd left the bedroom before crossing to the phone on the desk to dial
the number on the card. "I brought your towels." Marie
stood in the doorway. "Thank you. I'll be with you to help
in a moment." "Why? This is my job." She
crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom. Melton was not at the hotel, and Eve had
to leave a voice mail. Great. Just great. She didn't need to spin her wheels
this evening. She needed to work until she was so exhausted she could sleep
tonight. "Do you need help unpacking?"
Marie had come back into the room. "No, thanks. I didn't bring
much." Eve smiled. "And I don't want to impose on you. That isn't
your job." "Unless I choose." Marie smiled
back at her. "There's nothing shameful about being a servant. It's hard,
honorable work. I just don't like being patronized by a trou du cul" She
turned to leave. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes." What was a trou du cul} She had an
idea, but she'd have to see if she could find it in a French-English dictionary
in that library Tanzer had mentioned. She went back onto the balcony and looked
at the main entrance of the church. There might be someone there. Maybe she'd
take a walk over there after dinner.... But that dinner was going to be ready in
thirty minutes and she should take a quick shower. She'd have to hurry. If she
was late, she wouldn't be surprised if Marie threw the meal into the bayou. And what was a trou du cul?... ------------------- "This is delicious." Eve ate the
last bite of food on her plate. "What is it?" "Spezzatino di Manzo coi
Fagioli," Marie
said. "And that is?" Marie grinned. "Beef stew." "Is it a Cajun recipe?" "No, Italian. I don't only specialize
in Cajun food." She made a face. "I know Tanzer probably pigeonholed
me in a neat little corner of his mind, but I'm not as predictable as he'd
like." "It's not like any beef stew I've
ever eaten. What's in it?" "Everything. But I can't tell you.
It's my mother's recipe and it's a big secret. If I told you, then I'd have to
kill you." The woman's humor no longer surprised Eve.
She had found Marie's conversation interesting and her knowledge well rounded.
Marie was unusual, to say the least. "Heaven forbid. Your mother taught
you to cook?" "Partly. I went to the cuisine school
in New Orleans after I left the university. I was going to be this magnificent,
temperamental chef who would dazzle all the world with my delicious
concoctions." "Well, you dazzled me. You changed
your mind?" Marie shrugged. "Life changed it. I
got pregnant and I had to make adjustments. You can't take chances when you
have to care for a baby." "You have a child?" "A boy. Well, a man. Pierre's at
Tulane University in New Orleans himself now. He's very smart and kind. He's
going to be a wonderful physician, but it takes a lot of money." She
looked at Eve. "You have children?" "I have an adopted daughter, Jane.
She's only twelve, but she's pretty wonderful, too." "Then you understand how I feel about
Pierre," Marie said soberly. "I would do anything for him. He's my
whole world." "Yes, I do understand." "Good." The housekeeper drew a
deep breath. "More wine?" Eve shook her head. "I need to keep a
clear head. I thought I'd walk over to the church and see if I can find
something to do." "What work do you do?" "I'm a forensic sculptor." That
was seldom explanation enough. "I reconstruct faces from skulls." "I saw something on the television about
that." Marie made a face. "Very creepy." "It all depends how you look at it.
You get used to it." Eve got to her feet. "Thank you for a great
meal, Marie." "Who are you going to..." She
searched for the word. "Reconstruct?" "I try not to know. I might be
influenced. Will I see you when I get back?" Marie shook her head. "I'll wash up
and go home." "Where do you live?" "I have my own house in the city. The
key to the front door is on the table in the foyer. I'll lock the back door.
I'll be back at seven in the morning to fix your breakfast." "I'll see you then." But Eve
hoped she'd be up and working by that time. "Good-bye, Marie." Marie smiled and turned away. Nice woman, Eve thought as she left the
house. Thank God, she would have someone around that she liked and understood
in this strange place. She was already feeling more at home here. A few minutes later she was walking across
the bridge spanning the bayou. This ancient church was a strange choice for a
work site, she thought. Or maybe not. It was certainly private enough, and
Melton had stressed confidentiality. The brass knocker on the huge double doors
made a resounding noise. No answer. She knocked again. Silence, dammit. Well, it had been a long shot anyway. She
knocked one more time, waited for a few minutes, and then turned away and
started back toward the bridge. It was clear she'd have to be patient and wait
until tomorrow. But Eve didn't want to be patient. She
wanted to get to work. Why couldn't Melton have been here as he'd prom— What was that? She stopped, her gaze flying back to the
main entrance of the church. Had someone come to the door and called
her? The door was still shut. Yet she would swear someone had called
her. The impression had been so vivid... Well, it hadn't happened. It was probably
a case of so badly wanting that door to open. It was still early, but she'd go to bed
and try to sleep. When she woke, she'd grab some breakfast and try the church
again. She stopped before going back into the
house to glance back at the church. The door was still shut. Deja vu. She had a sudden memory of last week, when
she'd had that sense of ... something ... up on Bonnie's hill. Not Bonnie. It wasn't Bonnie. That had all
been a lie. But maybe that feeling she'd had on the
hill had not been a lie. Maybe the bastard who'd later desecrated the grave had
been there. But this feeling was ... different. She
would swear she'd heard someone call. Nonsense. It was because her nerves were
stretched taut and she was an emotional wreck. The only thing she'd heard
calling her was the work she'd been hoping to do tonight. Everything would be
better after a good night's sleep. ------------------- Eve woke three hours later and barely
managed to get her head over to the side of the bed before she threw up. "Oh, God." Sick. So sick. She staggered down the hall toward the
bathroom, but threw up twice before she reached it. Her stomach wouldn't stop wrenching. Pain.
Nausea. She dropped to the floor beside the
toilet. She threw up again and again and again. The stew... Her ribs hurt. She couldn't breathe. Food poisoning... She was going to die. Bonnie. She threw up again. Nobody was here. Empty house. No one to
help her. Get to the phone. She was too weak to walk. She crawled back
down the hall to the bedroom. It was a million miles away and she had to stop
to heave several times. Her ribs... The phone ... 911. No dial tone. She tried the operator. "Help ... me.
Please, help..." The phone dropped from her hand. She was
going to pass out. Not here. She'd die here. The balcony. Someone might see her. Maybe
she could call... She wasn't going to make it. That was okay. She'd be with Bonnie. Why
did she keep trying? It would be so easy to give up. Joe. She kept crawling. She was out on the
balcony, her cheek pressed against the wrought-iron bars. The metal felt cold, clammy... She couldn't see anyone near the bayou and
the houses were too far away for anyone to hear her if she called. The church
loomed huge and dark and silent. "Help..." Her futile cry was
barely audible even to her. Jesus, she couldn't stop retching. "Help ...
me." She was sliding down, her face was on the
tiles. She could no longer see the bayou, only the tall, dark doors of the
church. It filled her vision. Would that be the last thing she saw... Darkness. ------------------- "No. You mustn't sleep. Not
yet." She opened her eyes. She was being carried down the stairs. A man ... dark hair ... She couldn't see
his face in the darkness of the hall, but his tone was desperate. Desperate? Why? she wondered vaguely. She
was the one who was dying. "We'll be there soon. Hold on." Be where? She gagged again, but there was nothing to
throw up. Oh, God, her ribs hurt. ------------------- "Are you there? I'm coming,
Bonnie." "Don't you dare. It's not your
time." Bonnie was bending over her. "You fight, Mama." "Too tired. Too sad." "That doesn't matter. Things will get
better." "I want to be with you." "You are with me. Always. Why won't
you believe me?" "I'm too tired... I have to ... give up." "No, you don't. I won't let you. Do
you hear me, Mama? I won't let you...." ------------------- The house was dark, but he didn't turn on
the light. He moved quickly through the foyer and then down the hall. Quick. He had to be quick. He didn't know
how much time he had. The kitchen smelled of lemon and the clean
scent of soap, and the white refrigerator gleamed in the moonlight streaming
through the window. Hurry. He opened the refrigerator and took out
the only covered bowl on the shelf. He popped the lid and checked the contents
before closing the refrigerator door. Then he wiped the handle and moved toward
the door. It was done. As he reached the street, his gaze was
drawn to the doors of the church, as it always was when he was near it. He felt
his stomach muscles clench as the tension and horror gripped him. No, it was only partly done. Hurry.... ------------------- White. White everywhere. White walls, white
sheets on her bed. "Do you want some ice chips? They
said you'd probably want some as soon as you woke up." A deep voice with just a hint of a British
accent. Her gaze shifted to the dark-haired man
sitting in the chair beside the bed. It took a moment for her mind to clear
enough to recognize him. "Galen?" Sean Galen nodded. "The water?" She nodded. Her throat felt so sore and
parched that one word had rasped it. He put the glass to her lips. "You're
hooked up to an IV to help the dehydration, but this should feel good." The cold liquid slowly flowing down her
throat did feel good. Even though the actual act of swallowing was painfully
difficult. "What are you ... doing here?" "That hurt, didn't it?" Galen
leaned back in the chair. "I'll try to fill in the gaps. I have to ask a
couple of questions. You nod or shake your head. Talk as little as possible.
You're at the Assisi Hospital in Baton Rouge. Do you remember how you got
here?" She shook her head. "You contracted the granddaddy of all
food poisonings. You nearly died. You were brought in after midnight, and it's
nearly four now. They had to work on you for a long time." "Food poisoning?" He nodded. "That's what they said.
Did you eat in a restaurant last night?" She shook her head. "At the house.
Marie..." "Who is Marie?" "Marie Letaux. Housekeeper. She made
me stew." "Did anyone else eat any of it?" She shook her head. "That's good. What room did you eat
in? Do you know if the rest of the stew is in the refrigerator at the
apartment? We need to get rid of it." "I ate in the kitchen." She
tried to remember. She had a vague memory of Marie putting foil over the bowl,
but she didn't recall her putting it in the refrigerator. "Probably." "I'll check it out." He poured
more water into her glass and held it to her lips. "Though it wouldn't surprise
me if she left it on the counter, if she's this careless in her cooking." "Don't blame ... Nice. Probably not
her fault. Someone must have sold her some bad food in the market." "Maybe." "What are you doing here?" she
asked again. "Logan gave me a call and asked me to
go and see what was shaking with you." He grinned. "What was shaking
was your tummy. More like an earthquake. Right?" She nodded. "Logan? How did he know
where—" She knew the answer.
"Joe." Galen nodded. "Logan said Quinn asked
him to make sure you were all right. He was uneasy about the setup here and
said the two of you were on the outs. Since Logan and Quinn are still not on
the best of terms, Logan thought it must be serious enough to give me a
buzz." What had Joe been thinking about? Eve had
met Galen only once before, but Logan had told her about his extremely dubious
background. He had been everything from a mercenary to a troubleshooter for
various corporations. She shook her head. "Don't ... need you." "Well, Logan paid me in advance. I
may as well stick around for a few days." He smiled. "You'll find me
very useful. I'm fabulous company, I'm a great cook, and I promise I won't give
you food poisoning. What else could you ask?" "I don't need company. I'll be
working." "Not until you get over this case of
food poisoning. The doctor won't release you until tomorrow, and said you'll be
weak as a kitten for a few days." She could believe it. She had just woken
up but she could hardly hold her eyes open. Galen's gaze narrowed on her face.
"If you won't accept my services, maybe I should call Quinn and tell him
about your bout with food poisoning." And Joe would be on the next flight here.
She couldn't face that right now. "Blackmail." He nodded cheerfully. "Do it well,
don't I?" Oh, what the hell. It didn't make any
difference. "You can stay, if you promise not to tell Joe about
this." "Done." He stood up and headed
for the door. "Now, I'll let you rest. Paul Tanzer is out in the waiting
room. He was pretty insistent about seeing you, but I held him off. Do you want
me to send him in?" She shook her head. "Tiresome. Marie
called him..." What was the word? "Trou du cul. What does that
mean?" He chuckled. "Asshole. I'm beginning
to realize your Marie isn't as thick-witted as I thought." "She's very smart. She'll wonder
where I am when she comes to the house in the morning. Will you tell her?" He nodded as he opened the door.
"I'll take care of it. Do you know where she lives?" "No." "Then I'll ask Tanzer." "Galen." He looked back at her. "It wasn't you who found me and
brought me to the hospital, was it?" He shook his head. "I came to the
hospital with Paul Tanzer. Logan found out from Melton that Tanzer was his
contact here, and I'd just had him routed out of bed when he got the
call." "Then how did I get to the
hospital?" "You don't remember?" "The last thing I remember was being
out on the balcony and thinking I was going to die. Then there was a man ...
dark hair." "That figures. The emergency room
people said you were admitted by a small, dark man who handed them your purse
with a card that had Paul Tanzer's name and phone number. He told them to check
for food poisoning. He left before they could get any other information.
Recognize the description?" Eve shook her head. "I only remember
him carrying me and telling me not to go to sleep." "How did he get in? Was the house
unlocked?" "I locked the front door myself, and
Marie said she was going to lock the back door. She might have forgotten." "Maybe." Galen shrugged.
"And maybe he was a Good Samaritan who heard you calling for help and
broke in. I'll check the doors. We may hear from him again. Good Samaritans who
don't expect compensation are rare these days." He lifted his hand.
"See you. I'll pick you up tomorrow and take you back to the
apartment." He was gone. Good Samaritan. If what Galen said was
true, he had probably saved her life. But how had he gotten into the apartment?
Well, maybe Marie had forgotten. She'd ask her tomorrow. She was too sleepy now... Chapter Four
The small house
where Marie Letaux lived was on
a twisting street on the south side of Baton Rouge. Like the rest of the houses
on the street, it was old but washed to pristine cleanness, and a pot of pink
geraniums bloomed on the doorstep. She didn't answer Galen's first knock. Nor
the second or third. He waited for a few minutes and then tried
the door. Locked. He examined the lock. Piece of cake. It
took him only a few minutes to spring it. He entered a living room that contained
comfortable furniture, but nothing ostentatious. He noticed there were more
geraniums on the coffee table. Several family pictures in matching maple frames
stared at him from the bookcase across the room. The overall impression was
that this was a nice house occupied by nice people. But Galen's experience was that things
were rarely as they appeared to be. He walked over to the desk and went through
it. Letters with a New Orleans return address. A checkbook and savings account
passbook, a receipt for the rental of a safety-deposit box dated two days ago.
More pictures, unframed, showing a young man in a green T-shirt. He closed the drawer and moved across the
room toward the far door that must lead to the kitchen. He could see the white
refrigerator with small colorful magnets against the far wall. Marie Letaux
obviously had a taste for whimsy and showed it in little things with which she
surrounded— He stopped inside the door, his gaze drawn
to the woman crumpled on the floor beside the stove. A small, dark-haired woman with hair swept
back in a chignon, her eyes wide open, as if she was staring up at him. Probably Marie Letaux. Undoubtedly dead. ------------------- "I can't tell you how sorry I am that
this happened on your first night here." Senator Kendal Melton's first
words were spoken with heartfelt sincerity. "I don't think it would have been any
more pleasant on any succeeding night," Eve said dryly. "No, of
course not. How do you feel?" "Lousy. My ribcage is so sore I can
hardly breathe." Eve sat up in bed and gazed at him appraisingly. He
appeared far more cosmopolitan than Tanzer. Melton's gray-streaked hair sported
white sideburns, complementing a tan that looked pure West Palm Beach.
"But I'm better than I was this morning. I'll probably be able to work
tomorrow." "I hope so." He came closer to
the bed. "Was Paul Tanzer helpful? I told him to give you the VIP
treatment." "He was very kind." . "It's our intention to give you
all the support you can possibly want." "Then tell me what I'm supposed to be
working on. I'm getting very tired of all this hush-hush stuff. I took the job;
now fill me in." "I'll tell you all I know, but I'm
afraid it won't be as much as you'd like. Hell, I don't know as much as I'd
like. I'm asking you to determine the identity of a skeleton discovered quite
recently in the swamps south of here." "Discovered by whom? And why wasn't
the skeleton turned over to the local police?" "Sheriff Bouvier of Jefferson parish
got a tip about the possible identity of the skeleton and its location. He was
the one who excavated it. The sheriff is a personal friend and notified me. He
gave me full permission to try to discreetly discover the identity before he
turned in his report. He knew the discovery might present difficulties for me
with the media if it wasn't handled correctly." "Why? Whose skull is this supposed to
be?" He hesitated. "Senator Melton, remind me to tell
you about the Miami drug lord who asked me to do a reconstruction on a skull
that—" "No, no. It's nothing like that. The
only reason that we're trying to keep it under wraps is that we don't want to
raise false hopes. We believe he may be Harold Bently." He paused.
"You don't remember the press on Bently?" She shook her head. "Well, it was over two years ago, but
there was a big furor over his disappearance. Bently was a candidate for the
senatorial seat I now hold. He was supposed to be a shoo-in, but vanished four
months before election day. He was a solid citizen, a man who wouldn't just
disappear of his own accord, so foul play was suspected. But no clues were
found. His disappearance has hung like a cloud over my career and I want to lay
it to rest." "Because you may want to run for
president?" "That's in the hands of Providence,
but I do want to keep climbing. Is that so strange?" "No." "Then help me out. The Bently file
has remained open, but nothing has surfaced ... until this skeleton was
found." "Have you told his family?" Melton shook his head. "Not yet. As I
said, I was afraid to raise false hopes. Please believe me. I'm not totally
selfish. Sure, I want to protect my career, but I also want to be able to give
Bently's wife advance notice before she has to face a media storm again. She's
been through enough." "Why do you need me? What about
DNA?" He grimaced. "Unfortunately, the body
of the skeleton seems to have disappeared." "What?" "Don't be alarmed. You're perfectly
safe." "Sure I am. Except that someone
doesn't want this body identified. What about the teeth?" "No teeth. And the skull was burned,
but we hoped..." Melton shrugged. "Extracting DNA may be very
difficult and time-consuming. We'll naturally pursue that avenue, but there may
be a media leak at any time. I have to have some warning of the identity." "So you can put a spin on whatever I
find." Eve shook her head. "It's not worth it to me." "You're afraid?" "I'm not dumb. Why should I risk my
life for you and your career?" "The skull was moved to the church in
great secrecy. No one will suspect it's there, and we'll have people at the
church at all times to protect you." Eve shook her head. "I don't blame you for not caring
about my problems, but Bently was a good man." Melton paused. "And he
had a wife and three children. I guess I don't have to tell you what hell
they've been going through for the last two years." Good move, she thought bitterly.
Calculated or not, the words struck exactly the right note. She knew the agony
of going through years of waiting with no closure. "Think about it. It's only a few
days, a week at most. I'll get what I want, Mrs. Bently and the children's
years of agony may be over, and you'll have the satisfaction of working on an
interesting project. Everybody wins." "Why didn't you just send me the
skull?" "We were planning on doing that
before the skeleton disappeared. After that happened, I thought we should have
increased security. I was also concerned about the media, since you have a greater
visibility in your hometown." Melton grimaced. "I didn't want to stir
up the media unless I had something positive to offer them. They'd love to
dredge up all that sensational stuff we went through after Bently
disappeared." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad we can have
everything out in the open now." Eve gazed at him skeptically. "Then
you won't mind if I check with Sheriff Bouvier about the skeleton." "I do mind your lack of trust, but
I'll call the sheriff and tell him to be entirely open with you." Melton
paused. "And now that you realize how fully you're going to have our
support, you certainly won't need any outside help." He was leading up to something.
"Meaning?" "You probably don't realize that Sean
Galen has a criminal background and is completely untrustworthy. I'm sure
you'll want to send him packing." "Really? John Logan trusts him." "Mr. Logan is a respectable
businessman and I'd never want to impugn his choice of associates. Perhaps he
doesn't realize the extent of Galen's—" "Logan doesn't wear blinders. He
knows more about Galen than you do." "We won't argue. The crux of my
argument is that you have no need of Galen. I'll be glad to dismiss him for
you." "He's not an easy man to
dismiss." Eve stared Melton directly in the eyes. "And I've no desire
to dismiss him. Galen stays." "In what capacity? You surely don't
think you need a bodyguard just because of this little incident." "This 'little incident' almost killed
me." She waved an impatient hand. "But no, I don't need a bodyguard.
Don't you dare suggest that in Marie's hearing. It was an accident. She's going
to feel bad enough about my getting ill." "Then in what capacity?" Melton
repeated. "Galen isn't qualified for anything but—" "You're Melton?" Galen was
standing in the doorway. "I'm Sean Galen." He came forward. "And
I really think you've overstayed your visit. Eve's looking a little
stressed." "I'm not stressed." "Will you accept 'pissed off?"
He turned to Melton. "Eve doesn't like to be told what to do. Now, I
realize that you only have her well-being at heart, but she can get a little
cranky. Suppose you leave." "You have no right to—" Melton broke off as he met Galen's gaze. He took an
involuntary step backward, but recovered quickly. "Ms. Duncan realizes I
only want what's best for her." His glance shifted to Eve. "I'll be
here to pick you up tomorrow morning." "I've already claimed that
pleasure." Galen made a shooing motion. "Bye." Melton gave him a cold glance and left the
room. "And what if I hadn't wanted him to
go?" Eve asked. "You were bristling. When a person is
as sick as you are, it takes a major annoyance to make her bristle. I overheard
quite a bit, including the bit about me. I'm flattered." "You shouldn't be. You're right; I
was only irritated because he was trying to tell me what to do." She
thought of something else. "But I'm not pleased you scared him away. I
wanted to ask him some more questions about this damn reconstruction." "To quote one of your fellow
southerners, 'Tomorrow is another day.' " "That's a terrible southern
accent." "It's the best a poor lad from
Liverpool can do." He sat in the chair beside her bed. "You didn't
know anything about this job when you came here?" "I knew it was a request from a
respected member of the Senate." "And you wanted to get away from
Quinn." She looked at him. "Okay, I'm obviously out of
line." "Right." She paused. "And
Melton was also right. I don't need you, Galen." "You're getting hoarse again. You've
been talking too much." He took her glass and filled it with ice chips.
"I'll stay away from talking about Quinn. But there's the slimmest
possibility you may need me, so I'll stick around." He handed her the
glass. "I just came from Marie Letaux's house. She's dead." Shock surged through her.
"What?" "I found her on the kitchen floor.
There was a plate on the table with the remains of stew on it." He
grimaced. "And also remains all over the floor. She'd evidently been
throwing up." "She took the stew home?" Eve
shook her head in horror. "My God, that's terrible." "You said you assumed she put it in
the refrigerator." "She must have changed her mind. I
left before she did." Sad. So incredibly sad. "She had a son. He was
studying medicine in New Orleans." Galen nodded. "She had pictures all
over the living room. Nice-looking kid." "It was clear she adored him."
Eve could feel the tears sting her eyes. "Shit. I'd only just met her, but
I liked her. I guess I identified with her. She was a woman alone who'd had to
make her way in the world. They're sure it was food poisoning?" "There hasn't been time for an
autopsy, but I suspect that will probably be the decision. Particularly since
you landed here with the same ailment." There was something in his tone... .
"You don't think it was?" "I didn't say that. I believe it was
food poisoning." "Galen." "Sorry. It's my suspicious nature.
She was in a nightgown and a chenille robe, and her bed had been slept in. That
means she probably got up in the middle of the night and ate a huge plate of
the stew. Very heavy meal for a midnight snack." "Maybe she didn't eat dinner and woke
up hungry-" "Possibly. Now when you started
throwing up, you tried to get help, didn't you? Marie Letaux had a phone, but
evidently wasn't able to contact anyone. She lives very close to her neighbors, so
wouldn't you think that she'd manage to get one of them to take her to the
hospital?" "It would have been difficult. I was
so weak I could barely move." "But you did move. And you said she
was a woman who was accustomed to taking care of herself. Evidently she was so
overcome she didn't even make it to the sink or the toilet to throw up. Wasn't
that your first instinct?" She nodded. "What are you getting at,
Galen?" "Oh, I was just playing 'what if.'
" He took the glass from her and set it on the table. "What if she
didn't get the munchies during the night? What if someone sat across from her
at that table and forced her to eat that stew and then waited with her until
the poison took effect." Her eyes widened in shock. "That's
crazy. For one thing, I didn't show symptoms for over three hours." "I agree it would have taken a good
deal of patience and tremendous focus. It would have taken even more nerve to
sit and watch her die. Particularly if he wasn't sure that someone wouldn't
barge in any minute after they figured out Marie might also be at risk for food
poisoning." She shuddered. "The idea's completely
macabre." "I have that kind of mind." "Why would anyone do that?" "Well, after I found the body and
before I called the police, I went to her desk and checked out her financial
records. There was no deposit in her checking or savings account, but she
rented a safety-deposit box two days ago. Very convenient. What if she stashed
a pile of loot in the box?" "You think she poisoned me on
purpose?" "I believe there's reason to ask why
you contracted food poisoning from a meal produced by an experienced
cook." Eve shook her head. "I can't believe
that." "Because you liked her." "And why would she have been
killed?" "So that she couldn't talk?"
Galen shrugged. "Any number of reasons." "But you're only guessing." He smiled. "What if?" "Did you suggest this to the
police?" "Be for real. I'd be the first one on
the suspect list. I had enough trouble explaining why I was the one who found
her. They even called the hospital to make sure you'd been checked in with food
poisoning." He thought for a moment. "I have a few friends in New
Orleans with forensic backgrounds who might be able to go in and scavenge
around and see what else they can come up with." "Official friends?" "Be for real," Galen repeated as
he tilted his head and studied her expression. "You're taking my theory
seriously?" Eve slowly nodded. She had to take it
seriously. She didn't want to believe any of it, but she had been exposed to
brutality and deception for most of her life and certainly all her career. She
shuddered. "To sit there and watch her ... Jesus, it sounds so ...
cold-blooded." "No more cold-blooded than trying to
kill you." "And why would anyone want to kill
me?" "Maybe we should ask Mr.
Melton." "You think it's the
reconstruction?" "It's a logical connection. And I'm
not sure I buy this story Melton's spinning. I don't like all this secrecy.
They know you like working away from the media glare; that knowledge gives them
another excuse to bring you here instead of sending you that skull. Don't you
think it might be wise for you to pack your bags and head home?" Eve rejected that suggestion immediately.
No way was she going home. "There's no proof that this is anything but
food poisoning. Maybe there's no money in that safety-deposit box. Or maybe
Marie was saving money for years and just got around to depositing it." He lifted a skeptical brow. "I liked her, Galen." "Few people are completely rotten.
Some just have a streak or two. But those streaks can be enough to hurt you.
And what about that missing skeleton? Doesn't that bother you?" "Of course it bothers me. It means
there's somebody who doesn't want Melton to identify this man. But most of the
skulls I work on are victims, and it's not the first time I've had this
problem. If I stopped work every time I thought there was someone out there who
didn't want me to do it, I'd never finish any reconstructions." Galen studied her face. "And you're
curious about this reconstruction, aren't you? You really want to do it." She nodded. "I really do. Harold
Bently sounds like a man I'd admire. I hate the idea of him ending up discarded
in a swamp like a piece of garbage. I want to know...." She shrugged.
"And it's intriguing." "Maybe a little too intriguing."
Galen stood. "Okay, we'll go with it. I know if you want to do it, there's
no way I'll be able to talk you out of it. But I'm not going to fade into the
background as I'd planned." "I'm sure that would have been a
first." "I can be unobtrusive." He
grinned. "It's just not so much fun." He moved toward the door.
"But I'm going with you to the church every day. And I'm your official
food taster. I stay with you night and day. Agreed?" "This may all be for nothing." "But you feel safer, don't you? How
could you not with me on the job?" Eve made a rude sound. "That was indelicate." He
glanced at her over his shoulder. "You're sure I shouldn't tell Quinn
about this?" "I'm sure." He gave a mock shiver at her tone.
"Just checking. The situation between you two seems to be taking on some
heat." She stared at him challengingly.
"What's the matter? Can't you handle it, Galen?" "That was a low blow. You're a tough
lady. I heard you grew up on the streets. I can believe it." "Takes one to know one. I'm sure
Atlanta is no tougher than Liverpool." "No, it isn't." Galen nodded.
"Okay. No Quinn." She watched the door swing shut behind
him. No Quinn. The words echoed in her mind. Joe Quinn
had been a part of her life for so long, the idea of his not being there was
practically incomprehensible. It would take time to understand what it meant. Could she become accustomed to Joe not
being in her life? Eve wasn't sure whether it would hurt more to cut the ties
between them or to live with what he had done. She didn't know and she didn't
want to think about it right now. She didn't want to think of anything but the
work she had come here to do. She would do the reconstruction, and then perhaps
send for Jane and go to New Orleans for a while. She should see something
besides her little corner of the world. She didn't have to go home. And the idea of Marie Letaux making an
attempt on her life was as bizarre as the ugly picture Galen had drawn of the
way Marie might have died. No one could be that cold-blooded. Yes, they could. Bonnie's killer had been
that kind of monster, and she had known other murderers equally terrible. She
just didn't want that kind of horror to touch her now when she was trying to
work through a horror of her own. She didn't want it to be true. Maybe it wasn't. Galen's experience had
made him suspect everyone and everything. Well, let him be suspicious. Let him
protect her. It wouldn't hurt. Not if it would allow her the freedom of
mind to get her work done. ------------------- "I know you didn't want any
interference, Jules," Melton said. "I attempted to get her to dismiss
him, but she's being very stubborn about it. I wanted you to know that I'm not
letting the matter lie. I'm going to call a few people and see what kind of
pressure they can put on him to nudge him out of the situation." "Leave him alone," Hebert said.
"He's not going to be a problem for us." There was a silence on the other end of
the line. "Perhaps I should send you a dossier on him?" "I already have one." "And you don't think he could be
troublesome?" "I believe he'll be more troublesome
if we try to get rid of him. I want her mind at rest when she's working on the
skull. Galen's presence will assure that she feels entirely safe and
secure." "Yes, that's important." Melton
was silent a moment. "I was uneasy when I heard about the food poisoning.
It was an accident?" "Of course it was." It was a
half-truth. It was an accident that Eve Duncan had not died. "I've just been told that Marie
Letaux was found dead of food poisoning a few hours ago." "Then that should prove it was an
accident to you." "Should it? What about those deaths
last month? They were supposed to be accidents, too." "And probably were." Hebert
added mockingly, "You're getting paranoid. Have you started looking over
your shoulder lately, Melton?" "I have a right to be concerned,
dammit." A pause. "First Etienne, and now this. Another very curious
incident. They seem to be hovering around you like a dark cloud." Hebert ignored the implication. "Is
she hesitating about doing the reconstruction?" "Yes, but I believe she's still eager
to do it. We just have to push the right buttons." "That's what we need. Eagerness ...
and speed." "She'll be released tomorrow and I
think she'll want to start work at once." "That's good. I'll make sure that she
does. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help." Hebert hung
up. Melton was suspicious, but not enough to
cause Jules any immediate problems. Melton wouldn't make a move until after
Boca Raton. The Cabal needed things to go smoothly, and advance preparations
took time and effort. They wouldn't want to bring in someone new at this point. Hebert leaned back in his chair and
covered his eyes with his hand. He could feel the panic rising within him and
he must crush it down. He'd had to lie to Melton, but things were still under
control. Events were escalating, and he had to move fast to keep from being
caught and drowned in their wake. God, Eve Duncan was strong. He had felt her
fighting to live. Too bad that her struggle was for nothing, he thought sadly. Because the way things were going, there
was no way he could let her survive. ------------------- "You scared me, Mama," Bonnie
said. Eve looked across the hospital room to see
Bonnie curled up in a visitor's chair by the window. The nurse had turned out
the light forty minutes ago, but the moonlight streaming in the window lit
Bonnie's curly red-brown hair. It was too dim to see the freckles marching
across her nose. Her small body was dressed in jeans and a Bugs Bunny T-shirt,
as it always was when she came to Eve. She smothered the surge of love she felt
and said accusingly, "You wouldn't let me go, dammit." "I told you, it wasn't your time. And
you didn't really want to die." "Don't tell me what I want to do.
Who's the mother around here?" "I think all these years of ghostdom
qualify me to have my input." Bonnie sighed. "You've been very
challenging, Mama. You still won't admit I'm anything but a dream." "Because your so-called ghostly
powers seem to be rather limited. Ghostdom? What kind of word is that? And if
you didn't want me to die, why did you let me eat that stew? It would have
saved me a bellyache." "I've told you I can't stop things
happening... it doesn't work that way." "Convenient. That means you're never
to blame." Bonnie giggled. "That's right. It's
one of the good things about being a ghost." "Are there bad things, baby?" "Look at you. You're tearing up. Yes,
the bad thing is trying to keep you from being so unhappy. I thought maybe you
were on the right track, but here you are all depressed and hurting and
hundreds of miles away from Joe." "Joe lied to me. About you. Your
grave. Why didn't you tell me it wasn't you?" "If I'm a dream, how could I do
that?" She grinned. "Gotcha." "Why?" Eve insisted. "You know the answer. It doesn't
matter to me where my body is. I'm always with you." She paused. "And
you were happier thinking I was there. So why not let you think it?" "You sound like Joe. It's important
to me. I want you home, Bonnie." "I am home." She sighed.
"But you're too stubborn to believe it. You make it very hard for me. And
I don't like this depression. You're a fighter, but you weren't fighting last
night until I nudged you. That's not to happen again, Mama. Things are very ... cloudy. You may have to fight hard
and I may not be around." "Is that supposed to make me feel
less depressed?" "I'll always come to you like this,
but you can't rely on me, Mama. But you have Joe and Jane and Grandma. Isn't
that lucky?" She made a face. "I could feel you freezing up when I
mentioned Joe. Get over it, Mama." "Bullshit." "Okay, we'll talk about something
else. I want you to feel good in the morning." Eve always felt better after the dreams.
They had started two years after Bonnie had died, and at times Eve felt as if
they had saved her sanity. A psychiatrist would probably have sent her to the
nearest funny farm if she told him that. Well, screw them. There was nothing
that wasn't positive about the dreams. "If my ribs are still this sore,
there's no way I'll feel good in the morning." "They'll be a little better."
Bonnie leaned back in the chair. "This is a nice place. I like all those
bayous. Why didn't we ever come here?" "I don't know. I guess I never got
around to it." "Well, Panama City was nice, too. I
loved the water...." "I know you did,
baby." "There are lots of things to love.
Now tell me about Jane's new puppy. Sarah gave him to her?" "Yes, and he's a complete rascal. Of
course, Jane thinks he's the smartest animal in the universe. She's talking
about going out to the coast and having Sarah help her train..." Chapter Five
"You're in a
better mood this morning." Galen studied Eve's expression as he helped her into his car after
they'd left the hospital. "And you look much healthier. Did you sleep
well?" "When I wasn't dreaming." "Nightmares?" She shook her head. "No, good
dreams." She gazed up at the brilliant blue sky. "It's a pretty
day." He nodded. "You could probably still
use a day of rest. Why don't you sit out on the balcony and just watch the
world go by?" The church, dark and looming, filling her
entire vision as she lay on the balcony floor. "I want to get to work. Did you find
out any more about Marie's death?" "Officially food poisoning. Case
closed." "I see." "I don't. I paid a small bribe to a
clerk at the coroner's department to get a look at the provisional
report." "And?" "Food poisoning." He paused.
"The only thing in the least unusual was slight abrasions on her upper
arms." "Caused by what?" "No conclusions. But I was
wondering... ropes?" "But that's not what the coroner
said." "No." Galen shrugged. "At
any rate, the body has been released and the funeral is tomorrow." "Her son is coming here?" "I assume he will. This is his
mother's hometown. Why?" "I want to see him and express my
sympathy." "What?" He grimaced. "I
believe it's very bad form to offer condolences to the family of someone who
tried to murder you." "I don't believe she tried to kill
me, and I think her son would like to know what she told me about their
relationship. It could help at a time like this. I'd like to go to the
funeral." "Okay. I'll find out when and where.
I'm surprised you're willing to delay the start of your work on the
skull." "Support means a good deal to the
bereaved. This time is a nightmare. No one knows that better than I do." "So I've heard." Galen's voice
was sober. "Your Bonnie." "My Bonnie." They had pulled up
in front of the house and she got out of the car. "Melton called the
hospital and arranged to meet me here at one, then go with me to the church.
Are you coming with us?" "I wouldn't miss it." Galen
watched Eve unlock the front door, and then preceded her into the foyer. He
glanced around the foyer and then started up the stairs. Eve followed.
"Skeletons are my cup of tea. Mind if I take a look around your bedroom? I
was here earlier and did a little cleanup job, but I'd feel better if I just
checked it again." "You cleaned up that mess?" "Well, your housekeeper wasn't able
to do it. I didn't want you to have to come home and face it." "Thank you. That was a very kind
thing to do." "I am kind." He threw
open the bedroom door and looked around. "My mum always said if you want
to get along in the world, you have to do unto others as they do unto
you." "That's not quite the way the quote
goes." "Makes more sense Mum's way." He
went onto the balcony and looked out over the bayou. "Seems okay. You
rest. I'll just check the bathroom and the downstairs, and then cook you a
light lunch." "I'm not an invalid. I'll do
it." "Are you trying to eliminate my job?
How can I be the queen's chief poison taster if you do everything
yourself?" He headed for the door. "By the way, I moved into the
bedroom next door. I checked and I can hear practically everything that happens
in this room through those paper-thin walls. I hope you don't snore...." Eve heard him running down the steps a few
minutes later. She gave one more glance at the church before leaving the
balcony. It was difficult to pull her gaze away. She supposed it was natural
the ancient structure would command attention, and it was the last thing she'd
seen when she'd thought she was going to die. That had guaranteed it would
capture her imagination. Eve forced herself to turn and go back
into the bedroom. That wide expanse of bed was very tempting. It was ridiculous
to be this sore and tired. She'd thought when she left the hospital that she'd
spring back much sooner. She should ignore the tiredness and hit the shower.
She'd be okay once she got going. Well, maybe just a short nap... ------------------- "The shoes were made by the Norton
Shoe Company." Carol Dunn tossed the report on Joe's desk. "It's a
southeast company with branches in Alabama and Louisiana. Size nine." "Distribution?" Joe asked. She shook her head. "Pretty heavy in
both states, and to a lesser degree here in Georgia. With this kind of flimsy
sole, they're not a high-ticket item so they sell pretty well." "That's just great." He frowned.
"What about the tire tracks?" "Firestone Affinity HP fifteen-inch.
Standard on the new Saturn L-three hundred." "Thanks, Carol." Joe scanned the
report. "I owe you." "You owe yourself a good night's
sleep," she said. "Jane called and told me to send you home
early." "I'm going." He stood up and
started for the door. "Will you call and tell her I'm bringing home Chinese,
but I have to make one more stop on the way?" "Coward." "Right. She's tough." He glanced
back over his shoulder. "Did I get a return call from George Capel when I
was out today?" Carol shook her head. "Don't you
trust voice mail?" "I'm an old-fashioned guy. I don't
believe in these newfangled gadgets." "And you were hoping it wasn't
working." "He hasn't shown up at the DNA lab
for a week. I went to his house—the mail is piling up and he didn't stop
delivery of the newspaper." "Doesn't sound good, but he could have
taken off on a little jaunt. It's happened before." "Yeah, I know. But I think it's time
I talked to his neighbors." "Okay, I'll call Jane," Carol
said. "But you'd better not forget the Chinese." Joe nodded and waved as he left the
office. He called Logan when he reached his car. "Have you heard from
Galen?" "He won't report to me unless he has
reason. He runs his own show." "So you don't know if she's
okay." "We'd have heard if there was a
problem. Galen's with her." And Joe wasn't with her and it was driving
him crazy. "Can you ask him to give regular reports?" "Galen doesn't operate that
way." "Then he should, dammit." "You asked for Galen, Quinn." Because he was the best, but that didn't
mean Galen's independence didn't annoy the hell out of him. He wanted to know. "How are things going with you?"
Logan asked. "Okay. I'm keeping busy." Not
busy enough. Three days had seemed like three hundred since Eve left. "I'm
trying to track down Capel. He seems to have disappeared." "You think he was paid to send that
report to Eve and then skipped town?" "Could be. He didn't try to hit me
for more money, so he must have another source." "Any ideas?" "Someone who wanted to hurt me or
Eve. Probably me. She doesn't have any enemies. I have case files full of
them." "Amazing," Logan murmured. "And you don't?" Logan didn't answer. "I'll let you
know if I hear from Galen." "Maybe I should call him. No, never
mind." "Good choice. You wouldn't want Eve
to know you're checking up on her. How's Jane?" "Great. Better than I deserve right
now." "I agree. Good-bye, Quinn." Joe hung up and started the car. Interview
Capel's neighbors and then get home to Jane. Don't think about Eve all those
hundreds of miles away in Baton Rouge. Company branches in Alabama and Louisiana. Louisiana... Don't jump to conclusions. The defacement
could have nothing to do with Eve's reconstruction job in Baton Rouge. But he
didn't like the way this investigation was shaping up, dammit. And he wished to hell he could contact
Galen without getting Eve's back up. Just do your job. Find Capel and the man
who bribed him. Do some more checking on the tire. Keep Jane as happy you can.
Try to keep yourself from jumping on a plane and flying to Eve in Baton Rouge. And hope to hell time was healing the rift
he'd torn between them. ------------------- "I fell asleep." Eve came down
the stairs, trying to straighten her rumpled hair. "For heaven's sake,
it's quarter past five in the evening. Why didn't you wake me?" "Easy. You needed the sleep."
Galen grinned. "And I needed time to prepare a meal par excellence." "I've got to get over to the church.
Didn't Melton show up?" "He was here right on time. I told
him to go away." "You had no right to do that." "I told him he could meet us in front
of the church at six." He checked his watch. "That gives you
forty-five minutes to eat my fine repast." He gestured to the dining room.
"I don't like hurried meals; they dull one's appreciation. But I'll accept
it this time." "You should have woken me." "You're wasting time. You don't want
to keep our honorable senator waiting." She followed him. "I've already kept
him waiting for four hours." Galen grinned. "He deserved it."
He seated her at the table and shook out her napkin and put it on her lap.
"Now start on the spinach salad." "No way." She jumped up.
"Galen, I want to go to meet Melton. I couldn't eat this meal, anyway. My
stomach is still upset." "What a dunce I am. Of course, you
can't. I got carried away with my sheer culinary genius. Okay, maybe I'll make
you some soup after we get back from the church tonight." "I may not come back tonight. I often
work at night." "And then again you may. You still
look pale around the gills." "Galen." "Don't worry. I'm not trying to
bulldoze you. I sometimes take advantage of circumstances to get my own way,
but I respect your free will." "You really like to cook?" "Eating is one of life's great
pleasures. It dulls the roughest edges." And Galen's life had probably had a
multitude of sharp edges. Eve's gaze wandered from the white damask tablecloth
to the flickering spring-green candles and then to the delicate bone china. It
was as different as night and day from her cozy meal two nights ago in the
kitchen. And that had been his intention, she
realized suddenly. He hadn't wanted to remind her of Marie Letaux or that last
meal she'd had in this house. "I'm sure your meal would have been
wonderful. Thank you, Galen." "You're welcome. It's just too bad I
have to wait a little longer to be truly appreciated." He took her arm.
"Let's get you over to the church so you can stop fretting." ------------------- To her surprise, Melton was waiting
impatiently outside the church when they arrived there. "Good, you're
early. You're better? Galen said you weren't feeling well." "I feel much better." Her gaze
went to the door. "I expected you to be inside." "I don't have a key. I've been
waiting for— Here he is." His gaze was on the
sandy-haired man hurrying toward them. "This is Rick Vadim. I hired Rick
to help you out here. Rick, this is Ms. Duncan." The young man nodded and smiled at Eve.
"How do you do, ma'am. It's my pleasure to meet you." "Hello. I'm very glad to meet
you." She shook his hand. "This is Sean Galen. He's—" "Ms. Duncan's assistant," Galen
supplied. "I make things run smoothly for her." "Then that makes two of us,"
Rick said solemnly. "That's also my assignment." "Rick has been hired to assist Ms.
Duncan in any way possible," Melton said. "You're a forensic
anthropologist?" Eve asked. "No, I have no scientific background.
But I'm very good at acquiring things and smoothing the way." He unlocked
the door. "You'd like to see the skull?" "That's why I'm here." Eve
glanced around the vestibule. She'd half expected the interior of the church to
be covered with dust, but it was spotless. "Where is it?" "The main chapel." Rick gestured
to the arched doorway. "This way, please." "The chapel?" "It seemed more respectful,"
Rick said. "From what I've read about your work, you believe in showing
respect for those who have passed on." "Yes, I do. But I doubt if I'll be
able to work in your chapel. I require a good deal of light, a work-table, and
a pedestal for my equipment." "I've already set up a room for you.
I think you'll be satisfied." He threw open the door. "There it
is." A huge black coffin. She stopped short in the doorway and
stared at it. The coffin dominated the small sanctuary. "I'll wait out here," Melton
said. Eve felt the same strange reluctance to
approach the coffin as he obviously did. "I thought you would have already
removed the skull from the coffin. I didn't expect to see—It's very ... big..." "The coffin is designed to protect
the remains from further damage or decay. We wanted to make sure the skull was
perfectly preserved," Rick said earnestly. "Believe me, I'm very
upset that the rest of the skeleton has been misplaced. I wasn't in charge here
when that happened." "Misplaced?" Eve repeated.
"I don't believe that's the term I'd use." "It seems incredible to me, too. This
entire affair is bizarre. But that's not my business. My job is to make sure
nothing goes wrong from now on." Rick moved forward until he stood beside
the coffin. "And I've been told the skull is in very good condition."
He opened the lid and stepped aside. "What do you think?" "I think I need some light. I can
hardly see it. It's too dim in here." "I'm sorry." Rick quickly lit a
candle on the altar. "You have wonderful light and heat in the workroom I
set up for you. I didn't know you'd want to do a close examination of the skull
in here. I should have thought..." He was so upset that Eve Smothered the
impatience she was feeling. "It's okay, Rick. If there's a problem, I can
take the skull back to the house." "No, please don't do that. Believe
me, I've made your workroom everything you could ask," Rick said.
"The senator wants the work done here." "Why?" Galen asked. "It's on an island. Senator Melton
was very concerned about the missing skeleton. He wants Ms. Duncan to be
perfectly safe, and the security people he hired say the church will be much
easier to keep protected. I promise I'll do everything I can to make the church
comfortable for you." "That will take some doing."
Galen stepped closer, took a penlight out of his pocket, and shone it down into
the coffin. "It's damn chilly. It must be damp in every molecule of this
place." "It's very warm in her
workroom." "It's fine," Eve said absently,
her gaze on the skull. She still couldn't see worth a damn, but the pen-light
was better than nothing. Although the skull was blackened by fire, it was
intact, except that there were no teeth and the jaw was shattered. But there
were no visible punctures or breaks. That was lucky. "It's a male. Caucasian. The skull is
surprisingly well preserved. I'll be able to work with it." "He's been roughed up a little."
Galen pointed to the shattered jawline. "And no teeth. He's been through
one hell of a battle. Reminds me of that gladiator movie." "Shut up, Galen," Eve said.
"I have to have an unbiased mind when I do the final stage. I don't want
the face to look like Russell Crowe." "Great movie." Galen glanced at
Rick and winked. "You can tell me who you think he is later when she's not
around." Rick smiled and shook his head. "I'm
as much in the dark as you are. I can only guess." He turned to Eve.
"I've got a pedestal and two worktables in your studio. I understand
you'll need a video and computer setup for confirmation. I've been in touch
with the Forensic Department at LSU and I think I've got it hooked up right. As
soon as you're ready, I'll bring the skull to you." He was obviously ready to whisk her out of
the chapel and set her to work. His eagerness was very appealing, but she
wasn't ready to leave the skull yet. "Galen, why don't you go with Rick
and check out the workroom for me while I try to take a better look at the
skull?" "Sure." Galen handed her the
penlight. "Not my most interesting assignment, but I live to serve." "Thanks." She shone the penlight
into the nasal cavity. "Definitely Caucasian..." "Come on, Rick. We're not
wanted." Eve was vaguely aware that they were gone
and she was alone in the chapel. It didn't matter. Her feelings of unease had
completely dissipated the moment she had seen the skull. He was just another
one of the lost ones. It didn't matter if this was Bently or some poor vagrant.
In the end he had clearly been as much a victim as little Carmelita, whose
reconstruction she had just finished. Judging by the condition of the skull and
the fact that those teeth had probably been jerked out after death, he might
have been more of a victim. Time to get to know him. Eve gently
touched his cheekbone. "What do I call you?" She knew it would seem
nuts to anyone on the outside, but she made it a practice to give all her
subjects names. Each one had a history and a life. They had laughed and been
loved by someone, even this poor beat-up warrior. He'd obviously not won this
last battle, but she hoped he'd had his share of victories. "Victor? Not a bad name." She
nodded. "Works for me." She carefully swung down the heavy lid.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Victor. And we'll see what we can do about
bringing you home." "Ready?" Galen was standing in
the doorway. "Rick's done you proud. Your workroom is wonderfully
equipped, lots of light and heat. Clean and shining as a Marine recruits'
barracks. Do you want to see it?" She started to tell him yes, and then
stopped. Dammit, the energy she'd thought she'd regained was draining out of
her. She came toward him. "No, I trust you. I'll see it tomorrow when I
move in." "Tomorrow?" "Okay, you were right about my not
being up to full speed. I thought I could start tonight, but I'm too tired. I
can't begin him when I'm this weak." She grimaced. "I'll be glad when
I get back to full strength. I took that long nap this afternoon, but even so,
all I want to do is sleep." "Then that's what you should do. I'm
glad you're not going to insist on starting work tonight." "I've already started work." Eve
glanced over her shoulder at the black coffin. "And keen wits and
alertness are essential to set up my equipment and start the measuring. Victor can
wait a few more hours." "Victor?" "The skull." "Oh." Galen didn't look at her
as they started down the hall. "I don't want to be impolite, but do you
always talk to skulls?" "No." She gave him a limpid
stare. "I'm very selective." "It's okay with me. Just thought I'd
ask." His gaze went to Rick standing with Melton at the front door.
"Rick seems to be a nice guy. Sharp, too. He went to school up
north." "That doesn't surprise me. He sounds
like a Yankee. Where did he go?" "Notre Dame. Big football fan." "It goes with the territory. He looks
like the all-American boy, with that fair hair and those rosy cheeks." She
dismissed the subject. "Did you find out when Marie's funeral is
tomorrow?" "Eleven. Are you still going?" She nodded. "I'll set up early and then
break to go to the funeral." As Eve and Galen left the church she held out
her hand to Rick, who was still waiting by the front door with Melton.
"Thank you for everything. I suppose I'll see you in the morning." "It will be my pleasure." He
shook her hand. "I'll have everything ready for you. I notice the skull is
a little dirty, but I left it for you to clean." "That's exactly right. We don't want
to risk any more damage." He nodded solemnly. "Certainly. Is
there anything else I can do?" Good Lord, he was intense. But that almost
childlike earnestness was kind of sweet. "You won't find me very
demanding. Just let me do my work." He smiled. "No one will disturb you.
I promise you." He turned to Galen. "An honor, sir." Galen looked taken aback. "See you,
Rick." He said in an undertone as he and Eve left the church, "Sir?
Am I getting that old?" "You don't see that kind of courtesy
anymore. I think it's refreshing." "You didn't answer me." "How old are you, Galen?" "Thirty-seven." "That qualifies." She had a
sudden thought and glanced back at Rick, who was still talking to Melton.
"Rick." He broke off and looked at her. "You
need something? You only have to ask." "A dragon to kill, a Holy Grail to
find," Galen murmured sarcastically. She ignored him. "Were you here two
nights ago when I came to the church, Rick?" He frowned. "You were here
before?" "The first night I arrived in Baton
Rouge. I came and knocked on the door. No one answered." "Because no one was here. I was at
LSU arranging for the video equipment. I just arrived yesterday morning. I
would have answered the door if I'd been in the church." "No one was here?" He shook his head. "Only the guards
patrolling the grounds. And I guess they must have realized you weren't an
intruder. You thought there was actually someone inside the church?" "No, I guess not. I just had a
feeling that ... Never mind. I'll see you in the morning." She turned to
Melton. "Good-bye, Senator." "I take it you're going to accept the
job? I wasn't sure you would. I'm very grateful." "I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing
it for that man's family." He smiled. "I'm still grateful. I'm
glad everything is working out well. You have my phone number; please call me
if there's any problem." "You can count on it. Come on,
Galen." Eve started toward the bridge. "Did you see anything that led you to
believe someone was here that night?" Galen asked. "No, it was only a feeling." He chuckled. "Maybe it was the ghost
of our gladiator." "I don't believe in ghosts." "That's probably good. Considering
how many skeletons you deal with, you could become a basket case.". She glanced away from him. "Do you
believe in ghosts?" "I don't not believe in them.
I think anything is possible. I just have to be shown." He smiled.
"And so far our ghostly friends haven't seen fit to show themselves to
me." "The mind sees what it wants to see.
It's all imagination ... or dreams." "Dreams?" She changed the subject. "And stop
calling him a gladiator." "That's right. His name is Victor.
Isn't that what you called him?" She glanced back at the church. Melton and
Rick must have gone back inside. The door was shut, and the entrance had
regained that air of forbidding secrecy she'd noticed the first time she saw
it. Well, secrets were meant to be solved, and
tomorrow she would start. "Yes, his name is Victor." ------------------- "Will you do it?" Joe asked.
"All I'm asking is an afternoon of your time. Just come with me to Capel's
neighbors and let them describe the guy to you." "Don't bullshit me. That's only where
it starts." Lenny Tyson penciled in a line beside the flaring nostrils of
the woman in his sketch. "Then the real work begins, and I'm swamped right
now. You know that, Joe." "A favor, Lenny." Tyson glanced up from the sketch.
"Why? Is the guy a mass murderer or something?" Joe shook his head. "This isn't
department business, it's personal. I'll pay you twice what the department pays
for composite sketches. George Capel was seen by two neighbors the day before
he disappeared. He entered his condo with a small, dark-haired man in his late
twenties or early thirties. They came out a few hours later and drove off
together. He was seen again later that same day at the bank where he has a
safety-deposit box. The same man accompanied him. That was almost a week ago." "And you want me to draw a sketch of
Capel's friend?" "Come on, Lenny. How long could it
take?" "It depends how good a memory the
neighbors have." Tyson leaned back in his chair. "Seven days is a
long time. It's promising that they remembered the color of his hair and that
he wasn't a big man. How close does it have to be?" "I want to try to compare it to mug
files." "Ouch. That's tough." "Will you do it?" "Twice what the department
pays?" "Three times." Lenny sighed, stood up, and grabbed his
art portfolio. "Let's go." Chapter Six Victor's skull
was sitting on a pedestal when Eve
walked into the workroom at seven the next morning. "I told you I'd have everything
ready." Rick beamed as he gestured around the small room. "There are
your worktables, and I got the pedestal from a sculptor who lives here in Baton
Rouge. Is it okay?" "Very nice." "And the video equipment?" "I'll check it out later. That's the
last stage." Eve set her case down on the worktable. "Now, if you'll
get me several towels and a bowl of water, I'll be able to start." "Sounds like you're going to operate
or deliver a baby." Galen had appeared in the doorway. Rick chuckled as he hurried out of the
room. "There are similarities to
both." Eve rolled up the sleeves of her loose white shirt. "I was
wondering where you were this morning." "I was on the phone most of the
night. I kept an eye on you from my balcony when you left the house." "Why were you on the phone?" "Research. Melton is a little too
slick for my liking. So I called a few contacts." He made a face.
"But Melton seems to be telling the truth on all fronts. Bently did
disappear two years ago, and everything you were told about him seems to check
out. Model citizen, husband, and father. From all accounts he was a genuinely
nice guy. Sheriff Bouvier is a respected law enforcement officer and did
release the skeleton to Melton." "Skeleton?" "Bouvier knew nothing about the
skeleton disappearing. Melton promised him that he'd get an expert to quickly
do a DNA test and then quietly return the remains to him. When I told Bouvier
that there might be quite a few pieces missing, he was hopping mad. It's his
job on the line. When he calmed down, he said he'd contact the senator, and he
was sure Melton would use his influence to have the skeleton found and returned
to him. He was just brimful of excuses and praise for the senator. He's solidly
in Melton's camp." "You sound disappointed that Melton's
story checked out." He shrugged. "I've got a bad feeling
about this." "If we find out there's a problem, I
can always stop and go home." But she didn't want to go home. She didn't
intend to go back and face the very situation she'd run away from. She wanted
to work until she dropped, and then work some more. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to
bolt out of here? I'll call and see if I can get us tickets to Atlanta." "Us?" "My job's not finished. I stay with
you until I'm sure there's no more danger." "I'm not walking around for any
extended length of time with a bodyguard, Galen." "Just until I'm sure. The
airport?" Eve thought about it. She wasn't one to
undervalue the power of instinct, but there was no firm reason to think she
wouldn't be able to finish this job safely. True, her food poisoning was
worrying, but she was well guarded now by both Galen and the men she had seen
about the grounds of the church this morning. And she didn't like the idea of someone
killing a man like the one Galen had described and walking away from it without
being punished. You couldn't punish a crime without identifying a victim—and that was her job. "Not until I'm sure that there's a
reason to go." She turned back to the skull. "Now go away for a
while. I need to get to work." "He's pretty filthy." Galen
touched the mud on Victor's forehead. "Funny-looking dirt, isn't it?" She shrugged. "Dirt is dirt." "Are you going to be able to get it
all off him?" "The majority of it. I'm not going to
try to get it out of all the cavities. I might cause more
breakage." She made a shooing motion. "Go. I want to get a start on
cleaning up Victor before it's time for you to take me to Marie's
funeral." "You're still going?" "Why shouldn't I? One, it could have
been an accident. Two, if it wasn't, maybe someone else slipped something into
the ingredients Marie brought to the house. If she's innocent, then she was
killed to keep her from talking, or to make my attack look more accidental. Not
a pretty thought, is it?" "Murder is even less pretty."
Galen smiled. "But you want to believe the best of Marie. So we'll go to
the funeral. It can't hurt." After Galen left, Eve turned back to
Victor and began to carefully scrape the dirt from his skull. It's funny dirt. She paused and stared at it. It was
strange-looking. Minute white chips seemed to be imbedded in rich black mud,
making it appear lighter. Forget it. Maybe all the dirt in Sheriff
Bouvier's parish was like this. If it wasn't, then the police must have noticed
it. It wasn't her business. Just get it off and do your job. ------------------- Marie Letaux's son, Pierre, was tall and
good-looking and clearly devastated by his mother's death. He was surrounded by
friends and relatives when Eve approached him after the ceremony at the small
church. Eve held out her hand. "I'm Eve Duncan. I'd like to express my
condolences. I didn't know your mother well, but I may have been the last
person to see her. Did she tell you that she was taking a job with me?" Pierre nodded. "She was excited. She
knew you were someone important." "Not really." "Mr. Tanzer said that you were
famous. She liked the idea of working for a woman who'd made something of her
life." His eyes filled with tears. "Mama wanted to be famous. I
didn't tell her, but after I get out of medical school and set up practice I
was going to set her up with her own restaurant. I should have told her."
His voice broke. "I wish I'd told her. It was going to be a
surprise." "She knew you loved her. She was very
proud of you." Eve glanced at the flower-draped coffin, which had been
placed in a gray hearse. "She wanted so much for you to finish your
education." Pierre nodded jerkily. "She was
always thinking of ways to help me. She called me the night before she died and
told me not to worry, that she'd worked out a way to get the money for my
tuition. That everything was going to be fine." "She did?" He nodded, his gaze shifting to the
coffin. "I'm sorry, I have to go now." "Of course. I hope everything goes
well for you in the future." "I can't think of anything but Mama
now. It's very difficult for me. I thought my heart would break when I was
going through her things last night. So many memories..." He tried to
smile. "But I go back to school tomorrow, and I'll try very hard to make
something of myself that would have made her proud. I thank you for your good wishes." He
turned and moved toward the hearse. "Nice kid." Galen had moved
forward to stand beside her. She watched the hearse move slowly through
the cemetery toward the grave where Marie would be buried. "Yes." He took her elbow. "Ready to
go?" She nodded, her gaze still on the hearse.
"Did you hear what he said about the call from his mother?" "Yes." "Aren't you going to say
anything?" "You'll make up your own mind. I hate
to say I told you so." "It may not mean anything." Her
hands clenched into fists. "Dammit, I didn't want to believe it. I still
don't." "On the other hand, young Letaux may
find a pleasant surprise when he opens her safety-deposit box." Galen
gently nudged Eve toward his car. "Now how about having lunch and a little
tour of the city before I take you back to the house? I think you need to
unwind." "Okay." She took a final glance
over her shoulder at the hearse, and Marie's son, who was going to say his
final good-bye to the mother he loved. And Marie had loved him, too. Enough to do this terrible thing for his
sake? "Stop worrying," Galen said.
"Never ruin a good meal with bad thoughts. Tell me about your daughter,
Jane. I heard she took over my nursing duty last year after I left Sarah
Patrick's cabin in Phoenix. Don't deflate my ego by saying she did as
good a job as I did." "Well, Sarah must have thought she
did pretty well. Jane got a puppy out of it." "Do you consider that bad or
good?" Eve smiled. "It's good. The puppy is
pure Monty... I hope. I haven't seen any signs of anything savage about
Toby." "Too bad. I've never seen anything
wrong with a little dash of the tiger. It makes the mix more interesting." "I don't agree." "I believe you do. You chose
Quinn." Yes, Joe had more than a little tiger in
him, but she'd not seen it in the last year. She had seen nothing but love and
companionship and togetherness. It had been magic. No, better than magic,
because it had been honest and real. At least she'd thought it had been honest. She smothered the ripple of pain. Would
she ever be able to think about Joe without that hurt? She changed the subject.
"Where are we going to eat? Nothing heavy. My stomach still feels like
it's taken a beating from Evander Holyfield." ------------------- The safety-deposit box. Eve sat up straight in bed, her heart
pounding. "Galen!" "I hear you," Galen called from
the next room. He was there in seconds. "What's wrong? Did you see any—" "The safety-deposit box. I was
asleep, but I woke up and it was—" "Slow down. Get your breath." He
sat down on the bed beside her and set the revolver he'd carried on the
nightstand. "A nightmare?" "No. It must have been in the back of
my mind and it—Marie's safety-deposit box. You thought
there was probably a bribe in it, and whoever poisoned me was trying to make
sure to make it look like an accident. It was important to him not to draw,
attention to why it was being done." "And?" "Pierre, her son. He was going back
to New Orleans tomorrow morning. He wanted to be done with all these details.
There's a good chance he would have gone to the bank this afternoon and tried
to tie up all her affairs. If there was a huge amount in that safety-deposit
box, it would have sent up a red flag, wouldn't it?" "You're thinking someone might want
to stop him from reporting that money." Eve moistened her lips. "Oh, God, I
hope not." She got to her feet. "I want to go to see him. I'm getting
dressed. Will you call Marie's house and see if you can reach him?" "Do you have the number?" "No." "I'll call information." Galen
reached for the phone on the nightstand and turned on the light. She blinked. "You're naked." "You screamed. I wasn't about to take
the time to get dressed." He spoke into the phone and then glanced over
his shoulder. "Get moving." She didn't need to be told twice. She
hurried out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. When she came back five minutes later,
Galen was coming out of his room, tucking his shirt into his khakis.
"Pierre didn't answer." He glanced at her. "Look, this may be a
false alarm, but when we get there, I'm in charge. You don't do anything until
I tell you to do it. Okay?" "I hear you. Just hurry." ------------------- No one answered the knock. "He could have decided to leave
early," Galen said. "Or perhaps staying here brought back too many
memories." "I don't like it," Eve said.
"Is the door locked?" "Yes." Galen bent over the knob
for a moment. "But if it will make you feel better..." The door swung
open. "I go in first. You stay out here until I call you. If you see
anything, you call me." "I want to—" Eve nodded impatiently. "Hurry. If he's not here, I
need to track him down at a hotel." "I'll hurry." Galen disappeared
into the house. She didn't want to wait outside. She
glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the windows of the houses on either side
of the street. Dark, silent. Watching. Foolishness. No one was watching. "Come in." Galen was back.
"It's safe." "Is he here?" "He's here." He shut the door.
"But you may not want to see him. He's not a pretty sight. His head's half
blown off." Shock jolted through her.
"What?" "There at the desk across the
room." The lights were off, but she could dimly
see a figure slumped at the desk. "Pierre?" "As far as I could tell." "Murdered." "It's staged to look like a suicide.
The gun's still in his hand. He may have actually pulled the trigger." "Like Marie was forced to eat the
stew," she said dully. "Right." "I want to see him." "You're sure?" "It won't be the first corpse I've
seen, Galen." "I know, but I have to fight my
protective instincts." He flicked on the lamp by the door. "Don't
touch anything." Blood and brain matter were splattered
everywhere. She forced herself to walk forward until she stood in front of the
desk. Several framed pictures of Pierre's mother were spread on the desk in
front of him. To one side lay a pile of letters spattered with blood. "It looks"—she swallowed hard to ease the tightness of her throat—"as if he was going through her things." "And became despondent and took his
own life. Everyone at the funeral would testify to how distraught he was. Very
nicely staged. Or do you believe he'd actually do this?" Eve shook her head. "He wanted to
make all her hard work worthwhile. He wouldn't—"
She had to get out of here. She turned and headed for the door. "It wasn't
him—somebody else did this." "That's what I thought." Galen
followed her, stopping only to wipe his prints off the lamp and the doorknob
while she waited outside. "But the verdict will probably be suicide." She drew a deep shaky breath as she
reached the street. "We could tell the police about Marie." "With no real evidence but those
bruises? You didn't want to believe Marie Letaux's death wasn't an
accident." "I suppose he did go to the bank
today," she said dully. "I doubt if he'd be dead if he hadn't
discovered the safety-deposit box with the money. He must have had time to look
through it, or he wouldn't have been a threat." "He was so young...." "Yeah, it sucks." Galen took
Eve's elbow. "Let's get out of here. If anyone sees us around, they might
decide it wasn't suicide and zero in on us as suspects. You might be above
suspicion, but I'm not." ------------------- "Sit down." Galen pushed Eve
into one of the kitchen chairs and put on the kettle. "I'll make you some
coffee." "I'm okay." She was lying. She
wasn't okay. All she could think about was that beautiful young man who was now
no longer beautiful. Pierre, whose years had been cut short in that brutal
fashion. "Then keep me company." He
switched on the stove, then took down the instant coffee. "I'm very
sensitive. Blood always upsets me." She tried to smile. "Liar." "I am sensitive. There's just a layer
of scar tissue." He got down two cups from the shelf and spooned in the
coffee. "And blood is ... messy. To be spilled only when necessary. There
are so many neater ways." He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned.
"That got you. Did you expect me to soothe you? You're too tough for
that." "Am I?" "Sure. Of course, Quinn would
probably comfort you. But you wouldn't take it from me." He poured boiling
water into the cups and sat down across from her. "So take a cup of coffee
instead." In spite of what he said, he was trying to
comfort her. She took a sip. "I'm surprised a gourmet like you would
tolerate instant coffee." "It was quick." He leaned back
in his chair. "And I can tolerate anything. I'm used to making do." "It's good." She took another
sip. "I... did need it. I guess I'm pretty shaky. I hate death. We
fight and we fight and there's still nothing we can do about it." "Sometimes there is. Personally, I
intend to live until I'm at least a hundred and fifty. I figure with all the
research going on I could still be spry at that age." "Pierre was so young. There's
something even more terrible about the young dying." "Like your Bonnie." "Yes." Eve looked down into the
coffee in her cup. "Like my little girl." Galen was silent. Eve drew a shaky breath. "And I hate
the monsters who take those youngsters' lives. I want to reach out and get them
by the throat. I want to scream at them how unfair it is for them to steal all
those bright, wonderful years away. It's cruel and ugly— Shit." Tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to—" Galen was kneeling beside her chair.
"Hey, don't do this to me." He took her in his arms and rocked her
back and forth. "You're tearing up all my scar tissue." He felt her
stiffen against him, and immediately released her and sat back on his heels.
"Let's get this straight right now. I'm not trying to take advantage of a
bad moment. It's my natural instincts again. A woman weeps and I react."
He looked directly in her eyes. "But I know the difference between a
vulnerable moment and the real thing. I like you, I respect you, and, if I let
myself, I'd find you sexy. But you're not available. It's so clear that you
might as well be carrying around a sign. So I'm your protector, your friend,
and sometimes a shoulder to lean on. Got it?" She smiled shakily. "Got it." He smiled. "At least that little
misunderstanding accomplished one thing. You're not crying anymore." He
breathed a theatrical sigh of relief. "I can't take tears. They lay me
low." "I'll remember that. It may come in
handy." She stood up. "I'm going to bed. I have an early start
tomorrow." Galen looked at his watch.
"Tomorrow's already here. The airport?" "Hell, no." She started for the
door. "They're not going to get away with killing that boy. They're going
to pay for it. I'm going to give Victor a face." Chapter Seven
"May I come
in?" Galen asked. Eve glanced up from the skull. "If
you don't talk to me." "Just a few words. Where's
Rick?" She shrugged. "Around somewhere. He
brought me coffee a couple hours ago. Why?" "Just checking. He's usually so
attentive he makes me worry about losing my job." "He may be attentive, but he's quiet
and unobtrusive. I hardly know he's around." "I doubt you'd notice if he ran
around banging on a drum. I can see you're caught up in the project. I've never
seen anyone so obsessed." "It's what I do." Her work had
saved her from the depths of despair and helped her keep her sanity after
Bonnie had been murdered. It was her salvation and her passion. "I just thought I'd fill you in on a
few things I've learned about Bently." "I thought you'd already told me
everything." "Only the obvious. I decided to probe
a little deeper. I don't like to trust the obvious." "So what did you find out?" "He was an ardent environmentalist,
very passionate about solar energy and cleaning up the rivers." "And?" "That would make him a target for any
number of energy groups. What if he was planning to run on a platform that
would step on some very important toes?" "You're doing those 'what ifs'
again." "Can't help it. It's a game I have to
play. It's my suspicious nature." Galen smiled. "But at least you
should be relieved that Bently is turning out to be such a sterling
character." "Why?" "Because it's obvious you've become
so emotionally attached to that skull that it would give you a hell of a lot of
satisfaction if Victor turned out to be a good guy." "Either way, it won't stop me from
doing my job." Galen tilted his head and gazed appraisingly
at the skull. "You don't appear very close. He looks like a voodoo doll.
What are all those sticks all over his skull?" "Tissue-depth markers. I cut each
marker to the proper measurement and glue it onto its specific area on the
face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known
tissue depths." She carefully placed another marker. "There are
anthropological charts that give a specific measurement for each point." "Then your work is mostly
measurement?" "No, that's the donkey work. I take
strips of plasticine and apply them between the markers, then build them up to
tissue-depth levels. Then I smooth and fill in and work with the skull until
I'm satisfied. The last process is the most important. That's why I can't look
at photographs of the subject. I can't let even my subconscious be
influenced." "Well, you're safe for now. But I'm
planning on going down to the newspaper office and getting a photo." "Well, keep it 'til I've
finished." "When will that be?" "As long as it takes. Five or six
more days, maybe." She glanced at him. "Any news about Pierre?" "A story on page five of the
newspaper about the suicide of Pierre Letaux, who was apparently despondent
about the death of his mother." "You said the police wouldn't
question it." "I admit I didn't want to be right
about this one."-He shrugged. "But sometimes the bad guys win." "Not this time." She placed
another marker. "Now go away and let me work." "I'm on my way." He paused.
"You know, we could call Melton and tell him we think Marie's and Pierre's
deaths may not be quite what they seem." "I thought of that. And then he'd
assure me that I was mistaken and that the police reports were accurate." "Could be." "And I don't need to deal with Melton
right now." "I didn't think so. It might
interfere with Victor, and you won't permit anything to do that. Is Rick
feeding you?" "When I let him." She lifted a
brow. "It seems my poison tester hasn't been on the job." "Rick wouldn't let anything happen to
you. At least, not until you've finished Victor. I've never seen anyone more
intent on making your work easy for you. And I'll cook for you myself
tonight." "That's comforting." "It should be more than comforting.
You should be breathless with anticipation." "I don't have time." "Okay, forget about dwelling on my
fine cuisine." He turned to leave. "I'd like this job done quickly,
too." He couldn't be more anxious than she was,
Eve thought as he left the room. Ever since she had seen Pierre's body the
night before last, she had been driven to finish the reconstruction. Maybe even before that. There were so few
truly good people; Bently might have been one of those rare individuals. She placed another marker. "We're
getting there, Victor," she murmured. "Galen thinks you might have
been some kind of martyr, but I've got to be very careful not to pay any
attention. You might have been just a soldier or a tramp or some other victim.
It doesn't matter. You deserve to be brought home, too...." ------------------- "No identification, Lieutenant."
Officer Krakow shrugged. "And we're not going to get anyone to recognize
him. The forensic boys say he's been dead for at least four days, facedown in
the water in that drainpipe." "Four days?" Joe's gaze went
down the hill to the forensic team gathered around the entrance of the drainage
pipe. "Could be longer. You know it's hard
to pin down when a corpse has been out in the weather. We'll have to wait for
the medical examiner." "What kind of clothes is he
wearing?" "Oxford cloth shirt. No tie, but
nicely tailored pants. He appears to be very white-collar. He definitely wasn't
one of the homeless." Krakow gazed at Joe curiously. "This isn't your
case, is it, sir? You looking for someone in particular?" "Maybe. Thanks, Krakow." Joe
started down the hill. He could see the sprawled body, and the size seemed
right. Capel had been a big man with receding brown hair, but he couldn't see
the hair from here. White-collar described George Capel, and he'd have to see
about the time frame. Conditions were everything as far as decomposition was
concerned. He'd seen a woman taken out of the trunk of a car after only seven
hours; he would have sworn she had been dead for days. It didn't have to be Capel. He hoped to
God it wasn't. If that body was George Capel, it brought this whole mess to a
new and dangerous level. "Hi, Lieutenant." Sam Rowley
glanced up as he approached. "Looks like we've got one for you." Joe looked down at the corpse. The hair
was light brown, but he couldn't tell if it was receding from that swollen,
disfigured face. "Homicide?" "Appears to be a knife wound in the
back. There are multiple wounds on the body, but it's hard to determine if they
were inflicted before or after death. He's been out here awhile." "I need to know who he is.
Fingerprints?" "May be tough to match with the hands
so swollen. Probably have to go for the teeth." "How soon?" "The lab's pretty backlogged. Two
weeks, maybe." "I need to know now, Sam." Sam shook his head. "Talk to the lab
techs. You know I can't help you." "I will." Joe turned and strode
back up the hill. A knife wound in the back. Multiple other
wounds. The muscles of his stomach twisted as he
got back in the car. Don't panic yet. Get down to headquarters and pull strings
to get that ID right away. Christ, he hoped it wasn't Capel. ------------------- "How far along are you?" Galen
asked as he poured Eve's coffee that evening. "Have you gotten past the
voodoo stage?" "Tomorrow. I have to go very slowly
to have an absolutely true foundation." Eve lifted the cup to her lips.
"That was a very good meal, Galen." "It was a magnificent meal. You're
too tired to appreciate me." "No, I'm not." She studied him
soberly. What an unusual man he was. Complex, smooth on the surface with depths
that were definitely dark and enigmatic. Yet she'd never felt safer with any
man except Joe. "You've been very kind to me, Galen." "Just doing my job." "No. Ever since I woke up in the
hospital, you've given me whatever I needed." "That's my business. I'm a
provider." He leaned back in his chair. "And you've been easy. I
haven't had to maul or dispatch anyone lately." He was joking. Or was he? Maybe not. Those
murky depths again ... "I hope you won't have to do it in the future
either." Her hand tightened on the cup. "Death is ugly." "Yes, it is. And no one should know
better than you." "Not even you?" He smiled. "Let's say my experience
is active and yours is passive." "Why did you take this bodyguard job,
Galen? I got the impression that you played on a much bigger stage." "I like Louisiana. I even have a
house near New Orleans." "You took the job because you liked
the area? I don't think so." "Okay, Logan is my friend and he
asked me to do it as a favor. I move around too much to have many friends, so I
try to keep the ones I have." He paused. "And I guess I kind of liked the idea
of being cast as a knight to protect a lady. Usually my jobs are much less
noble. I'd only met you once, but I wasn't fond of the idea of you jumping into
trouble." She had certainly been in trouble the
first time she met him in Arizona two years ago, Eve thought ruefully. Besides
taking care of Sarah's wounded wolf, Maggie, she had been trying to sort out
her own problems with Jane. "Well, you were very good with Maggie. Sarah
was impressed." "We had a lot in common." He
took a sip of coffee. "Quinn must have been really worried about this trip
or he wouldn't have called Logan. I got the impression they're not the greatest
mates in the world." She stiffened. "I don't want to talk
about Joe." She finished her coffee and stood up. "And in a few days
there won't be anything for any of us to worry about. Let's get these dishes
done. I want to go upstairs and make my call to Jane before I go to bed. Do you
want to wash or dry?" "I'll do them. I need to expend some
excess energy. You go on and call your little girl. I checked out the upstairs
when you were taking your shower. It's secure. But don't go out on the
balcony." "You think someone's going to shoot
me?" He shook his head. "It would be too
obvious. Everything has been made to look like an accident or suicide so far.
But it won't hurt to be careful. Sometimes new elements pop up in these
situations." "You talk as if this is just
run-of-the-mill to you. I'm finding it a good deal more stressful." He started to stack the dishes. "It's
certainly interesting." She looked at him and shook her head. Just
when she thought she had made progress getting beyond that smooth exterior, he
pulled it firmly back in place. "Good night, Galen." "Good night. Pleasant dreams." Don't go out on the balcony or you might
get shot. Don't eat anything Galen didn't cook or
you might be poisoned. Not the stuff of which pleasant dreams
were made. ------------------- Jane looked up from the salad she was
tossing when Joe walked in that evening. "Eve called a little while
ago." "How is she?" "Fine. Tired. She's working on the
skull. She calls him Victor. Will you get out the steaks, Joe?" Joe came into the kitchen and opened the
refrigerator. "How soon will she be done?" "Doesn't know." Jane took out
the indoor grill and plugged it in. "You know Eve's never sure. It's going
well, though." "Did she mention Galen?" "Only that he'd called Victor a
gladiator and she was having the devil of a time keeping that out of her mind.
Oh, and she said that he was a terrific cook." She chuckled. "Good
thing one of them is. Eve's not so hot." "No, she's not." He handed her
the steaks. "Sounds very cozy." "Yeah." Jane looked at him and
her smile faded. "Joe? Is something wrong?" "No, of course not." He turned
away. "I've got to go wash up. I'll be right back." When he closed the bathroom door, he
splashed water on his face and then reached for the towel. Oh, no, nothing was
wrong. His grasp tightened on the soft cloth until his knuckles turned white.
Only that he was jealous as hell and wanted to kill Sean Galen. Shit, he'd want to murder everyone Eve
looked at on the street or smiled at in a restaurant. Very sane. Very
reasonable. But who said he was ever reasonable when
it came to Eve? She'd been the center of his life since he'd met her all those
years ago, and he'd had only this short time of her belonging to him. It wasn't
enough. It would never be enough. Joe drew a deep breath. Get control. He
had to go out and not let Jane see what a crazy, obsessive son of a bitch he
was. She'd been an angel since Eve had left. No, not an angel. She was too
earthy and real to be termed angelic. She'd always had that same tough, loving
nature that reminded him of Eve. Eve. Everything came back to her. And she
was in Baton Rouge with Galen, who was helping her, making those damn dinners,
talking to her, sharing ... He had sent Galen to be with her and he'd do it
again, but that didn't make it any easier. "Joe, the steaks are done," Jane
called. "Coming." He hung up the towel
and opened the door. He forced a smile. "I'm starved. I forgot to eat
lunch today." "You've been working too hard."
She carried the steaks over to the table, almost tripping over the puppy.
"Toby, get out of my way. You cannot have these steaks." "I bet he'll get the leftovers." "Maybe. I shouldn't do it. Sarah said
he should have a balanced diet and table scraps aren't really good for
him." She shook her head. "But he's such a chow hound. I never saw
any dog who loved food like Toby." "What else did Eve say?" "Nothing much. She mostly asked about
what I was doing and how Toby was. I told her he was fine." She sat down.
"I told her you were fine, too." "But she didn't ask, did she?" "No, but I figured she probably
wanted to know." "Optimist." "She's working, and she already seems
more cheerful than when she left. Work always helps her." "I know." "So you just have to hang on and be patient.
Now eat your steak." He smiled faintly. "Yes, ma'am.
Anything else?" "Yes, don't work so hard." She
frowned sternly at Toby who'd rested his head on her knee. "Don't beg. It's
impolite." "You're not going to last until
supper's over." "I will. He's got to learn—" Joe's phone rang. Jane sighed. "I was afraid you
wouldn't get through the meal." "I won't answer it. I'll let the
voice mail pick it up." "But then you'd get indigestion
worrying. Get it over with." Joe flipped on his phone.
"Quinn." "It's Carol. The teeth ID came
through. It's George Andrew Capel, age forty-two." Joe's hand tightened on the phone.
"Christ. Anything on the autopsy report?" "I don't know. Let me check. Yeah,
here it is. They just tossed it in the in-box. Death caused by knife wound that
entered the heart from the back. The other wounds were minor. None of them
capable of doing serious damage but would have been extremely painful. Looks
like our killer likes to toy with his victims." "Maybe. Thanks, Carol." He hung
up. "Joe?" Jane whispered. He was scaring her. "It's okay. It's
just that something's come up and I have to deal with it." "Eve?" "No. How could it be Eve? You just
talked to her. That was Carol at the precinct. It was police business." "You're never this upset about police
business." She was too sharp, and he was too panicky
right now to hide his fear. He got to his feet. "I've got to make a couple
of private calls. You go ahead and eat dinner. I'll be back soon." She frowned, still troubled. "Okay.
But your steak will get cold." "I'll heat it up." He wouldn't
be able to eat it anyway. Food was the last thing on his mind. The grave. The
report sent to Eve. George Capel. Eve's job in Baton Rouge. All the pieces were
falling together. And the picture they were making was
scaring him to death. ------------------- "He's still pretty ugly, even without
the sticks." Galen tilted his head as he studied the skull on the pedestal.
"Maybe it's those empty eye sockets." "Go away, Galen." "Nope, it's eight o'clock and you've
been here since six this morning. Time to close up shop. I'm going to walk you
home and feed you. Rick would let you work all night." "I'm not ready to go." "Are you going to be able to finish
him tonight?" "No way. I've still got a good four
days' work. Maybe more." "Then you'll do better with some
rest. Since there's no urgency." "There is urgency." "Not for you. Melton can wait." He didn't understand. When she started
work, the urgency came from within. It was as if the person she was
reconstructing was urging her, whispering to her: Find me. Help me. Bring me
home. "What color?" Galen was still
gazing at the eye sockets. "How do you know what color to use for the
eyes?" "I don't. I usually put in brown.
It's the most common eye color. Why are those sockets bothering you?" "I knew a bloke in Mozambique who'd
had his eyes cut out by a nasty customer in the drug trade. He got along
surprisingly well, but it always gave me the chills." "I can see why." "It made me mad. I hate mutilation.
No one should do that to anyone." Eve turned to look at him. "I've
never seen you angry." "You don't want to. I get pretty
nasty." "To that 'nasty customer in the drug
trade'?" Galen didn't answer directly. "No one
should be allowed to do that," he repeated. He suddenly smiled. "Now
you've done it. You've made me dwell on that unpleasantness and I'm all
depressed. You have to come home so that I can fix you a fine meal and forget
about it. It's therapy." "It's manipulation." She draped
a towel over the skull. "But I'll let you get away with it. Maybe I am a
little tired." "Right. Now wash your hands and we'll
be off." Galen crossed over to the window and looked out at the bayou.
"You should really see more of Baton Rouge. It's a great town." "I had lunch with you the day of
Marie's funeral. I saw Baton Rouge for hours and hours that day. And I didn't
come here to sightsee." "Someone needs to take you in hand.
There's more to life than skulls with empty sockets." "They're not empty when I fill
them." Eve dried her hands on a towel. "And I'm not a total
workaholic." "You come close. Me, I believe in
stopping to smell the roses." Galen opened the door for her. "Though
I do know New Orleans better than Baton Rouge. So we'll walk home very slowly,
and I'll tell you the history of the Big Easy and maybe a few bits of the
history of my stays there. You can decide which is more entertaining." Galen's stories were definitely more
entertaining, and lasted the walk back to the plantation house. They were
bawdy, funny, and full of colorful characters and incidents. "His name was really Marco
Polo?" Eve asked. "You've got to be kidding." "No way. He said his mum named him
that because he was destined to be a great explorer. Actually, he fit right in
with some of the weirdos who inhabit the French Quarter. He wore
thirteenth-century garb whenever he was at home, and he had a particular
fondness for Chinese prostitutes. I don't think that was the kind of Oriental
exploration his mum had in mind, but who am I—Shit!"
He jerked her to one side and stepped in front of her. "Who the hell are
you?" "Quinn." Joe stepped out of the
shadows next to the front door. "As Eve'll tell you, if you'll get away
from her." Eve stared at him in shock.
"Joe?" "You remember my name? I guess I
should be grateful." "You shouldn't have come. I don't
want you here." "You've made that clear. Tough. I'm
here and I'm staying." "Where's Jane?" "She's fine. She's with your mother.
Sandra's husband and little Mike are in Oregon on a fishing trip. The kid's
real mother was jailed again for drugs and they thought he should get away for
awhile. Your mother was glad to have the company." Shock was being replaced by anger. "I
told you when I left I didn't want you to come with me. Go back to Atlanta,
Joe." "Sorry." He turned to Galen.
"What's been going on here?" "None of your business," Eve
said. "Go home." Joe whirled on her and his Words spat out
like bullets. "You listen to me. I'm not going to barge in on your cozy
little establishment here. I know you wouldn't have me in the same house. But
I'm staying. You can't stop me. Now I'm coming in and I'm going to tell you a
few things, and then either you or Galen is going to fill me in on what's been
happening here." "I think we'd better invite him in,
Eve," Galen said as he unlocked the door. "I do hate scenes in
public." "He's leaving. There's not going to
be a scene." "Yes, there is. At this point I'm
ready to burn down the whole damn parish if I don't get my way." "We wouldn't want that," Galen
said. "I've just been telling Eve what a fine little metropolis this
is." "Oh, was that what you were telling
her?" Joe murmured. "I would have guessed something entirely
different." "Uh-oh. Is that the way the wind's
blowing?" Galen flung open the door. "Come in, Quinn. I can see this
is going to be an interesting chat." His gaze shifted to Eve. "Give
him twenty minutes, Eve. He obviously has something we might need to hear. From
what I've heard about him, he's not stupid enough to have come all this way
without a reason." "I don't want to—" She might as well get it over. She knew that expression on
Joe's face. He wasn't budging. "Twenty minutes." She passed Joe and
went into the house. "I'll be right back." Galen was
running up the stairs. "I have to check the upstairs. If you want to make
yourself useful, you might check the downstairs, Quinn." "You trust me to do that?" Joe
asked sarcastically. "Your faith is—" But
Galen was out of hearing. Joe turned and went toward the first door on the
left. "Is this the kitchen?" "Dining room. Kitchen adjoins
it." Joe opened the door. "Stay
here." "The hell I will." Eve followed
him through the dining room into the kitchen, and watched him while he checked
the two pantries, under the table in the kitchen, and the dining room.
"It's not fair for you to do this. I'm not ready to see you, Joe." "Will you ever be ready?" He
went past her into the hall. "Is that a parlor?" She nodded and watched as he checked the room
out. "Okay?" Galen was coming down
the stairs. "Now that we have that out of the way, I don't suppose you'd
like a glass of wine or a cup of coffee? No, I didn't think so." He came
into the parlor and sat down on the velvet couch. "You'll excuse me for
sitting down before you, Eve, but I can tell by your stance that you're in no
mood for relaxing." He turned to Joe. "She's bristling. I believe
you'd better hurry a bit." "I don't need your advice. I know Eve
better than you'll ever know her." His gaze never left Eve's face.
"Don't I?" "Do you? I thought I knew you." "You do. You just don't want to
accept what you know, what you've always known." He shook his head.
"I can't get through to you. Screw it. It doesn't make any difference
right now. I have to tell you about Capel." "Who's Capel?" "George Capel. He's the doctor I
bribed to send you that positive DNA report and bury the real one." "And the man who sent me the real
report." "It wasn't Capel. It didn't compute
that he would do that without trying to get more money out of me first...
unless someone paid him an enormous amount of cash. So I started digging. Capel
hadn't shown up for work in a couple days, so I assumed he'd flown the
coop." Joe's lips tightened. "He knew I'd be looking for him. But someone
had to have suspected something to have gotten to Capel. I went to the DNA lab
and asked questions. I went through a dozen administrative clerks before I
found one who remembered' a police officer from Forsythe County who'd asked to
check Bonnie's records. The clerk was pretty upset because she couldn't find
them. The police officer asked who would have been in charge of the case, and
she told him George Capel and asked if he'd like to see him. He told her he'd
come back when he had more time. Two neighbors saw a small, dark man with Capel
later that day. They went to his house and then left again. A man of the same
description accompanied Capel to the bank the same day. The bank teller who let
him into the vault commented that he looked sick. He told her he had the flu.
My guess is that the man who was at the DNA lab suspected some shenanigans when
there was no record to be found and decided to check out Capel. He struck pay
dirt. Capel was fairly transparent, and wouldn't have been difficult to break for
anyone determined enough. He was probably forced to go to his house so the guy
could search it. No DNA record. Then it got serious. I believe a good deal of
time was spent persuading Capel to reveal where he'd placed the record. Then
they went to the bank and got it. It was no wonder he looked sick. He was
probably in severe pain." "All this because of Bonnie's DNA
record?" Eve asked skeptically. "It doesn't make sense." "Does the fact that we found Capel's
body two days ago convince you?" Her eyes widened. "What?" "Murdered?" Galen asked. Joe nodded. "Knife wound from the
back. Several other cuts on his body." "The means of persuasion," Galen
murmured. "That's what I figure." Eve dazedly shook her head.
"Why?" "You," Joe said. "Why did
you come here? What drove you?" "You know why I came." "Hell, yes, I know. It was very well
orchestrated. The defacement of the grave to send the first shock wave. Then
the arrival of the DNA report. A one-two punch that sent you running as far
away from me as possible. And wasn't it convenient that you had a job beckoning
here?" "You're saying that man was murdered
to get me here?" "Do you want more proof? The shoe
prints at the hill were made by shoes from a company with heavy distribution in
this state. They led to tracks made by tires that are standard issue on the
Saturn. I had a composite sketch drawn of the man who went with Capel to his
house and the bank. I had the bank security videos checked, but he was too
smart and was looking away from the camera. But both the neighbors and the bank
clerk agreed on the face in the sketch, so I played a hunch and took it to the
rental car agencies at the airport. Bingo. Avis rented a Saturn to a Karl Stolz
from Shreveport, Louisiana. He paid by credit card and was very pleasant to the
clerk. He returned the car and boarded a plane for Baton Rouge the day you told
Melton you'd take the job." "You've done a good job of putting it
together," Galen said. "I suppose you traced the credit card." "Billed to the real Karl Stolz at an
address in Shreveport. A case of stolen identity. He hasn't left his home for
the past six months." His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Believe me, Eve. All this was done to draw you to Baton Rouge. Now get
the hell out of here." It was incredible. Yet she did believe
him. "You're saying this man tried to ruin my life and killed a man just
to get me to take this job?" She tried to think. "Melton?" "I called him before I got on the
plane today. He denies everything, of course, but the entire mess seems to lead
toward him—or an associate." "I'm surprised you didn't squeeze
that out of him." "I didn't have time." Eve shook her head. "Go home, Joe. I
don't want you involved. If there's a problem, I'll handle it." "You mean you don't want me in your
life. Well, that's too bad. You're not the only victim here. Whoever killed
Capel did a damn good job of messing up my life, too. Now are you going to tell
me what's been going on here?" "No, I'm not." "Then I'll find out on my own."
He turned on his heel. "If you change your mind, you can reach me at the
Westin Hotel." "Wait." Galen got to his feet.
"Could I see you for a few moments in private, Quinn? Why don't you go
upstairs and rest, Eve?" "Galen," she warned. "You're not involving him. I am. I'll
take all the help I can get. He's better occupied in helping than blundering
around and getting in my way trying to find out a few simple facts." He
smiled. "You can still keep your distance. Let me deal with him." "I don't want him here." "I do." Galen smiled. "So
unless you're going to pack up and go home, he stays. Not close. On the edge.
But he stays. So go and rest and I'll fix you dinner after Quinn leaves," "Stop treating me like a child. I'm
not hungry and I'll do what I please." Eve strode out of the room and up
the stairs. Dammit, she hadn't expected Galen to turn on her. It had come as a
surprise—but not as big a shock as the ugly story
that Joe had told her. It seemed impossible that anyone would go to such
diabolical lengths to get her here. That man had delved into the most painful
area of her life and used Bonnie to manipulate her. A surge of rage tore through her. Son of a
bitch. And what about the story that had been told to her by Melton. How much
was truth and how much was lies? Marie and Pierre Letaux? They had been
killed to keep her from doing the reconstruction. Where did they fit in? Oh, she just didn't know. She couldn't
think right now. She was confused and angry, and the shock and hurt she'd
experienced when she'd seen Joe didn't make it any better. For that first split
second she'd felt such soaring joy that it had rocked her, and then she had
remembered and the pain had come rushing back. She had to get Joe to leave Baton Rouge.
She couldn't live with this kind of confusion, and she certainly couldn't work. Work? She felt a sudden icy chill as she
realized that maybe she shouldn't be as worried about finishing Victor as about
just surviving. Chapter Eight
"Evidently
you haven't gotten to know Eve as well as I thought," Joe said to Galen as they heard Eve's
door slam. "You should never treat her with condescension." "I hardly think you can qualify as an
expert on the subject. You've put your ass on the line with her," Galen
said. Joe stiffened. "She told you about
the DNA report?" "That bothers you, doesn't it? No,
Logan told me everything you told him. You took a big chance." He changed
the subject. "Now, do you want to know what's been going on here or
not?" Joe was silent a moment. "I want to
know." "That wasn't too painful, was
it?" Galen filled him in on the events since Eve had arrived in Baton
Rouge. Joe was cursing by the time he finished.
"Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you let me know?" "Logan hired me, not you. And the
only way I could keep Eve willing to accept me here
was to agree not to tell you anything. So it was really your fault." "And you're enjoying telling me
that." "Antagonism always brings out the
worst in me. Did you turn over the sketch to the FBI to see if they could track
anything down for you?" "They couldn't. No matches." "I'd like to see the sketch. The man
who took Eve to the hospital that night fits the description. We can run it by
the admittance personnel. Do you have it here?" "I have several copies at the hotel.
I'll give you one." Joe looked up the stairs. "She won't listen to
me. Can't you talk her out of staying here?" "I'll try. She'll be absolutely
furious with Melton if she thinks he's connected with the things you told her
about. On the other hand, she's caught up in the work on Victor. I had to drag
her away tonight." "Dammit, it's clear whoever is behind
this isn't playing for small stakes. One false step and she could be—" He broke off and took a deep breath. "I can't take not
being here to help her. It's driving me crazy." "You're not keeping it a
secret," Galen said. "I'll do my best. In the meantime, give me your
cell phone number and I'll try to keep you informed." "I want to be more than
informed." "It's the best I can do. You lurk
around here and Eve will explode. Trust me, I've taken good care of her. I'll
keep on doing it." "I don't trust you, and I don't want
you to—" Joe jammed a card with his name and
cell number at Galen, turned, and moved toward the door. "If you don't let
me know what's going on, I'll tear you apart." "I do hate threats. They offend my
genteel nature." "Bullshit." "Now what can I do to get my own
back? What would rub you raw?" Galen smiled maliciously. "Shall I
tell you how well I've gotten to know Eve? We've exchanged viewpoints and past
history. We've eaten together, and shared sadness and death. I've protected her
and held her in my arms." "You bastard." "I thought that would do it." He
passed Joe and went toward the kitchen. "Now I have to go and get us a
bite to eat." Joe was tempted to go after him and
strangle him. Galen looked over his shoulder and shook
his head. "I'm her safety net, Quinn. Get rid of me and you'll be up shit
creek." Joe muttered a curse and jerked open the
front door. "Oh, I forgot to mention one small
thing," Galen said. "I was in her bedroom naked a few nights
ago." He disappeared into the kitchen. Joe could feel the pulse pound in his
temple as he started to follow him. He stopped and drew a deep breath. Keep
calm. Galen had wanted to score off him. He could have been lying. And he could have been telling the truth.
Okay, accept it. If he'd been telling the truth and Eve had taken Galen as a
lover, then he'd just have to take it. His own hands were tied. He needed the
bastard to keep Eve alive. He couldn't touch him. Not now. Later. ------------------- "I've brought you a sandwich,"
Galen said when Eve opened the door to his knock. "I know you said you
weren't hungry, but you've got to stoke the furnace if you want to finish
Victor." "I don't like to be overruled,
Galen," she said coolly. "Particularly when it concerns my personal
affairs." "But it doesn't only concern your
personal affairs. It concerns your life, and that's what I've been hired to
preserve. So you do what you please about Quinn, but if I need him, I'll use
him." He set the tray down on the bedside table. "Logan tells me he's
an ex-SEAL, besides his FBI and police training. He may come in handy." "No one uses Joe." "That's why it's so much fun."
Galen took a string of silver bells out of his pocket and crossed the room
toward the balcony. "That balcony's been bothering me, and I'm tired of
checking it a couple times a night." "I didn't know you did." "That's because I'm so good." He
went out on the balcony and tied the string of bells on one of the wrought-iron
spokes. He grasped another spoke a few feet away and pulled at it. Immediately
a shower of tinkling sound drifted on the night air. "There we go. Thank
God for this shaky ironwork. Not exactly high tech, but it sounds pretty and
it's loud enough to alert me if we have a cat burglar." He looked back
over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. "Or if Quinn decides to pull a
Romeo and Juliet scene. 'Once more unto the breach ...' " "That last line is from Henry
V." "I never let accuracy get in the way
if a quote fits." "And Joe is too pragmatic to play
Romeo." "He didn't impress me as being that
pragmatic. He was seething tonight, and he didn't like me this close to you. It
amused me at first, but then my defense mechanisms kicked in and I'm afraid I
was a little naughty." "What did you do?" "Oh, this and that." Galen
jiggled the spoke again, instigating another shower of silver sound. "That
is pretty." He left the balcony, closed the doors, and locked them.
"Eat your sandwich and try to get some sleep. I know what Quinn told you upset
you." "Of course it did." Eve
shuddered. "I feel... violated. That bastard used my little girl and tried
to twist my life to suit himself. And what he did to Capel..." "I'm surprised that bothers you.
Capel did some heavy manipulating of you himself." "No, that was Joe. He manipulated
Capel and me. When Joe makes a decision, opposing him is like trying to
stop a tornado." "I got that impression." Galen
moved toward the door. "But you may be being a little rough on him." "You don't know anything about it,
Galen." "You're right, but that never stops
me from offering an opinion." He smiled back at her as he opened the door.
"Good night, Eve. Be sure to eat that fantastic ham sandwich I made so you
can praise me in the morning." She shook her head as the door shut behind
him. He was completely impossible. She looked at the sandwich without
enthusiasm, but picked it up and started to eat. He was right. She needed
strength. Not only to work, but to get through this nightmare that was
escalating whenever she turned around. She had to plow through all that Joe had
told her and everything that had happened since she got here, and make a
decision. She should probably pack up and go back to
Atlanta. But Victor was waiting. She could feel him
calling her. She was getting closer to bringing him home every day. She had to think, and it was impossible
with the emotional upheaval she'd been thrown into when she'd seen Joe again. Jesus, she wished he hadn't come. ------------------- The bells on the balcony jingled softly in
the darkness. Eve stiffened in bed, her gaze flying to
the French doors. The bells jingled again. "Stay put." Galen was at her
bedroom door. "We have a visitor." He moved in darkness toward the
balcony. "And not too bright a one if he's still trying after he heard
that first jingle." "Be careful," she whispered. She
could barely see him in the darkness, but then the door was flung open and he
was outside on the balcony. She heard a crash and jumped out of bed and ran
after him. Galen and another man were struggling on
the floor of the balcony. Galen's arm lifted and his fist came down
on the jaw of his antagonist. The man went limp. "Also not much of an opponent,"
Galen said as he got off him and dragged the man past Eve into the bedroom.
"This job is proving no challenge at all." She followed him into the room. "I'm
sorry you don't believe he's worthy of your talents, but I find men crawling
over my balcony threatening enough." The man, who appeared to be in his
mid-forties, had heavy Slavic features and dark hair peppered with gray.
"Did you hurt him?" "Nah, he has a glass jaw." Galen
squatted beside the man and searched his pockets. "And a potbelly. He's in
lousy shape for this kind of—" "Shit." The man's hazel eyes had
opened; he was glaring up at Galen. "I think you broke every bone in my
face. What the hell did you do that for?" "It seemed appropriate." Galen
put a knee on the man's chest. "Eve doesn't like second-story men."
He opened the man's wallet and checked the driver's license. "Bill Nathan,
age forty-seven. Eye color is right, but the weight's wrong. He's a good
fifteen pounds heavier than it says here." "So I gained a little weight when I
quit smoking." Nathan's glance shifted to Eve. "Will you call this
... bastard off me so that I can talk to you?" "My name is Sean Galen, and you're in
no position to call me anything but sir." Galen finished searching him.
"He's clean." He handed her a card. "Press ID. He's with the Times
Picayune ... maybe." Nathan scowled. "Are you going to let
me up?" Galen glanced inquiringly at Eve. She nodded. "Maybe I shouldn't—" Galen shrugged. "Oh, well, he's not much threat either
way." He stood, pulled Nathan to his feet, and then pushed him into the
chair beside the bed. "Talk to me. What are you doing here?" "I'm on a rescue mission, dammit. And
I don't like being tossed around like this." "Why the balcony?" "I wasn't sure whether the front door
was being watched. Do you think I like crawling up the side of a house like
some nutty superhero comic-book character?" "It's definitely not your area of
expertise," Galen said. "Let him talk, Galen," Eve said.
"What do you want from us, Nathan?" "In the short term, I want to save
your necks. In the long term, I'm hoping for a Pulitzer." "Save us from what?" "From finishing your
reconstruction." Nathan gingerly touched his bruised cheek. "God, I
need a cigarette." "You're saying that finishing the
reconstruction is dangerous." "I think so. If you finish, they
don't need you anymore, and you may know too much." Galen lifted his brows. "You think
so?" "That's what I said," he said
sourly. "I can't look into a crystal ball and know what they'll do. I'm
still digging. I don't know what the hell's happening yet." "You evidently know more than we
do," Eve said. "Who are 'they'?" "The Cabal." "Sounds like a witch's coven,"
Galen said. "It's not funny." Nathan gave
him a poisonous glance before turning back to Eve. "Don't you think I was
tempted to just let you go on with the reconstruction until I could find out
who you were working on? If you don't finish, I risk losing my story." "Then why didn't you?" He grimaced. "Ethics. The bane of my
existence." "Inspiring," Galen murmured. "The truth." The man's reply was both bad-tempered and
defiant, but Eve thought she could also sense honesty. "How did you know I
was working on the skull?" "I didn't. I followed the skull and
staked out the church." He paused. "I'm not the only one. I almost
stumbled over two guys near the church." "Guards. There are four, sometimes
five," Galen said. "And much more talented than you." "I'm a journalist, not a thug." "From where did you follow the
skull?" Eve asked. "Well, I didn't exactly follow it.
Etienne told me it was going to be taken to the church." "Etienne?" "Etienne Hebert." He drew a deep
breath. "Look, I can't have a cigarette, so will you at least give me a
cup of coffee? I need the caffeine." "This isn't a social occasion,"
Galen said. "Conversation first." "Oh, for God's sake. If I hadn't
intended to tell you everything I know, I wouldn't have come here tonight. As
you've pointed out, I'm no great shakes at this kind of thing." "True. But it could be a ploy." Eve made a decision. "We'll go down
to the kitchen and get some coffee. He looks like he could use it." Galen shrugged. "Whatever." He
stood aside as Nathan got up and headed for the door. "I hope you don't
regret it, Eve." "A cup of coffee?" She followed
them out into the hall. "I don't think that's being particularly soft. I
have questions to ask, and he may as well be comfortable while he answers
them." She gave Nathan a cool glance. "And I assure you that you will
answer them." ------------------- Ten minutes later she was pouring steaming
coffee into Nathan's cup. "And who is Etienne Hebert?" "I don't
think the present tense applies to Etienne." Nathan took a drink of coffee, and gave a
deep sigh of satisfaction. "I think Jules killed him." He held up his
hand at Eve's exclamation. "Okay, okay. Let me do this in my own way. I'll
start at the beginning. About a month ago I received a phone call at my office
from a man named Etienne Hebert. He said he knew what had happened to Harold
Bently, and that Bently was the smallest part of the story. He asked me to meet
him outside New Orleans, at a little crab shack on the Mississippi." "Why you?" "How the hell do I know? Maybe
because I covered the Bently disappearance for the newspaper." He took
another sip of coffee. "Anyway. I met him. He was a big guy, not over
twenty-one or -two, and seemed a little simple at first glance." He shook
his head. "But he wasn't that dumb. After I talked to him for a while, I
realized he was smarter than I first thought. He was just troubled, and feeling
guilty about talking to me. He had a big brother, Jules, and there was no way
he wanted to get him in trouble. It was obvious he had a king-size case of hero
worship. Etienne was only a fisherman, but Jules was the smart one in the
family. He was the only one who made it to college." He grimaced.
"Maybe it would have been better for him if he hadn't. He was a junior at
Tulane when the Cabal recruited him." "What's the Cabal?" "It's a secret society that's been in
existence since the early 1900s." "Secret society?" Galen said.
"Be for real." "I couldn't be more serious." "And the society is named the Cabal?
For God's sake, that means secret society. They must be seriously lacking in
imagination." "They're called that because their
members are drawn from the top echelon of other organizations." Nathan
grimaced. "And they think of themselves as the ultimate secret society." Galen snorted. "That was my reaction until I did my
homework," Nathan said. "There are hundreds of secret societies
around the world, and the U.S. has taken them to its heart. The Freemasons, the
Odd Fellows, Skull and Bones." He studied Eve's expression. "I know.
They all sound a little ludicrous—unless you
study the membership lists. Did you know both George Bush and George W. Bush
belong to Skull and Bones, and George W.'s only comment about his membership
was that he couldn't talk about it?" "So what? I assume there's no proof
that Skull and Bones is involved in any nefarious activities?" "No proof. But there are also members
in positions of power in the CIA and on Wall Street and practically every level
of the business world. It's not only Skull and Bones. The Trilateral Commission
and the Council on Foreign Relations have always been influential. The
Bilderberg Group is supposed to be so powerful it can influence worldwide
politics itself. Margaret Thatcher's career took off like a rocket after she attended
a Bilderberg meeting. The same thing happened to Tony Blair after he was invited
to a meeting in Vouliagmeni, Greece. In 1991, David Rockefeller invited
Arkansas governor Bill Clinton to a meeting in Baden-Baden, Germany." "Now wait a minute. I respect Bill
Clinton and Tony Blair." "So do I. I'm not accusing them. I'm
just trying to show you the influence a secret society could wield. Probably
the great majority of the members of these societies are totally in the dark
about the activities, unaware of the elite groups in their organizations. I
don't even know which groups are part of the Cabal. Maybe none of the ones I
mentioned. Maybe all of them." He shrugged. "Etienne didn't know how
many secret societies were involved. He only knew what Jules had told him, and
that was that the Cabal comprised the highest echelon from several
organizations, and that these elite members used their societies to influence
the world economy." "How?" Nathan shrugged. "How the hell do I
know? But didn't you find it weird that the gas prices went up so high recently
when there was no lack of oil?" Eve had been as angry as everyone else at
that increase at the gas pumps. "And how could they do that?" "Use your imagination. There are
supposed to be members of OPEC, Wall Street shakers, and Japanese computer
executives in the Cabal." "Supposed? That's not good enough.
Give me names." "If I knew who, do you think I'd be
here? I'd be back home in New Orleans writing my story." Nathan's gaze searched their faces.
"Dammit, it's true. What else can I tell you? I watched the stock market
before and after the Greenspan announcements. There was always a flurry of
activity from the same banking quarters, and fortunes were made as soon as the
announcement came through. They know what's going to happen before it happens.
Secret societies pervade our past and our present. They have power in every
quarter. Almost every U.S. president of the twentieth century was a Freemason.
Hell, George Washington's inauguration ceremony was Masonic. Lyndon Johnson's
advisors were in the Council on Foreign Relations when he escalated the Vietnam
war. The first peace negotiator for Bosnia was Lord Carrington, chairman of the
Bilderberg Group." Nathan drew a deep breath. "Okay, don't accept
what I'm telling you as gospel, just look at the possibility. When men of power
get together, it's natural for them to try to combine and push to increase that
power. They work in the dark and behind the scenes, because if the public knew
they were being manipulated they'd be yelling to the high heavens. It's been
that way since the first secret societies in Egypt and Samaria in the B.C.'s.
The Cabal's worked for decades to form a spiderweb of tremendous power, and
they're not going to let that power be jeopardized." Galen shrugged. "I don't see how any
organization composed of such powerful, renowned figures could even meet
without attracting attention." "They usually don't meet. They
communicate by messenger and, more recently, on the Internet. The only
exception is when something really big is going down and they have to get
together to form a clear-cut majority. When they do meet, they schedule it at a
place and time where it seems natural that they would all be present. Like a
royal wedding. According to Etienne, the last meeting was at the Summer
Olympics. No one suspected that they were there for anything else but to cheer
on their national teams." "And was Etienne recruited by the
Cabal?" "No, his brother tried to persuade
the Cabal to accept him, but they didn't believe he was good material. However,
they had a gem in Jules. Etienne said Jules was brainwashed until he believed
that everything the Cabal said and did was right, that a strong guiding hand
was necessary to preserve peace and the status quo. He became their dirty-tricks
expert." "Assassin?" Nathan nodded. "He was trained in a
terrorist school in Libya, but he developed his own techniques. He became an
expert, and worked for the Cabal for ten years before the Bently murder." "Murder? You're sure he was murdered?" "Etienne said he was there when it
happened, and I have no reason to think he lied to me." "I thought you said he was refused by
the Cabal." "But Jules trusted him and took him
along on a number of jobs. Etienne was no problem to Jules until it came to Bently.
Something bothered him about the Bently killing." "What?" "He wouldn't tell me. He just said it
was wrong, and that why the Cabal was doing it was wrong, too. He didn't like
the murder, and he didn't like bringing the skeleton back two years later. It
must have worried him seriously to cause him to break with a brother he'd
previously always followed blindly." "But not enough to go into
detail." "He still hoped to change his
brother's mind about the Cabal, and he only wanted to use me as a safety net in
case he couldn't do it. He said someone had to know about the Cabal and stop
them. He said we had to hurry." He paused. "He was worried about
something that Jules had been ordered to do in Boca Raton. He kept saying that
we had to stop them before October twenty-ninth." "Why?" "That's all he'd say. I thought maybe
it was a Cabal meeting, but there aren't any scheduled events that would give
them an excuse to be in Boca at that time. So maybe it has something to do with
Bently." Nathan grimaced. "It's all guesswork. I was frustrated as
hell. He told me they were going to bring the skeleton here, but not when or
why. He said he'd call me again after the skeleton was in place at the
church." He paused. "He didn't call me." "There was no skeleton," Eve
said. "Only a skull." "Really?" Nathan frowned.
"He said skeleton. I wonder what happened to—" "A skeleton has infinitely more
possibilities for DNA," Galen said. "The skull had no teeth, either.
Etienne's work?" "Maybe," Nathan said. "If
it was, then I imagine Jules was a tad upset. I warned Etienne to be careful.
Stealing a skeleton isn't exactly the most cautious act." "But you didn't try to stop
him." "I'm a reporter, and this had all the
earmarks of a great story. I won't feel guilty about doing my job. Etienne was
hardly as pure as the driven snow." He smiled grimly. "But,
unfortunately, I do have a conscience where innocent lives are at stake. That's
why I'm here." "It took you long enough to decide to
come to warn us," Galen said. "I had to think about it." He
scowled as Galen lifted a brow. "It's the truth." His glance shifted
to Eve. "Then I read about Marie Letaux's death, and the article indicated
you were struck by the same food poisoning. I tried to tell myself it could be
an accident. Hell, it could have been. But when Pierre Letaux died ... Too much
coincidence, considering what Etienne had told me. I chewed on it for awhile,
and then decided I couldn't wait until you finished. I'd have to risk my story.
So pack up your bags and get the hell out of here." Galen looked at Eve. "Not a bad
idea." "You believe him?" "Enough. The evidence is growing, and
I don't like it. Added to what Quinn told us tonight, I think we'd be prudent
to fold our tents and flit away." She didn't like it, either. Nathan's story
of secret societies with that much control over people's day-to-day lives was
both frightening and outlandish. And so was the fact that she'd been lured to
this job by Melton, who could be in cahoots with the man who had used her
daughter's death as a tool. The thought brought a bolt of pure rage surging
through her. "Eve?" "I'm thinking." Galen was right.
Whether or not the Cabal existed, the evidence for some sort of conspiracy was
mounting. Capel's and the Letauxs' deaths should have been enough for her in
themselves. It was only her obsession with finishing Victor that had kept her
from admitting it. Victor. "We're getting out of here," she
said. "But I'm not leaving the skull. Victor comes with us." "What?" Nathan asked.
"Why?" "Because she wants to do it,"
Galen said. "And I'm beginning to want her to do anything she can to thumb
her nose at those bastards. Eve, we can't trust anything Nathan says until I
check him out, but if you're not going to be a cat's paw, then you have to be
on your own turf." "And take Victor with us," Eve
said flatly. "I'm not giving him up until I make up my mind what we're
going to do." Nathan shook his head. "You're
actually stealing him?" "Just borrowing his skull for a
little while. Until I make a decision, he's mine. It's my choice what happens
to Victor. Not Hebert's or Melton's or any half-baked secret society. Let them
all run around and kill each other. They're not going to use Victor in their
plans." She glanced at Galen. "The church may be locked at this time
of night, Galen." "Are you hinting I should get out of
here and do a little breaking and entering?" "You seemed to do well enough at
Marie Letaux's house. Will the church be a problem?" Galen shook his head. "What do you
need from your workroom?" "Victor. My tools, the leather skull
case, the box with the glass eyeballs. Rick is always at the church when I get
there in the morning, Galen. If he's there, I don't want him hurt." "I'll keep that in mind, but he may
be part of this, you know." She didn't want to believe that of Rick.
"And maybe he's not. Maybe he doesn't know anything about this. Until
we're sure any of this is true, I don't want him hurt." "Are you going to leave it to me
where we're going?" "You said that your job was to
provide what was needed. Provide." "Taking the skull is a mistake."
Nathan's voice was harsh with intensity. "If you go away and hide, they
may abandon the search eventually. Take the skull, and they'll come after you.
They'll suspect you know something and they'll never give up. Why won't you
listen to me?" "Because we don't have any proof
you're anyone more than a second-story man with a glass jaw," Galen said. But Nathan's desperation was very
convincing, and Eve felt a sudden frantic surge of urgency. "We are
listening to you within limits. That's why we're leaving Baton Rouge. I'll pack
our bags and be ready to leave when you get back, Galen." Nathan sighed. "If you won't do the
sensible thing, then I may as well help you pack." "No, you're coming with me,"
Galen said. "I'm not leaving you alone in the house with Eve." "For God's sake, after all I've told
you, I think I deserve a little trust." "Words aren't worth anything. Trust
is earned. You'll have to prove yourself." "By risking my neck at that
church?" "Good a way as any." Galen
glanced back over his shoulder at Eve. "Do you know how to handle a
gun?" "Yes." "There's one in my duffel. Get it. I
don't like leaving you in the house alone." "Then let me stay, dammit,"
Nathan said. Galen ignored him. "Scoot, Eve. Get
moving. We may be in a hurry when I get back. I need to get a couple items from
the kitchen cabinet, and then Nathan and I will be on the road." Chapter Nine
Where were they? Eve's gaze anxiously searched the
darkness, but she could see nothing but the shadowy outline of the church. It had been over thirty minutes. Surely
they should be back by now. Unless something had happened to them. She wouldn't let herself think that. Galen
was too smart to have let himself be caught, and she had heard no sound of conflict
while she had been standing here on the balcony. "Let's go." She whirled to see Galen coming toward
her. At least she thought it was Galen. He was covered in mud and slime, and
his wet clothes clung to his body. "What happened to you?" "Not a tenth of what should have
happened to him," Nathan said bitterly as he entered the room. He was also
wet and covered in slime. "He's the craziest son of a bitch I've ever met.
He made me swim that damn bayou." "What?" "We would have been spotted as we
crossed the bridge," Galen said. "It seemed the easiest way around
the problem." "Easy?" Nathan sputtered.
"He pushed me in the water. What if I didn't know how to swim?" "The water was almost shallow enough
to wade across." "It was not," Nathan said,
outraged. "And what about water moccasins, alligators ... Anything could
have been lurking in that foul mess." "Stop complaining. You didn't get
bitten by anything more dangerous than mosquitoes. You should be glad I let you
stay on the bank instead of going into the church with me." He went to the
bathroom and got two towels and tossed one to Nathan. "Dry off. We don't
have time to shower." "Did you get Victor?" Eve asked. He looked at her in surprise. "Of
course. Everything you asked me to get is downstairs by the back door. He's
fine. I put him in a big Ziploc bag for the swim back, with a couple of
inflated trash bags as floats. I took care of him, and I loaded Nathan down
with the other stuff you wanted." "No trouble?" He shook his head. "You're lying," Nathan said sourly.
"I saw a guard go into the church after you went in. He didn't come
out." "I'm not lying." Galen gave him
an annoyed glance. "I was just omitting an incident that
might have upset Eve. I told the truth. He was no trouble. I got him before he
alerted anyone." "Got him?" "Don't worry, it wasn't Rick. Let's
go. We have to get out of here before they find out the skull is gone." "He's crazy," Nathan grumbled to
Eve. "The bastard could have gotten us eaten." He looked
belligerently at Galen. "And I need a shower." "No time. Go as you are or not at
all. You made your way here; if you want, you can find your own way out of
it." "For this Jules Hebert to find?"
Eve asked. "He has to keep up with the program.
My mum always said that what goes around, comes around." "I'm getting very tired of what your
mum said. I think you make it up to suit yourself." She headed for the
door. "We're taking him." He shrugged. "If you insist. But we
both smell to high heaven, and two of us packed in that car will be enough to
make anyone sick." He passed her and hurried down the stairs in front of
her. "We go out the back door and get to the car parked in the cypress
grove a few hundred yards from the house." He stopped at the kitchen door.
"Stay here for a minute. I'll be right back." "Where are you going?" "I've checked the area out. Most of
the guards are located across the bayou at the church, but one rascal is a
little distance down the bank of the bayou watching the house. I didn't have
time to take care of him when I went for the skull." He glanced at Nathan.
"And besides, Nathan was making too much noise complaining. We were lucky
to get back to the house without anyone seeing us." "You were trying to drown—" "Be ready." Galen was out the
door and moving to the side of the house. "And cross your fingers they
don't find that guard in the church..." ------------------- "Come on. Move." Galen appeared
at the door a few minutes later. "We're on borrowed time." "The guard?" "Taken care of." He broke into a
trot as they neared the cypress grove. "It's the guard in the church we
have to worry about. It's been almost fifteen minutes. Someone will go and look
for him." Eve stopped short. Galen's brown rental
car was not parked there as she had expected. Instead, there was a late-model gray
Lexus. Joe Quinn was standing beside it. Eve whirled on Galen. "What the hell
is happening?" "I'm happening," Joe said
curtly. "Get in the car and let's get out of here." Eve ignored him. "You called him,
Galen?" "Sure. Before I went to the church. I
told you I might need him. I'd say the situation is escalating enough to bring
him in. I can't be everywhere at once. Pop the trunk, Quinn." He put the
cases in the trunk. "This is Bill Nathan. Get in the backseat,
Nathan." He turned to Eve. "Your choice where
you want to sit, but Quinn is going with us. I've invited him along for the
ride." "Galen, you're taking too much on
yourself." "It's a habit of mine. I'm
providing." He opened the back door for her. "And that includes as
much protection as I can manage." "For God's sake, I'm not going to
contaminate you," Joe said roughly. "Get in the car." She hesitated, and then got into the
backseat next to Nathan. "I don't like this, Galen." "Sorry." He looked over his
shoulder at the church as he got into the passenger seat. "Nothing
stirring yet. God, we're lucky. Let's go, Quinn." Joe got into the driver's seat.
"Where are we going?" "South. I have a place just a little
north of New Orleans. That should be safe for a time." "They won't look for us there?" "Well, when you're in my business you
don't want the entire world to know where you make your home. The paperwork is
buried pretty well." "Don't be overconfident," Nathan
said. "Jules Hebert has the Cabal behind him, and that opens a lot of
doors." "If this so-called Cabal even exists.
Anyone can find anyone, given enough time. But we may have enough leeway for
Eve to finish Victor." "Maybe." "Drive, Quinn," Galen said.
"He's depressing me." ------------------- Joe's shoulders were squared; he hadn't
looked back at Eve for the entire journey. And she had tried her best to keep her
gaze off him by looking out the window or trying to chat with Nathan, who was
less than communicative. Galen was no help. He'd been uncharacteristically
quiet during the trip, only giving Joe an occasional direction. So there had
been nothing to distract her from looking at Joe, thinking about Joe, during
these hours on the road. It seemed wrong to be back here, when she
was always beside him. All those years when they had been best friends and then
lovers... Lovers. Jesus, how she loved him to touch her. Her
body was readying, just thinking about the last time he had entered her,
driving deep and hard. And afterward was almost as good, being held as if she
was wonderfully precious. She always felt so safe.... She forced herself to look away from him.
Life wasn't sex. Life was trust and honesty. And sex. She hadn't been away from Joe's bed since
they had come back from Arizona two years ago. It was natural that she would
become used to his body, used to sex with him. It wasn't as if she couldn't do
without it. It would be better once she got out of this damn car. Okay, block him out. She had to try to
decide what to do once she reached Galen's place. There were too many important
issues to resolve. What was best for Jane and her mother? Think about them instead
of Joe. Hell, what was best for her? An hour later Galen pointed to a huge
wrought-iron gate mounted on an equally huge iron fence. "Turn in there.
The house is beyond those cedar trees." He pressed a button on his
keychain and the gates swung open. "Thank God, we're here. This wasn't the
most relaxing trip I've ever taken. I could have cut the atmosphere with a
knife." "It's all your fault." Eve said
her own prayer of thanks that the journey was over as she leaned forward to get
a shadowy glimpse of the huge two-story yellow-beige stucco house. "For
God's sake, it's a mansion." "I made the owner an offer he
couldn't refuse," Galen said as they drove up the curving driveway to the
two carved twelve-foot doors. "I thought it appropriate." "I hope we're not going to be
involved with the Mafia," Eve said. "That's all I'd need at the
moment." "I was joking," Galen said.
"My job pays pretty well and I had Logan invest for me. I have a few shekels
to rub together." "Quite a few," Quinn said dryly.
"One wonders why you're still working." "When you grow up in the slums,
there's never enough money in the world to make you feel safe." Galen got
out of the car and opened the back door. "But I tried to stop about a year
ago and I couldn't take it. I was bored to death. As a matter of fact, that
statement was pretty close to the truth. I started taking chances. Hell, I even
took up mountain climbing. When I sprained my ankle on one of the kiddie
slopes, I decided I was a sad case, so I went back to work. I figured it was
healthier." He helped Eve out of the car. "You okay?" "Fine." "I'm not," Nathan said.
"I'm smelly and dirty and I think I have leech bites." "Really?" Galen's brows rose.
"Anywhere interesting? If you were attacked by leeches, then they're
probably still attached. Want help pulling them off?" Nathan glowered at him. "You'd like
that, wouldn't you?" "Don't be surly. You'll survive. I
doubt if you have leeches." "You're such an expert?" "Sure. Though I'm more knowledgeable
about crossing piranha-infested rivers." Nathan snorted. "You doubt me? You always cross the
river at night when the piranhas are dozing, and you stay away from docks where—" "I don't want to hear about piranhas.
Will you unlock that damn door?" "Just trying to educate you."
Galen turned, climbed the four steps, unlocked the front doors and flipped on
the hall lights. "No servants, Eve. I have someone from town come once a
week and make a little headway in the dust. Other than that, we're on our own.
All the bedrooms are on the second floor. I think there are ten or eleven.
Choose any that suits you." "The only thing I want is a
shower." Nathan went past him into the house. "Wrap yourself in a sheet when you
get out of the shower," Galen called after him. "I'll try to find
some clothes of mine that are big enough for your rather Olympian frame." "I'm just a few pounds
overweight," Nathan said through his teeth. "Grumpy, isn't he?" Galen said
as Nathan disappeared. "But I agree with him about the shower. However,
I'll make the supreme sacrifice and give you a glimpse of the room I think will
be perfect for you to work on Victor, Eve. Come on." He went into the
house. "Go on. I'll get the bags." Joe
had moved around the car to the trunk. "I'm not all that eager to see
Galen's pad. I've had enough of him for the time being." "Then you shouldn't have come." "You know why I came." He met
her eyes. "And it had nothing to do with Galen." He opened the trunk.
"Apart from the fact that I might get the opportunity to break his
neck." ------------------- "What about working in here?"
Galen threw open the door of a room on the bottom floor. "Lots of
light." "A kitchen?" She looked around
at the huge room with stone floors, an ancient Aga range, as well as a
fireplace big enough to walk into. "It used to be a scullery in the last
century. The man I bought the place from converted another room to a kitchen on
the level above. This was impossible to update, and he liked his comforts. So
do I." He gestured to a butcher-block table. "You could put your
equipment there. Okay?" She shivered. "It's a little
cold." "That's what the fireplace is for.
I'll keep it stoked for you. So should I bring your stuff down?" She hesitated, tempted, and then shook her
head. "I don't think so. I did some thinking on the way here." "Second thoughts?" "Yes." "And what did you decide?" Joe
asked from the top of the stairs. "That I'm being a damn idealistic
idiot to even consider going on with this reconstruction." "Good." Joe came down the steps.
"That's what I've been telling you." "If I work all my life, I can't get
through all the reconstructions for people who really need me. Bently may have
been a good man, but there are other good people in the world. People are being
killed all around me. How do I know it won't touch my family?" Her lips
thinned. "Yes, I'm sorry at the idea of not finishing Victor, but I'm not
going to be stupid." "Well, you seem to have made up your
mind," Galen said. "How do you want it handled?" "I don't trust Melton. He lied to
me." "The FBI?" Joe asked. "Maybe." "I know, you don't trust them,
either." "You used to work with them. Do you
know anyone who has the reputation of being incorruptible?" "Incorruptible isn't easy to find.
Let me think about it and make a few calls." "Since I'm not needed, I'm going to
see about that shower." Galen turned and started up the stairs. "If
you like, I could bring Victor down and you could have one more go at him
before you turn him over." "No!" He stopped in surprise. "It was just
a suggestion. I thought you might like—" "She's afraid," Joe said.
"She thinks if she starts to work on him again, she won't be able to give
him up." Dammit, Joe could always read her.
"I'm not stupid. I know what's important." But Victor was important,
too. He was lost, and she could find him. If she worked on him just a little
longer she might— "Don't set Victor up." Galen nodded. "Try to get some rest,
Eve. It's been a long night." "Are you giving me orders,
Galen?" He started back up the stairs.
"Perish the thought. I know I'm in your bad books. But I stand by my
decision to bring Quinn along." She hurried after him. The last thing she
wanted was to be left alone with Joe. "Axe you going to check on Bill
Nathan? He seems okay, but nothing has been as it seems since I left
Atlanta." He nodded. "Right after my
shower." He smiled slyly. "I wonder if he really does have any of
those cunning little leeches..." ------------------- "She's gone?" Melton's tone was
controlled, but Jules could detect the anger beneath the smoothness. "With
the skull?" "Yes. But don't worry, I'll find
her." "You should never have lost her,
Hebert. Your orders were to see that she finished the skull, and then get rid
of her. Where the hell were you tonight? Why weren't you watching her?" "I had to be in Boca Raton to check
on the progress. I thought it was safe. She didn't appear to suspect anything,
and I knew she wanted to finish the skull. It seemed a good time to—" He stopped in disgust. He was babbling, making excuses like
a fucking amateur to this asshole. "I made a mistake. I'll rectify
it." "You certainly will. If it's not too
late. What if she takes the skull to the police?" "I don't believe she'll do that yet,
but I'll have to move fast. My men saw Joe Quinn enter her house earlier
tonight. Either he or Galen must have convinced her to run. But she can't know
anything for certain. If she took the skull, it's probably because she wants to
finish it. We both know how intense she is about her work. That may give me a
little time. I'll need your help." "As long as I'm not
compromised." "She won't go home. If she suspects
something, then she'll be hiding out. I need you to tap your sources and find
out where Galen may have taken her. Fast." "It's a big country." Jules tried to hold onto his temper and
spaced each word with precision. "Can you do this?" "I permitted you to pursue this line
with Duncan when you blundered with Etienne, but we can't risk it anymore. It's
too dangerous for us. You get that skull and then dispose of her and everyone
around her quickly. I don't want even a ripple of publicity. Do you
understand?" "I understand. Can you find
her?" "I'll try." He hung up. And he'd try very hard, Jules thought.
Melton might try to lay the entire blame on Jules, but he was responsible for
Boca Raton and wanted this Bently problem wrapped up before he had to answer
awkward questions. So did Jules. He was having trouble
keeping all the balls in the air. Ever since that night when he had killed
Etienne, he had been forced to lie and cheat and make compromises. If he wasn't
careful, everything would come crashing down on him. No, he wouldn't permit it. He had given up
too much to be defeated now. He couldn't sit here and trust Melton to find Eve
Duncan. He would take matters into his own hands. Chapter Ten
Christ, she
wanted dinner to be over. The meal seemed to go on forever. Nathan's
surly attitude had not improved with his shower. Joe had been almost silent,
and Eve had been so aware of him sitting across the table that she had only
been able to respond stiltedly to Galen's questions and comments. Galen was the only one who seemed to be
unaffected by the atmosphere. He was charged, wired, a one-man show. He
alternated between running to the kitchen for a variety of delicious dishes,
telling stories, and occasionally jabbing verbally at Joe or Nathan. "You're all a great disappointment to
me." Galen leaned back in his chair after he had served coffee. "If I
weren't so socially adept, this meal would have been a disaster. Your
performance has been abysmal." "This isn't a circus, Galen,"
Joe said. "And you're not the ringmaster." "Very good comparison, Quinn.
Evidently you're not totally lacking in the conversational arts." "Galen," Eve said. "She obviously wants to smooth the
troubled waters around here." Galen turned to Joe. "Is she afraid for
me or you? What do you think?" "I think I've had a bellyful." "Crude. Very crude." Joe turned to Eve. "I did some
phoning before dinner. I called a few of my contacts with the FBI, and they all
agreed that Bart Jennings is probably our man. He's smart and dedicated, and
he's been with the Bureau for the last twenty years." "Do you know him personally?" Joe shook his head. "But I heard
about him when I was with the Bureau." "What's happening here?" Nathan
asked. "Eve's decided to turn over the
skull." "Without finishing it?" Eve nodded. "Thank God. Smart move. Though you'd
have done better to leave the skull and just run for it." "I'm not giving the skull to Jules
Hebert and his crew." She met his gaze. "I don't know how much of
your story is true and how much is speculative bullshit, but I don't want to
have to deal with it. I'm turning it over to the authorities." "You can't trust the
authorities," Nathan said. "You can't trust anyone." "You sound like a character in a bad
movie," Joe told him. "Eve, I talked to Jennings and he's promised to
keep the problem absolutely confidential. But he'd like to come and see you at
ten tomorrow morning." Eve frowned. "You told him where we
were?" "No, I wouldn't do that without
checking with you. I told him I'd call him back." She thought about it. "Tell him I'll
see him. Then maybe Victor will be off my hands when Jennings leaves
here." Galen smiled. "You'll be sorry to see
him go." That was an understatement. She was always
sorry when she failed to bring a subject home, and Victor had become close to
an obsession with her. But she mustn't think about that now. She had fought the
battle on the trip here. "Did you tell him that you got the
information about the Cabal from me, Quinn?" Nathan asked. "No, I thought you'd prefer I didn't.
Though he was pushing pretty hard. As you reporters term it, I quoted a
confidential source." "Good. Because you may be making a
big mistake." Nathan stood and threw down his napkin. "I'm not going
to be there when you meet Jennings. I've kept my neck intact so far by not
letting anyone know I'm involved. I intend to keep on doing that." Galen watched Nathan leave the room before
he turned back to Eve. "By the way, I did some checking on Bill Nathan.
He's a freelance columnist on the Times Picayune, and pretty well known
for advocating various environmental reforms." He took a fax out of his
pocket and tossed it to her. "The picture in the newspaper isn't great,
but it's definitely him." She glanced at the fax. Galen was right;
the photo was bad but recognizable. "Then maybe you should get off his
back." Galen looked at her in surprise.
"Why? It's so much fun." "I've had enough." Joe turned to
Eve. "I want to talk to you." She stiffened. "Yes, you two run along." Galen
stood and started stacking the dishes. "I have to get these in the
dishwasher. A housekeeper's job is never done—" "I don't need your permission,
Galen," Joe said. "It's that ringmaster syndrome I
have," Galen started carrying the dishes into the kitchen. "And I
believe you can use any help you can get." Joe watched the door swing closed behind
him. "He's pushing it. I wonder if he knows how close I am to—" He turned and moved toward the French doors that led to the
veranda. "Let's get out of here." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Don't say no to me, Eve. I'm too close to exploding, thanks to that son
of a bitch." "Galen's been very kind to me." "Yeah, he told me. Are you
coming?" The last thing she wanted was a
confrontation with Joe, but she wasn't going to be able to bear any more of
this tension. Get it over with. She stood up. "I'm coming." The autumn night was cold; the breeze from
the lake sent a shiver through her. "Even the weather's against me."
Joe took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The jacket was warm from his body and
smelled of his favorite cologne. "I don't want this." "And I don't want to give you an
excuse to run inside and away from me." He leaned against the stone
balustrade and looked out at the lake. "I like our lake better. This is
too ... pretty." She knew what he meant. This place had
none of the wildness and rough earthy beauty of the lake cottage terrain.
"It doesn't look like Galen's scene either, but he said—" "We're not talking about Galen,"
he cut in. "We're talking about us and our life together. Galen doesn't
belong in it." "Joe, this is too soon. I can't—" "Don't you think I know it's too
soon? I was going to give you time. It was killing me, but I would have done
it. Then everything blew up. You could get yourself killed. I can't not be
with you now." He drew a ragged breath. "And I can't stand you
flinching away from me. So we have to come to terms." "What kind of terms?" "You let me stay with you, protect
you, and I won't ask anything else. I won't bother you. I won't back you into a
corner. I won't remind you of how damn good we were together." He paused
and then said through gritted teeth, "I'll even stand by and let you sleep
with Galen if that's what you want." "What?" His gaze narrowed on her face.
"You're not sleeping with Galen?" "Are you nuts? After all these years
of knowing me, do you believe I could just jump into someone else's bed without
a second thought?" Joe slowly let his breath out. "I'm
definitely going to kill him." "He told you I was sleeping with
him?" "Not exactly." He changed the
subject. "Will you go along with me on this? After all this is over, I'll
step out of the picture and let you go back to pondering my sins. Since you've
called in Jennings, it shouldn't be that long. I just can't leave you
now." Eve didn't answer. "You listen to me." He grasped
her shoulders and shook her. "I deserve this. You may think I'm a bastard,
but after all the years and all we've gone through together, you can't close me
out. How would you feel if it were me? You care about me. You can't turn it off
and on just because you think I did something unforgivable." "It was terrible." And
standing here close to him being bombarded by his intensity and her own
feelings was terrible, too. "And you're tearing me apart, dammit." "Answer me. How would you feel if I
was the one who might get knifed in the gullet by some scum-ball?" A world without Joe? Pain. Agonizing loss.
Emptiness. "You see? Now give me what I want. Be
fair to me. Let me stay and help you." Eve was silent a moment before nodding
jerkily. "Okay. But it may only make everything worse." "I'm prepared for that." Joe's
lips twisted. "Though God knows how they could be any worse than they
are." His hands moved yearningly on her shoulders before he slowly
released her. "Do you know I haven't touched you in days? It
hurts...." He turned on his heel. "But I'm not supposed to talk about
that. It's against the damn rules." He disappeared inside the house. Jesus, she was going crazy. She could
still feel the weight of his hands on her shoulders although they were no
longer there. She was surrounded by his scent and the warmth of his jacket and
the sound of his voice, and his words lingered. What if it was me? It was the one question that would have
broken through any wall she could erect. She remembered how devastated she'd
been when Joe had been shot a few years ago; they had grown still closer since
then. Don't think about it. Try to run on automatic when you're around him. She
had given in because she had recognized she was being unfair, but to dwell on
Joe and their life together would be masochistic. She took off Joe's jacket. Cold and
loneliness immediately assaulted her. It was only a coat, dammit. She carried
it inside and laid it on a dining room chair. Let him get it later. She
couldn't face him again right now. He had said he would stay out of her way,
but just by being in the same house he disturbed her. She would go upstairs and
go to bed. She glanced longingly at the scullery door as she passed it. She was
too disturbed to sleep well tonight. If she had Victor to work on, it would
give her both distraction and release. She could go find the skull and... No, she mustn't fall into that temptation.
The decision had been made. Tomorrow that FBI man would be here and both the
threat and the emotional upheaval would be over. ------------------- "Thank you for agreeing to see
me." Bart Jennings smiled at Eve. "Logan explained that your attitude
toward government agencies isn't entirely cordial." He grimaced. "I
have a few problems with bureaucracies myself." "A man of judgment," Galen
murmured. "I think I like him, Eve." She knew what he meant. From the moment
Jennings had appeared at the front door a short time ago, she had been
impressed. Jennings was a man in his forties, with salt-and-pepper hair that
had an unruly cowlick. His manner was straightforward, his demeanor frank and
open. "Logan told you that we didn't want Senator Melton involved in this?" "I've no problem with that. The
senator has some pretty heavy connections in Washington, but I've seen power
figures come and go in my years with the Bureau. From now on, he's out of the
loop." "Really?" Joe's gaze narrowed on
Jennings's face. "You sound very definite about that." "Let's say, I don't trust him. He may
be a stooge, or he may be up to his neck. Either way, we need to be
careful." "You believe this grand conspiracy
theory?" "I can't dismiss it until I prove
it's not true." Jennings paused. "I've heard scraps of information
that suggest there's some substance to the story. Some of it's pretty hard to
believe, but it could be damn serious if even a tenth of the things we've been
told are true. You say this Etienne thought something big was happening in Boca
Raton?" Eve nodded. "At first, he thought it
might be a meeting of the Cabal, but there was no event taking place that would
give the members an excuse to come. It had to be something else." "I need the name of your
informant." Joe shook his head. "I told you, I
promised to keep it confidential." "You're making my job harder."
Jennings turned to Eve. "Which leads me to you. When do you expect to
complete the reconstruction?" "Three, maybe four more days would
finish it." She stiffened. "But I'm not going to finish it. That's
why you're here. You're going to take him off my hands. I want out." He nodded sympathetically. "I
understand perfectly. I'd feel the same way. And if I were you I'd want to
throw the request I'm going to make back in my face. But I've got to make it
anyway: Give us those four days. Finish the reconstruction." "The hell she will," Joe said. "No way," Eve said. "Just listen. Hebert and Melton are
obviously desperate to have that skull finished, and they must have a reason.
Why?" "Bently?" "But why do they need to know he's
dead? And what connection does it have to whatever is going to happen in Boca
Raton?" He paused. "We need to know, too. We were involved in the
investigation of Bently's disappearance, and we uncovered a few intriguing
little morsels of information. Bently had some hush-hush dealings with a bank
in Grand Cayman right before he disappeared." "Money laundering?" Galen asked. Jennings shrugged. "Why? Bently's
personal fortune was enormous. His grandfather was in oil—that was one of the reasons Bently became an environmentalist.
Payback. But huge transfers were going on in that bank in Grand Cayman. It was
a joint account with a Thomas Simmons, who was allowed to withdraw any amount
he chose. Then the account was closed, and the money disappeared." "Who was Thomas Simmons?" "We questioned Bently's wife and
business associates and came up with a blank. No one knew anything about
Simmons." He paused. "But another lead surfaced that guided us down a
possible path. We ran a nationwide computer search on think tanks and
university personnel, and came up with a Professor Thomas Randall Simmons at
Cal Tech. He took a sabbatical about the time Bently disappeared. We couldn't
find any other link until we checked with Grand Cayman and got a sample of his
handwriting. It was a match." "A con game?" Joe suggested.
"Maybe you should look a little harder for the elusive Mr. Simmons. It
could be that Bently found out he was being taken, and Simmons decided to get
rid of him." "We have been looking for him,
dammit," Jennings said. "We came up with zilch. But Bently was very
intelligent. It would have taken someone pretty sharp to put anything over on
him." "Then we go back to whether Bently
was a crook himself. Some people never have enough money." Jennings shook his head. "We don't
think so. Bently was an idealist and squeaky clean, but there were signs he
might have been channeling his money into a secret project." "What project?" "Something he believed in enough to
stake his personal fortune on it. That was the lead that sent us scurrying to
every think tank in the country to find Simmons. He was up to his eyebrows in
some very interesting research." He paused. "What do you know about
fuel cells?" "Not much. It's supposed to be one of
the alternatives to using oil and gas to fuel cars. Some of the auto companies
have experimented extensively with the cells, but it's never gotten off the
ground. Too expensive." "Their energy potential goes far
beyond the automotive field. Everything from power plants, to homes, to space
stations could be operated by fuel cells. At a fraction of the present cost and
no environmental side effects. There's hardly a person on the planet that
wouldn't benefit if fuel cells became a viable alternative. Scientists are very
close to making it a reality. Yet most people have never heard of the
technology. Don't you find that curious?" "What does this have to do with—" Eve stopped. "You think Bently was funding research to
develop a workable fuel cell." Jennings nodded. "Simmons was deep in
research on the cells. And we've been able to follow the money trail to a
source in Detroit. Bently was being sold several key components for the
development of fuel cells. He wasn't a fool. He wouldn't invest that kind of
money unless he was pretty sure he was onto something." "Why keep it secret?" Eve asked.
"If this fuel cell is going to be so beneficial, why not go to the
government and persuade them to sink a billion or two into the research?" "Maybe he wanted a finished product,
or maybe he didn't trust Congress to pass a bill that wouldn't antagonize every
energy lobby in the country," Joe said. "Or maybe there really is a
Cabal," Galen said slowly. "Maybe he knew about it and was afraid
that they'd put all their power behind an effort to stop him." Jennings nodded. "Well, he was
stopped cold. Now we need to know what happened, and why it matters to Hebert
and Melton." She gazed at him in frustration. "And
I'm supposed to stay involved in this godawful mess?" "Please. Four days." Jennings's
expression was sober. "I'm not going to give you any bullshit about duty.
Everyone has to make their own decision about that. But there's a good chance
Bently was killed because he was trying to do something good for all of us. I
will tell you that you could make a difference. It's important." "It's important for me and the people
I care about to stay safe." "We'll give you security." He
paused. "Only four days." "You don't have to do this,
Eve," Joe said. "I know that." She went over to
the window and stared out at the garden. "How safe are we here,
Galen?" "Pretty safe. I made damn sure we
weren't tailed. And, as I said, it will take time to locate us. And neither
Quinn nor I is a slouch at this kind of business." She turned to Joe. "Are my mother and
Jane safe?" "Of course. I called the department
and saw to it last night. There will be squad cars cruising by the condo
several times a day, and I've asked a detail of several plainclothesmen to keep
them under constant surveillance. And I called your mother and told her about
the surveillance and not to let Jane go anywhere alone." His gaze narrowed
on her face. "That being said, I don't like where this is going." Neither did Eve. It was difficult enough
to fight her desire to finish Victor without Jennings giving her the excuse she
needed. She was torn between desperately wanting to be free and clear of all
the ugliness connected with this reconstruction and bringing Victor home. She
didn't want to be influenced by Jennings. She should tell him to go to hell. But wouldn't it still be hanging over her?
As long as Victor remained unfinished, she would be nagged by both her own
desire to finish it and the knowledge that Jennings or some other official
might appear and try to pressure her into doing it. There was only one way to
put an end to it. She whirled to face Jennings. "Oh,
for God's sake, okay. I'll do it. But I want it out of my hands the minute it's
done. I want it over." "Agreed." Jennings smiled.
"Whew. That's a relief." His tone became businesslike. "Is there
anything you need? Anything we can do?" "Just keep my child and my mother
safe. And try to be unobtrusive. I don't want them scared." "No problem." "There had better not be." "And I'll send agents up here from
New Orleans to protect you and—" "No," Galen interrupted. "I
allowed Quinn to tell you about my little home-away-from-home because you said
it would be absolutely confidential. No one else is to know about it. Quinn and
I will handle the security here." Jennings looked at Eve. "You trust
them?" She nodded. "Well, if you change your mind, let
me know." Jennings turned to go. "I'll be in touch. Thank you, Ms.
Duncan." "Don't thank me. Just be on my
doorstep the second I've finished him." He smiled. "Let me know and I'll be
here." She whirled on Joe the minute the door had
closed behind Jennings. "No arguments?" He shook his head. "I don't like it,
but I know better than to argue with you once you've made up your mind. I'll
have to call the department and tell them that there will be some FBI agents
showing up on the scene. They're not going to be happy." "Shall I set up Victor and your
equipment in the scullery?" Galen asked. "Yes. Right away. If I have to go
back to this blasted reconstruction I'm going to get it done as quickly as I
can." "Yeah, sure," Joe said.
"Admit it, you've gotten a reprieve. You can't wait to get your hands on
Victor again." He was right. She could feel a tingling in
her hands and the familiar eagerness flowing through her. "That doesn't
mean I won't get him done quickly." "I don't doubt it. You'll be working
every minute of every day. But then, what's new?" "It's different this time." "It's different every time." He
smiled. "Go ahead. Get to work. I'll keep the world away." "I don't want you to—" He was gone. Chapter Eleven
"Where's
Eve?" Joe asked Galen when he came downstairs at ten the next morning. "You missed breakfast," Galen
said. "Actually, your absence made the atmosphere a good deal
lighter." "I've been on the phone with the
department. Besides, I couldn't take another dog and pony show like the one you
put on two nights ago." He repeated, "Where's Eve?" "Downstairs, working." Galen
glanced at the portfolio Joe was carrying. "The sketch?" "Yes. The FBI is going to go through
its files and try to send me a photo of Hebert for comparison, but it hasn't
come in yet. This will have to do for now." Joe was already going down the
stairs to the former scullery. "I'll go with you." Joe didn't answer. He paused at the bottom
of the steps. Eve was working on Victor by the window, the sun shining on her
red-brown hair and lighting the absorbed intentness of her expression. How many
times had he seen her like that at the cottage.... She glanced up and stiffened. Dammit. He jerked his gaze away from her and
continued down the stairs. "I need your help, Eve." "Is this what you call staying in the
background, Joe?" Eve asked. "I spared you my presence at
breakfast. I'll be out of here as soon as I get a confirmation on this. I've
been checking with the department on a possible criminal record for
Hebert." He moved across the room and slipped the sketch out of the
portfolio. "Have you ever seen this man?" She took the sketch and looked at it. She
frowned. "There's something familiar ... This is Hebert? Galen, come
here." "What's the—" Galen broke off and gave a low whistle. "Rick." Eve inhaled sharply. "What?" "Imagine him with light hair."
Galen pointed at the lean cheeks. "Fuller cheeks. Nice, clean-cut
look." "The man helping you at the
church?" Joe asked. My God, Galen was right. Eve nodded.
"Rick Vadim. Except his hair wasn't dark. It was light brown, and his
cheeks were fuller and sort of... rosy." "Small?" "Yes, but he looked very athletic, so
you hardly noticed." "Disguises are stock-in-trade for men
in Hebert's line of business." Galen studied the sketch. "And this
one would have only required dye for the hair, a little rouge, and some cheek
pads." "He seemed almost boyish," Eve
said. "And he was very sweet and eager to please." "Sweet!" Joe whirled on Galen
and said sarcastically, "Sharp. Very sharp, Galen." Galen frowned. "My instincts are
usually pretty good. I'd swear he didn't want to hurt her." Joe frowned. "But why would he think
he had to have a disguise? You're sure you never saw him?" "No, I don't believe I—" Eve stopped. "The man who took me to the hospital. I
didn't really see him. It was dim and I was in and out, but the more I think
about it, the more it seems like him." Her lips tightened. "This is
the man who killed Capel and sent me that report?" Joe nodded. "It's the composite
sketch." "Bastard." She rubbed her
temple. "What the hell is happening? If he didn't hire Marie to poison me,
who did?" "Good question," Galen murmured.
"It seems Hebert wanted very much to keep you alive." "Which doesn't mean a damn
thing," Joe said. "Don't think he's your Good Samaritan. Believe me,
he's a sadistic son of a bitch. You should have seen what he did to
Capel." "No, thank you," Eve said.
"I'm sure he had his reason for keeping me alive: Victor." "I'd better notify Jennings we may
have a wild card in the pack. And, if Hebert's in disguise, he'd better know
about that, too. Though he'll probably jettison his Rick Vadim persona since
he'll know we're suspicious." "Jesus, I can't take this," Eve
said in frustration. "How the hell do you expect me to finish Victor? I
don't want to have to try to figure out whether it was Hebert or one of his
cohorts who poisoned me. I don't want to think about Hebert or Rick or Melton
or anyone else. Do you understand? Do whatever you have to do." She turned
back to the pedestal. "Now, both of you get out of here and let me get
back to work." Joe hesitated, then headed for the stairs. Galen caught up with him as he reached the
foyer. "When you get the photo from the FBI, will you make some copies? I
have a few contacts who might be helpful." Joe nodded. "You'll have them within
two hours. It might be a good idea. I'm sure your 'contacts' have a chance of
knowing the bastard intimately." "I know it's hard for you to believe,
but I do know a few people who aren't criminals," Galen said. "Look
at you and me. We're best buddies, and you've never even pulled a heist." "You're not going to yank my chain,
Galen." "Hmm." Galen gazed at him
speculatively. "That should have irritated you, but you're pretty calm.
I'm afraid Eve's told you that we didn't make beautiful music together. Pity, I
was having such a great time." "You came very close to being
slaughtered." Galen grinned. "Served you right for
mistaking Galahad for old lecherous Lancelot." "Galahad?" "I have references. Of course, some
of them are forged." Galen's smile faded. "I guess it's just as well the
fun is over. We're going to need to work together to make sure Eve gets through
this intact. Pax?" Joe stared at him for a moment and then
reluctantly repeated, "Pax." "Good. Then get me the photos and
I'll get on the fax machine and get to work. Even though I've buried the
paperwork on this place, it won't take more than five or six days to unearth it
if the search is done by someone with means. Evidently Melton qualifies. But
since Eve's so close to finishing, I doubt if he'll be willing to wait that
long. He'll look for another way to find us." "And I suppose you have an idea what
that will be?" "No, but I'm working on it."
Galen glanced at the sketch. "He knows a lot about you, and he'll be
digging out everything he can about me. So we start on that basis." His
gaze shifted to the door leading down to the scullery. "And the fact that
Eve won't budge again until Victor is finished. Is she always this
single-minded?" "Usually more. She's been distracted
on this one. But she won't allow that to continue for long." "Tough to live with. Is it worth
it?" "It's worth it." Joe added
deliberately, "When troublemaking assholes don't get in the way. I'm
having enough problems without you causing more." Galen chuckled. "I'll try to restrain
myself. Most of the pleasure has gone out of it, anyway." His smile faded.
"The only weak link I can see is Jane and her grandmother, and you seem to
have taken precautions there. Are you sure it will be enough?" "Atlanta police are very good, and
they'll be extra careful since Jane's mine. They're going to call me if there's
anything the slightest suspicious." "Good, then I reckon you've done
pretty well so far. But today is another day." He started up the stairs to
the second floor. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to get to
work." A final jab, Joe thought, as he watched
Galen disappear down the second-floor hall. At least, he hoped it was final.
There was no time for personal duels now. Logan had tremendous respect for
Galen, but Joe would judge for himself. Galen was tottering perilously on the
line between the straight and narrow and the criminal underbelly, and Joe
wasn't comfortable with that. Not when he was around Eve. Yet Galen seemed to
know what he was doing. He'd gotten them out of Baton Rouge and provided Eve
with this safe house. And now it was Quinn's job to keep Eve
safe, and he wouldn't do it by standing here worrying about Sean Galen. He
strode toward the library to call Jennings at the FBI and light a fire under
him. FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C. "Interesting." Assistant Special
Agent in Charge Robert Rusk leaned back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully at
Jennings. "You think the Cabal actually exists?" Jennings shrugged. "Considering the
other information that's been trickling in, I'd say there's a chance. I think
we need to dig, and dig deep." Rusk nodded. "My ass would be on the
line if we didn't check everything out thoroughly. Take the next flight to Boca
Raton." "I don't have lead one." "Then look the town over and see what
you can come up with. It can't hurt. Sometimes things jump out at you." Jennings nodded. "I have to fly to
Atlanta first and set up protection for Duncan's daughter." "Right, I'll send McMillan to head
that team. Get in and get out. Boca Raton may be more important." Jennings grimaced. "Eve Duncan
doesn't think so." Neither did he. Boca Raton probably was going to be a
blind alley. "I might be of more use in Atlanta. I'll be blundering in the
dark in Boca Raton." "You're a fine agent, Jennings,"
Rusk said. "And you have damn good instincts. I've seen you pull some
amazing rabbits out of the proverbial hat. I want you in Boca." It was no use arguing with Rusk. He was
not only the boss; he was usually on target. Though God knows this might be the
exception. Jennings turned and headed for the door. "Whatever you
say." ------------------- Atlanta It might have to be the little girl after
all, Jules thought sadly. He watched Jane MacGuire running down the
path through Piedmont Park after her puppy. Her grandmother, Sandra Duncan, was
helplessly laughing as she ran after them. The death of the mother might bring Eve
Duncan out of hiding, but a threat to a child always had more impact.
Particularly in Eve Duncan's case. His phone rang. "We've located one of Galen's
contacts in New Orleans," Melton said when he picked up. "There's a
possibility Galen may have a house near there." "How near?" "He doesn't know. He says Galen's a
secretive bastard. He thinks within a two-hour drive. I'm working on it. He
gave me a solid lead where to start checking paperwork." "Then put more people on it. Send
teams to every city courthouse within that two-hour radius. I have to know—" A squad car cruised slowly by. He hung up and ducked deeper in the
shadows of the oak tree where he was standing. It was the third time in the
last half hour, and it couldn't be a coincidence. He had also spotted that
gray-haired jogger in the green sweatshirt outside the child's school. Quinn
had called out his old friends at the police department to watch the little
girl. It would make Hebert's task more difficult. But not impossible. ------------------- New Orleans "May I come in?" Bill Nathan
stood hesitantly at the bottom of the scullery steps. Eve didn't look up. "No, I'm
busy." "I'll only be a minute." Eve breathed an exasperated sigh.
"What is it?" "I've decided I should help
you." "What?" "Well, I'm here, but Galen and Quinn
don't think I'm qualified to help them. The most I've been able to get them to
let me do is go to the supermarket and buy groceries." He grimaced.
"So I thought I'd stay down here and protect you." "Protect me? I don't need you." "You never can tell." Nathan
scowled. "I wouldn't get in your way." "You'd talk to me." "I can be quiet." He paused and
then said grudgingly, "Please." "Why?" Eve carefully smoothed
clay over Victor's mid-therum area. "You obviously disapprove of my doing
the reconstruction." "I don't disapprove. I just think
you're taking a big chance. I went to a lot of trouble to try to save you, and
I don't want my efforts wasted." His gaze went to Victor. "But I want
to know if this is Bently as much as you do." "Your news story." "I'm not apologizing for that. It's
my job." "Did Joe tell you about Jennings's
fuel-cell theory?" "Yeah. It makes sense." He
paused. "There's another reason I kept pushing for Bently's case to remain
open months after his disappearance. He was fighting for something I believed
in, and it made me mad as hell that the special interest groups had him taken
out. Do you know there's a dead spot in the Gulf of Mexico fifty miles wide,
where the Mississippi empties into it? The fertilizer in the river sucks up the
oxygen and nothing can live. And do you remember the oil spill in the gulf ten
years ago? I covered it for the paper. It made me sick. All the birds and fish
that died, smothered by the oil slick. When I was a boy, I used to go fishing
in the gulf with my grandfather..." He shook his head. "I thought it
was a memory that couldn't be spoiled no matter how long I lived. I was
wrong." He grimaced. "I want my kids to grow up with clean air and
clean water and some of the beauty that I knew. Bently wanted that, too, and
was fighting for it. It's not right he ended up like this." Eve stared at him in surprise. It seemed
beneath that surly facade Nathan had a soft side. It was clear he meant every
word he said. "What are you looking at?" he
asked gruffly. "Is it so weird that I don't want the earth to get any
crummier than it is now?" "No, it's not weird," she said
gently. "I live on one of the most beautiful lakes you could ever hope to
see. I wouldn't want anything to spoil it, either." "Okay, then, we're kindred
spirits." Nathan plopped down in the easy chair by the fire. "So is
it all right if I stay and kind of watch out for you? I'm getting bored as hell
waiting around for something to happen. I want to do something." "I don't need—" Oh, what the hell. His intentions were good, and he was
obviously at loose ends. "If you don't bother me." "I won't." He took out a
paperback from his back pocket. "You work, I read." He opened the
book. "Forget I'm here." "Don't worry, I will."
Concentrate. Forget about Nathan and Jules and Joe and everything else troubling. Think only about Victor and the task of
bringing him home. ------------------- "I brought you coffee and a
sandwich." Galen set the tray on the worktable. He glanced at Nathan,
sound asleep in the big chair by the fire. "If I'd known you had company,
I'd have brought more food." "He's protecting me." Eve
grinned as she glanced at Nathan. "He was very insistent, but he got bored
after about four hours and dropped off. He meant well." "Hmm." Galen poured Eve's coffee
before turning away from Nathan. "How are you coming on Victor?" "I'd be better if I didn't keep being
interrupted." "Ouch. Well, you won't have to worry
about me for much longer. I'll be out of your hair. I'm going to snoop around
and see what I can find out about our friend Jules." "Where are you going?" "New Orleans, first." "How long will you be gone?" "Not long, I hope. I'll be in
touch." "So much for my poison taster." "I'm designating Quinn as my
temporary replacement." He held up his hand as he saw her stiffen. "I
knew that would be your reaction. That's why I decided to come and talk to you
before I left. It's important that I go, and I wouldn't have the option if
Quinn weren't here. You're evidently resigned to his presence, but that's not
enough." He paused. "He knows what he's doing, Eve. You have to
cooperate. You have to listen to him." "Do I?" "You're not thinking straight. Do you
believe there's a threat to your life?" "I'd be stupid not to consider the
possibility." "Do you believe Joe Quinn is
competent?" "Of course." "Then, dammit, stop being stubborn
and let him help you. He's not going to take advantage of the situation. I'll
feel better about being away if you'll promise me you'll cooperate with
him." She didn't want Galen to go away. He had
been a buffer between Joe and her. Now he was tearing down the barrier and
leaving her exposed. Okay, be adult. It was a life-and-death
situation, and she couldn't expect to have everything her own way. She was the
one who had chosen to take Victor from the church. Face the consequences.
"I'll cooperate." "Good. I'll be back as soon as I can.
You should be okay with Quinn protecting you." He glanced at Nathan.
"Though I doubt if Nathan is going to be of any use." He started for
the stairs. "I have to see Quinn before I go. I'll be back as soon as I
can." "Where are you going?" Nathan's
eyes were suddenly open, and he was sitting upright in the chair. "Ah, good to see you with us again. I
was afraid I'd have to get a frog to kiss you to wake you up. Or is that the
right fairy tale?" "Where the hell are you going?" "To track down Hebert. But I feel
very confident that Eve will be safe with you as long as you take your
No-Doz." "Smartass." Nathan glowered at
Galen. "At least, I don't willingly jump into bayous with alligators
and..." He was talking to air. Galen had already
disappeared up the stairs. Nathan muttered an oath, and his glance
shifted to Eve. "Quinn's staying?" "Yes." She turned back to the
reconstruction. With all these interruptions, it would be incredible if she
ever finished Victor. "Now I have to get back to work." "Sorry." He didn't speak for a
moment, and then he grumbled, "I wasn't really sleeping. I was just
resting my eyes..." ------------------- "Anything from the FBI?" Galen
stood in the doorway of the library. "I have your photos. The sketch and
the photo were two peas in a pod." Joe nodded at the four faxes on the
desk. "Hebert must be very smart. He's been picked up on suspicion of
murder once, but he's never gone to trial. Lack of evidence." "Or pull in very high places." "I'm not going to believe that until
I get proof." "That's the problem with being a cop.
I have the advantage of being able to make guesses out of the blue." Galen
folded one of the faxes and put it in his jacket pocket. "But this could
come in handy. I'm heading into New Orleans and I have to take the car. I'll
stop and have another car dropped off for you. Any preference? Another
Lexus?" "Why are you going to New
Orleans?" Galen didn't answer for a moment. "To
catch a plane to Atlanta. I'm not really needed here, and I thought I might as
well join the legion you have looking out for your Jane and her
grandmother." Joe stiffened. "You think something's
going to happen in Atlanta?" "I don't know. It shouldn't. You have
enough protection for them." He shrugged. "My problem is that I never
trust anyone but myself. Since you're here, I thought I might as well go scout
out the area." He paused. "Unless you object?" Joe thought about it and then slowly shook
his head. "Not if you call me every day and keep me informed. I think
you're wrong. Eve will be the target. But I'd never turn down any help to
protect Jane, even yours." "I'm touched by your confidence. I'll
call you." Galen turned and headed for the front door. Joe followed him and watched as Galen walked
toward the Lexus. "Did you tell Eve?" "Not that I was going to Atlanta. I
didn't want her to worry when I didn't really have any solid reason to question
your security arrangements." He opened the car door. "The car being
delivered here isn't a rental car. I have a few contacts in New Orleans who
managed to find a car to borrow." "Borrow?" Galen grinned. "It's not hot. I'll
drive over to Mobile and drop this car off there. It may lay a false trail for
Hebert if he manages to trace it." He started the car. "Nathan seems
to be determined to keep Eve safe. He could prove helpful to you on a limited
basis, but don't trust him too far. He wouldn't measure up to Hebert." "I can make my own judgments,
dammit." Galen studied him. "You're uneasy
about me leaving. I'd be flattered, but I know it's only because you're afraid
Eve will prove difficult. You'll be relieved to know I got her to promise to
cooperate with you." He smiled slyly. "That struck a sour note,
didn't it? You don't like having anyone act as an intermediary between you and
Eve. Well, you won't have to worry for a little while. You're on your own,
Quinn." He lifted his hand in farewell as he pressed the accelerator. Joe watched the Lexus rolling down the
long driveway. He was glad to see Galen go and to know that he was now in sole
control of the situation. And he couldn't deny he felt a little relieved that
Galen would be one of the team looking out for Jane. A heavyweight like him on
the job almost guaranteed her safety. Now he had his own job to do. He
straightened his shoulders as he turned back to the house and went inside. ------------------- "You've turned Victor around on the
pedestal," Nathan said. "Why?" "I'm getting to the final stage and I
don't want you to see me working on him." "Why not?" "You know Bently. Your expression
might tell me something. If I see your approval or disapproval as I do the
final sculpting, it might influence me. I might zig when I should zag and spoil
the reconstruction." "You're very careful." "I have to be. Victor deserves it.
They all deserve it." "Bently deserves it. I'm not sure
about the other skulls you work on. Some of them probably deserve to be tossed
in the ground and forgotten about." "But I don't know that." "What would you do if this skull
belonged to the man who killed your daughter?" Eve stopped in mid-stroke. "I'd
finish it." She finished the stroke. "And then when I was sure, I'd
stomp on it, crush it, and then incinerate it. I might even hire a voodoo
priest to put a curse on it." She glanced at Nathan. "Is that what
you wanted to know?" "Yes." Nathan smiled. "I
didn't want to be insensitive, but I feel much better now. You were a little
too noble for me." "Noble? Nonsense. I didn't have much
of a home life as a kid, and I guess home became something of an obsession to
me. I believe everyone should have their own home, their own place, even in
death. Maybe even more in death, if their life was tortured and troubled. If I
bring them home, it validates their life, it shows the world they weren't disposable,
that they had value." She glanced at Nathan. "Does that make sense to
you?" He nodded slowly. "Knowledge of your
own value is important. We all have to realize what's important to us." "What's important to you?" "My kids, my job." "How old are your children?" "Henry, twelve, and Carolyn, seven.
Great kids." He made a face. "I wish I were as great a father. I
haven't seen them for over four months." "Why not?" "I'm divorced and she has custody. It
was the fair thing to do. I'm freelance and I specialize in environmental
stories, so I travel all over the state. I couldn't make a stable home for
them. My ex-wife lets me see them when I can. She's a nice woman. She put up
with my job for longer than she should have before she bailed." He made a
face. "In a way, I'm like you. I'm kind of obsessive about my work. I wish
I could have put her and the kids first. You know, journalists get a bad rap.
But often we're the guards who keep the public safe from the bad guys." "My experience hasn't been too
positive, but I've known a few reporters I respect." Eve had a sudden
thought. "And what I've just said is strictly off the record. I don't like
hearing myself quoted by the press." "You won't. You have my
promise." She believed him. "Thank you." "Thank you for letting me come down
and keep you company." He grimaced. "It's pretty obvious that all of
you are pretty skeptical where the Cabal is concerned." "Jennings seems to put some stock in
it." "But you don't." "I think there's a possibility." "It's more than a possibility; it
exists. Etienne was telling me the truth. I know it in my gut. These days,
every time I hear about another Bosnia or Sarajevo, I wonder if the Cabal
decided it was politically to their advantage to use a war to move their agenda
forward." "Now that I have trouble believing.
Starting wars is on a different scale from manipulating economic
policies." "Wars are economic tools. Look beyond
the rhetoric and idealism, and you find the money pot. War scares me. The Cabal
scares me." His lips tightened grimly. "And not knowing what's going
to happen in Boca Raton scares me most of all. It must be something pretty
nasty to shake Etienne enough to make him bring me into this." He believed what he was saying, and he was
making her believe it, too. And belief brought her the same uneasiness Nathan
must be feeling. Jesus, she didn't need this disturbance. She instinctively
pushed it away, her gaze fixed on the skull before her. "Maybe Etienne was
telling the truth. Maybe the Cabal is everything he says it is. But dealing
with them is the FBI's job. Mine is to reconstruct Victor. I know Hebert is out
there killing people and that Melton is probably in it up to his neck. That's
as much as I need to know right now." "It must be comforting to be so
focused." Nathan stood and arched his back. "God, I'm stiff. I must
be getting old. Oh, well, it's time I took a look around the grounds and
stretched my legs, anyway." He headed for the stairs. "I'll be back
in thirty minutes with coffee." A moment later the door at the top of the
stairs slammed behind him. He was a strange and complicated man, she
thought as she turned back to Victor. At first, she had been torn between
exasperation and amusement at his interchanges with Galen, but since he had
parked himself in her workroom, she had begun to like and respect him. He was
smart and perceptive, and his rueful honesty was appealing. "Nathan asked me to come down and
stay with you." It was Joe at the top of the stairs. "No, he didn't
ask, he ordered me to come. He didn't want you to be left alone." Eve tensed and then forced herself to
relax. "He's being overprotective. He seems to think I'm helpless. But I
can take care of myself." "I know. I taught you." Yes, he had. He'd taught her self-defense
in those first years after Bonnie had been killed. She had felt helpless and
angry, and he had empowered her. She looked away from him at Victor. "Then
you shouldn't have paid any attention to Nathan." "Give me a break. I'm overprotective,
too. You know that." He paused. "If you don't want me to come down
there, I'll just stay here." She didn't want him to stand there at the
top of the steps. She didn't want him anywhere near her. She was acutely
conscious of him whenever he was in the same room. All the comfort of their
relationship had vanished. Well, she'd have to get used to it. She had promised
Galen to cooperate because it had made sense. She wasn't a child who hid her
head under the bedclothes. "You might as well come on
down." She kept her gaze fixed on Victor. "You'll be less distracting
sitting by the fire than hovering up there like a gargoyle." "Heaven forbid," he said as he
came down the steps. "After that comparison, I guarantee I won't
hover." He settled down in the chair. "I know the routine." Yes, he had sat on the couch in the lake
cottage for hundreds of hours, reading, doing paperwork, helping Jane with her
homework while she worked on her reconstructions. He had rubbed her neck and
shoulders when she was tired and stiff. He had forced her outside for walks
when she had become so obsessed she wouldn't leave the cottage. "Those times weren't so bad, were
they?" Joe asked softly. Dammit, he knew the memories that last
sentence had brought to mind. She didn't answer, and continued to work
on Victor. How the devil could she close him out when he was only ten feet away
and she was aware of every breath he took? He wouldn't be here long. Nathan
would soon be coming in that door with coffee, and Joe would leave. Just keep working. ------------------- "Good to see you, Mr. Galen."
The red-haired young man was at the gate when Galen's flight arrived from New
Orleans. He shook Galen's hand. "David Hughes. Welcome to Atlanta. I've
heard a lot about you. Bob Parks gave me a picture of you and asked me to meet
you and extend all courtesies. Do you have any more luggage?" Galen shook his head. "I'm traveling
light. Have you put the kid under surveillance?" "As soon as you called last
night." Hughes walked down the corridor with him. "The police squad
cars Quinn arranged for surveillance are on the job, and he has at least two
plainclothes officers hovering over her. The cops and the FBI guys you called
us about seem to be working together. My guys have had a few problems avoiding
them." "They're not there to check out the
squad cars. Have you seen any sign of Jules Hebert?" "Not yet. I made copies of the photo
you sent us and distributed them. Maybe he's not here." "And maybe he is. It's where I'd be
if I wanted to flush out someone. You always try to hit them where they hurt
the most. What's the kid's routine?" "Her grandmother takes her to school
every day and picks her up. The kid takes the dog for a walk in the morning,
and they all go for a run in the park after school. The kid doesn't leave the
condo after she gets back." He checked his wristwatch. "They should
be in the park in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to go there?" "Yes." He wanted to see the
child and her grandmother and make sure he'd be able to recognize them.
"Let's go." "I'm surprised Quinn isn't with
you." "He has another priority."
Massive understatement. Eve was clearly an obsession with Quinn. "And he
thinks the kid is safe. He trusts his police buddies." "But he knows you're here?" Galen nodded. "He thinks I'm wasting
my time." Maybe Quinn was right. Everything seemed to be fine on the
surface, but he was uneasy and he'd always trusted his instincts. "Let's
hurry, okay?" Chapter Twelve
He was leaving, thank
god. Eve watched Joe walk up the staircase. She
had always loved the way he moved. There was a sort of sensual grace, an
alertness so different from the stillness of Joe at rest. Yet even that
stillness was never passive. She could always sense the intelligence, the
emotions that were going on behind that almost expressionless face. "I didn't bring cream," Nathan
said from across the room. "You take your coffee black, don't you?" "What?" She quickly picked up
the cup Nathan had put on the worktable beside her. "Yes, I take it
black." She heard the door at the head of the
stairs close behind Joe. "I thought I remembered right." "It will be fine." Everything
was fine. Joe was gone now. She could work. She pulled her gaze back to Victor.
Concentrate, dammit. ------------------- "Go to bed," Eve ordered Nathan.
"It's almost midnight, and you've been sitting there all day." "When you go to bed, I'll go to bed.
I haven't disturbed you, have I?" "No, you've been very quiet."
Eve took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "But it's nonsense for you
to hover over me. I'm beginning to feel guilty every time I look over there at
you." Nathan smiled faintly. "You've been
so absorbed, you haven't even known I was here for the last six hours. How's it
going?" "Okay." Eve's glance shifted
back to Victor. "He's coming along." "You're excited. Will you finish
tonight?" "I'd like to, but I'm too tired. I
should stop." Her fingers longingly touched the cheek of the
reconstruction. "But I'm so close, dammit." "May I look at it now?" "No, you couldn't recognize anything
yet. It's the final stage that tells the tale." She wiped her hands on a
towel. "But by the end of tomorrow, he'll be done." "Good." Nathan's gaze was fixed
on the back of the skull. "Why are those last hours so important?" "It's the time when instinct takes
over. Sometimes I feel as if the subject is guiding me, telling me." She
made a face. "Weird, huh?" Nathan shrugged. "I've heard crazier
things. The whole process is a mystery to me. I don't understand how you do
it." Eve smiled. "First, you have to want
to do it with your whole being. After that, it's a piece of cake." "Yes, sure. That's why you work your
ass off. Because it's so easy." "No career is easy if you want to be
the best. You're pretty driven yourself, or you wouldn't be going after that
Pulitzer." "It's the peak of a journalist's
career. I've never wanted to be anything else but a reporter. Maybe someday
I'll write a book or two. I'm a simple soul." "Yeah, sure." "You're the one who chose a career
that's considered macabre at best." "Everyone believed I should have had
enough of death after Bonnie died. But you go where you're led." She cast
a final glance at Victor before turning away. "And I'm being led to bed so
that I can get up early tomorrow." "What time?" Nathan got to his
feet. "I want to be here for the great unveiling." "Whenever I wake up. But he'll still
take several more hours' work." "I'll be down at six." Nathan
moved toward the staircase. He paused at the top of the stairs to gaze back at
Victor. "Are you sure I wouldn't recognize him now?" "I'm sure." Eve followed him up
the stairs. "Now forget about him and get some sleep." "Have you heard from Galen?" Eve shook her head. "But it's only
been two days. He'll let us know if he finds out anything." She flipped the
wall switch that controlled the lights in the scullery. "And we'll call
him tomorrow if I finish Victor." She took one last look at the dim shape of
the skull on the worktable below. We're nearly there, Victor. You're almost
home. Boca Raton,
Florida October 23 "It's a waste of time, sir,"
Jennings told Rusk. "I've checked in with the agents in our Miami office,
and there's not even a hint of anything happening down here except drugs,
confidence schemes, and money laundering. I might as well come back." "If you're sure." Rusk's voice
was disappointed. "I was hoping you'd get lucky." He hung up the
phone. It would have taken more than luck,
Jennings thought. He leaned back in his chair and gazed out the hotel window at
the gray-blue Atlantic. Everything on the surface in this city was all
small-time. Maybe below the surface, too. There was nothing like the ugliness
of that anthrax scare. As he had told Rusk, it had been a waste
of time. He hadn't accomplished anything here; he should go back and try
another path. Yet why did he have this nagging sense
that he had missed something? What the hell? One more try. He flipped open his portfolio to the notes
on Bently and the Cabal that Joe Quinn had given him that first night he had
called him. Beside it, he placed the notes he'd made since he'd arrived in Boca
Raton. It was fifteen minutes later that he
suddenly stiffened in his chair. Holy shit. ------------------- The little girl looked a little like Eve
Duncan, Galen thought as he watched her running through the park after the pup.
Strange. He knew the two were not related, but that red-brown hair was almost
the same shade. She didn't have Eve's wariness, though. This was Galen's second
afternoon of watching her, and she was blissfully unaware of anything but that
dog. "She reminds me a little of my
daughter. My Cindy's that age." Hughes sat down beside Galen on the bench.
"Cute kid." "Yes." Galen watched Jane pick
up a stick and toss it for Toby. "No sign at all of Hebert?" "No. Maybe you're barking up the
wrong tree." He suddenly chuckled. "Like that dog of hers. He doesn't
seem to know that you have to concentrate on one tree and not the whole park
when you're on the hunt." "Maybe I am wrong." But Galen
didn't think so. "No one hanging around the condo?" "Nope. We checked out all the
vehicles and questioned a few people who seemed to be loitering. Everyone on
the street belongs there." He grinned. "Here she comes, running after
the pup again. Better open your newspaper." Jane was careening toward them after Toby.
Galen lifted his copy of the Atlanta Journal Constitution in front of
his face. "Who are you?" He lowered the paper to see that Jane had
stopped, and was standing in front of them. "I beg your pardon." "What's happening?" The child
was staring him belligerently in the eye. "Why are you watching me?" "I don't know what you mean." "Don't lie to me. You've been here
for two days. Are you a plainclothes detective like Joe? If you are, I want to
see your ID." "No, I'm not a detective like Quinn.
And you shouldn't confront strangers in the park." "The squad car will be driving by any
minute, and a plainclothes detective is trailing behind Grandma. I'm not
supposed to know about them, either." Her lips tightened. "I'm not
supposed to know about anything. What's your name and why are you here?" And he'd thought this kid was lacking
Eve's wariness, Galen thought ruefully. "My name is Sean Galen. This is
David Hughes. We're here to make sure you're safe." "You're Logan's friend. I've heard
about you. You're supposed to be with Eve now." She glanced at Hughes.
"But I don't know anything about him. Send him away." Hughes hurriedly got to his feet.
"I'm out of here. See you later, Galen." She turned back to Galen. "Let me see
your ID." "Yes, ma'am." He handed her his
driver's license. She glanced at it and then handed it back
to him. "If you're Galen, you must know my dog Toby's mother's name." "The beautiful, bad-tempered Maggie.
Satisfied?" Jane relaxed. "No." She glanced
over her shoulder. "Here comes Grandma. We have to be quick. Why are you
here?" "I'm sure that if you ask your
grandmother, she'll tell you anything you should know." "Don't give me that bull. Grandma
doesn't want to worry me. If I asked her anything, she'd only lie to make me
feel better. It's something to do with Eve, isn't it? Is she in trouble?" "We're trying to keep her out of
trouble." "I could tell something was wrong
when I talked to her on the phone a few nights ago. She said everything was
fine with her, and that Joe was with her." "He is." "But you're here. Why?" "Jane!" her grandmother called,
running toward her. Jane turned and waved before telling
Galen, "Hurry." He decided to level with her. The kid was
sharp, and it wouldn't hurt to warn her. "We think there's a possibility
the people who are trying to hurt Eve may attempt to get at her through you.
Have you seen anyone suspicious?" "You mean besides you? You're not
very good at this, are you?" "I can be. I didn't try to be this
time. I didn't expect you to be suspicious, and the sight of me could have been
a deterrent to anyone else." "Who? The other creep?" Galen stiffened. "Creep? You noticed
somebody else watching you?" "Two days ago. He followed me to
school, and then he was here in the park. He was much better than you." "Did you get a good look at
him?" She nodded. "I made sure I did. I'd
already noticed the squad cars. I knew something was happening." He took out the photo of Hebert.
"Look anything like this?" She glanced at it. "That's him." "Why didn't you tell your
grandmother?" "I couldn't be sure he was a creep.
He might have been one of Joe's friends, and it would just have worried her. Or
he might have been just your ordinary run-of-the-mill pervert. I've seen plenty
of those." "Oh, have you?" "I haven't seen him since. I have to
go, or Grandma will call the cops on you." Her lips tightened. "I
don't like not knowing what's happening. You tell Eve and Joe that." He shook his head. "I'll tell Joe
what you said, but I won't tell him about your 'creep' yet. It would be a sure
way to make them drop everything and come running. They're much safer if they
stay in hiding." "Hiding? Eve never mentioned anything
about that. Why are they in hiding?" "It's complicated. Eve wanted to
finish the job she started." "Then why are you here? You go back
and make sure Joe and Eve are safe," she said fiercely. "You do your
job. Don't you dare let anything happen to them. I'll take care of
Grandma." She whirled and ran back toward her grandmother. "It's
okay," she called. "He only wanted directions, Grandma. Just another
lost Yankee. They get so confused with all these Peachtree Streets." "I told you not to talk to
strangers." Her grandmother whisked her up the path. "Now you call
that idiot dog and we'll go home to supper." "Wow," Hughes said softly as he
strolled back to Galen. "Correction: She's not at all like my kid. If I needed
some muscle, I might decide to hire her." "Eve told me she grew up on the
streets." He watched Jane and Sandra Duncan walk down the path. "She
didn't tell me she was twelve going on fifty." "You showed her the photo?" "She saw him. Hebert is here in
Atlanta. Or at least he was two days ago." He stood up. "But where
the hell is he? If he was hanging around, you should have been able to spot
him." "Maybe he was scared off." That scenario didn't fit with the picture
of Jules Hebert Galen had been building up. "Or maybe he went underground
and is only waiting for his chance." The idea of Hebert stalking that
bright kid, hovering over her like a dark cloud, turned his stomach.
"We're not going to give it to him, Hughes." Jules watched as the black pickup truck
sank below the waters of Lake Lanier with scarcely a ripple. There was so much
water here in Atlanta. He had found it very convenient. He had chosen a deep part of the lake so
the man would not be found too quickly. There should be no outcry for at least
three days. Leonard Smythe was divorced and lived alone in his mobile home, and
from Jules's brief surveillance he appeared a solitary man. Jules glanced down at the treasure for
which Smythe had died. If he'd been given a choice, Smythe would have given it
up in a heartbeat, but Jules couldn't risk giving him that option. It was sad when a man had to die for a
clipboard and a few scraps of paper. ------------------- New Orleans Victor's skull was dimly lit by the
moonlight streaming through the window. Nathan didn't flip the switch that would
have lit the steps to the scullery. He knew Joe Quinn made several trips around
the grounds at night, but he had no idea what time. He moved carefully, quietly down the
steps. It should be safe. He had checked on Eve and she was sound asleep. But
both Eve and Joe Quinn were still unknown quantities to him, and the unknown
was always dangerous. He reached the bottom of the stairs and
glided silently across the scullery toward Victor's pedestal. He knew the back of that skull so well,
and nothing about his features. He had only been able to watch Eve's intent
expression as she worked. He took out the flashlight he had found in
the kitchen cabinet and moved closer to the pedestal. He took a deep breath,
his thumb pressing on the flashlight switch. The scullery was suddenly flooded with
light. "Would you like to tell me what
you're doing?" Joe Quinn said from the top of the stairs. Dammit. He stiffened defensively. "I wasn't
going to hurt it." "You didn't answer me." Joe came
down the stairs. "What are you doing creeping down the stairs in the
middle of the night?" "I just wanted to see it." "But Eve didn't want you to see it
until she finished. Is she done?" Nathan shook his head. "Not until
tomorrow. She said I wouldn't be able to tell anything until then. But I
thought maybe I could tell where it was going." He scowled. "I'm
going to look." "Go ahead. I'm not going to stop
you." Nathan moved around the pedestal to stand
before Victor. Disappointment surged through him. The visage had form, but no
definition. No one could recognize the features at this point. "You should have believed her,"
Joe said. "Eve doesn't lie." "I didn't think she'd lied. I just
thought I might be able—" His hands clenched at his sides.
"Dammit, it's hard to wait. I want to know." "And you didn't trust her." "In my business you learn not to
trust many people." Nathan started toward the stairs, and then stopped to
stare at Joe. "Are you going to tell her I was here?" "I should. Eve likes you, and she has
a habit of trusting people she likes. She doesn't appreciate people sneaking
around behind her back." "I didn't do anything to hurt her. If
I'm guilty of anything, it's of caring too much." Nathan's gaze went back
to Victor. "It's important to me to know who he is. God, I hope it's not
Bently. I hope he's still around, maybe gone underground and ready to come out
swinging against those bastards." Joe studied him. "I believe
you." He shrugged. "I'll hold my peace for now. There was no harm
done. But you made a mistake." "Everyone makes mistakes. You must
have made a big one, or Eve wouldn't be angry with you." Nathan moved
quickly up the stairs, and then stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Joe.
"I must have made another mistake. How did you know I was down here?" "I was outside patrolling, and I saw
movement in the kitchen through that bank of windows. It aroused my curiosity
when I saw it was you rifling through the cabinets. Particularly when you only
took that flashlight." "I checked outside the kitchen, but I
should have been more careful." "Like you said, we all make
mistakes." And Quinn wasn't making him pay for this
one. "Thanks. I owe you." Nathan
hurried up the rest of the stairs. It could have been much worse. He had done
what he felt he had to, and no real harm had been done. He had hoped to get a
jump on the situation, but he would just have to wait. Damn, it was hard to be
patient. ------------------- The basement was well lit, the heating and
air-conditioning mechanisms gleaming and powerful. The best of American
technology, Jules thought, as he moved down the aisle. "Hey, what are you doing down
here?" He glanced over his shoulder. A uniformed
security guard was coming out of the elevator. "Don't you guys ever talk to each
other?" Jules waved his clipboard. "I just went through this with the
guard at the front door." He glanced at the man's badge. "Phillips.
I'm from the supe's office. I'm sup-posed to do the yearly service check." "I've been out on a coffee
break," the guard said defensively. Jules knew that. He hadn't expected
Phillips to be back this soon, but you always had to be ready to make
adjustments. "I'm almost through here. Have you noticed any problems on
your rounds? Puddles beside the air conditioners? Excess steam?" Phillips shook his head. "Since you're here, would you mind
coming with me to that furnace room and holding my flashlight? I have to crawl
in back of the units and it's damn hard to see." Phillips frowned. "If it doesn't take
too long. I have to get back to the front door and relieve Charley." "Like I said, I'm almost done."
Jules picked up. his toolbox and started down the aisle. "It won't take a
minute." Phillips followed him. "If you're
sure." "Oh, I'm sure." Jules smiled at
him over his shoulder. "I know my job." ------------------- "Ready, Victor?" Eve murmured.
"It's almost time." "Did you say something, Eve?"
Nathan asked from across the room. "Hush. I don't want to hear a word
from you until I'm done." The clay was soft, cool beneath her
fingers. She touched it delicately, tentatively. Smooth. Don't think. Instinct. She was moving quickly; her fingers were
tingling. Who are you, Victor? Tell me, help me. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. She had no idea how to shape the ears.
Make them generic. The mouth. God, the mouth was hard. She
only knew the width.... Instinct. Close out what she didn't know,
and let her hands flow. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. She was going too fast. Stop for a minute and study the eyes, the
angle of the orbits, the bony ridge above... Okay, go for it. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. Check that lip height... 12mm. That was
right. Nose projection 18mm. It should be 19. Change it. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. Be aware of the measurements, but let
instinct dominate now. Tell me, Victor. Let me bring you home. Her hands flew over the visage. Her
fingertips seemed to have a life, a mind of their own. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. ------------------- Galen stepped out of his car and strode
over to Hughes, who was standing under a streetlight. "Anything?" Hughes shook his head. "Everything's
quiet. The kid went into the condo with her grandmother at the usual time. A
squad car cruised by five minutes ago. They must have put more plainclothesmen
on the job. I saw one guy I didn't recognize talking to the frontdoor
guard." He held up his hand as Galen opened his lips. "It's okay, I
watched him and he got into the squad car twenty minutes later. The cops knew
him." "Inside?" "I have a guy on the same floor as
the kid, and he reports no activity. What have you been doing?" "Scouting. There's a telephone truck
five blocks from here. What's it doing here at this time of night? Have you
checked it out?" Hughes shook his head. "Why not?" "It wasn't there today. I'll get on
it." "Now." "Why are you so edgy? It's five
blocks away." "It could be a surveillance van. Eve
calls Jane regularly." "I told you we'd checked out the
high-rise. The condo's too high and there's too much interference for the
phones to be bugged." "Just check the truck, okay?" "Whatever you say." Hughes
reached for his phone. Galen stared up at the condo while Hughes
was telling one of his men to check out the vehicle. Damn, he felt uneasy. Hughes hung up. "He's trying to get
through to the telephone company. Satisfied?" "No. Something's happening. He's got
to be around here. He knows he doesn't have much time." "What do you mean?" "Never mind." He glanced at the
cars parked along the street. There were no new vehicles, and all of these had
already been checked out. "It just feels wrong." "If Hebert's gone underground, he's
buried himself pretty deep," Hughes said. Galen stiffened. "What?" "You said that Hebert must have gone
underground, or we would have been able to—" Underground. "Shit!" Galen moved toward the
canopied entrance of the condo. "Come on." Hughes got out of the car and hurried
after him. "Where are we going?" "You're going to distract the
security guard and find out from him if anything unusual has happened
today." He opened the glass door. "And I'm going to see how far
Hebert is willing to go to get that kid." ------------------- Galen found a uniformed guard in the
furnace room behind the massive units that heated the high-rise. His throat had
been cut. He found the plastic explosive and the
timer that controlled it behind the furnace unit beside the dead man. Twenty-two minutes. Shit. It wasn't a simple timer, and was probably
booby-trapped. No time to disarm it. He turned off his telephone as he ran
toward the elevator. A ringing phone could set off a bomb. He turned the phone
back on as he reached the street. It rang at once. "Nothing much unusual," Hughes
said. "A building inspection. One of the guards got sick and had to go
home. Want me to—" "Forget it." It would take more
time for him to go get Jane himself than to delegate. "Get out of the building.
Call your man on the twelfth floor to get Jane MacGuire and her grandmother out
of there. Now. He has about twenty minutes. Then call the bomb squad and get
them here. I think it will be too late, but I could be wrong." "Right." Hughes rang off. Galen checked his watch. Nineteen minutes. Jane MacGuire was on the twelfth floor.
Not much time. And no time at all for the rest of the
people who lived in the building. Galen wouldn't get past the first few condos
before the bomb went off. Christ, what the hell could he do? ------------------- "It's done." Eve leaned back
against the worktable and wiped her face. God, she was exhausted. The
adrenaline was draining out of her, and she felt limp as a dishrag. "It's
the best I can do." "I thought you'd never get done. It's
almost three in the morning." Nathan leaned forward, his body tense with
eagerness. "May I look at it now?" "Not yet. I have to put the glass
eyes in the sockets." She smiled faintly as she turned to the eye case on
the worktable. "Galen would be glad of that. He has a thing about empty
eye sockets." "Hurry!" Nathan moistened his
lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I'm just...
anxious." "I know." Eve opened the case
and took out a pair of brown eyes and turned back to Victor. Only it might not
be Victor now. He might soon have a real name. "It will only take a few
minutes." It took less than that before she stepped
back and turned to Nathan. "You can look now." Nathan jumped up from the chair and moved
quickly across the room. He stopped, took a deep breath, and then moved around
to stand beside Eve. He stared at the features of the
reconstruction. Eve's gaze searched his face. "Well,
say something. Is it Bently?" "It's him." Nathan's lips
thinned. "It's Harold Bently." "You're sure?" "I'm sure." His voice was uneven.
"You did a good job. That's him." He turned away and moved quickly
toward the staircase. "Excuse me. I'm so mad I want to choke someone. I
can't look at him. I was hoping—" Nathan flew up the stairs and almost ran
into Joe coming down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" He brushed past him and was out the door. "What's wrong with him?" Joe
asked as he came the rest of the way down the stairs. Then he saw Eve's face
and said, "Oh, the moment of truth?" "It's Bently." Eve rubbed the
back of her aching neck. "You always have hope until you actually see the
proof." Joe came to stand beside her, and looked
at the face. "You evidently did a good job if he's so certain." "I was hoping as much as he was that
it wouldn't be Bently," Eve said. "From what I've heard of him, he
was a very good man. I didn't want him to have died like this." Her eyes
were filling with tears, too. She blinked them back. "But it never does
any good. So many more of the good die than the bad. They trust. They have no
defenses. Like Bonnie..." "Shh." He pulled her into his
arms. "Jesus, you're so tired you can hardly stand up. Listen to me, you
did a good job. You brought this poor guy home. Isn't that what's
important?" "Yes." Comfort surrounded her,
keeping out the cold and the loneliness as it always did when she was close to
Joe. "That's important. But not right now." "It will come." He rubbed the
exact spot between her shoulders that always bothered her. Her knees went weak
with relief. "Your muscles are all knotted. Go on to bed and try to sleep.
I don't guess you'd let me give you a massage?" "No." She shouldn't even be
standing here like this. There were reasons, good reasons, why she should be
pushing him away, but they didn't seem to matter right now. "I'll be
okay." "You'd be better than okay with me.
I'd make sure you were." He shrugged. "But that's not in the cards.
Come on, I'll help you up to bed and tuck you in." "I'm fine." "Stop arguing. You're about to fall
over. I know you're vulnerable right now, and I'd love to take advantage of
you. But I won't." He slid his arm around her waist and half led, half
carried her toward the stairs. "Why are you fighting it? It's no big deal.
How many times have I done this after you've finished a job?" So many times she couldn't remember.
Sometimes it seemed as if they'd been together all her life. Ten, twelve years?
She couldn't think. Everything was a blur right now. "Now that Victor's
done, I guess it's time to call Jennings. The FBI should probably..." "I'll take care of it." "I really didn't want it to be
Bently, Joe." "I know. Never mind. It will seem
better in the morning." Eve was barely aware of Joe helping her up
to her room and pushing her down on the bed. He took off her shoes and pulled
up the coverlet. "I'll be right back." He went into the bathroom and
came back with a damp washcloth. He carefully wiped the clay off her hands.
"That'll do for now. You can hit the shower when you wake up." "Thanks, Joe." "I've always liked doing things for
you. It makes you more mine. Next to sex, I liked it better than anything.
Didn't you know that?" She shouldn't be listening to this. It was
... intimate, and everything was wrong between them. It was hard to remember
why. She didn't want to remember why. Not now. "No, I didn't
know...." "And you don't want to think about
it. That's okay. I'll settle for you not scuttling away from me." He sat
down beside her and took her hand. "That's good enough." Her hand tightened around his. "It
shouldn't be..." "Shh. Go to sleep." She was already half asleep. She curled up
on the bed and closed her eyes. "It's ... so sad.... Poor man..." Chapter
Thirteen Eve was asleep. Joe stared down at her face. Christ, he
wanted to ease her pain. Fat chance. Ever since Bonnie's death, Eve had been
dealing with this pain. Giving her mind and skill and heart to bringing both
the living and the dead home. Well, she had found another lost one and, as
usual, he could only stand on the sidelines and help when she would let him. Hell, he felt pretty lost himself right
now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She doesn't need that, too. He released
Eve's hand and bent down to press his lips to her forehead. "Sleep well,
love," he whispered. He didn't want to leave her, but he forced
himself to stand up and head for the door. When she woke, they'd probably be
back to square one, but maybe he'd made a tiny inroad tonight. He hoped to hell
he had. His phone rang as he reached the hall. ------------------- The side of the high-rise had exploded in
a ball of flame and concrete. Galen gazed up at the flames erupting out
of the windows. It could have been worse. The bomb had been placed so that it
only affected the west side. Jane MacGuire's grandmother's condo was on the
west side of the building. "Grandma's scared. You get that
creep." Jane MacGuire took a step closer to Galen. "A lot of people
could have been hurt if those sprinklers hadn't gone off. Did you do
that?" "It was the only thing I could think
of that would get everyone up and out of the apartments in time. I disconnected
the fire alarm bell that might have set off the bomb, and sent Hughes's men to
knock on doors as long as it was safe. The water flooding their apartments
saved a lot of arguments." His glance wandered over the dimly lit street
filled with men, women, and children in all stages of dress huddled together.
Dogs ran around barking at cats held tightly in their owners' arms. "I
hope they all got out." "Me, too." Jane pulled at Toby's
leash to keep him at her side. "Grandma didn't want to go when that man
came to the door. It was only when the sprinklers went off that she ran
out." He could hear the sirens of fire trucks in
the distance. "Where's your grandmother?" "Over there trying to calm down Mrs.
Benson. She just had a baby and she's pretty shook up." "I'm surprised she's letting you talk
to me." "I just told her who you were. Maybe
I should have done it before. Grandma's usually pretty cool." She looked back at the fire. "He did
all this to kill us?" Galen nodded. "And he did it to get Eve out of
hiding?" "Yes." "Then you tell her to stay put."
She moistened her lips. "And you'd better do it fast. The first thing
Grandma did when she got down to the street was call Joe." "What?" "Joe told her to call him if there
was a problem." She looked at the burning high-rise. "He's going to
think this is a big problem." "How long ago?" He'd wanted to
call Quinn himself. "Five minutes. He told her to stay
with me and he'd send a black-and-white." She glanced at a squad car
careening around the corner. "There it is." "Maybe." A police car appears
and whisks Jane and her grandmother away? No way. Not until he'd checked it
out. He moved toward the car. "Stay here." ------------------- "What the hell is happening?"
Joe demanded when Galen answered his phone ten minutes later. "I just got
a hysterical call from Eve's mother, and she was talking about you and the
condo blowing up and the sprinkler—" "Jane's safe. The squad car you sent
picked her and her grandmother up and took them to a safe house. That's what's
most important." "You went there to protect Jane. How
did that bastard get so close to her?" "She's safe. That's all that's
important." Galen looked at the high-rise, which was still in flames.
"I'll tell you about the rest of it later." "The hell you will. I need to know
what—" "Wait a minute." Hughes was
trying to get Galen's attention. "There's something going on." "Sorry," Hughes said. "I
just heard about that telephone truck. Bell South says they sent no truck to
that area." He paused. "And the truck is gone now." "Jesus." Galen's hand tightened
on his phone. "What's happening?" Joe
demanded. "Is Jane okay?" "Jane's fine." Galen was
thinking, going over the possibilities. He didn't like any of them. "But
Hebert may have gotten what he wanted." "Then what do you mean Jane's okay?" "Calm down. I think Hebert hedged his
bet. There's a good chance he had a surveillance truck parked a few blocks from
here tonight. There was no question of him intercepting phone calls from the
high-rise, but once Eve's mother was out of the building he'd have no
trouble." "And she called me right away." "If the bomb killed them, you'd come
out of hiding. If the bomb didn't kill them, she'd call you and give him a
chance for a trace. Get out of there, Quinn." "You're guessing." "Do you want to risk proving me
wrong? Hebert may prefer to do his dirty work personally, but he wouldn't risk
losing you because he wasn't on site. He'd send someone else to do the job. If
he got the fix, you don't have much time." Galen repeated, "Get the
hell out of there." Silence. "Where?" Thank God Quinn was listening. "Just
get on the road. Call me when you're clear. I'll be working to find you
somewhere safe." "Wherever that is." Quinn hung
up. ------------------- Joe hesitated for a moment, thinking. Eve
was exhausted. She'd been barely coherent. So he'd let her sleep as long as
possible while he made preparations for departure. He moved down the hall to Nathan's room,
threw open the door, and turned on the light. "Get up. I need your
help." Nathan sat up in bed. "What's
wrong?" "We have to get out of here. Go down
and pack up all Eve's equipment and the reconstruction. I'll go and bring the
car around to the front door." "Why?" Nathan swung out of bed
and pulled on his pants. "What's wrong? Why do we have to go?" "Galen says we may have visitors any
minute." "Hebert?" "No, Hebert's in Atlanta. So is
Galen." Joe turned away. "Get moving. I have to get Eve out of
here." "Have the trunk open so I can put the
equipment in." Nathan was tying his shoes. "You'd better pack Eve's
clothes when you get her up. She was pretty tired." "I'll take care of Eve." Joe was
already moving down the hall. "Hurry." ------------------- "Wake up, Eve." Joe was shaking her, Eve realized dimly.
So tired... "Wake up. We have to get out of
here." She opened her eyes. "Sleepy..." "Sorry. You can sleep in the car. We
may have visitors." At the lake cottage? They seldom had
visitors. It was always an oasis of peace and quiet. Joe made sure of that. But they weren't at the lake cottage, she
realized suddenly. New Orleans. Victor. No, it wasn't Victor. It was Bently.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What are you talking about?" "I've got your bag packed." Joe
pulled her to her feet. "Nathan's already in the car." He half
carried her from the room and down the stairs. "He packed up all your
equipment. All we have to do is get on the road." "Why?" "Galen called. We have a
problem." He pulled her out the front door. "It's not safe here any
longer." "Why not?" "Later." He pushed her into the
passenger's seat of the Lexus that Galen had sent and ran around to the
driver's seat. "Did you get everything, Nathan?" "The equipment's in the trunk. I have
the reconstruction back here with me." Nathan fixed his gaze on the road.
"Headlights. They'll be at the gates in no time." "They're locked, aren't they?"
Eve asked. "They'll have the equipment to get
them open," Nathan said. "It will only take a few minutes." "Then let's use those few
minutes." Joe didn't put on the headlights, but drove slowly, silently
down the driveway. When he got to the small wood surrounding the house, he left
the driveway and drove into the trees. The car that stopped at the gates was a
dark-colored Volvo. Two men got out of the backseat and went up to the gates.
It took less than three minutes before the gates swung open. The men piled back
into the car. Eve held her breath as the car glided by
them and up the driveway to the house. The Volvo's lights were out now, too,
and the car appeared sleek and menacing in the darkness. "Now," Nathan whispered. "Not yet. Let them get inside."
Three men entered the front door. Two others went around the back. "Close
enough." He let out the brake and pressed down on the accelerator. The sound of the engine couldn't have been
as loud as it sounded to Eve, but it was loud enough. One man ran around the
side of the house. "Gun it," Eve said. Joe was already gunning it. He tore
through the open gates and hit the road at sixty miles an hour. Damn those trees surrounding the house,
Eve thought. She couldn't see anything. What was she thinking? Those trees
might well have saved them. Now she could see. Headlights racing down
the driveway toward the gates. Then they were gone as Joe went around the
corner of the road and stomped on the accelerator. "There's a gas station up ahead. It's
closed, but I can see the pumps," Nathan said. "You could pull behind
it and let them go by." "It worked back at the house."
Joe pulled off the road and came to a stop behind the gas station. "Maybe
they won't expect it a second time. We'll have to see...." He cut the lights. Or maybe they would expect it, Eve
thought. Joe's hand was sliding beneath his jacket. She knew that gesture. He
was loosening his gun in his holster. "Get out," Joe said.
"Now." "What?" "Don't argue. Both of you. Get out,"
he snapped. Eve instinctively obeyed and found Nathan
beside her. "Take care of her, Nathan." The
Lexus roared away from them and back on the road. Shit. Eve's hands clenched into fists as
she watched the taillights disappear around the curve. Everything had happened
so fast she hadn't realized what Joe was doing. But she should have realized.
She knew him, dammit. The Volvo screamed around the turn and
barreled toward them. Closer. Almost on top of them. And then passed them. It was out of sight seconds later. "It worked," Nathan said.
"We should leave now." "What do you mean, leave? They're
going after Joe." "But that's what he wanted them to
do. We have no way to help him. We'll call him once we're clear of this place.
You'll ruin his plan if you stay here. If he loses them, they could double back
to check out the area." "You give him a little time to shake
those men, and then call him and tell him we're not going anywhere. I'm not
moving until Joe comes back." Nathan gazed at her expression and then
shrugged. "Okay, but it's not good tactics." "I don't care about tactics."
She leaned against the wall of the gas station, her gaze on the curve where Joe
had disappeared. Jesus, she was scared. "He'll probably make it," Nathan
said. "He's been well trained, hasn't he?" "Just because he was a SEAL doesn't
mean that he's a champion race car driver. And he shouldn't have left us here,
damn him." "It was a good tact—" Nathan broke off as he met Eve's gaze. "Sorry."
He quickly pulled out his phone and in a moment was talking to Joe. "He's
not happy," he said when he hung up. "Too bad. He had no right to take off
like a bat out of hell. He's not the only one involved here." "There wasn't much time for
discussion." Eve knew that, but it didn't make her feel
any less angry and helpless ... and terrified. Joe. "He seemed to be able to drive pretty
well," Nathan offered. He was trying to comfort her, Eve
realized. "Yes." "And I think the Lexus was faster
than that Volvo." "Let's not talk about it, okay?"
she said jerkily. Nathan nodded and fell silent. Ten minutes passed. Where the hell was he? Fifteen minutes. It was forty-five minutes before Joe
appeared around the curve and glided to a stop behind the gas station. He
reached over and opened the passenger door. "Get in. I think I lost them
five miles back, but we should get out of here." Nathan scrambled into the backseat.
"You didn't do bad at all, Quinn." "Thank you," he said ironically
as he pulled back onto the road. "I'm glad I met with your approval." "I tried to get her to leave, but she
was worried." "Was she?" Joe glanced sideways
at Eve's set face. "I wasn't worried. You were
stupid. You could have stayed with us and we'd have given them the slip, but
you probably enjoyed playing Keystone Kops." Her voice shook. "It was
... stupid." "It seemed the most reasonable thing
to—" "It was good tactics, right? Just
shut up and get us out of here." Joe gave a soundless whistle. "Yes,
ma'am. Right away, ma'am." Joe went back in the direction they had come
from. "Where are we going?" "I have no idea. I'll worry about
that when I'm sure we don't have anyone tailing us." ------------------- Joe didn't stop until he was fifty miles
away from Galen's house and he'd changed roads and directions twice. He finally
pulled over at a supermarket lot in a small town on the east side of New
Orleans. He pulled out his phone and dialed Galen.
"We're clear. We did have visitors." "I was afraid of that. No one was
hurt?" "No, but we're in a Podunk town in
the middle of nowhere. Find me a place to put Eve." "I'm working on it," Galen said.
"I'll get back to you." He hung up. "Now can I find out what the devil is
happening?" Eve asked. He got out of the car. "Come on,
let's take a walk." "I do have a stake in this, too, you
know," Nathan said. "Later," Joe said. "Stay
here and take care of the skull." It was chilly, and Eve jammed her cold
hands into the pockets of her jacket as she fell into step with Joe. "Talk
to me." "You're not going to like it." "So what's new. I haven't liked
anything to do with this reconstruction," Eve said. "This strikes close to home." She stiffened. "Jane?" "Don't panic. She's okay. So is your
mother." He quickly filled her in on what her mother and Galen had told
him. "And you say she's okay?" Eve's
hands clenched into fists in her pockets. "For God's sake, that crazy
bastard blew up the condo. It's a miracle they're still alive." "But they are alive." "I should never have left her. You
should never have left her." "Don't you know that's what I've been
telling myself ever since I got that call from your mother? I thought Hebert
would concentrate on you, but I still tried to give them enough
protection." "You didn't do it. She almost died.
You should have—" She shook her head. "Why am I
blaming you? It's just as much my fault as it is yours. I'm the one who took
this job. I'm the one who chose to steal the damn skull. I thought he'd go
after me, too. I'm the one who's to blame." "Shh. Stop shaking. Nothing
happened." "What do you mean? Something did
happen. He almost killed them. I was so worried about Victor and so busy
thumbing my nose at Hebert that I—" "Hush." He took her in his arms
and pressed her head into his shoulder. "Jane and your mother are fine,
and we're going to keep them that way." Oh, God, she needed him. An anchor in a
rough sea. A rock that never moved. "Joe..." Without thinking, she
slid her arms around him. "Jane's never been sure that I really loved her.
She's always thought Bonnie came first. I do love her. It's just ...
different." "She knows you love her." "She's not sure. I want to tell her
again. What if she'd died and I didn't get the chance to tell her how much she
means to me?" "But she didn't." "There are so many things I didn't
tell Bonnie before she was taken from me. I'm not going to make that mistake
again." Tears were flowing down her cheeks. "But I almost did. Shit." "Okay, you're not perfect. Who is?
But Jane's not one of your lost children. She's strong and smart, and she's a
survivor. She'll only take so much from you. We're lucky she lets us as close
to her as she does." His hands cupped her face and he looked down into her
eyes. "Are you listening to me, Eve? Jane doesn't want a mother. She loves
you, but you came together too late for all the maternal folderol. She doesn't
expect it. You're a damn good friend, and that's great with her." "Is it?" Eve smiled with
quivering lips. "I never realized you'd made such a study of our
relationship." "I had to. Anyone who touches you
touches me." She couldn't look away from him. His eyes... Joe's hands dropped away from her and he
stepped back. "That's the way it's always been; that's the way it is. I'm
just very fortunate that I love Jane, too." She drew a deep breath. "Well,
neither of us has been very good at showing her we love her by keeping her
safe." She turned back toward the car. "Well, it's not too late,
thank God. It's time I thought about Jane and Mom instead of my damn job." "And that means?" "I'm going back to Atlanta. I'm not
going to let Jane and my mother take the punishment for my actions while I'm
hundreds of miles away." "Galen said that was what you'd do.
He thinks you'll walk right into Hebert's hands." "Screw Galen. Jane needs me." "She needs us." Joe
smiled faintly and nodded. "Screw Galen." Eve's phone rang as she reached the car.
It was Bart Jennings. "I need to tell you that there was—" "Damn you," Eve's voice was
shaking with anger. "You promised me they'd be safe. That's all I asked,
and you fouled up." "You have every right to be angry.
Galen called you? My men would have appreciated it if he'd been working with
us. He didn't even identify himself to them until they were taking away your
daughter." "It was a good thing he was there.
You screwed up." "I'm not making excuses. If it will
make you feel any better, we're working hand in hand with the Atlanta police,
and we have the safe house completely covered." "You had the condo covered." "Hebert's ID was perfect, and he was
in disguise. There was supposed to be an inspection today—the guard at the desk verified it with the superintendent's office
when Hebert arrived. We can't locate Leonard Smythe, the man who was to do the
inspection. We have to assume Hebert got to him." "I don't want to hear it." "I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't make
excuses. I'm sending two agents to pick you up and bring you—" "Too late. You blew it." She
hung up. "He's sorry. He had the nerve to say he was sorry. My mother and
Jane were almost blown up, and he's—" "Easy. He's a decent guy. What else
could he say?" Joe's lips tightened. "Not that I don't want to take a
poke at him right now myself. He should have—" His
phone rang, and he didn't wait for Galen to speak. "We're going back to
Atlanta. Don't argue, Galen. Just find us a way to get home." He took out
his pen and wrote down a name and phone number. "Okay, I'll see you in
Georgia." Joe hung up and turned to Eve. "He said he knew it would
come down to this. He gave me the phone number of a Philip Jordan. He said to
call him and he'd pick us up and take us to a very private airport in Metairie,
Louisiana." "Just so it's soon." "You're going to Atlanta?"
Nathan asked. "Yes." "I want to go with you." "What a surprise," Joe said.
"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Hebert may be there?
He could be on his way here, you know." He shook his head. "Not when he finds
out they didn't get us at Galen's. Jules Hebert is smart. Take me with
you." "You've become something of an
albatross, Nathan." Nathan turned to Eve. "I want to
come. We're in this together." Eve gazed at him a moment and finally
nodded. "I thought as much." Joe began
dialing his phone. "I'll tell Jordan there'll be one more to pick
up." The plane landed at an airport north of
Gainesville, Georgia in the rosy dawn light. Galen met them as the plane drew
up before the hangar. "Welcome home." His brows lifted as his gaze
went beyond them to Nathan. "I see you brought your bodyguard." "Be quiet, Galen." Eve moved
toward the car on the tarmac. "I'm mad enough at you for not telling me
you thought Hebert would go after Jane." "Ingratitude, thy name is
woman." "I am grateful. I just wish I'd known..."
She turned to face him. "I'm a bitch. You saved their lives. I'll owe you
a debt for the rest of my life." "That's better." He looked
pointedly at Joe. "Now, do you have something to say to me?" "Yes." Joe pushed the leather
case he was carrying at him. "Stop playing around and put Bently in the
trunk." "I'm not playing around. I'm trying
to garner what's due me." He looked down at the box. "It's really
Bently?" Eve nodded. "Nathan's certain, but
I'll have to do the usual photo and video comparisons. I'll get on that as soon
as we get settled." She got into the car. "Where's Jane?" "She and her grandmother are in a
safe house in Gwinnett." "I want to go get them." "What a surprise." He turned to
Joe. "I've set up security around your lake cottage. I thought you'd want
to go there. I've hired Bill Jackson and his team to patrol the area around the
cottage. I've used him before and he's very good." Joe looked at Eve. She nodded wearily. "I want to take
Jane home. She's been bounced around enough." "She's not going to be pleased,"
Galen said. "She wanted you to stay in hiding. She told me to tell you not
to be dumb and come home." Eve smiled. "That sounds like
Jane." "And you're going to ignore
her." Galen put the case with the skull in the trunk. "I can
guarantee the safety of the cottage and the immediate area around it, but the
hills and the lake are vulnerable. You have a hell of a lot of private acreage.
Which means you can't go outside, and being cooped up nonstop with that dog may
be worse than facing Hebert." "We'll confront that problem when we
come to it." "May I make a suggestion? Hebert has
gotten what he wants. You're out in the open, and you brought him the skull.
You're the target now, not Jane. The danger to her will only increase the
closer she is to you. We can have the police switch the safe house to Markum, a
town within a five-minute drive to the lake cottage, but she shouldn't be with
you." "Don't tell me that. I want her close
to me. I can't stand the thought of—" "He's right, Eve," Joe said. She knew he was right. It didn't make the
prospect of being separated from Jane and her mother any easier. She drew a
deep breath. "Okay. But you'd damn well better make sure they're safe." "I will," Galen said. "With
the help of Quinn's friends and four very sheepish FBI agents. I'd never take
chances. But as I said, Hebert's got what he wants. There's no longer a reason
for him to go to the trouble of going after Jane when he can concentrate on
going after you. After all, you have the skull." "Okay, okay, you've made your
point." Eve got into the passenger seat. "But I want you to take me
to see Jane right now. I'm not going to have her know I'm in the same city and
staying away from her. You can take us to the cottage later." "She won't like it," Galen said.
"But I'll drive you there." Nathan made a face. "Can you drop me
off at a rental car agency? I'm tired of being without wheels, and I don't want
to butt in on a tender family moment. I'll meet you at this lake cottage." "Why, Nathan. How sensitive,"
Galen said. "I'm touched." "Only in that convoluted brain,"
Nathan said dryly as he got in the car. "Did I tell you how pleasant these
last days have been without you?" "All good things must come to an
end." As the car started, Eve gazed blindly out
the window. "This is such a damn mess. There has to be some way out of it
that's safe for Jane. I just have to think about it." "What do you mean?" Joe asked. "I mean I may be mad as hell at Jennings,
but he could still take this skull off my hands. It was the smart thing to do
before, and it's the smart thing to do now." "Does that mean you're going to hand
it over to him?" "I don't know what I'm going to do. I
can't even think straight right now. I just want to keep Mom and Jane
safe." Chapter
Fourteen The house in
Gwinnett was a small brick bungalow with a wide front porch. Jane came out on the porch when she saw
Eve get out of the car. "What are you doing here?" She stared
accusingly at Galen. "Can't you do anything right? I told you to keep them
away from here." "I tried. I had to make a
compromise," Galen said. "She's almost as tough as you." "Yes, she is." Jane was still
frowning. "Joe, you know this isn't a good idea—Oh, what the hell." She ran down the steps and into Eve's
arms. "I've been so worried," she whispered as she gave Eve a bear
hug. "I've missed you." Eve blinked back the tears. "Me, too.
I'm so sorry you've been put through all this." "No big deal. But you still shouldn't
be here." She released her and gave Joe a hug. "You tell her,
Joe." "We're only going to be here for a
little while," Joe said. "A few hours maybe. Where's Sandra?" "Inside feeding Toby. I'll be glad
when I can get him away from her. She feeds him every time he begs. He's going
to be fat as a polar bear." "And where are the detectives that
are supposed to be protecting you?" "Playing cards." Jane wrinkled
her nose. "I like them better than those two FBI guys in the house across
the street. They follow me wherever I go." "Good. But they shouldn't have let
you come out on the porch." "They looked out the window and saw
who it was. Detective Brady said he knew you. Come on, let's go inside."
Jane turned away. "I've got to stop Grandma from stuffing Toby." "And I'll take on the job of stuffing
us," Galen said. "I hope you've got a well-stocked kitchen?" "Frozen food. Grandma's a lousy
cook." Galen flinched. "Frozen? I'll
improvise. I'm sure I can still provide a superb lunch." Jane opened the screen door. "I hope
you manage to do something without bungling it." There was a sound from Joe that might have
been a chuckle. Galen darted him a baleful glance.
"Not a word." Joe gazed at him innocently. "From
the mouths of babes." Eve's mother, Sandra, looked up from the
dog bowl she was washing. "It's about time you got here."
She hugged Eve. "The only person who doesn't complain about my cooking is
Toby." "She actually fed him pancakes this
morning," Jane said. "Come on, Toby. I'll take
you in the backyard to run it off." Eve turned from watching Jane leave the
room. It was obvious Jane wanted to give Eve and her mother a chance to mend
some fences, but it wasn't necessary. Eve's relationship with her mother was
complicated, but their affection had overcome a multitude of hurdles and still
survived. "I'm sorry about all this. How bad has it been?" "Well, other than having the condo
blow up—" Sandra smiled as she saw Eve
flinch. "Really. It's okay, Eve." "It's not okay. I dumped a
responsibility on you that should have been mine." "Shit happens." Sandra shook her
head. "You're feeling guilty. Maybe you should. Or maybe it was my turn to
be the responsible citizen. I didn't do a very good job of it when you were
growing up. It's a wonder you're not serving a sentence in some prison. It's
time I paid my dues." "That's bullshit." "Okay, then maybe I like taking care
of Jane and that idiot dog. They keep me on my toes." Sandra's gaze went
to Jane in the backyard. "She calls me Grandma. No one has called me that
since Bonnie ... I thought it was odd, since she calls you and Joe by your
given names. But then I realized she sensed that I'd like it. She's a very
smart girl. Like you, Eve." "Probably much smarter." "No way. You got through a childhood
with a mother like me. That qualifies you for Einstein status." She took
Eve's arm. "Now shut up and let's go get Jane. She won't come in until she
thinks we've had enough time together." Eve gazed at her in loving exasperation.
"Will you at least let me say thank you?" "You've said it. Or something pretty
close. Now you're getting boring." "Heaven forbid." Eve smiled.
"By all means, let's go get Jane." ------------------- "Someone else has to wash and dry the
dishes," Galen announced after lunch. "I've done the creative part
and provided you all with a meal par excellence. It's only fair that you do the
drudgery." "I'll wash them," Jane said.
"Galen would probably mess it up." "Another blow to my
self-esteem." Galen sighed. "She has great aim, Eve." He moved
toward the living room. "I've got to go out on the porch and fill your cop
friends in on the relocating change." "I'll help Jane," Sandra said.
"I've grown to be an expert over the years. People always rather I do the
cleanup than the cooking." Eve stood and started stacking the dishes. Jane shook her head. "You and Joe go
sit in the living room with a cup of coffee and let us do the work. You'll just
get in the way." Eve hesitated. "Go," Sandra said. "And
after I finish here, I'll take Toby for a turn round the yard. He's been a little
lazy today." "Because you feed him too much,
Grandma," Jane said as she went over to the sink.
"How am I ever going to make him a search-and-rescue dog if he weighs five
hundred pounds?" "You're exaggerating..." "Come on. We've been evicted."
Joe picked up his coffee and Eve's. "The living room." Eve followed him into the living room and
sank down on the couch. Lord, she was tired, and Galen's meal hadn't made her
any less sluggish. Joe handed Eve the coffee cup and sat
beside her. "I'm glad we came to see her. I've missed her like the
devil." "Me, too." The arched doorway
allowed a clear view to the kitchen and Sandra and Jane standing working at the
sink. "You're right, there's no one like her." "Well, maybe one person like
her." Joe's gaze followed hers. "You." Eve shook her head. "Just because we
both grew up on the streets doesn't make us twins." "Close enough for me." "You said something like that
before." "Oh, I'm not saying I love her
because she's like you. She deserves better than that. But every now and then I
get a glimpse of something that reminds me of you." Joe smiled. "And
I melt." "Melt?" Eve quickly looked down
into the coffee in her cup. "Not you, Joe." "Oh, yes. 'Melt' is a good
word." He finished his coffee and stood up. "And now I think I'll go
out on the porch and see if I can help Galen set up that new safe house." She watched him until the screen door
closed behind him. Those few minutes had been so comfortable and warm that she
had almost forgotten the distance between them. Or was time making the distance lessen? She didn't know, but she had felt a
closeness that was both familiar and perilously sweet. The events of the last
few days had thrust them together and blurred the jagged lines of the break
between them. Yet she knew the break was still there.... Stop staring after him. It only disturbed
her. Jesus, it disturbed her. She jumped to her feet and went into the
kitchen to help her mother and Jane with the dishes. ------------------- "You should never have come. But I'm
glad you did." Jane gave Eve a final hug after walking her to the car.
"Now you know I'm fine and that I'll take care of Grandma." "I know you will. I'm sorry I let you
in for all this, Jane." "Hey, maybe Toby needed to put on a
little weight." "Don't joke." "It's okay. Stop worrying." Jane
paused. "What are you going to do about that creep who blew up the
condo?" "Don't worry. He won't get near you
again." "That's not what I asked. You're not
going to let him get away with it, are you? You're going to go after him." Eve stared at her. "I'm going to do
what's best for you and my mother." "I thought that was the
problem." Jane frowned. "It's not like you to hide out and let that
bastard run around and do a lousy thing like that. He could have killed a lot
of people in the condo." "He could have killed you." "But he didn't, and now you're trying
to find a place to hide me again. You're going to crawl into a cave and try to
protect all of us. Don't do it, Eve." "What?" "I've been thinking about it. I want
you to be safe. But you can't run away from creeps like that. You've got to
slug away toe-to-toe. So go after him and nail the asshole." "That's not a wise thing—" "Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm tripping
over all the protection you've set up for me. Don't you dare use me as an
excuse. If I could do it, I'd go after him myself. It sucks to be a kid." "It's not an excuse. It's the right
thing to do." Jane shook her head. "Hiding isn't
like you. Maybe you've forgotten who you are, what you do. It's partly my
fault, and I don't like it. Promise me you'll think about it." "I promise." Eve hesitated.
"I love you very much, Jane." Jane nodded. "Don't get mushy." "I just wanted to make sure you
knew." "I know. Just get that SOB and take
care of yourself." Jane took a step back and watched Eve get into the car
before leaning forward to whisper, "And take care of Joe. He needs it more
than he'll let you know." How the hell could Eve answer that?
"I'll call you tonight, Jane." ------------------- Nathan met them as they drove up to the cottage.
"Everything okay?" Eve nodded as she got out of the car.
"Okay. Not perfect." "Not many things are." Nathan's
gaze shifted to the lake. "But this place comes pretty close. You were
right; your lake is beautiful, Eve. It soothes the soul." "We like it." "It reminds me that there are still
some battles worth fighting." "Galen tells us you're quite a
crusader," Joe said. Nathan shrugged. "I try. Most of the
time it's a losing battle. I get really tired of going up against the big
companies who pollute our lakes and streams. They have money. I have only
words." "I don't see how a man who feels so
passionately for water can have such a dislike for alligators and snakes."
Galen started to unload the car. "You need to rethink and include our
companions in the wild. I bet you never wrote an article about the virtues of
the preservation of leeches." "No bet," Nathan said. "I
ran into Hughes, the head of your security team, when I showed up here. He said
he wanted to see you." Galen nodded. "I want to see him, too."
He handed Nathan two suitcases. "So you can play the beast of burden and
take these inside." He pulled out his phone as he started down the path. Nathan gazed after him. "One of these
days..." He turned and carried the bags into the cottage. Eve picked up the leather skull case, but
hesitated before following Nathan, gazing out at the lake. It soothes the soul. Beauty did soothe the soul, she thought.
She could feel some of the rawness and pain of the past few days ebbing away. "Home," Joe said quietly. She looked at him, and then quickly looked
away. But the word lingered with her as she
walked up the steps. Home. ------------------- "Where's Galen?" Eve asked Joe
as she came out of the bedroom after talking to Jane on the phone that evening. "Out on the grounds talking to the
security team. He's complaining the area is one big headache to secure. Nathan
is out on the porch communing with nature. How's Jane?" "Disapproving." She made a face.
"And making her displeasure known at every opportunity." "And that means?" "She wants us to go after Hebert and
try to nail him." "That sounds like Jane." He
smiled. "Not a bad idea. I've been thinking the same thing." "So have I." She shook her head.
"I get so angry when I think of that condo, I want to murder the bastard.
But it's not a responsible thing to do when Jane—" "It may be the most responsible thing
we could do. Get rid of the bastard before he does any more damage. Maybe if we
had a lead..." She didn't answer for a moment. "We
may have a lead." He looked at her inquiringly. She emphatically shook her head. "I
don't even want to think about it. It's not—" "Okay. Okay. We'll talk about it when
you're not so upset." He paused. "Jennings called on my cell phone
while you were talking to Jane. He wants to come and pick up the skull." "He'll get it when I decide I want to
give it to him. I'm still pissed at him." "He was very persistent. Just thought
I'd relay the message." He stood up and moved over to the window.
"The sun's going down. Pretty. I always like autumn sunsets. They seem to
be sharper, more defined." Like Joe. He was silhouetted against the
dim light streaming through the window, and he seemed made of edges and angles.
How many times had she watched him at this window? She crossed the room to
stand beside him. "It's beautiful." Her gaze went to the lake
glittering mirrored gold in the twilight. "I've always loved it
here." "I know." His glance shifted to
her face. "But I'm surprised you're admitting it now. You couldn't wait to
run away from here." "I was hurting." Eve's gaze went
to the hill where she'd thought she'd buried her daughter. "Everything
reminded me of what you did." He stiffened. "Was?" She hadn't realized she'd spoken in the
past tense. "I don't know, Joe. I still feel—It's not
over. I'm not sure if it will ever be over." "I don't know if I want it to
be." "What?" "That surprises you." Joe's gaze
shifted back to the lake. "Do I want to live with you for the rest of my
life? Hell, yes. Am I sorry I hurt you? You know I am. Do I want to go back to
what we had before? I'd take it, but I think we can do better." "Do you?" "I asked you to marry me two years
ago. You said you loved me. Why didn't you do it?" "We were both busy. We just didn't
get around to it." Joe turned to look at her. "You never pushed it, dammit." "Because I was scared. I was always
the supplicant in our relationship." "The hell you were." "It took me ten years to get you to
admit you loved me and agree to live with me. Do you think I'd rock the boat by
trying to nudge you anywhere you didn't want to go?" "I did want to marry
you." "Then why didn't you do it?" "What are you trying to say?" "I'm saying that I've made some giant
strides, but I'm still second banana to Bonnie." "And I suppose that's why you lied to
me?" "No way. I would have done the same
thing even if I thought I was number one on your hit parade. I wanted your
search for her to end." "By lying to me." "It was a mistake. But it wouldn't
have been a tragedy if you'd fought your way back to the land of the living before
it happened." "You don't know what you're talking
about," she said shakily. "No one knows better how far you've
come. I watched you battle your way back from pain and depression and madness.
Why do you think I love you so much?" He gently touched her cheek.
"You just have to come a few more steps." "I'm ... confused. You're trying to
turn this all around." She blinked back tears. "And you were never a
supplicant, blast you." "Yes, I am. I'm asking you to let me
stay. Let me help you take those final steps. It's all out in the open now. We
can make a fresh start." "Joe..." "You love me. You were happy here.
You can be happy again." She stared at him helplessly. "Okay." He took a step back.
"I'm not pushing you." Then he took a step forward and kissed her,
hard. "The hell I'm not. I'm tired of being patient. We need each other,
and I'm not going to let you blow it." He headed for the front door.
"I'll see you in the morning." She flinched as the door slammed behind
him. The air seemed to vibrate with the passion he had emitted. And not only
Joe's passion. She was shaking from emotion. All the barriers she had erected
between them seemed to be toppling. She lifted her hand to her lips. She could
still feel the pressure of his lips. Joe... Why didn't you marry me? Why hadn't she? Why had she shied away
from that final commitment? Joe thought he knew, and had still been willing to
accept second best. He wasn't second best. He'd never be
second best to anyone. She was being defensive, trying to protect
him, she realized. But she was the only one who could hurt him. How much had
she hurt him during these past two years? He was walking down the path, every
movement suggesting pent-up emotion ready to explode. His attitude was so
different from the last time she had watched him and Jane together just a few
weeks ago. But then, nothing was the same now. She turned away from the window. She was
too upset and confused to sort out her emotions now. So stop staring after Joe
and think about something else. Yeah, sure. "Jennings is coming." Joe had
thrown open the door again and was striding into the room. "Galen just
called from the checkpoint at the main road. Jennings is alone in one car, but
he's accompanied by a police vehicle." "What?" Joe shrugged. "I don't know what the
hell is happening. This isn't Jennings's style." Eve went past him out on the porch. Headlights were coming down the road. Nathan got up from the porch swing.
"What's happening?" "Jennings. He probably wants
Victor." He frowned. "Why the police car?" Joe didn't answer. "If you don't want
anyone to know you're involved, you'd better disappear, Nathan." Nathan hesitated, and then slowly shook
his head. "I'm tired of skulking around. You came out in the open. It's
time I did, too." "Suit yourself." A few minutes later Jennings's car was
pulling up before the cottage. He got out of the car and started up the steps.
"Sorry to do it this way," Jennings said quietly. "But I have to
have that reconstruction, Ms. Duncan." She bristled. "I don't like to be
pushed, Jennings. You'll get it when I'm ready to give it to you." "I know you're angry with me, but
don't let that get in the way of your good judgment. You did your job; now let
us do ours." "Or you'll break down the doors and
take it?" She glanced at the patrol car. "Do you have a search
warrant?" "Oh, yes." He pulled it out of
his pocket and handed it to Joe. "I couldn't take the chance of your
refusing me again. Since the condo was blown up, my superior, Agent Rusk, has
been on my ass about finding Hebert." "I'm not done. I've finished the
reconstruction, but I haven't done photo and video confirmations." "I'll do it. I have photos of Bently
in the car. Rusk wants me to check it out right away. I have to get on the horn
and call him as soon as I leave here." "It's not the same. I want to do it
myself." Eve's lips firmed. "Did it ever occur to you that Hebert
might come after it? Why don't you stake out the cottage instead of taking the
skull away from me?" My God, she had just suggested she be used as bait. What
the hell was wrong with her? "Actually, we may set up a similar
situation to lure Hebert. That's one of the reasons we have to have the
skull." "But I'm out of it?" Jennings nodded. "I don't see why
you're objecting. You couldn't wait for me to take the skull when I came to see
you." "I don't like to have my work taken
away from me by force. If you'd waited, I'd have probably called you." "We don't have time." He paused.
"I just got off a plane from Boca Raton. I've been there scouting around
for the past few days." "And?" "Nothing concrete, but something
occurred to me when I was down there. I went over what you told me, and the
answer just came out of the blue. It was all there right in front of me, but I
didn't see it. I may be wrong, but I have a hunch..."
He shook his head. "I need to talk it over with Rusk and see if he thinks
I'm nuts. If not, we'll have to move fast to put everything together." Eve sensed an undercurrent of excitement.
There was tenseness, an alertness in his manner that was unmistakable.
"What hunch?" Jennings shook his head. "Will you
please go get the skull for me? Don't make me take it." Joe took a step forward. "No
way." "I wonder how this kind of harassment
would play in the press," Nathan said softly from his seat on the swing. Jennings glanced at Nathan sitting in the
shadows. "Who the hell are you?" "Just a friend," Joe said. Jennings looked back at Eve. "Quinn
is a policeman. Do you want to make him disobey a legal writ in front of men
from his own department?" So that was why he'd brought the police
car. Smart. Very smart. Joe never took his gaze from the FBI man.
"I don't give a damn about your writ. Eve?" "No." She turned on her heel.
"I would have eventually given it to him anyway. I just don't like the use
of force, and I wanted to do the finish work myself. It's not worth causing you
trouble." "I can handle any trouble he's
dishing out." "No, Joe." She went into the
cottage and got the leather case with Victor's skull from her bedroom. She took
it back out on the porch and thrust it at Jennings. "Thank you." He unfastened the
snap, glanced inside, and then fastened it again. He looked up and said
soberly, "I apologize for causing you this disturbance. It wasn't my
choice. I would have been glad to give you a little more time, but the matter
is too urgent." "Don't you think I'm feeling a sense
of urgency? My daughter almost died in that condo." "You can safely leave the matter in
our hands now." "I left my daughter's safety in your
hands and you fouled up. Why should I believe you'll be any more effective in
finding Hebert?" He flinched. "I deserved that."
He turned and went down the stairs. "I'll try to keep you informed." "Not likely," Joe said. "I
was an agent. I know the drill." Jennings got in the car. "I'll do
what I can. That's all I can promise." Eve watched the two cars wind down the
road and around the bend. She should have felt relieved, she told herself.
Victor was out of her hands, and the responsibility was entirely with Jennings.
But she didn't feel relieved. She felt strangely flat and ... cheated. "He was hard for you to give
up," Nathan said. "I hadn't completed the work. I
needed to do the video overlay and the final comparison." "The Bureau will do it." "But Victor was mine." "You didn't have to give him
up," Joe said. "I would have backed you." "Yes, you would have fought them all
and probably lost your job." "Maybe." "And you love that damn job." "Yes, but it's way down on my list.
Shall I tell you what's at the top?" "No," she said unevenly. "I didn't think so." He started
down the stairs. "Then I'll go try to find Galen and tell him what's
happened." "I'm sorry, Eve," Nathan said.
"I tried to help." "I know. You should have kept quiet.
Jennings may have been too absorbed to follow up on what Joe said, but later
he's going to remember you being here." "So what? It won't kill me." He
grimaced. "I hope." Eve felt a chill go through her. "Hey, it's a joke." "Yeah." She nodded jerkily and
went into the cottage. Chapter Fifteen
Jennings waved
the police car on past him and pulled
over to the side of the road. He speed-dialed Robert Rusk in Washington.
"I've got it, sir. It wasn't pleasant. I like that woman, and if
we'd given her another day she'd probably have turned it over without a
protest." "You didn't have time to be
diplomatic," Agent Rusk said. "We've got to know if this is Harold
Bently. You brought the photos of him with you?" "Sure." Jennings turned on the
overhead light before taking the three pictures out of the briefcase and
spreading them on the passenger seat. Then he opened the leather case and
carefully pulled out the skull. "I'm doing a comparison now." "And?" He studied the features of the skull and
then carefully did the same to the photographs. He gave a low whistle.
"Duncan's really good." "Is it Bently?" "No doubt about it." Jennings
studied the skull again. "It's definitely Harold Bently." "You're positive?" "Yes." "Good." "Shall I bring it to the office right
away? And I need to talk to you about Boca Raton. I may have found the—" He never finished the sentence. ------------------- Eve heard the explosion first. The sound
was so loud it shook the cottage. She ran out onto the porch. "What the hell?" Nathan was
running down the porch steps. Then the night sky lit up with a red glow. "I don't know what—" Eve stared in horror at the tops of the pine trees flaming
on the horizon. She ran down the steps and up the path, followed closely by
Nathan. "Come on, we'll get the car."
Joe was beside her, taking her arm and pulling her toward the jeep. "I
think it's on the road. But it's got to be a couple miles away." Eve and Nathan jumped into the jeep and
Joe stomped on the accelerator. She moistened her dry lips as they raced
down the road. "What is it?" Joe didn't answer. The sky was still lit by a baleful red
glow. Fire. But what had caused it? As they turned a corner in the road, she
saw billowing black smoke and a roaring inferno. At first she couldn't tell
what was at the heart of the flames. Joe took a deep breath as he stopped the
car. "Christ." A car, or pieces of a car. "My God." Nathan jumped out of
the jeep. Eve's eyes widened in shock.
"Jennings?" Joe nodded. "That's my guess." "Could he still be alive?" She knew the answer before Joe said,
"No chance. Whatever device blew that car was damn powerful. There's not
much left of the metal." And human flesh was so much more fragile.
"It was a bomb? How?" "It may take days of lab work to
determine that. Somebody didn't want any pieces left to put together." "Hebert," Eve said dully.
"He seems to be very good with explosives. The condo was—" "I'm getting the hell out of
here." Galen was running toward them. "My guy at the highway phoned
to say the police car is turning around and coming back. They must have heard
the explosion." "I'll talk to them," Joe said. "Fine. But that won't help me. You
two may be fairly above suspicion, but I'm not." Galen glanced at the
burning car. "And you may have a few things to explain yourselves. You
tell me you're hostile to Jennings, and a few minutes later his car blows up.
Jennings was FBI. The least that could happen is that you'll be grilled about
your involvement. I'll call you later tonight after all the hoopla dies
down." "I'll go with you." Nathan got
out of the car. "Then you'd better move fast."
Galen turned and disappeared into the forest. Nathan muttered an oath and trotted after
him. "Wait, dammit, I'm carrying a lot more weight than you are." Eve turned and looked back at the burning
car. Poor Jennings... "Listen," Joe said.
"Galen's right; there are going to be all kinds of questions. I'll handle
as much as I can, but I can't keep you out of it entirely." Eve nodded numbly. She was so stunned, it
was difficult to think what was best to do. She didn't want to end up at either
the police department or FBI headquarters answering interminable questions. On
the other hand, taking off and running was not an option, either. "I don't
expect you to keep me out of it. I'll be okay." "Tell me that after we get through
this night." He flipped open his phone. "I'm calling the chief and
telling him to get a forensic crew out here right away. I want any evidence to
be channeled first through our labs. There's no guarantee that the Bureau won't
step in, since Jennings was one of their own, but if they do barge in and take
over, at least they'll be obligated to share results with the ATLPD." "Will your chief bow to
pressure?" "Probably. Like I said, if the tests
are already underway before the FBI steps into the picture, the chief will have
a legitimate gripe if the information isn't shared. The Bureau is always saying
that everything's peaches and cream between the Feds and local police
departments, but the antagonism is still there. It would be a bad public
relations move for them to refuse access." Eve continued to look at the flames as he
spoke quickly into his phone, and felt her stomach clench. At first, she'd only
been aware of the smell of gasoline and burning pine, but now she realized
there was another scent.... "You okay?" Joe's gaze was on
her face. She took a deep breath and nodded.
"But let's go back to the cottage." "Sorry." His gaze was on the
road. "Here comes the patrol car. I'll get you out of here as soon as I
can." ------------------- They didn't get back to the cottage until
after the forensic team arrived at the wreckage fifteen minutes later. Special
Agent Hal Lindman from the FBI Atlanta field office arrived an hour later,
followed closely by two detectives from Joe's precinct. It was several hours
after that when the questioning ended and the final statements were taken. "It's not over," Joe said as
they watched the police cars drive down the road away from the cottage.
"The FBI is going to come down on this case like gangbusters as soon as
the man Rusk is sending down from his office gets here. They'll take over the
investigation and be on our doorstep tomorrow morning at the latest." "We won't be here." "What?" "Call Galen and get him and Nathan to
come back right away. I want to talk to them." Joe studied Eve's expression, and nodded.
"I'll get them." She crossed her arms over her chest as she
gazed out at the pine trees. The sky was no longer red, but the trees were
scorched and bare. Jennings was dead. Blown to bits. She
closed her eyes, sick, as the memory of that blazing car came back to her. She
had been angry with him for arbitrarily taking the skull, but she had genuinely
liked the man. He didn't deserve to have that monster kill him. "They'll be here within an
hour," Joe said. "They'll have to take a speedboat from the opposite
end of the lake to avoid the guards around the crime scene." The crime scene. It was an ugly phrase for
an ugly act. "Eve?" Rage was beginning to supplant the horror.
"I'm mad as hell, Joe. Hebert killed him because of Victor. When Hebert
thought that he might not be able to find out who Victor was, he wanted to make
sure no one else would know, either. He didn't care that a decent man was blown
up, too." "It may have been more than
that," Joe said. "Jennings was on the track of something in Boca
Raton." Yes, Jennings had been excited. What had
he said? It was there in front of me all the time.
I didn't see it. What had been there in front of Jennings? She rubbed her aching temple. She couldn't
think. She was in too much of a rage for cool reason. She wanted to strike out
again and again and again. You have to stand toe-to-toe and slug it
out. Jane had said that, but Eve had backed
away. Now there was another death, and once more Hebert had gotten away with
it. Damn him to hell. She wasn't going to crawl into a cave and
hide again. ------------------- Galen cut the motor of the speedboat as he
reached the pier. "You called, we came." "Come into the cottage," Eve
said as she walked back up the pier. "We may not have much time. Joe's not
sure when the FBI will show up again." "Yes, ma'am." Galen gave a low
whistle as he got out of the boat and followed her toward the cottage.
"Whatever you say." Joe was sitting in the easy chair by the
window. "Any trouble getting here?" Nathan shook his head. "No problem.
God, I need some coffee." He moved toward the kitchen. "You talk,
I'll listen while I'm making a pot." His face was pale and pinched, Eve
noticed. "You don't look well." "I'll be okay. I'm not used to this
kind of thing." He scowled. "I once thought I'd like
to be a police reporter, but I never made it past the first gang
shooting." He poured water into the coffeemaker. "I hate violence. It
makes me sick." "Join the club." Eve shivered as
she remembered Jennings's burning funeral pyre. "It shouldn't happen. We
shouldn't let it happen." Joe's gaze narrowed on her face. "And
do we have a way to stop it?" "We've got to try." Her hands
clenched at her sides. "We can't let him keep on with this. He almost
killed Jane and my mother. He did kill Jennings and Capel and—" She stopped and drew a deep shaky breath. "Jane told
me that I should 'slug it out toe-to-toe,' but I was too scared of what he'd
do. That was a mistake. I have to stop him before he does anything else. No one
is safe as long as he's alive and free. I can't let him go on like this." "To stop him, we have to find
him," Joe said. She was silent a moment. "Or he has
to find me." "He's already destroyed the
skull," Nathan said. "He may not target you now. Particularly if he
has other fish to fry in Boca Raton." "Oh, I think he'll target me. I know
too much, and he evidently likes to keep everything tidy for the Cabal."
She paused. "But it will add a little impetus if he thinks I'm going after
evidence he doesn't want to be discovered." "And that is?" "Bently's grave. I don't have to have
the entire skeleton. In this day of DNA technology, if I discover hair, a bone,
even a tooth, I may have a chance of spoiling whatever game Hebert and the
Cabal are playing." "How?" "I'm not sure yet. But they don't
want him identified, or they wouldn't have blown up Jennings's car
tonight." "And how are you going to find the
grave?" "I may not be able to. But if Hebert
thinks I'm getting near it, he may be drawn in." She opened her handbag.
"On the other hand, I may be able to find it." She took out a
letter-size manila envelope and opened it. "If I can find out where this
came from." Joe took the envelope and looked inside.
"Dirt." "Galen called it 'funny dirt,' "
Eve said. "It's a light color, and it has a large amount of tiny bones or
shell chips. Victor had this caked mud in all his orifices." Nathan made a face as he poured coffee
into his cup. "Pleasant." Galen smiled. "Isn't it nice I'm so
observant? You were so obsessed with Victor, I didn't think you were paying
attention when I made the comment." "I didn't want to. It got in the way
of my work. But after you left, it kept nagging at me. So I scraped some of the
mud into an envelope and put it in my purse." "Why didn't you tell me?" Joe
asked. "I forgot about it." He raised his brows. "Forgot?" "Okay, I blocked it out," she
said defiantly. "I told you, it was getting in my way with Victor." Galen shook his head.
"Obsession." "And what are you going to do with
the mud?" Nathan asked. "Take it to Louisiana State
University. They have one of the best geology schools in the South there. I'll
see if they can give me a lead as to where dirt like this can be found." "And then?" "I go there and Hebert follows
me." "No," Joe said flatly. "Yes." Eve looked him directly
in the eye. "Toe-to-toe, Joe. I'm going to get the son of a bitch." He was silent a moment. "I wasn't
objecting to that. You said I, not we. I'm going with you." She opened her mouth to protest, and then
slowly nodded her head. It was no time to worry about their personal conflict. They
had worked together before, and there was no one she trusted as she did Joe. Trust... Galen nodded. "I think I'll tag
along, too." "No," Eve said. "I want you
to stay and watch over Jane. I need you here." "That wasn't what I was hired to
do." "I want her safe." Galen grimaced. "Okay, but Jane will
have my head if she finds out that I'm not dogging your footsteps." She smiled faintly. "You'll
survive." "I'm not so sure. She's a tough
customer." Eve turned to Nathan. "Are you coming
with us?" He shook his head. "I'm heading for
Boca Raton. If Jennings found out something down there, I might be able to do
the same. I'll be in touch." He poured more coffee into his cup. "We
don't have much time. It's already the twenty-fifth, and the twenty-ninth was
the date Etienne was so concerned about." The ticking clock. She wouldn't think
about it. She would move as quickly as she could, but there was no sense in
panicking. "Then we need to get going." She turned to Joe. "Can
you call your chief and get them to keep the FBI off our backs for a few
days?" He shook his head. "But I can try to
get the chief to keep his mouth shut about where we are." "Good." Eve turned to Galen.
"I need Hebert to know what we're up to." "He already seems to know a hell of a
lot more than I'm comfortable with." "I have to be sure." "Any ideas?" "I believe what Melton knows, Hebert
will know." She frowned, thinking. "Tanzer. He bragged that nothing
went on in Baton Rouge that he didn't know about. Can you finesse someone at
the college to filter information to Tanzer after we leave there?" "And Tanzer will call Melton."
Galen nodded. "I might be able to get one of my contacts to work it."
He smiled faintly. "After all, Tanzer is a trou du cul." Jesus, it seemed a long time since Marie
Letaux had used that phrase. So much had happened, so many deaths... "Be careful," Nathan said
soberly. "I wouldn't want you to be caught in the trap you're setting for
Hebert. The man gives me the willies." She had a sudden memory of the chill she
had felt when talking to Nathan earlier in the evening. "You be careful,
too." "I'm always careful." He
finished his coffee. "I have to live to get my Pulitzer." He started
for the door. "Come on, Galen. Get off your ass and take me to the
airport." Chapter Sixteen
Louisiana State
University 11:45 a.m. October 25 "It's
Terrebonne parish." Professor Gerald Cassidy straightened his bifocal glasses on his nose before
looking up at Eve and Joe. "I'd bet on it." "You haven't even tested it,"
Joe said. "How can you be sure?" "I'll take it to the lab and run some
tests, but I've seen this dirt before. It's unusual. I did a paper on the area
for my doctorate." Which couldn't have been too long ago, Eve
thought. Cassidy didn't look a day over twenty-five. "Why is it unusual?" "High concentration of calcium."
Cassidy pointed to the minute white chips embedded in the dirt. "Shells.
Hundreds of years ago, the entire area was flooded and the shells were
deposited all over." He frowned. "But I've never run across this heavy
a percentage of shells in the soil samples I took. I'd be interested to know
where it's located...." "We need to be absolutely sure we can
start at Terrebonne," Joe said. "Will you run some tests?" Cassidy shrugged. "Sure. Come back
this afternoon." He paused. "Why do you want to know? What are you
looking for?" Eve hesitated. "A grave." Cassidy made a face. "Good luck.
That's bayou country. Hundreds of waterways, and the Cajuns aren't all that
communicative. They don't like strangers. It took me months to gather enough
information for my thesis." "But you must have made a few
contacts. Can you put us in touch with anyone who might be able to pinpoint the
area where this might be found?" "Jacques Dufour. If he needs money
and wants to cooperate, he knows the bayous better than anyone else I was able
to hire. I'll give you his phone number in Houma." He opened a desk
drawer, took out a black leather address book, and flipped through it. "I
wouldn't use me as a reference. He made no bones about showing his contempt for
me." "Why?" "I was twenty-four years old, a
little bookish, and not Cajun. All sins in his eyes." He studied Joe.
"Somehow I don't think you'll have a problem with him." "I won't." Eve wrote down the
phone number and stood up. "When will you know for certain?" "It should be about four this
afternoon. Are you coming back here?" Eve shook her head as she went toward the
door. "Joe will give you our cell number. We're leaving for Houma right
away." ------------------- "They're going to Terrebonne parish,"
Melton said as soon as Hebert answered the phone. "They're after the
grave. For God's sake, can you screw up any worse than you've been doing?" Hebert smothered the surge of anger.
"They won't find anything." "I'm not so sure. You've screwed up
everything about this business from the beginning." "It will be all right. Maybe better
than all right. I know those swamps, and the people who live there. Etienne and
I grew up near those bayous." "Listen to me. I want no disruption.
Get rid of them quickly, quietly, and then get your ass back to Boca Raton.
Christ, I can't believe you've cut it this close. You're sure that everything's
on schedule down there?" "It's all in motion. I'm sure your
informants have already told you that the plan's working beautifully." "Yes, there was an article in the
newspaper this morning. Security?" "In place. As soon as I finish, I'll
get back and tie up any loose ends." "Then do it, damn you." Melton
hung up. Arrogant son of a bitch. Hebert didn't
need Melton to tell him how tight the time frame was getting. His gut twisted
every time he let himself think about it. Every move he had made lately had
been either threatened or checkmated. It was as if there were some force
keeping him from succeeding. Etienne. He closed his eyes. Ridiculous
superstitious nonsense. He mustn't panic. All he had to do was remove Duncan
and Quinn, and he'd be free to concentrate on his job in Boca Raton. It would
be easy to do. Unless it was a trap. But even if it was a trap, he'd have the
advantage. Every year people disappeared into those swamps and never came out.
There was death waiting for the careless around every bend of the bayou. But he
was experienced enough to spring any trap—or set a deadly
one of his own. A two-hour flight and he'd be in New
Orleans. An hour later and he'd be deep in the
swamp. Waiting. Houma 4:05 p.m. October 25 "Shells?" Jacques Dufour
shrugged. "There are shells all over the parish." "But this place has a very high
concentration of them," Eve said. "Professor Cassidy said you might
know where it was located." "I might. I'll have to think about
it." Eve gritted her teeth. The man was as
arrogant as Cassidy had told them. "Then think about it." "Maybe we should just go looking. My
swamp tour is the best in the bayou." "I don't want a tour. I want to find
a place with—" "How much?" Joe asked curtly. "I didn't say—" Dufour stopped as he met Joe's gaze. "I have an idea
where it might be. My cousin, Jean Pierdu, lives in an area where there are
many shells." "Then give me his telephone number. I
want to talk to him." Dufour smiled. "He has no telephone.
People are very poor here. You'll have to go to him. Five hundred." "Three hundred. And you'd better be
right about the shells. I wouldn't want you to waste your time." Joe's
voice lowered to silky softness. "Or mine." "Too cheap. It's deep in the bayou,
and I might have to—" "Maybe I didn't make myself
clear." Joe took a step closer. "Three hundred, and you might come
out of that bayou with your skin intact. Annoy me with this bullshit and you
may end up alligator bait." Dufour's lips tightened. "You should
remember that a bayou can be a dangerous place for someone who isn't familiar
with it." "Three hundred." Dufour hesitated, then shrugged.
"Three hundred." He turned away. "We leave tomorrow
morning." "Now." "I have a swamp tour in forty
minutes, and after that it will be too dark to see." He smiled
maliciously. "We go very close to the trees. I think you'd want to be able
to see a coral snake before it dropped in the lady's lap." Joe muttered a curse as he watched Dufour
swagger away from them. "It might have gone a little better
if you'd been more patient and not threatened him with the alligator," Eve
said. "I'm tired of being patient." That was evident to Eve. Ever since they'd
arrived at Houma, she'd been aware that Joe had gone into battle mode. She had
seen that side of him only a few times since she had known him. He tried to
keep the violence of both past and present apart from her. Yet she still
recognized the tension, the alertness, the barely contained eagerness. Yes,
eager was the word. He was eager, wanting to break loose, wanting to strike
out. No wonder Dufour had backed down. "We might as well find a hotel to
check into for the night," she said. "I need to call Galen and make
sure Jane's safe." ------------------- "Of course, she's safe," Galen
said. "I believe I'm insulted." "Insulted? May I remind you that she
and my mother were almost blown up?" "Good point. But now I have them
surrounded by so many of Hughes's security men that it would take an army to
get near them. Even if Hebert could breach the FBI and police guards, it would—" He stopped. "But Hebert is going to be too busy to
make an attempt, isn't he? Any sign of him?" "Not yet. But we have a lead on the
grave site. We're at Houma and we go into the swamp tomorrow." "I'm very good in swamps. I think you
need me. Hughes could do my job here, and I—" "We don't need you. Stay with Jane.
Have you heard from Nathan?" "No, but he'd more likely contact
you. For some reason, he finds me a little annoying." "I wonder why. I'll call you
tomorrow." She hung up. Eve was relieved. The odds that Hebert
would strike again at Jane were slim, but that hadn't stopped her from
worrying. Galen's attitude might have seemed light, but she knew him well
enough now to know that he was dead serious about his job. Jane was safe in his
hands. She stood up and moved over to the window.
It had started to rain; the distant swamp looked gloomy and menacing in the
early dusk. "Did you reach Galen?" Eve turned to see Joe standing in the
doorway. "Yes, Jane's fine." She smiled faintly. "He wanted to come
and help us. He says he's good in swamps. I told him we didn't need him." "Thank God. In my present mood I
don't think I could handle Galen's humor. As it is, I may have to drown Dufour
before this is over." "Did you find out anything from the
department about Jennings?" He shook his head. "Not yet. The FBI
took the forensic testing away from them, but the chief is pushing hard to get
all the reports as soon as they come out of the FBI labs. I asked Carol to call
me as soon as the reports hit any desk in the precinct." He made a face.
"And Rusk isn't at all pleased about our disappearing before his team got
down to Georgia. He's raising hell." "Tough." "That's what I said." Joe
paused. "I don't suppose you'd let me go alone to see Dufour's
cousin?" "No." "I'm pretty good in the swamps
myself. I learned a lot on assignment in Nicaragua when I was a SEAL." "I bet you did. And you can't wait to
use it." "No." He held her gaze with a
searing intensity that caused her eyes to widen with shock. "You're not
the only one who's mad as hell. I almost lost you. He's got to pay." Jesus. She finally managed to tear her gaze away.
"I'm going." "Just thought I'd try." He
turned away. "I'll see you in the morning. I've got the room next door. If
you need me, call." Eve stood staring at the door that had
closed behind Joe before finally forcing herself to turn back to the window. If you need me, call. Her hand clenched on the drape. She did
not need him. But, God, she wanted him. Chapter
Seventeen 1:10 p.m. October 26 "HOW CLOSE ARE WE?" EVE ASKED.
"IT SEEMS AS IF we've been in this boat for days." "Only four hours." Dufour
maneuvered the motorboat around a huge mangrove branch jutting out of the
water. "These bayous wind around like eels. You're lucky you have me to
guide you." He darted a glance at Joe. "Maybe you pay me more money
to take you back." Joe didn't look at him. "You're
pushing it." "It's a terrible thing to be lost in the swamp."
"I'm not lost." Joe's gaze shifted to Dufour's face. "I
memorized every turn you've taken from the time we left the dock. Do you want
me to repeat them back to you?" Dufour blinked, disconcerted.
"No." He quickly looked back at the muddy water ahead. "Can't
you take a joke? A deal is a deal." Joe smiled without mirth. "That's my
philosophy." Eve didn't doubt that Joe had told the
truth about knowing where they were, but she didn't see how. The weather was
chilly and damp, and ever since they had left the dock, it had been like being
in an alien world. Scraggly cypress trees formed a dark canopy over the narrow,
muddy waterway. Brown-black snakes occasionally glided by the boat, and
skeletal trees clung with desperation to the bottom of the bayou, fighting for
life in this hostile environment. And the vegetation was not the only thing
fighting for life. "What are those shacks on those
little islands? Do people actually live there?" Eve asked. "My cousin, Jean, would not be pleased
to hear you call his home a shack. His place is very like those houses. Though
most of the places we've passed are used primarily as camps by hunters and
fishermen," Dufour said. "But as you go deeper you find Cajuns who
live as well as hunt in the swamps and marshes. I told you the people were poor
here; they don't have the guts to get out and earn real money like I do. So
they're lucky to have a roof over their head." "Sometimes overcoming poverty isn't a
matter of guts." He shrugged. "Guts or stupidity." "Why are the houses built on stilts?
The ground comes up to the front door." "That's not the ground, it's mud.
This area is close to the ocean and, when the tide comes in, it brings the mud
with it. When the tide goes out, the houses would sink below the water if they
weren't on pilings." "What a precarious way to live,"
Eve murmured. Precarious and sad. "How deep is that mud?" "Sometimes five or six feet."
Dufour grinned. "Not good if you're a sleepwalker. You drop off the porch
and you have a mouthful of slime." He pointed to a shack several yards
ahead. "That's Jean's place." It was another small cypress shack, built
on stilts and linked to the bayou by a narrow pier. A woman came out onto the
porch and stood staring unsmilingly at them. She was small, thin, and very
pregnant. Two small boys garbed only in dirty T-shirts and underpants were
clinging to her skirts. "Don't stand there gawping at us,
Marguerite," Dufour said as he guided the boat close to the makeshift
pier. "Tell Jean he has guests." "We don't want the kind of guests you
bring us. We've no use for tourists." She glanced at Eve. "If you
want to see how we Cajuns live, then go somewhere else. Leave us alone." "Such rudeness." Dufour clucked
reprovingly. "I'll have to tell Jean to beat you more often." He tied
the boat and jumped out on the pier. "Is he here?" She nodded. "He won't want to see
you." "Yes, he will. There's money to be
had." He glanced at the woman's swollen belly. "And you can obviously
use money right now. Two children under five years and another mouth to feed on
the way?" She hesitated, then turned on her heel.
"Bring them." "Stay here, Eve." Joe jumped out
of the boat and strode toward the shack. "I'll just take a little look
around." Eve stiffened as he disappeared into the
house. Joe was obviously in protective mode. The hell she'd stay here. She scrambled out of the boat, but was
only halfway up the wooden dock when Joe came to the door and waved for her to
come in. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe. For now. ------------------- "I might know of such a place,"
Jean Pierdu said slowly. "How much?" "Five hundred to take us there,"
Joe said. "And another five hundred if you can tell us anything that might
be of interest to us about it." Jean gazed at him impassively. "I
know nothing about shells." "What do you know about graves?"
Eve asked. His expression didn't change. "We
keep to ourselves here." "But that doesn't mean you don't know
exactly what's going on," Dufour said. "I heard rumors there were
outsiders here a few years ago. We don't care about outsiders, Jean. Why not
get a little money for yourself?" "We need it, Jean," Marguerite
said quietly. "He's right, why should we care about outsiders?" "Don't interfere, Marguerite."
Jean was silent a moment, and then slowly nodded. "A thousand." "I can tell you and Dufour are
related," Joe said dryly. "Seven hundred." "Give him the thousand, Joe."
Eve's gaze was fixed on Marguerite and the two children. Joe smiled faintly. "Okay." He
turned back to Jean. "Where is it?" "The money." Joe reached for his wallet and counted out
the cash. "Satisfied?" Jean nodded and stuffed the money in his
pocket. "There are two islands about four miles from here. They're in a
little natural pocket of the swamp, and they caught the bulk of the shells when
the floods came. That might be what you're looking for." "They're little mud islands like this
one?" Eve asked. Jean nodded. "I've lived here all my
life and I've never run across anywhere else that had that many shells." "Are the islands close
together?" "Yes." He paused. "But
you'll only be interested in the second one. There's nothing on the
other." Joe stiffened. "And what's on the
second one?" "You won't find your grave. It's not
there anymore." "But it was there?" "Get more money," Marguerite
said. Jean gave her an annoyed glance. "I
was going to do that." Joe peeled off another five hundred.
"Was there a grave?" Jean nodded. "Two. Not marked. But
they were there. I saw Etienne digging them. He was having a hard time. He said
he had to anchor the bodies to the pilings because he didn't want to chance the
bodies being washed out and found." "Etienne Hebert? You knew him?" Jean nodded again. "He came about the
time the other two came. But he wasn't like them. He was Cajun like us." "What other two? When?" "About two years ago. Two men came
and hired some of us to build them a house on the island and then forget they
were there." He shrugged. "The money was good. Why should we care
what they were doing? As long as they didn't sell their drugs to our children,
they could make all the powders they wanted. It wasn't our business." "You thought they were into
drugs?" "We knew they were. Etienne told us.
He would come and bring a bottle of wine and sit in that very chair and tell us
about all the supplies that he brought down the bayou from Houma to the
island." "He was a nice man," Marguerite
said. "You're not going to get him into trouble? He wasn't to blame." "No, I promise Etienne won't get into
trouble," Eve said. "He always said that those crazy men
would blow themselves up with all those chemicals they had him bring,"
Marguerite said. "He was sad. I think he liked them." "And what happened to them?" "What Etienne said would happen. One
night there was a big explosion. When we went to see what happened, we found
Etienne digging two graves. He told us to go away and forget what had happened.
He said the police mustn't know, or they would think we were all criminals,
too." "And that's what you did?" "We're not fools. The police think
we're scum. Etienne was right." "And what were the two men's
names?" Joe asked. "What do you think?" Jean's tone
dripped sarcasm. "Smith and Jones. Do you think they'd give us their real
names?" "How long were they on the island
before the explosion?" Eve asked. "Four months, maybe. They came to us
two months before that, but we wasted a little time because we started building
on the first island. Then they decided it would be better to go a little deeper
into the swamp, and we had to start again on the second." "How far apart are they?" "About a mile. But a mile can make a
big difference in the swamp." "You said you knew the grave wasn't
there anymore. How do you know that?" "Etienne came back. He told us that
the police were asking questions and he had to get rid of the skeletons."
Jean grimaced. "Trust the police to worry about dirt like that and try to
cause us trouble. It wasn't our fault they blew themselves up." "What do you know about Etienne's
brother?" Jean frowned. "He has a
brother?" "He didn't talk about him?" Jean shook his head. "That's enough," Dufour said.
"Don't tell them anything else unless they give you more money,
Jean." He smiled. "And a little bonus for me for bringing them to
you." "You've probably squeezed enough out
of them without dipping into my pockets," Jean said. "And I'll need
all my money if me and my family have to disappear for a while." "Why do you have to do that?" "You think I trust you or these
people?" He looked at Joe. "We did nothing. We're not responsible for
how those crackheads died. They did it to themselves." "We're not blaming you," Eve
said. "You don't have to run away." Jean ignored her. "Pack up,
Marguerite." "We need you to take us to this
island," Joe said. "Why? I told you, there's nothing
there." "There may be more than you
think." Jean gave an exasperated exclamation.
"Waste of time." He stood up and headed for the door. "You want
to see the place? You have a guide. I'm through with this." He motioned to
Dufour. "Come on, Jacques. I'll walk you to the boat and tell you where it
is." Joe moved after them. "I think I'll
tag along and listen in. I want to make sure we're heading in the right
direction." Eve was about to follow Joe out of the
house, but stopped beside Marguerite, who was pulling out clothes from a scratched,
shabby pine bureau. "Where will you go?" "That's none of your business." "We really mean you no harm." "Go away." Eve started for the door. "Wait." Marguerite was silent a
moment. "We'll be all right. We'll go stay with friends for awhile until we're
sure it's safe to come back. No one can find us in this swamp unless we want to
be found." "If you knew you'd have to run away
like this, why did you take the money?" Marguerite looked at her in wonder.
"We needed it. It may not seem like a lot to you, but that much money will
keep my children fed for months." She pulled out a faded duffel bag from
beneath the bed. "It's worth the risk." "Eve," Joe called from outside. "Coming." Joe's gaze raked her face as she came down
the pier. "Did you convince her that we don't mean to toss her family in
jail?" "No, she wouldn't believe me. But she
said the money was worth the risk. Those two little boys ... I wonder if they
get enough to eat. Poverty sucks, Joe." Joe nodded, his gaze on Jean. "That's
not all it does." She went still. "What do you
mean?" "It was a little too easy. It should
have been harder to dig that information out of him." She nodded thoughtfully. "And it was
a little odd that they didn't know Etienne had a brother. From what we've
heard, Etienne wasn't the most discreet person in the world." He smiled. "I thought you were so
concerned about those two little kids that you weren't paying attention." "I'm sympathetic, not blind. You
think Hebert got to Jean and set up a trap?" "It's possible." "Then his story is all a lie?" "Not necessarily. The best lies are
always the ones founded on truth." He gazed thoughtfully out at the bayou.
"Etienne probably did spin them a tale about a drug lab, and Jean and his
neighbors did turn a blind eye. That doesn't mean that Jules Hebert didn't pop
in last night and offer them enough money to make our bribe seem
piddling." A chill went through her. "Then he'll
be waiting at the island." "That's my guess." She drew a deep breath. "Good. Now
how do we find a—" "Later." He turned and helped
her into the boat. "Leave it to me." Like she'd left it to him when he'd dumped
her by the road outside New Orleans? No way. Chapter
Eighteen "Here's the
first island." Dufour pointed to the mound of mud looming ahead. "The one that your drug-dealing
friends were afraid was too out in the open and decided to abandon. My cousin
didn't get much done on it, did he?" A narrow pier weathered by water and
time led to an equally weathered platform that must have been meant to be the foundation
of the research facility. "According to Jean, the next island should be
the one where you'll find your grave." He grinned. "Or lack of one.
You sure you want to go on?" "We want to go on," Joe said.
"But pull over to this island first. I want to make sure cousin Jean
wasn't lying about the shell content." Eve looked at him in surprise. Dufour shrugged. "Why not wait until
you get to the right island?" "Pull over." Dufour hesitated and then guided the boat
close to the pier. "You're wasting time." "It's our time, and you've been well
paid for it." Joe jumped out of the boat before helping
Eve. "We'll be back in a minute, Dufour." "What the hell are you doing?"
Eve asked in a low voice as she followed him onto the platform. "I saw Dufour press a button on his
cell phone right before we turned the last bend in the bayou. It was probably a
signal to Hebert. I'd bet he's waiting for us up ahead." "And why are we here?" "I'm getting rid of an
encumbrance." Joe stood gazing out at the bayou. "You." Eve stiffened. "Encumbrance?" "You don't like the word. But I'm not
going to be polite. You'll be in my way. You're staying here." "The hell I am. You pushed me out of
that car in New Orleans. You're not going to do it again." "Yes, I am." He turned to face
her and a ripple of shock went through her. His expression was colder and
harder than she had ever seen it. "I'm not going to let either one of us
die because you don't want to be left out. This is my job, not yours. I don't
interfere when you're doing the work on your skulls. Don't interfere with me
now." "I'm just supposed to let you go out
and maybe get yourself killed?" "I'd be more likely to be killed if I
had to worry about you getting in my way. That's not going to happen." "And how are you going to stop me
from going with you?" "I'll put you down for a little nap
if I have to. Don't make me do it, Eve." And he would do it. She could see it in
his expression. Joe had been heading in this direction since they had entered
the swamp. The subdued excitement she had sensed had now broken free. Eve had
never seen him more alive ... or more dangerous. He was the hunter, the
stalker, the warrior. "You can't wait to dive in and go after him." He nodded. "I'm not like you. You
want Hebert to be taken out because he's a danger, because it's
necessary." "And you're happy as hell to get the
opportunity." "You're learning a lot about me that
you didn't know before." He smiled crookedly. "For instance, I never
told you why I left the SEALs. You didn't want to know about that part of my
life. It was too violent for you." "Why did you leave the SEALs?" "Because I liked it too much,"
he said simply. "And I was getting too close to the line no one should
cross, I was a killing machine." "That's not true. That's not
you." "It was me. It could be me again. It
could be me now." "No way. You couldn't—" "Hey, Quinn," Dufour shouted
from the boat. "Are you going to be all day?" "He's getting impatient." Joe
smiled. "Or maybe Hebert is impatient. We mustn't keep him waiting."
He reached in his jacket pocket and handed her his gun. "Just in
case." "Are you crazy? You're going after
Hebert without a gun?" "I won't need it." He glanced
down at the machete holstered on his belt. "In the swamp, guns aren't my
weapon of choice." He turned and crossed the platform. "Keep cool
until I get back." "Joe, dammit." He glanced over his shoulder at her.
"You know I'm right. You know you'll be an albatross and could get me
killed. You know you'd have to shoot me to keep me from going after him." "I might do it." He shook his head as he jumped into the
boat. "Move, Dufour." "Joe." "You shouldn't leave the lady
alone," Dufour said. "What if a snake—" "Go," Joe said. Eve's hand clenched on the butt of the gun
as she watched the boat glide away from the island. Joe's head was lifted as if
he was scenting the wind. Maybe he was. Nothing would have surprised her in
this strange, fierce Joe. She shouldn't have let him go. She should
have found a way to stop him. Yet he was right. Joe knew what he was
doing, and she could have put him in terrible danger if she'd gotten in his
way. No matter how much she wanted to help, logic told her that going with him
would have been a mistake. Screw logic. She hated feeling this
helpless. She crossed to the edge of the platform,
her gaze straining to get a last glimpse of Joe. Too late. The boat had already
turned the bend of the bayou and was out of sight. Come back. Be safe, Joe. Come back. ------------------- "It should be right around the next
bend, Quinn," Dufour said without turning around. "A few minutes. No
more." Where was that bastard Hebert? Dufour didn't want to be the one to
take out Quinn. He didn't like the vibes the man was sending out. Hebert had promised him things would go
smoothly, and yet Quinn had already taken the woman out of the situation. He'd
tell Hebert that he wasn't to blame, that it wasn't his fault. Another moment passed. No Hebert. He would have to do it himself. "There's your island. On the
left." He cut the engine and gestured with one hand while the other
reached surreptitiously into his knapsack for his gun. "It's not much of a
place. The house is burnt to the ground, and look at that—" He whirled with the gun in his hand and
fired. "What the—" No one was there! Quinn's jacket and boots
were on the bottom of the boat, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then Dufour saw him, beneath the water on
the left side of the boat, moving fast. Shit. Lightning fast. Toward the boat, not
away from it. Dufour carefully aimed and fired. ------------------- Eve glanced at her watch. Jesus, it had
been only fifteen minutes. It had seemed like an hour. She couldn't take this.
What was she going to do? she thought bitterly. Go swimming after them through
the swamp? She should never have let— A shot. Her heart leaped in panic. Joe didn't have
a gun. It was here in her hand. Another shot. Then another. Oh, God. "There's a very good chance he's
dead, Eve." She whirled to the right from where the
voice had come, raising the pistol. A bullet shattered the barrel of the gun, the
force of the vibration whipping the weapon from her grip. She got a lightning
glimpse of Hebert as she dropped to the ground. He was sitting in a canoe,
pointing a rifle at her. "So much violence. I would never have
thought it of you." He cradled the rifle in his arm as he paddled closer
to the pier. "And when I was trying to be merciful and give you a little
more time. I could have killed you before you even knew I was here. You didn't
hear me coming, did you?" "No." "That's because I don't believe in using
motor-boats when I'm in the swamp. A paddle can be whisper-silent if it's
wielded by someone who knows what he's doing. Now, I'm going to get out of this
boat. Don't move or I'll be forced to blow your head off." Hebert stood up
and jumped onto the pier. "There. You can get up now." Eve slowly got to her feet. "Where's
Joe, Rick?" "You recognize me? But then, my
disguise wasn't that elaborate. I thought you'd been too ill that night to pay
me much attention. Still, I did make Rick Vadim a likable fellow, didn't
I?" "Where's Joe?" "The last time I caught sight of him,
Dufour was going around a bend near the research island. I was going to take
Quinn out, but I couldn't get close enough to him without him seeing me." "We thought you'd be waiting there on
the island." Hebert shook his head. "No cover. I
had to get some distance away. But then I saw you weren't in the boat, and I
knew he must have dropped you someplace. So I decided to let Dufour take his
chances with Quinn and come back and find you." "So you found me. Now what?" "You heard the shots. We wait to see
if Dufour comes back alone." "Or if Joe comes back alone." "There's always that possibility. I
hear Quinn is very good." "Better than you. Better than
anyone." Eve's nails bit into her palms as her hands clenched into fists.
"He's not dead." "Then he'll come back for you. And
I'll be here. You shouldn't have come here. It was useless. Do you think I
wouldn't have come back and made sure there wasn't any evidence?" "You're not infallible. You've made
mistakes before. Evidently you made one here." "I'm not the only one who makes
mistakes. Quinn made a big one leaving you here." "He thought I'd be safe. He wanted to
protect me." "And he's desperate to get back in
your good graces. He wanted to fight the wicked monster and lay my carcass at
your feet." Hebert smiled. "You know, I was sorry at the time that I
had to pull you into the reconstruction by using your daughter, but it does
keep paying dividends." "Sorry?" "I'm not made of stone." "You're a murderer." "So is a Medal of Honor winner who
kills the enemy in battle. It's all a matter of means and ends." "You're no hero." "I never said I was. I just fight for
what I believe in." "And you believe it's right to kill
me." "I believe it's necessary. But I'm a
little sad to do it. I admire your strength. I'll give you as long as I can
before I put you down. I know how precious every moment can be." Hebert's
gaze shifted to the bayou and he moved to the shadows at the side of the
platform. "You just stand there where Quinn can see you when he comes
around that curve in the bayou." "And you'll pick him off." "If Dufour hasn't done it for me. I
paid him well enough to do the job, but I'm not sure he has the balls to tackle
Quinn." Eve drew a deep breath. "Joe doesn't
have to die." "Of course he does. You know better
than that. He knows too much. It's my duty to keep the Cabal safe." "The FBI already knows of its
existence." "Suspects." Hebert smiled
faintly. "There's a difference. We have people in almost every FBI field
office in the country. Evidence gets misplaced, information doesn't get to key
personnel, agents who know too much have 'accidents.' " "Like your brother. You killed him,
didn't you?" His smile disappeared. "He betrayed
me; he betrayed the Cabal." "How?" "I made a mistake. Once I'd tracked
them down, and found Bently and Simmons here doing research on fuel cells, I
sent Etienne to work for Bently and Simmons to bring in supplies from the city.
I thought it would be easier for him to destroy them and the prototypes from
inside. They trusted him. Everyone trusted Etienne. He was everyone's
friend." "When he wasn't killing people?" "He never killed anyone. I took him
along because I hoped if the Cabal could see how loyal he was, they'd accept
him. I taught him everything I could, but he had no heart for it. Still, I
wanted him with me. I was lonely." He drew a deep breath. "I set the
charge to blow up the facility, but Etienne was the one who went in to verify
that they'd both been killed after the explosion. People were used to seeing
Etienne go back and forth to the island, so it was less suspicious. He told me
that he'd seen the bodies and buried them." "He didn't?" "He liked Bently and Simmons."
Hebert's lips tightened. "He liked everybody. He was only a youngster, and
it wouldn't have been hard for a smart man to manipulate him. I thought
everything was fine. Until four months ago, when our sources in Detroit told
the Cabal that there were new purchases being made similar to the ones that
were bought by Bently two years ago. The order came from Louisiana." "It could have been someone else
experimenting." "That wasn't quite all. During the
last two months, three Cabal members from Louisiana have died under
circumstances that were a little suspect. They could have been accidents, but
all three were known to be against environmental restrictions. The Cabal
doesn't like coincidences, and they don't like their members targeted." "Revenge?" "It was a possibility." Hebert
smiled grimly. "Enough to scare Melton shitless. He was afraid he'd be
next." "But how would Bently or Simmons know
who the Cabal members were?" "Haven't you guessed? Bently belonged
to the Cabal for over four years. He believed, as I do, that the power of the
Cabal could work miracles. He was the one who brought Simmons's invention to
our attention. He wanted our help. Then when it was decided that the fuel cell
had to disappear, he dropped out of sight and took Simmons with him." "They sent you after them." "And I found them. I always find
them." "But this time you fouled up, didn't
you? You failed your precious Cabal." "I didn't fail them," he
said, stung. "I made a mistake, that's all. A mistake I corrected. After
we heard from Detroit, we had to make sure that both the research and the men
who'd done it were destroyed. Melton asked me if I was positive Simmons and
Bently were dead. Of course I was positive. Hadn't the person closest to me,
the only man I trusted, told me that they were? But they asked me if I'd seen
the bodies myself. What could I say? So they told me to go get the skeletons
for DNA testing. I was in Barcelona at the time and I called Etienne and told
him to retrieve the skeletons and meet me at Sarah Bayou near Baton Rouge.
Melton had already arranged for a forensic anthropologist and DNA expert to
meet us at the church, so that we could rush the tests." He was silent a
moment. "When Etienne showed up with the coffin, I could tell something
was wrong the minute I saw him." "He didn't have the skeletons?" "Neither one. Just that damn skull.
At first, he told me that the skeletons had been stolen. Then when he could see
I didn't believe him, he told me he'd destroyed both skeletons but had brought
me Harold Bently's skull." "Why?" "He thought it would get me off the
hook with the Cabal. He'd made sure the skull was almost impossible to
identify, but he didn't want to get me in trouble. He was proud of himself for
thinking of a way to save me and still keep the Cabal from getting what it
wanted." "But it didn't save Etienne, did
it?" "He didn't understand. I talked to
him for hours trying to persuade him to tell me if we'd killed both men, and to
whom the skull belonged. He wouldn't tell me anything. All he'd say was that
what the Cabal was doing was wrong and we should do what was right. He wanted
me to break with the Cabal." He shook his head. "He didn't
understand. The world would be chaos without the Cabal to guarantee order.
There have to be checks and balances. Someone has to guide our path." My God, he actually believes what he's
saying. "I'm with Etienne. I don't understand that concept, either. It's
just propaganda. So you killed him?" "You make it sound so easy,"
Hebert said bitterly. "You think I wanted to do it? I loved him. If there
had been a way to save him, I would have done it." "There's always a choice." "I had to tell the Cabal what he'd
done. It was my duty. He'd betrayed them." "And they told you what to do." "Yes, Melton said to find a way to
lure him to the church and dispose of him there. It was isolated enough for our
purpose, and for what I had to do." He paused. "I told Etienne that
we'd find a way to fool the Cabal. I'd steal a skeleton from one of the old
graveyards outside of town and put it in the coffin, so that we'd have
something for the experts who were supposed to be waiting at the church to
examine it." He swallowed. "It was easy. He thought it was a
wonderful idea. He wanted to believe me. He always wanted to believe me." "Until the minute he died?" "Until the minute he died."
Hebert's eyes glittered with tears. "It was a merciful death. He was happy
until the end." "No death is merciful." "It could have been worse. Melton
told me that I had to make him talk before he died. That's why he wanted me to
take him to the church—so that I'd have all the privacy I needed.
I'm very good at making people talk. I know every agonizing way. I couldn't do
that to Etienne. He was very strong, very stubborn. It would have been a long,
long time before he broke, and then he would have had to die anyway. So I disobeyed
and killed him quickly." His lips twisted. "Melton wasn't pleased. I
had to find a way to make amends for destroying any information Etienne might
have given me." "And you found me." "I found you." "But you couldn't know if Etienne had
told you the truth about Bently's skull." Hebert shook his head. "I thought I
knew him well enough to know if he was lying about it— although he'd managed to fool me for two years. I could only
hope." He paused. "But after you became ill, I knew that either
Bently or Simmons must still be alive. One of them wanted you dead, so that no
one would know that he was still alive and working on the fuel cells. I
questioned Marie Letaux that night before she died, but she genuinely had no
idea who had hired her. She got a phone call and then money in her mailbox, and
the promise of a final payment when she'd done the job. She kept saying that it
was only supposed to make you ill. That it wasn't her fault." He shrugged.
"She was no help to me. I had to wait until you'd finished the
reconstruction to find out which one had hired her." "How did you find out the skull was
Bently's?" "A mole in Rusk's FBI office.
Jennings told Rusk right before he died that your reconstruction was definitely
Bently. All hell broke loose after Jennings was killed; it was easy enough to
pick up the info." "Then your mole must have found out
what Jennings discovered about Boca Raton. What was it?" Hebert smiled
faintly as he shook his head. "So that you can ride to the rescue? You
still think you're going to live through this, don't you? I've always found
that no one really believes they're going to die until they do. I assure you,
Eve, if I told you what was going to happen, you still wouldn't be able to save
the old tiger. The plan's already in motion, and calculated down to the last
gasp." "Then you shouldn't mind telling
me." "But I do. Life still has to have
some mysteries. You'd only fret, and your last moments should be
worry-free." "You're not worry-free. Even if you
kill me, you're still going to have to contend with Simmons." "I'll find him. I know who I'm
looking for now. It's difficult for a man to hide in this world, particularly
if the Cabal is looking for him." Hebert's glance shifted again to the
bayou, and he moved to the edge of the platform. "Quinn's been a long
time. I'm beginning to wonder if I should—" He shrieked. A machete blade had bitten through the
bone and sinew of the hand holding his gun. The weapon dropped from his
almost-severed right hand, and Eve dove across the deck to get it. "No!" Joe spat out the reed
between his teeth. "Stay away from him." He lunged up from the mud
beside the platform, grabbed Hebert's knees, and jerked him backward into the
mud. Hebert was struggling desperately. She
suddenly saw a glint of metal in his left hand. Oh, God, Hebert had a knife. And Joe had
thrown his weapon at him. Eve lifted the gun to aim at Hebert, but
the two men were rolling, sinking, fighting in the watery mud. She might hit
Joe. She jumped off the deck into the mud and
waded toward them. "Joe, get away from him for a minute.
I can't—" Hebert's knife was gone, sent spinning
into the mud by a blow from the edge of Joe's hand. And then Joe was on top of Hebert. His
hands closed in a stranglehold on Hebert's throat. He pushed his head under the
mud and held him there. Hebert's arms and legs flailed helplessly as he
struggled for breath. The mud was suffocating him. "Joe," Eve whispered. For an instant she wasn't sure he had
heard her, and when he glanced sideways she flinched at the sheer blind
ferocity she saw in his expression. Joe drew a deep breath, and then his grasp
strengthened and she heard a snap as he broke Hebert's neck. He released Hebert, stood, and stepped
back. "I expected a harder time with him." "Why?" Eve drew a shaky breath.
"You almost severed his hand when you threw that machete." "He was pointing a gun at you." She shivered as she stared down at Jules
Hebert lying in the mud, his face submerged beneath the surface. "Did he hurt you?" Eve turned to look at Joe. Covered with
mud, he was still almost as terrifying a figure as the creature that had lunged
out of that muck and unleashed a spearhead of death, blood, and violence. "Dammit, did he hurt you?" Joe
repeated. "He didn't touch me. How about
you?" "A few bruises. Not that you could
tell under all this mud. You're almost as muddy as I am. Why the hell didn't
you stay out of it?" Because she couldn't stand by when she saw
him in danger. "He had a knife." "Did I look like I was
helpless?" No, he had looked absolutely terrifying.
She tried to smile. "You reminded me of Swamp Thing." "That's what I feel like." Joe
grasped Eve's shoulders and glared down at her. "You listen to me. Never
again. This is the last time I'll let you risk your neck. I can't take it.
Screw women's lib." He turned, waded through the mud toward Hebert's
canoe, and crawled into it. "I'll be right back. I'm going to take
Hebert's canoe around the bend to where I left Dufour's motor-boat. We'll go
back to town and clean up." "What happened to Dufour?" "He won't bother us anymore." I was a killing machine. I could be again. Eve shivered, and her glance shifted to
Hebert. "And what will we do about him?" "Let him rot." Joe grimaced.
"Okay, I know. I'm an insensitive bastard about the dear departed. We'll
tell the police in Houma where we left him." "Not yet." "No? That's a surprise." "The Cabal doesn't know that he's
dead and we're alive. It may buy us time before they send anyone else after
us." "Did he tell you anything about what
was happening in Boca Raton?" "Not much." Yet Hebert had said
something ... Surely there was some fragment of sense in his words that she
could examine. "Maybe. He said something about a tiger and us not being
able to stop it. That it had all been planned down to the last gasp." She
rubbed her temple. "I don't know. I can't think." Joe studied her. "I don't like the
way you're shaking." "I'm just cold." "Chilled and shocked and wet to the
bone. October is no time to take a mud bath." "You did." "Yeah, but I don't have a sensitive
nerve in my body." "That's bullshit." "You really aren't feeling yourself
if you're giving me credit for tender feelings. I've got to get you back to the
hotel and a hot shower." Joe's paddle cut into the water. "Don't move
a muscle." Easy to say. It seemed that every muscle
in Eve's body was trembling with cold and fatigue. She should try to think, but
her mind was just as dulled as her body. Fight it. There wasn't much time. Try to
think what Hebert had said. Tiger. Something about a tiger and his
last gasp. That meant death, a killing. Why couldn't she remember? She had to remember, or Hebert's death
would mean nothing. He would still win and the killing would go on. There wasn't much time. ------------------- Joe turned on the shower and pushed Eve
naked under the warm spray. Another moment and he was in the shower with her,
soaping her hair with shampoo. "I can do it. Take care of yourself." "Shut up." He soaped her body
from shoulders to feet and then pushed her to the front of the shower to rinse
off. "Just stand there and let the water warm you while I get some of the
dirt off me." "No time. Have to think. Someone's
going to die, Joe." "I know. You told me in the boat
coming here. Several times." "Did I? I hate death. I hate
it." "I know you do." "I don't understand killers like
Hebert. He didn't care about the death of anyone, except for his brother. It
didn't matter to him about other people who have fathers or brothers or little
girls..." "Shh. Are you warmer now?" "He was going to kill Jane and my mother.
Two wonderful lives just snuffed—" "Are you warmer?" He had asked that before. She thought
about it. The shaking was gone and so was that icy lethargy. "Yes." "Good." He was out of the shower
and reaching for a towel. "Then let's get you dry and into bed." "I can—" "Hush." "You know, I didn't really believe in
the Cabal before I heard Hebert talking about it. It wasn't real to me. I
believe in it now. They're the ones who pointed Hebert at Jane and my mother
and told him to kill them. Someone has to stop them. So much evil..." "Yes." "Jennings said it was right there
before him, but he didn't see it. What didn't he see, Joe?" "We'll figure it out later." He
wrapped her in a dry towel and gently pushed her toward the bedroom.
"Climb in bed while I dry off." "If it was right there before him,
then it was right there before us, too." "The only thing right before you is
that bed." "I can't go to sleep. I have to put
it together." "You're not going to put anything
together until you get some rest." He took her arm and drew her toward the
bed. "Come on. I'll hold you and keep you warm, and you can think your
little heart out." He slipped into bed, pulled her down beside him, and
cuddled her close. "Better?" Better? Warmth and safety against death's
cold inevitability. "Don't let me go to sleep." "No guarantees. You're on your own.
The only promise you'll get from me is that I'll always be beside you to wake
you in the morning." Wonderful promise, beautiful promise... Bittersweet promise. "You're stiffening against me,"
he said. "Don't do it. Take this moment, Eve. I want to give it to
you." And she wanted to take it. She relaxed
against him. "That's it." "This isn't a good idea." "Shh." He stroked her hair.
"Never argue with Swamp Thing." God, she was actually smiling. Or was she
crying? Maybe it was a little of both. "I wouldn't dream of it. If Swamp
Thing will just shut up so I can try to think." "That can be arranged." He
kissed her temple. "Close your eyes; it will help you to
concentrate." He just wanted her to go to sleep. She was very much afraid he was going to
get his wish. Her lids were too heavy to stay open.... No, fight it. Go over everything Nathan
and Jennings had told them. Clear her mind and remember everything she'd
learned from Hebert in those last moments before Joe had killed him. And keep her damn eyes open. Houma 3:35 a.m. October 27 It was right there before me. There's
nothing you can do about the old tiger. It's been timed down to the last gasp.
Royal weddings ... The Olympics.... "Oh, my God." Eve jerked upright
in bed. "It's a funeral, Joe." "What?" Joe rose up on one
elbow. "What are you talking about?" "It is a meeting of the Cabal at Boca
Raton. But they had to have a reason. No Olympics, no wedding. It's a funeral.
There's going to be a funeral so important in Boca Raton that it would validate
the presence of dignitaries from all over the world." Joe nodded slowly. "It's
possible." "Why else would the Cabal send their
number-one assassin to Boca?" She felt sick. "Christ, I wonder how
many important people have been killed to provide the Cabal a reason to
meet." "Wait a minute. We're not sure you're
right." "We're not sure I'm wrong." Eve
swung her feet to the floor. "But Hebert talked as if his target wasn't
dead yet. He said I couldn't stop it, but that means he's still alive. Maybe we
can find a way to save him." "Providing we can find out who he
is." "He's well known enough to attract
worldwide notice." She was thinking quickly. "Probably not an
entertainer or movie star. He lives in Boca Raton and has plans to be buried
there. Otherwise the meeting would have been planned for somewhere else."
She reached for her telephone. "What's Nathan's cell number?" Joe reached in his pocket and brought out
his phone book. "You're right, Nathan's a newspaperman. He should be able
to track the target down." "And he's in Boca right now."
She was rapidly dialing Nathan's number. "Which is where we need to be.
Will you call and get us reservations out of New Orleans while I talk to
Nathan?" Chapter
Nineteen "Christ."
Nathan was silent for a moment after Eve had finished speaking. "It's got to be Franklin
Copeland." Shock rippled through Eve.
"What?" "I'm surprised you didn't guess. It's
been all over the newspapers and television for the past couple days. The Old
Tiger is a sick man." "We haven't been paying any attention
to the news." "I can see how you've been a little
busy." "Old Tiger," she repeated.
"That's what Hebert called him." "That was Copeland's nickname when he
was a colonel in Vietnam before he became president. War hero, ex-President of
the United States, and for the last fifteen years, he's been known for his work
with UNESCO. I'd say he'd warrant a pretty impressive guest list for his
funeral." "Is he supposed to be buried in
Boca?" "I don't know. I can find out."
Silence. "Jesus, I met Copeland once when he was lecturing in New Orleans.
I liked him. He's one hell of a guy." Eve had never met him, but she'd liked
what she'd known of him, too. He had seemed a warm, intelligent man with no
delusions of grandeur. "We're talking as if he's dead
already," Nathan said. "What the hell can we do to save him?" "What's he suffering from?" She
inhaled sharply. "Anthrax?" "No." It had been her first thought, connecting
Copeland's illness to the anthrax scare in Boca Raton a year or two ago. "Then what is it?" "Nothing suspicious. He has heart
problems aggravated by severe asthma. The asthma seemed to be pretty well under
control for the past couple years, but he's had several attacks in the past few
weeks. He's been in and out of the hospital three times—the last bout of asthma triggered a heart attack." "Asthma ... What could trigger an
attack? Some kind of poison?" "Beats me. But the Secret Service
should be able to find out, once they know what's happening. You're on your way
down here?" "As soon as we can get a plane. Find
us a place to stay outside the city. We have to keep a low profile. We don't
want anyone to know Hebert's dead." "That's smart. Then you'll want me to
go to Copeland's Secret Service team right away and tell them what we
know." "Right." "I'm on it. Maybe they can save the
old guy. Let me know what flight you're on and I'll meet you at the
airport." "God, I hope it's not too late."
She hung up and turned to Joe. "Franklin Copeland." He gave a low whistle. "It would fit.
Not only famous, but loved by the masses." "And they're killing him just for an
excuse to have a goddamn meeting." She could feel the tears sting her
eyes. "I wish they'd all burn in hell." "It must be a pretty important
meeting," he said thoughtfully. "Etienne told Nathan they never meet
in person unless something critical is in the balance. I'd be interested in
knowing what's on their agenda." "So would I. We'll find out."
She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. "But it's Copeland
who's important right now. What time can we get out of New Orleans?" "First flight is ten A.M. to Fort
Lauderdale. It's about a forty-minute drive to Boca. There's nothing
direct." She started for the bathroom. "Then
let's get out of here." ------------------- Nathan was waiting for them at the gate.
She didn't have to hear his first sentence. It was all there in his face. "Sorry. Copeland died two hours
ago." Disappointment flooded her. She had been hoping against hope that
they could save him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. "I really hoped—" "Let's get out of here." Joe
took her arm and guided her down the corridor. "What about the Secret
Service? You got through to them?" Nathan nodded. "For all the good it
did me. It took me time I didn't have to convince them they had to take me
seriously. They thought I was just some wild-ass reporter trying to drum up a
story. Then they called Rusk at the FBI to verify there was an ongoing
investigation about the Cabal." "Did it help?" He shook his head. "Rusk was killed
in an automobile accident yesterday afternoon on his way home from the
office." She stiffened in shock. "What?" "Hit-and-run as he was crossing the
street to go to the supermarket." Another death. No, another murder. Christ,
would it never stop? "The Cabal." "That's my guess. First Jennings, and
then Rusk. They're plugging all the possible leaks." "They didn't catch who did it?" Nathan shook his head. "A witness
said the car was an old beat-up Buick. The driver was possibly of Hispanic
descent." "But the Secret Service had to be
suspicious that Rusk had been killed so conveniently." "His death could have been unrelated.
No one in Rusk's office knew anything about Copeland or anything that was going
on down here." Evidence gets misplaced ... agents have
"accidents." Hebert's words came back to her with
chilling impact. "So they wouldn't listen to
you," she said dully. "I didn't say that. When they decided
there was a small possibility the threat to Copeland could be genuine, they
started to move. But it was too late. Copeland was already dead." He made
a face. "I'm feeling guilty as hell I didn't get them to move
faster." "I don't know if we could have done
any better," Eve said. "There's not even any proof Copeland was the
target. Is there going to be an autopsy?" Nathan nodded. "I hope so. I believe
I convinced Copeland's Secret Service agent Wilson to do it. But any
investigation will be done very discreetly. They don't want either his family
or his high-powered friends to be on the attack if they find my story is
bullshit. They want Copeland's death to be as dignified as his life." "So the funeral will go on." Nathan nodded. "So it seems." "And the Cabal has what it
wants." "At least the Secret Service knows
that they may be meeting here." Nathan opened the passenger door of a gray
Chevrolet rental car. "That could lead to something." "Except they don't know who they're
looking for." Eve got into the car. "And if they don't find any
evidence Copeland was murdered, it may stop right there." "But we know one member of the Cabal
who will be here," Joe said. "Melton." Eve shook her head. "If he even
comes. Hebert said he was scared shitless that he'd be targeted by Thomas
Simmons. Melton suspected that the deaths of three Cabal members from his state
weren't the accidents they appeared. Melton thought he'd be next." "A meeting of the Cabal probably
doesn't happen that often, and it seems to be a pretty big deal," Joe
said. "I imagine Melton would have to have cast-iron proof there was a
threat to his life to be excused from coming." "That's what I thought." Nathan
backed out of the parking space. "So we still have a ball game. We trail
Melton until we find out where they're meeting, and then have the FBI close
in." Eve shook her head. "What good would
that do? These are important people, leading citizens of their countries. How
can we prove they're doing anything illegal? Do you think the FBI is going to
take any action? It's our word against theirs." Nathan's lips tightened. "I'm not
going to let it go. I've been cooling my heels down here, searching for the
Cabal, searching for Simmons, and now I have a lead. Okay, we may not be able
to call in the big guns. But we can shine a bright light on their damn secret
society. We can get names and faces." "And maybe something more
concrete," Joe said thoughtfully. "Long-range listening devices.
Videos. Photographs." "Their security has got to be fairly
ironclad," Eve said. "It will be difficult to get that close." "Their top man, Hebert, isn't on the
scene. That may give us a little opening." "I doubt it. They wouldn't rely
exclusively on Hebert. And they're going to be suspicious when they can't
contact him. It might make them be even more careful." Nathan looked at Eve. "Are you saying
you want to bow out?" "No way. I'm just telling it the way
I see it. We may not get everything we want, but I'll take whatever we can
get." Nathan smiled. "And, like Quinn said,
it may be more than we think. I may get my Pulitzer after all." ------------------- The small, white beach house to which
Nathan took them was a few miles outside the city. "This is the best I
could do in the short time I had. I handled the rental over the phone with a
broker." "It will be fine." Eve got out
of the car. "As long as it's private." "I'll just take a look around the
grounds. Be with you in a minute." Joe strode around the house and down to
the shore. "The key should be under the palm
tree in a lock-box...." Nathan found the box, pressed the combination, and
unlocked the front door. "You go inside. I'll see if I can do anything to
help Quinn check out the area." "He doesn't need help." "I'll do it anyway. I'm feeling
responsible, since Galen isn't underfoot." He added fervently, "Thank
God." Eve wearily shook her head as she closed
the door. All this concern for her safety, and yet no one had been able to keep
that poor old man safe. Not even his Secret Service guards. How had Hebert
managed to kill him? She crossed the room and turned on the TV
set to CNN. Franklin Copeland's face appeared on the
screen. They were running an obituary segment and she sank down on the couch to
watch it. His wife, Lily, was still alive, and they showed her at the hospital
when Copeland had suffered a heart attack a few weeks ago. She was a thin,
elegant woman in her seventies; the bond between husband and wife was clear.
Toward the end of the obituary they listed Copeland's many accomplishments and
works for charity. It was an impressive list. She hadn't been aware that he was
involved with Habitat for Humanity. She hadn't paid much attention to the
details of the man's life. But she'd damn well pay attention to his
death. Nathan and Joe came into the house a few
minutes later. Joe dropped down on the couch beside Eve. "Anything?" "The funeral is going to be at St.
Catherine's Cathedral day after tomorrow." "October twenty-ninth," Joe
said. "Right on schedule." She nodded
at a TV shot of Kim Basinger getting on a plane in Los Angeles. "She traveled
to Africa with Copeland for UNESCO. She's on her way to the funeral." "I doubt if she's one of the
Cabal," Nathan said dryly. "Before her they showed James
Tarrant, the British media mogul, hurrying from a meeting in London to the
airport. He was quoted as saying the world had lost a great man, and he was
going to pay homage." "Touching," Joe said. Nathan nodded. "It's going to be hard
to separate the gold from the dross. But Melton may be the key." He turned
to leave. "I'm going to the local newspaper office to see if I can find
out when Melton is due to show up on the scene. I'll let you know as soon as I
do." "And we need some photos of Thomas
Simmons. Can you get them for us?" "Ah, the shadow man." It was an apt description, Eve thought.
Simmons had been lurking in the darkness all along, overshadowed by Hebert's
looming menace. "That 'shadow man' tried to kill me, and evidently has
killed at least three Cabal members. I want to be able to recognize him." "I'm one step ahead of you. When I
first came down here, I went on the Internet to the Cal Tech site and pulled
off a staff picture and one from the college newspaper. I'll make a couple
copies for you and Quinn." "What was the name of Copeland's
Secret Service agent you talked to? Wilson?" Joe asked. "It's a little
soon, but I'm going to see if they found out anything from the autopsy
yet." "Yeah, Pete Wilson." Nathan
grimaced. "I hope you have better luck with him than I did." The door
shut behind him. Eve looked at Joe. "What next?" "We need a car. We need surveillance
equipment. We obviously need information. With any luck Nathan will supply the
info. I'd better get busy on the rest." "Wait." She hesitated.
"Let's call Galen." She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to
protest. "Among other things, Galen is a provider, and he does the job very
well. He has contacts everywhere. I'll bet he could pick up a phone and get us
anything from a space suit to an atomic bomb. We need him, Joe." "We don't need him." He
hesitated and then grimaced. "But we could use him." Her eyes widened in surprise. "I can work with him. He brought me
into the picture in Baton Rouge because our personal differences didn't mean a
damn to him if it meant keeping you safe. They can't matter to me, either. Do
you want to call him, or should I?" "I'll do it." "Good." Joe headed for the
kitchen. "I'll make coffee and then call Wilson and the precinct to find
out if Carol's seen any forensic reports yet." Eve nodded absently as she dialed Galen's
number. "Hebert's dead? Hallelujah,"
Galen said when she'd finished filling him in. "And what an interesting
way for Quinn to kill him. I approve." "I'm sure that will make him happy.
Can you get us the items we need? It would be better if the Cabal doesn't know
Joe and I are still alive." "Piece of cake. Give me your address
and phone number." "I don't know what—" She saw the number on the phone and rattled it off, and
then checked the address on the mailbox outside. "Good." Galen said. "I'm
moving. I think Jonas Faber is still in Orlando. He can help." "Who's Jonas Faber?" "Ask him no questions, he'll tell you
no lies. Just accept that he can produce. And I'll work on finding out where
the meeting will be." "Nathan's already on Melton." "Don't send a boy to do a man's job.
I'll get on the tech stuff right away." He hung up. "Well?" Joe stood in the kitchen
doorway. "He said he's moving. Did you find
out anything from Wilson?" Joe shook his head. "No
autopsy." "What?" "The attending doctor said he knew
exactly why Copeland died, and it was natural causes. He was allergic to mold,
and lately the allergy had increased to a dangerous degree. He was tested a
number of times in the hospital and it was always the same problem. They did
everything to maintain sterile surroundings and keep mold away from him, but he
refused to leave his home here in Florida or live in a bubble. Mold is
everywhere down here." "An autopsy might show something
else." He shook his head again. "He's not
about to disturb the family without concrete proof. The body could always be
exhumed if the investigation proved he had been murdered." ------------------- A black Chevrolet rental SUV was delivered
to the door two hours later. After dinner that night they received a
phone call and then a visit from Jonas Faber. He was a small, cheerful little
man who asked Joe very politely to accompany him to his van. Joe came back twenty minutes later shaking
his head. "Something wrong?" "Not if I want to open a spy shop or
start trading in small arms. The FBI doesn't have as sophisticated surveillance
equipment as Faber brought us. He parked a damn tech van in our backyard."
He smiled. "Complete with tutorial. He's not going to let me go until he's
sure I know how to operate every single camera and piece of equipment. He even
wanted to show me how to use an AK-seven. I told him I wasn't exactly an
amateur with firearms." A tech van? She had only asked for
surveillance equipment. "It seems when Galen said he was moving, he meant
it." ------------------- Nathan called an hour later. "Melton
is in Boca. He arrived two hours ago, and went directly to Copeland's home to
pay his respects to the widow. Bastard." "You're following him?" "Every step." "Be careful." "Hey, no problem. I value my
neck." "I have a favor to ask. I'm going to
the funeral service day after tomorrow." "Why?" "I want to be there. I want to look
at every person who goes into the church and be able to recognize them later.
Will you find me a black hat with a dark veil?" "You probably aren't going to
accomplish anything by going." She knew that. She also knew that she
wanted to pay her last respects to Copeland in person. He had been a great man,
and along with regret she felt a sense of... connection. "It can't hurt. I
don't want to sit here and do nothing. Joe's going to be busy familiarizing
himself with that surveillance equipment." "You'll have to stay out with the
crowd in the street. You have to be on the A-list to get inside." "I'm going to be there." "Okay. I'll drop your hat and
Simmons's photos by the house after I'm sure Melton's tucked into his hotel for
the night." ------------------- "Here's your black hat." Nathan
handed her a plastic bag. "It wasn't easy. The regular stores were closed,
so I went to an all-night drugstore and bought a black straw beach hat and a
black sheer scarf. You'll have to rig a veil out of that." "I'll manage. Thanks, Nathan." "No problem." He reached in his
pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Simmons." She drew out the pictures. One was an
informal photo taken in front of a building. The other was a close-up in the
college newspaper at the time Simmons had been hired by Cal Tech. Professor
Thomas Simmons was thirtyish, with regular features except for a slightly pouty
lower lip. He was wearing horn-rimmed glasses and smiling confidently into the
camera. "Nice-looking. It's hard to believe he's a murderer." "Maybe he popped his cork when the
Cabal tried to blow him up." Nathan looked around the room. "Where's
Quinn?" "Out back in the tech van." She
made a face. "He's fascinated by all that equipment. He's decided to make
me the audio tech." "Pretty complex stuff." "Not really. Faber made sure it was
user-friendly." "Well, then, I'd better get back to
the hotel and keep an eye on Melton so that you'll have something to
record." He turned to leave. "I'll keep in touch, but I'm going to
stick close as glue to Melton now that he's on the scene. I'll meet you day
after tomorrow in front of the church." "Right." After the door closed
behind Nathan, Eve took the hat and scarf out of the plastic bag. Both items
were cheap and flimsy, but it didn't matter. They would keep her from being
recognized and wouldn't appear out of place. "Did Nathan bring the photo?" She turned to see Joe standing in the
kitchen doorway. "Two." She held out the envelope. "Finished for
the night?" He shook his head absently as he gazed at
the photos. "Clean-cut. I told Nathan that it was
hard to believe he was a murderer." "I'm not having any trouble. But I've
seen more murderers than you have." "Maybe I'm just confused by this
whole scenario," Eve said wearily. "Thomas Simmons was probably a
very good man with a wonderful future. Now his life's been twisted out of shape
and he's become a killer. It's difficult to understand." "Not to me. Killing is a choice. You
make a decision and then you weigh the consequences. I'm a cop, but I have no
problem scraping up the remains of some of the scum out there on the
streets." He jammed the pictures in his pocket and turned away. "But
he made the wrong choice when he tried to kill you." Boca Raton October 29 The crowds were six deep on the roped-off
streets outside St. Catherine's Cathedral. It took Eve a few minutes to locate
Nathan standing near the back of the throng and then make her way toward him. "Eve?" Nathan peered at her
features through the dark veil. She nodded. "Is Melton inside?" "Thirty minutes ago. He probably
wanted to get his share of the limelight before the President arrived." "The President is here?" "Arrived ten minutes ago."
Nathan nodded at four dark-suited men in sunglasses, standing on the steps.
"Secret Service." "I hope they can protect the
President. They didn't do a very good job with Copeland." She stared at
the door of the church. "I'm glad President Andreas is here. Copeland
deserves all the honors he can get." "You're taking this very
personally." She shrugged. "I guess I'm feeling a
little guilty. If I'd figured out the situation here sooner, maybe we could
have saved Copeland." "And maybe not. You didn't know that
Hebert was targeting Copeland until it was almost certainly too late for
him." "Minutes can matter when a man is
dying." She watched blindly as limousine after limousine pulled up before
the church and deposited their passengers. "I don't know if—My God." She grabbed Nathan's arm. "Tell me I'm crazy.
Is that Thomas Simmons?" Nathan stiffened. "Where?" "Across the street. Green polo shirt.
Hell, he's not three yards from that Secret Service man." Her gaze clung
to the man staring intently at the arriving guests. Same pouty lips, same
horn-rimmed glasses ... "It is him, Nathan." "If not, it's his double."
Nathan was edging toward the front of the crowd. "Let's see if we can get
closer." Eve pushed after Nathan through the crowd.
Simmons. My God, Simmons... Thomas Simmons suddenly lifted his head
and looked directly at Nathan, who was only a few yards away now. Nathan smiled. "Hi, could we have a
few—" Simmons turned and dove back into the
crowd, pushing people out of his path. As the crowd thinned out down the
street, he broke into a run. "Shit." Nathan took off after
him. Eve tried to run, too, but she was slowed
by the crowd until she reached the end of the block. Had they gone around the
corner? Yes, she could see Nathan.... She broke into a sprint. Almost a block away, Simmons was diving
into a beige Toyota. Nathan's pace increased. "Stop. You
can't get away. Let me—" The Toyota peeled away from the curb and
down the street. Nathan stopped and was cursing a blue
streak as he watched the car vanish out of sight. "It was him, right?" Eve was
beside him now. "It was Simmons." "I think so." Nathan reached in
his pocket and took out a notebook. "And I hope to hell I remember that
license number." He scrawled down a number on the pad. "Not that it
will probably do us any good if it's a rental. Do you think Quinn can check it
out?" She nodded as she took the paper.
"But what was he doing here?" "Who knows? If he did kill those
other Cabal members, then he could be picking out his next target. Or he could
be following Melton, like I am. Or if he's a total wacko, it could be any
reason." He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath.
"Jesus, I've got to lose weight. That run almost killed me." "At least we know he's here." "Well, he's definitely not a
shadow." He wrinkled his nose. "And he's in far better shape than I
am." He straightened away from the wall. "Now I've got to get back
and wait for Melton to dry his crocodile tears and come out of the church.
Coming?" She shook her head. "I'll phone this
license number to Joe and go back to the house." Lake Cottage
Atlanta, Georgia 3:05 p.m.
October 29 The funeral service had already started
when Galen switched on the television set. Jonathan Andreas, the President, was
standing at the podium giving the first eulogy. Full house, Galen thought, as the camera
panned the audience. There must be at least fifteen hundred people at the
service. He recognized several dignitaries: Tony Blair, Norman Schwarzkopf,
Colin Powell. With this kind of firepower, it would be perfectly reasonable to
have— "Could I see you for a minute,
Galen?" David Hughes was standing at the doorway. "A problem?" "Maybe." He was frowning.
"I just don't understand. It's not right. Come and take a look." Chapter Twenty
"It's not a
local rental car." Joe hung up the phone. "They're running a computer search now. It shouldn't be
too long." Eve frowned. "I hope not. The idea of
Simmons hovering makes me very uneasy." "If we can nail down where he is now,
I guarantee he won't ever make you uneasy again." She had a sudden chilling memory of Joe
and Hebert struggling in the mud. "Why do you always think that you're the
one who has to—" Her cell phone rang. "Saved by the bell," Joe
murmured as she pressed the answer button. "I've found it." Nathan's voice
was shaking with excitement. "After the funeral, Melton met with a man
outside his hotel. It was at the newsstand and it was only for a few minutes. I
knew Melton was going to be surrounded by reporters, so I took a chance and
followed the guy." "Where?" "Fort Lauderdale Airport." "What?" "Well, not actually the airport.
There's a deserted naval air station down there. It's being fought over by the
local historical society and the airport. It's the base from where those flyers
took off in 1945 and were lost in the Bermuda Triangle. There's a big concrete
building that is evidently going to be the meeting place. It's enclosed by a
chain-link fence, completely private, and guarded by at least five men besides
the guy who met with Melton." "An airport," Eve murmured. "It's perfect. The members leave Boca
separately sometime after the funeral, presumably to fly out to their homes.
They congregate at the naval base, have their meeting, and then go on to the
airport at a staggered pace and board their flights. Very smart." "But when?" "Probably the middle of the night.
They'd want the area absolutely deserted. I'll know when Melton moves, and I'll
call you. Let me talk to Quinn." Eve handed the phone to Joe. He was on the phone for only a few
minutes. "I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and turned to Eve.
"He wants me to take the surveillance equipment to the naval base and set
it up outside the fence. He said there's no way of getting near the building
with all those guards, but there's cover close to a drainage ditch a little
distance from the base. Shouldn't be a problem. The camera and audio equipment
have a range of over a mile." She nodded. "Let's go." "Eve." "Don't you say a word. Ever since I
got here I've been twiddling my thumbs, watching all those hypocrites on
television tell the world what a fine man just died." "Some of them were sincere." "But which ones? I need to find
out." Eve headed for the door. "I need the whole damn world to find
out." She glanced over her shoulder. "And there's not going to be any
leaving me on the roadside or some deserted island. We're in this together. Do
you understand?" "Okay, but we have to—" He broke off as his phone rang. He punched the button.
"Quinn." He listened for a moment. "What the hell?" He
stiffened. "Plastic?" Fort Lauderdale
Naval Air Station 2:45 A.M. October 30 The windows of the white concrete building
were covered so that no light showed from the outside. Guards in dark clothing
patrolled the area with Dobermans. "Here comes the next one," Joe
murmured as he focused the video camera. He kept it trained on the dark sedan
as the door opened and a man got out. "I recognize this one, too. Big
time. Sheikh Hassan Ben Abar." She nodded. "OPEC." The last hour had been an incredible
parade of well-known wheeler-dealers from every walk of life. Eve took the
listening device from her ear. "I can't hear much right now. It's cutting
out. Every time an airplane takes off I get static." "Have you heard anything
interesting?" "Maybe. It's definitely not small
talk, but I'm not a linguist. I need to zero in on a conversation between some
of the English members." She adjusted the earpiece, turned one of the
knobs on the panel in front on her. "That's better." She listened for
a moment. "Something about a gorge. They need a clear majority because
it's high risk.... What's high risk, dammit? Talk about it." She switched
to another part of the building. "Tarrant, the British media tycoon. He's
talking money and the ramifications for the World Bank. He's not sure how
they're going to handle the repayments if the regime falls." "What regime?" "Shh." She held up her hand,
listening. She suddenly stiffened. "Oh, my God." "Eve?" She shook her head. Dear God, she couldn't
believe what she was hearing. Stop shaking. Do your job. Make sure it's being
recorded. She glanced at the panel. Yes, it was okay. Joe frowned. "You're white as a
sheet. What the devil are—" He fell silent, watching her. It was a full ten minutes before she took
the earpiece out of her ear. "It's the Three Gorges Dam in China. Do you
remember that PBS special we watched last year on the dam being built on the
Yangtze River?" "Yeah. The biggest project since the
building of the Great Wall. It's supposed to generate eighteen thousand
megawatts of electricity and control flooding." She nodded. "Three hundred thousand
people have died in the last century from the flooding of the Yangtze. It's a
killer river." She drew a deep breath. "The dam is the target.
They've decided they have to move fast before the first stage is finished. The
construction is still in semichaos and will be easy to sabotage right now. But
the Chinese government is pulling in the reins, and the security is going to be
tightened." "Sabotage?" She nodded. "It has to be done before
November third, when the increased security is going into effect. That's why
they had to make sure to have the meeting no later than the twenty-ninth. As it
is, they have only a few days to implement. If they don't get a majority and
move fast, then they'll have to wait until the dam is completed and it will be
much more difficult." She moistened her lips. "Can you imagine the
devastation...?" "Too well. Why are they doing
it?" "The power generated by the dam will
be a tremendous boost to the Chinese economy. The economy is moving too fast
under the present regime, and the Cabal is having problems controlling
it." Her lips twisted bitterly. "Control is clearly the name of the
game with the Cabal." "And, if the dam fails, the regime
could fall with it." "That's the plan. And the new regime
would have a few high-placed Cabal members. Control." "Nasty." "Tragic." She closed her eyes.
"God knows how many people will die as a result of the sabotage..."
Her lids flew open; she straightened in the chair and put the piece back in her
ear. "Let's see if they have any more dirty tricks in the works. We can't
stop them if we don't know what—" "Dirty tricks?" Nathan asked
from behind them. He shut the door and came into the van. "What's
happening?" "Sabotage of the Three Gorges Dam in
China," Joe said. Nathan gave a low whistle. "So that's
the agenda." "That seems to be the subject of
everyone's conversation." Eve turned another knob. "I'm trying to
find out if there's anything else crucial going on." "I'd bet it's gonna get more
interesting," Nathan said. "Melton should be the next to get here. I
followed him as far as the perimeter road and then cut around here. Did you get
a count?" "Fifty-two," Eve said. "And
Joe got a shot of every one of them." "Be sure you get Melton." Nathan
lifted binoculars to his eyes. "Here he comes..." "Bingo," Joe said as Melton
disappeared into the building. "The good senator recorded for
posterity." "Your bright light is shining clear
and true," Eve told Nathan. "Truth is a beautiful word, isn't
it?" Nathan's gaze fastened on the concrete building. "So clean and
simple." "Looks like that's it." Joe
stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to scout around and make sure
those guards are sticking inside the fence. We don't want to be
surprised." "Good idea." Eve adjusted
another dial. "Because the meeting's come to order. Melton is giving a welcome
address." "They must all be here." Nathan
moved toward the door. "I'll go and give the FBI a call and then see if I
can help Quinn." "Wait, Nathan." "We have to move fast now, or the
whole show is—" He stopped as he saw the gun in her
hand. "Eve? What the hell are you doing?" "Franklin Copeland was a very good
man. Didn't you feel even a twinge of conscience when he died?" He gazed at her in bewilderment. "Why
should I? I didn't kill him." "You didn't kill him. You just let
him die." He went still. "I beg your pardon? I
went to the Secret Service. They wouldn't listen to me." "Joe called the Secret Service again
this afternoon and did some more in-depth questioning. You went to them four
hours after I called you. Four hours, Nathan." "It took me a while to get in to see
them. Red tape. It wouldn't have made a difference, anyway." "It might have made a difference if
you hadn't deliberately made the Secret Service agents think you were
unbalanced. Agent Wilson said you were raving when you came to the house. No
wonder they didn't believe you." "I was frantic, dammit. I couldn't
get them to listen. Not that they would have found anything suspicious, anyway.
Hebert was too smart for us." "Actually, they did find something—once Joe persuaded them to go to the house with him for a search
earlier tonight. It was the filter on the vent in Copeland's bedroom. It was
coated with a substance that reacted in his lungs like mold. Every breath
Copeland took weakened his lungs and helped to bring on his asthma attacks." "Diabolical." "Hebert said it was planned down to
the last gasp. I'm sure the doctors in the Cabal measured out the irritant to
cause a final seizure no later than the twenty-seventh. That way the funeral
could be scheduled for two days later, and it would be perfectly natural for
all the members to be flying into the area before the twenty-ninth." She
paused. "Copeland was a fine man. You shouldn't have let him die." "I told you that—" His gaze narrowed on her face. "That's the second time
you said that. Ridiculous. Why would I have let him die?" "Because you didn't want the Cabal
meeting to be canceled. You wanted them all here. You've been planning this
from the moment Etienne told you that the Cabal was meeting in Boca
Raton." "But he didn't tell me." "Yes, he did. Why wouldn't he tell
you? He liked you and trusted you. You'd been working on him for two years to
make sure he'd feel that way." "Two years?" "Since he came to work for you at the
research center." "What?" "Oh, for God's sake, no more pretense.
It's over. You're not Bill Nathan." His brows lifted. "I'm not?" He
tilted his head. "Then who am I? Now, let me see. A good reporter should
be able to make a decent guess at where you're going with all this. You believe
I'm Thomas Simmons?" She shook her head. "Another red
herring. How long did you think you could keep me from knowing that you were
Harold Bently?" A flicker of expression crossed his face.
"What? Are you crazy?" "Joe got a call from his precinct
about the explosion that killed Jennings. The car wasn't rigged. The bomb was
in the skull itself, and triggered by a remote device." She paused.
"And the skull wasn't the one I worked on. It wasn't a human skull at all.
It was a very good imitation, made of plastic and coated with clay. Now, it was
obviously switched. I had to ask myself who had the opportunity to substitute
the plastic skull for Victor, and why. Then Galen called us and told me Hughes
had caught a glimpse of some kind of metal glinting beneath the porch at the
lake cottage. He found a very small, very sophisticated long-range listening
device. The rains had washed away the pile of leaves it was hidden under.
Someone wanted to know exactly what was going on in our cottage, and there was
no way Hebert could have gotten that close. But you were out there on the porch
most of the evening, and you were on the steps when I came out of the cottage
when Jennings's car blew up. You could have monitored Jennings's conversation
with Rusk and then blown the car. It all began to come together. I asked Galen
to find some pictures of Simmons and scan them into the computer. Lo and
behold: Victor wasn't Harold Bently at all, but Thomas Simmons." Bently was silent a moment. "Too bad.
It seems the jig may be up." "And you did some more swapping last
night when you gave us the shots of the man you called Simmons. Computer
substitution on those pictures from Cal Tech. It's easy these days, with a
photo program. Who was the man at the church?" "Just someone I picked up and hired
on the local skid row. He cleaned up pretty well, didn't he?" "Why did you go to so much
trouble?" "I thought you might become
suspicious if I didn't give the 'shadow' substance." "And when did you do the switch on
the skulls?" "When I packed up your equipment when
we left Galen's house. That's why I had to go with you. I had to make sure you
didn't take the reconstruction out of the case to do any more work on
him." "Because the plastic reconstruction
was of you, and Victor was Simmons. You took a big chance." "Not so big. You were so upset about
the threat to your daughter that you weren't thinking of Victor. It helped that
you always refuse to look at photos of your reconstructions. I knew you'd find
out eventually, but I hoped it would be long enough." "You mean you hoped Hebert would kill
me before I did a photo comparison of the reconstruction." "Hope didn't enter into it. It was
just another tragic necessity in an already tragic situation." Bently
grimaced. "I knew you'd have to die from the moment Hebert brought you
into the picture. It's not something I wanted to happen. I respect and admire
you." "Is that why you bribed Marie to
poison me?" "I was playing for time. If you'd
died, then they would have had to get another forensic sculptor. It would have
delayed them. I needed that delay." "But Hebert rushed in and killed
Marie so that I wouldn't suspect I was targeted and be frightened enough to
stop the work." "Yes, damn his soul. You started the
reconstruction, and I knew time was running out. If the Cabal found out I was
alive, then they'd turn loose all their bloodhounds to find me. I know what
kind of power they wield. It wouldn't have been a week before they tracked me
down. I couldn't let that happen. All I needed was that two weeks and the Cabal
would be here." "And that's why you killed Jennings,
too?" "At first, I was only going to use
him to throw the Cabal off my trail and onto Simmons. I was going to get him to
ID the skull, and then blow it up and have Hebert blamed. But I could tell
Jennings was getting too close to knowing about Hebert's plans for Boca Raton.
I needed to stop him in his tracks." "So many deaths." Eve shook her
head. "Why the hell didn't you just take your fuel cell and leave the
country? Work on it somewhere else?" "Because I realized after the Cabal
tried to kill me that they would never stop. That they'd find a way to bury me,
the way they buried Simmons and his invention." His lips tightened.
"Do you know what a miracle that fuel cell would have been? How many
millions of people it would have helped? It would have cleaned up our planet.
But the Cabal wouldn't let us do it. We were interfering in their profits,
their control. They crushed us the way they crushed every other advancement
that got in their way." Bently smiled bitterly. "Think about it. How
many marvels of invention have you read about that just disappeared from view?
Do you remember reading about the car down in Daytona with a super-efficient
electric engine that met all the problems posed by the environmentalists? It
was bought by Detroit and never heard about again. The inventors are always
bought out, or scared out, or held up to ridicule by the media, consumer
groups, or the government. They fade away as if they had never been. Well,
Simmons and I weren't going to fade away. I had the funds and he had the fuel
cell. We were going to make final refinements, and then I'd contact a few
influential backers and we'd be on our way." "Until Hebert set off that
explosion." He nodded. "Simmons was killed
instantly. I was burned, but I crawled out into the mud and put out the flames.
Etienne found me there." "And helped you?" "He took me to a shack in Houma and
nursed me for months. I had plenty of money in a safe on the island, but he was
afraid to call in a doctor. I almost died several times. When I was on the
mend, I tried to think what was best to do. I wanted to try to continue
Simmons's work, but it was too dangerous to confront the Cabal alone. Then the
solution occurred to me: the media. What would a secret society fear most? The
light of public attention glaring on them. I had Etienne phone Bill Nathan and
ask him to meet me in secret, because I thought he'd be sympathetic to my
cause." "He wasn't?" "Oh, he was sympathetic, as long as
there was no risk involved. He was a miserable coward. I knew he'd probably go
straight from me to Melton. I couldn't let him do that. Not after all I'd
suffered." "You killed him and took his
identity." "It wasn't too difficult. He was
divorced and worked freelance, so he moved around the state a lot. I had a few
facial burns and had to have plastic surgery anyway. I had Etienne buy a phony
driver's license and passport for me, and I went to Antigua and had some work
done. Nathan and I had similar features that only had to be made more
similar." "And you had the plastic skull made
there?" "No, that was later. After I failed
to remove you from the picture, I realized it might be necessary." "Might? I can't imagine you taking
anything for granted. I'd bet you planned every detail." "Well, I did know buying the
fuel-cell components might attract attention. I knew enough about Simmons's
invention to complete it, but I had to be prepared, in case the Cabal became
dubious about my demise." "Prepared to blow me up?" "If the bomb wasn't used for you, I
thought it might be a nice gift to give to the Cabal at their next meeting.
But, as it happened, circumstances dictated that I use it in another way.
Jennings. Kismet." "Murder." "Call it what you like. I was doing
what I had to do to survive and bring something decent into the world." He
shrugged. "The Cabal taught me that I couldn't be squeamish about the
means of doing it." "So you became like them." "No!" Bently tried to temper the
violence of his voice. "I gave up my wife and my children and a life I
loved because I wanted to help the world become a better place. The Cabal tried
to butcher me, and then made me hide like a wounded animal. I didn't even dare
go home because I knew they'd target my family. Every act of violence I've
committed is their fault." Eve shook her head. "Murder is
murder." "It's easy for you to say. Sometimes
sacrifices have to be made for the greater good." "You sound like Hebert. In your way
you're as twisted as he was. And you brainwashed Etienne until he was willing
to do anything you told him to." "Not anything. I couldn't persuade
him not to take Simmons's skull to Jules. He was a simple soul; he wanted to
please all of us." "You knew Jules would kill him." "If he hadn't, I would have had to do
it myself. That's why I followed Etienne to Baton Rouge. I couldn't risk him
talking." She shook her head in amazement.
"You're incredible. He saved your life. If you were there on the spot, you
could have helped him." His lips tightened. "But I needed the
time. After Etienne told me what was going to happen here, I knew that
opportunity was knocking. The only way to guarantee that the Cabal couldn't
stop the research was to bring them down. And the only way to get them all was
to make sure they gathered in one place like the vultures they are." His gaze
went to the concrete building. "And now I have them all in there,
roosting. Fifty-three of the most powerful and egocentric bastards on the face
of the earth." "They won't be there for long. Joe's
calling the Secret Service man he talked to this afternoon. He asked Pete
Wilson to be on the alert." "I'm surprised he left you alone with
me for the great confrontation." "He didn't know about the
confrontation. He thought I was just going to play along with you until the
Secret Service came." Bently smiled. "But you wanted some
other recordings to give to the law, besides those of the Cabal. You've been
getting our little conversation on tape, haven't you?" "If you guessed, why did you talk to
me?" "Because I don't care. It's not going
to matter. I have a boat waiting at a dock near here. I'll be on it and heading
to a lab I have set up in the Caribbean. I watched Simmons every minute while
he was creating the fuel cell. I can re-create his invention. Besides, you
deserved to have some answers after all your hard work." "Christ, I'm pointing this gun at
you. It will matter. You'd have to be nuts not to—" "Eve." The door had swung open
and Joe stood in the doorway of the van. He resignedly shook his head as he
stared at the gun in her hand. "I was a little worried about this
happening." "So you rushed back to safeguard the
lady," Bently said. "And is the Secret Service on its way?" Joe nodded. "Ten minutes, tops." "Do you really think those Secret
Service agents will do anything about the Cabal? No way. Hell, the Cabal will
say they're having a private memorial for Copeland, and the authorities will
question them very respectfully and then go away with apologies." "But they'll know who was there.
We'll have tapes and videos. They'll all be marked men. The Secret Society will
no longer be secret. It's hard to organize the kind of power plays they've been
doing when everybody suspects them. That bright light will push them out into
the open." "Spotlights don't last forever." "Nothing lasts forever," Eve
said. "You're wrong. One thing is very
permanent indeed." Bently looked back at the concrete building. "I
became very skilled with explosives during my recuperation period. Etienne was
an excellent teacher. He'd learned from a master. He knew how to rig bombs and
place them where they'd go undetected. Do you know there are even ways to mask
the scent from dogs? He was very proud of his knowledge." Eve tensed as she realized he wasn't
talking about the explosive in the skull. "You're bluffing. There was no
way you could get near that building with all the guards." "But the guards weren't here three
weeks ago." God, all the half-lies, half-truths.
"Etienne told you exactly where the meeting was being held." Bently nodded. "Did I forget to
mention that? When you figured everything else out, I would have thought you'd
guess." She headed for the door. "For God's
sake, you're going to—" The tech van rocked as the night exploded. The gun flew out of Eve's hand as she was
hurled against the wall and the van lurched drunkenly. Joe was thrown backward
from the door to the ground, stunning him. Bently was already at the door as Eve
straightened. He glanced back over his shoulder, his face alight with fierce
satisfaction. "Death is forever, Eve. Nothing is more permanent. No more
Cabal." Then he was gone. She grabbed up the gun, tore across the
van and out the door. "Stay here." Joe was shaking his
head to clear it as he got to his feet. "I'll get him." "Dear God." Eve stopped in shock
as she saw the remains of the concrete building. What was left of the concrete
was spread in huge chunks about the grounds; the remainder of the structure was
enveloped in flames. She tore her gaze away. Bently. He was racing toward the drainage ditch.
She started after him. Joe was ahead of her, closing on Bently at
a dead run. Bently waded through the ditch. He was out
and plunging into the brush. Joe glanced over his shoulder at her.
"Dammit, I told you to stay in the van. He could have set another—" The earth heaved as another explosion
rocked the concrete building. Concrete flew in all directions like deadly
shrapnel. "Down," Joe yelled. Eve dropped to the ground as concrete
missiles speared the air. Jesus, it was like being in the middle of an erupting
volcano. She lifted her head, and her skin stung as a barrage of small rocks
hit her face. "Joe, are you— "Joe!" Chapter
Twenty-one Joe was lying
crumpled on the dirt. He wasn't moving. She raced across the intervening ground
and dropped to her knees beside him. "Joe." Pale. Eyes closed. A cut bleeding at his
temple. Was he breathing? He had to be breathing. "Joe. You talk to me. Do you hear?
You talk to me." He didn't open his eyes. Oh, God, don't let him die. She reached into her pocket to get her
cell phone. 911. Call 911. Headlights. A line of cars were pulling up in front of
the burning naval air station. Secret Service. Forget them. Call 911 for Joe. ------------------- Joe's eyes opened. "Hi. You ...
okay?" Eve nodded. "And so are you.
Concussion." She tried to smile. "You scared me. You wouldn't wake
up. It's been two days." He reached out and took her hand.
"Sorry." "You should be." "Won't happen again." His eyes
started to close. "Sleepy..." "Then go to sleep." "You going to stay here?" "You bet." "Bently?" His eyes were open
again. "Did he get away?" "He got to his boat and out on the
ocean. After I told the Secret Service he planned to escape that way, they
called in the Coast Guard. They intercepted him later that night." Joe searched Eve's expression.
"And?" "The boat blew up before they could
board it." "Suicide?" She nodded. "It's just as well the
Secret Service didn't have to deal with him. They're having enough trouble
trying to explain the deaths of all those power brokers." "All dead?" "They didn't have a chance. The
authorities are even having trouble identifying most of them." "Did it cause you any trouble?" "Are you kidding? This thing is
massive. Secret Service questioned me for a solid five hours. The FBI for
another three. You'll be on the carpet, too. Thank God, we had the surveillance
tapes." Joe yawned. "As soon as I wake up
I'll talk to them, make sure they don't bother you anymore." "Joe, I'm handling it." "A little help won't hurt..." "Go back to sleep." "Something's wrong." His gaze
was searching her face. "You're not telling me everything." "I told you everything that's been
happening." "No, I mean with you. You're worrying
about something. What's bothering you?" "I'm not worrying about—" Eve met his gaze. "It's what Bently said. He wondered
why we hadn't figured out that he'd lie about Etienne not telling him the
location of the meeting. I was wondering if somewhere in my subconscious I did
figure it out, and just ignored it." She looked down at their joined
hands. "The Cabal deserved to be destroyed, and we couldn't be sure that
exposing them would be enough. Did I close my eyes and let Bently blow them
up?" "Bullshit." "Did I, Joe?" "No, you didn't." His answer was
absolutely certain. "I know you. There were so many lies, red herrings,
and half-truths floating around that this one got lost in the shuffle for you.
As much as you might have wanted the Cabal to disappear, you couldn't do it.
Death is the enemy for you. You fight it every single day." He lifted her
hand and kissed the palm. "So forget it, okay?" Eve moistened her lips. "Okay." "Good." Joe's eyes closed.
"Then let me go to sleep so I can get enough strength to tackle those
Secret Service assholes..." "They're not assholes. They're just
doing their—" He was already asleep. Eve sat there, holding his hand, staring
at his face. She was at peace again. Another gift from
Joe. But he had spoken only of her own lack of
guilt, she realized suddenly. He didn't say that he hadn't figured out
that Bently might have known enough to set a death trap. Joe was one of the
smartest men she had ever known, and he had a memory like a steel trap. Had he
known there was a possibility the Cabal would not survive the night? Her hand tightened on Joe's. It was a question she knew she'd never ask
him. ------------------- "So Bently is dead," Galen
repeated thoughtfully. " 'Down to the sea in ships ...' " "We'll be back at the cottage
tomorrow," Eve said. "The questioning isn't over, but they're going
to let us go home." "Jane will be jumping up and down
with joy. Is Quinn okay?" "Headache. But that's to be
expected." "If I'd been there, it wouldn't have
happened. You should take it as a lesson learned." "I take it as another example of your
inflated ego." Galen chuckled. "Maybe. Are you going
to call Jane, or shall I?" "I will." "Dammit, I wanted to do something to
get into her good graces. She might be so happy she'd forget she considers me
an ass." Eve smiled. "Jane's always been a
girl of impeccable judgment." "Cruelty, thy name is Eve." ------------------- "I have to go down to the precinct
right away. They're feeling very cheated they don't know as much as the
Feds." Joe put their bags inside the cottage. "Will you be
okay?" "Of course." "Try to rest." "I'm not the one who got knocked on
the head." Her gaze wandered over the lake to the scorched trees where
Jennings had died and then, compulsively, to Bonnie's hill. "Shit." Joe's gaze had followed
Eve's. "I know, dammit. No more threat, no more sword hanging over us, and
everything is coming back to you. I knew it would happen. It's always going to
be here." "What do you want me to do? I can't
forget it, Joe." "I'm not an idiot. It's got to be
faced. Just do me a favor," Joe said. "Don't think. Don't make any
decisions. You're tired. Just try to live in the present until I get these next
few days of red tape over with and we can talk." She nodded. "I'll try." He started down the steps. "And I'll
pick up Jane, your Mom, and Toby on my way home tonight. They should keep you
too busy to think of anything but them." Eve took one last look at the hill as he
drove off. She had hoped the pain would go away, but it still lingered. Keep
your promise, she told herself as she went inside. Don't think. Just live in
the moment. It was the best advice she— There was a note propped on the coffee
table. ------------------- Eve, I had a few things to tie up. I'll
call you. Tell Jane I didn't run away because she intimidated me. She doesn't
scare me ... much. Galen She smiled as she put down the note. A few
things to tie up? Now what the hell was that rascal up to.... ------------------- It was two days later that Eve got the
call from Galen. "Where the hell are you?" "I've been busy. I just thought I'd
fill you in. I've called Hughes and told him he's to stay with you and maintain
protective surveillance until the end of the week. That should keep some of the
media away. Have you brought Jane back home?" "Yes. I brought her and Mom back to
the cottage." Eve's gaze shifted to Jane and Toby playing outside by the
lake. "She couldn't be happier. Where are you, Galen?" "Barbados. I felt the need for a
vacation." "Out of the blue?" "My last job was very exhausting.
You're not an easy woman to work with, Eve." "Why are you in Barbados?" "The sun. I got a little chill in my
bones while I was at your lake." "Galen." He was silent a moment. "My
suspicious nature. I don't think Bently was the type to commit suicide. And I
found it very convenient that his death took place in the middle of the ocean,
where his remains couldn't be retrieved." "You believe he staged it." "He's very, very smart. He would have
to be, to fool me into thinking he was an ass." "Your pride is hurt." "Well, maybe. I'm just exploring
possibilities. He got rid of the Cabal, his primary threat. He was obsessed
with the idea of that fuel cell, and he told you he knew enough to put it
together himself. Why not fake his own death to make sure he had the
opportunity to work on it?" "You believe Simmons's fuel cell may
become a reality someday?" "We'll have to see, won't we? At any
rate, I don't think Bently's any threat to you. You're off his radar now. I'm
just going to poke around and see what I can find out down here." "And what if you find him?" "I'll make a decision then. I don't
believe in throwing the baby out with the bathwater." "When will you be back?" "Not for awhile. You're on your own.
Well, not on your own. You'll always have Quinn. How's he doing?" "Okay, I guess. I've scarcely seen
him since we got back. He's been closeted with the Secret Service and the FBI
from morning to night." "Drudgery. I don't envy him. I like
the easy life. If I don't find Bently, I may go on a real vacation. Then I'm
going to get on with my life. I highly recommend it. Why don't you do the
same?" He hung up. Annoying bastard, Eve thought crossly as
she pressed the disconnect. She had actually been stupid enough to worry about
Galen for the past couple days. She should have known he'd pop up like some
zany jack-in-the-box. His lack of certainty about Bently's death
was a little far out, but not totally crazy. Bently had actually told her about
the boat and his preparations to get away. So that she could tell the authorities and
set his real plan in motion? Let Galen worry about it. Eve and her
family were safe, and she didn't want to think about Bently. She agreed with Galen
that if Bently was alive, there was no reason for him to target her or Joe. She moved onto the porch and stood looking
out at the lake. The water looked beautiful and serene today. If she hadn't
known Hughes and his men were moving discreetly around the property, it would
have reminded her of the time before she had gotten that DNA report. Her gaze lifted across the lake to the
hill. Would she ever be able to look at that grave again without remembering
Jules Hebert and his death in those swamps? Or that gravestone with her
Bonnie's name crossed out and smeared with ugly red paint? Get on with your life, Galen had said. Sometimes things get in the way and you
forget who you are and what you do. Why did those words of Jane's suddenly pop
into her head? They had been spoken when Jane had been trying to convince her
to go after Hebert, and had nothing to do with— She stiffened in shock. "Dear God..." She slowly moved down the porch steps. ------------------- Jane was sitting on the porch swing when
Joe got home from the precinct. Toby was curled up at her feet. "You must have worn him out."
Joe bent down and petted him. The dog raised his head, lazily licking the back
of Joe's hand. "I've never seen Toby this quiet." "Yeah. He runs until he's ready to
drop and then he collapses. Stop that, Toby. You're getting his hand all
wet." She was frowning. "I've been waiting for you." "Problems? Why didn't you call
me?" "Eve didn't want me to." He stiffened. "Eve?" His gaze
flew to the front door of the cottage. "What happened? Did she
leave?" Jane shook her head. "She just wanted
me to give you a message. She wants you to go up to the grave." "What?" "That's what she said. She left the
cottage over an hour ago. I asked her if she wanted me to go up there with her,
and she said no." "You're sure she went to the
grave?" His gaze shifted to the hill. "Did she give any reason?" Jane shook her head. "How did she look?" She shrugged. "Sometimes it's hard to
tell what Eve's thinking. She didn't look mad, but she wasn't smiling. I don't
know, Joe." "Then I guess I'd better go see for
myself." He turned and started down the steps. Jane's voice followed him. "I hope
everything's okay, Joe." "Me, too." He started down the
path around the lake. "Me, too..." ------------------- Eve was standing beside the grave, staring
down at the tombstone. "Eve?" She didn't look at him. "There are
still the faintest traces of that red paint. I thought we'd gotten it all
off." "I'll do it tomorrow." "No, it doesn't make any
difference." Silence. "Why are you here, Eve?" "I had to get my head straight. I
thought I'd better do it here." "It has to hurt to see that
tombstone." "Of course it does." "And makes you even more bitter
toward me." "A little." "Only a little?" Eve's gaze lifted to meet his. "I'm
trying to be honest with you. Galen called today. He's in Barbados." "Doing what?" "He thinks maybe Bently staged his
own death. He's looking around." She studied Joe. "You're not
surprised?" "I considered the possibility, and
was tempted to go down and scout around. I decided my priority was here." "Galen says even if he's alive, he
thinks we're off his radar." She paused. "And he recommended that I
get on with my life." "And what did you say?" "I didn't get a chance to say
anything." Eve looked back at the tombstone. "But it rang a bell. And
then I remembered something Jane said when she was trying to talk me out of
hiding. She said everything was getting in my way and making me forget who I
really was and what I did. That struck a note, too. I've been running around,
hurt and angry and so defensive I blocked out everything else." "Who could blame you?" "I blame me," she said fiercely.
"I felt so much the victim that I forgot about who I really am and what I
do." She gestured to the tombstone. "I only thought about Bonnie. I
never thought about that little girl we buried in her place. She was one of the
lost ones, and I didn't even think about her." "You couldn't be expected to—" "Bull. I made the choice years ago
that if I couldn't help Bonnie, I could at least help the parents of other lost
and murdered children. I've devoted years to doing that, and yet I allowed
myself to be derailed because I felt so sorry for myself. The little girl in
this grave was about the same age as Bonnie. She had everything to live for,
and it was taken away from her." Her hands clenched into fists at her
sides. "And I never thought about her. I had no right to be that selfish
just because I was hurting." "You weren't selfish. If you need to
blame someone, blame me." "I'm tired of blaming you." Joe smiled. "Then I'm not about to
urge you to do it. I know when I've gotten a break." His smile faded as
his gaze went to the tombstone. "So why did you want me to come up
here?" "Because I wanted to know how I'd
feel if I stood here with you." He stiffened. "How do you feel?" "Sad. Regretful. Scarred." "And what does that mean?" "It means you made a mistake and it
hurt me terribly. It means I probably made a few mistakes myself. It means I
have to heal and it will take some time." Eve met his gaze. "But I
don't want to do it alone. I want you with me. Whether it hurts or not, I can't
imagine life without you." "Hallelujah," he whispered. "I don't promise you everything will
be the same. But then you said you weren't sure you
wanted it that way." "I would have taken it." Joe
moved to stand beside her, but not touching her. "Tell me what you want
from me." "I want you to have this little girl
disinterred. I'm going to do a reconstruction on her. Then I want you to help
me find out who she is." "Done." "And I'm going to find my Bonnie.
Will you help me?" "For God's sake, of course I
will." He paused. "I've never stopped looking. I've followed up on
every report, every lead, even after I paid to have that DNA report sent to
you." She went still. "You didn't tell me
that." "I didn't think you were in the mood
to believe me." "Maybe I wasn't. Would you have told
me if you'd found her?" He smiled crookedly. "I asked myself
that a thousand times. I think I would. I hope I would. I can't guarantee it." "I hope you would, too. Because I
want to trust you again, Joe." "You already trust me. You just have
to recognize that you do. Why else would you agree to start again?" "Because I love you so much that
life's not worth a damn without you," she said simply. "In spite of
everything that's happened, that's the bottom line." Joe drew a deep breath and held out his
hand to her. "Yeah, that's the bottom line." Eve hesitated, then slowly reached out and
took his hand. Strength. Comfort. Love. His touch was so
familiar, and yet it had an element now that was tentative and entirely new. Rebirth? Maybe. Whatever it was, like Joe, she'd take it. Her hand tightened around his as she
turned away from the grave. "We'd better get back to Jane. I think she was
worried." "I know she was." Joe walked
beside her toward the path. "She was afraid you were going to ditch me.
She was probably concerned about who would get custody of Toby." "Don't be silly. Jane would get
custody even if she had to run away from home with that dog." She suddenly
stopped to look back over her shoulder at the grave she had called Bonnie's all
these months. "Okay?" Joe asked gently. She was beginning to think it would be
okay. Hope was a wonderful thing, and they had that great bottom line.
"Sure, I was just thinking about that little girl. I want to get to work
on the reconstruction right away." She started down the path again.
"I think I'll call her Sally...." Epilogue "I like the name Sally," Bonnie
said. "One of my friends at school was Sally Meyers. Do you remember her,
Mama?" Eve looked over her shoulder to see Bonnie
curled up on the window seat. "You had a lot of friends." She went
back to measuring the child's skull for depth markers. "And if I'd
remembered her, I certainly wouldn't have named this poor kid after her." "Why not?" Bonnie giggled.
"You're superstitious. You think it might be bad luck." "I'm not superstitious." "Yes, you are." "I've just learned not to take
chances, brat." "Sally's fine. Her daddy gave her a
car and she almost died in an auto accident last year. But she's getting
well." "I don't call that exactly
fine." "Well, she would have been happier on
this side, but she's still fine." "And I can't relate to your notion of
a happy little afterlife, either." "I know. It's out of your realm of
experience. That's why you're so determined to find me." "Don't be patronizing. I'm still your
mother." "Yes, you are." Bonnie smiled
lovingly. "And I understand why you want to bring me home. It's just that
I don't want you to hurt yourself doing it. You almost lost Joe this
time." "We're working it out." "Yes." Bonnie leaned her head
back against the window. "I can feel it in you." "Feel what?" "A sort of glow, a serenity..." "Oh, give me a break." "Have I embarrassed you? Serves you
right for being such a cynic." Her glance shifted to Sally. "I hope
you're able to bring her home. She's been lost a long time." "How long?" "Longer than me. Have you heard
anything from Galen?" "No, have you?" "Do you mean, is he dead? I don't
think so." "I shouldn't have asked. I don't know
why it even bothers me. He's a law unto himself. I refuse to worry about
him." Bonnie chuckled. "You'll worry."
She was silent a moment. "I have to leave now. Jane and Toby will be
coming up the porch steps in a few minutes. She's going to show you a trick she
taught him." "Is that supposed to prove you're
clairvoyant? She teaches him a new trick every other day." "Well, I thought I'd try. You're a
tough sell. By the time they come in that door, you'll have persuaded yourself
that you've just woken from a nap and started working on Sally again." "Which is probably what
happened." She could hear Toby scrambling up the porch steps and then
shaking his coat. "He sounds like he's been in the water. We can't keep
him dry. He refuses to stay out of the lake. The rascal's full of the
devil." "He's full of life. You could learn
from him. Let life in, Mama." The door was opening, and Eve knew if she
glanced at the window seat Bonnie would no longer be there. "Eve, you've got to see this!" Bonnie was gone, but life was here,
joyously bounding into the room with Jane and Toby. "I can't wait." Eve wiped the
clay from her hands and went forward to meet it. About the
Author IRIS JOHANSEN, who has more than eight
million copies of her books in print, has won many awards for her achievements
in writing. The bestselling author of The Search, Final Target, The Killing
Game, The Face of Deception, And Then You Die, and The Ugly Duckling lives
near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is currently at work on a new novel. Body of Lies IRIS JOHANSEN BANTAM BOOKS New York Toronto London Sydney
Auckland BANTAM BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN No One to Trust Body of Lies Final Target The Search The Killing Game The Face of Deception And Then You Die Long After Midnight The Ugly Duckling Lion's Bride Dark Rider Midnight Warrior The Beloved Scoundrel The Magnificent Rogue The Tiger Prince Last Bridge Home The Golden Barbarian Reap the Wind Storm Winds The Wind Dancer BODY OF LIES A Bantam Book This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. PUBLISHING HISTORY Bantam hardcover edition published April
2002 Bantam export mass market edition
published September 2002 Bantam domestic mass market edition /
March 2003 Published by Bantam Dell A Division of Random House, Inc. New York,
New York All rights reserved Copyright © 2002 by Johansen Publishing
LLLP Cover art copyright © 2002 by Yook Louie Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
2002052800 No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information
address: Bantam Books, New York, New York Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are
registered trademarks of Random House, Inc. ISBN 0-553-58214-3 Manufactured in the United States of America
Published simultaneously in Canada OPM 10 987654321 Chapter One Sarah Bayou,
Louisiana 1:05 A.M. October 4 The flatboat
glided slowly through the bayou. Too slowly, Jules Hebert thought tensely.
He had deliberately chosen a flatboat rather than a motor-boat because it would
be less obtrusive at this time of night, but he had not counted on this case of
nerves. Keep calm. The church was just up ahead. "It will be fine, Jules,"
Etienne called softly as he wielded the oars. "You worry too much." And his brother, Etienne, didn't worry
enough, Jules thought in despair. Ever since childhood it had been Jules who
was the serious one, the one who had to accept the responsibility while Etienne
ambled along through life with endearing blitheness. "You arranged for the
men to be waiting at the church?" "Of course." "And you told them nothing?" "Only that they would be paid well
for the work. And I parked the motorboat to bring them where you told me
to." "Good." "It will all go very easily."
Etienne smiled. "I promise you, Jules. Would I let you down?" Not intentionally. The affection between
them was too strong. They had been through too much together. "No offense.
Just asking, little brother." Jules stiffened as he saw the dark looming
silhouette of the ancient stone church in the faint moonlight as they rounded
the corner. It had been deserted for over ten years and exuded dampness and
decay. His gaze flew to the sparsely scattered plantation houses on either side
of the bayou. No one. No sign of anyone stirring. "I told you," Etienne said.
"Luck is with us. How could it be otherwise? Fortune is always on the side
of the right." That had not been Jules's experience, but
he wouldn't argue with Etienne. Not tonight. Jules jumped out of the boat as they
reached the landing, and the four men Etienne had hired streamed onto the boat. "Be careful with it," Jules
said. "For God's sake, don't drop it." "I'll help them." Etienne leaped
forward. "Christ, it's heavy." He put his massive shoulder beneath
one corner. "On the count of three." With great care they lifted the huge black
coffin onto the landing. Lake Cottage
Atlanta, Georgia Coffin. Eve Duncan woke with a start, her heart
pounding. "What is it?" Joe Quinn asked
drowsily. "Something wrong?" "No." Eve swung her feet to the
floor. "I just had a bad dream. I think I'll get a glass of water."
She moved to the bathroom. "Go back to sleep." Good heavens, she was actually shaking.
How stupid could she get? She splashed water on her face and took a few sips of
water before going back into the bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand was on and Joe
was sitting up in bed. "I told you to go back to sleep." "I don't want to go to sleep. Come
here." She went into his arms and cuddled close.
Safety. Love. Joe. "Want to make love?" "The thought occurred to me. Maybe
later. Right now, I want to know about your nightmare." "People do have bad dreams, Joe. It's
not that uncommon." "But you haven't had one in a long
time. I thought you were over them." His arms tightened around her.
"I want them to be over." She knew he did, and she knew he tried
desperately to give her the security and contentment that he thought would rid
her of them. But Joe should know better than anyone that the nightmare would
never entirely go away. "Just shut up and go back to sleep." "Was it about Bonnie?" "No." Eve felt a ripple of
guilt. Someday she had to tell him why the dreams of Bonnie were no longer
painful. But not yet. Even after this last year with him, she still wasn't
ready. Someday. "The new skull? You've been working hard
on it. Maybe too hard?" "I'm almost done. It's Carmelita
Sanchez, Joe. I should be able to notify her parents in a couple days."
Then there would be closure and, perhaps, peace for them. "And you know my
work never brings me anything but satisfaction. No bad dreams there." Just
sadness and pity and a driving passion to bring the lost ones home. "Stop
probing. Bad dreams don't have to have deep psychological implications. This
was just a crazy, disjointed ... It was probably something I ate. Jane's pizza
was a little too rich for—" "What was it about?" Joe wasn't going to give up. He would pick
at the subject until everything was out in the open. "A coffin. Okay? I
was walking toward this coffin, and it scared me." "Who was in the coffin?" He
paused. "Me? Jane?" "Stop trying to read something into
it. It was a closed coffin." "Then why were you scared?" "It was a dream. For heaven's sake, I
deal with dead people every day of my life. It's perfectly natural I should
have an occasional macabre—" "Why were you scared?" "Drop it. It's over." She pulled
his head down and kissed him. "Stop being a protective ass. The only
therapy I want from you right now is strictly physical." He went still, resisting. Then he relaxed
and moved over her. "Well, if you insist. I suppose I'll have to be a
gentleman and let you seduce me." Eve was surprised. She knew how stubborn
Joe could be. She smiled and gently tugged at his hair. "Damn right, you
will." "We'll talk about the coffin
later...." Sarah Bayou The coffin was in place in the altar of
the church. Jules bent to check the pedestal beneath
it to make sure it was sturdy enough to bear the weight of the specially
reinforced airtight coffin. He'd had it built to his own specifications and had
been assured there would be no problem, but it was his responsibility and he
was determined not to fail. Nothing must damage the coffin's precious contents. "I've paid them off. They're on their
way back," Etienne said from the doorway. He came toward Jules, his gaze
fixed on the coffin. "It looks so strange there.... We did it, didn't
we?" Jules nodded. "Yes, we did it." Etienne was silent a moment. "I know
you were angry with me, but now you understand, don't you?" "Yes, I understand." "Good. Well, here it is. We did it
together." Etienne put his arm affectionately around Jules's shoulders.
"It gives me a good feeling. You, too?" "No." Jules closed his eyes as
the pain surged through him. "Not a good feeling." "Because you worry too much. But it's
over now." "Not quite." Jules opened eyes
that were full of tears. "Have I ever told you how much I love you, what a
good brother you've been to me?" Etienne laughed. "If you had, I would
have been the one who was worried. You're not a man who—" His eyes widened
in shock as he saw the gun in his brother's hand. "What are you—?" Jules shot him in the heart. Disbelief was frozen on Etienne's face as
he fell to the floor. Jules couldn't believe it, either. Dear
God, let him take that moment back. No, for he would only have to do it again. Jules fell to his knees beside Etienne and
gathered him in his arms. Tears ran down his face as he rocked him back and
forth. Little brother. Little brother... Control. He had one other task to perform
before he could allow himself to grieve. The motorboat taking the men away from
the church should be out of the bayou and on the widest part of the river by
now. He fumbled in his pocket for the switch
and pressed the red button. He could not hear the explosion, but he knew it had
happened. He had set the charge himself and he never allowed himself to make a
mistake. There would be no survivors and no evidence. It was done. Jules turned back to Etienne and tenderly
brushed the hair from his forehead. Sleep, little brother. He prayed Etienne
was at peace. He was glad it was too dim in the church to see the shock and
pain frozen on Etienne's face. No, the church was not that dim. It was
the coffin, huge, dark, and casting its shadow over both Jules and Etienne. Casting its shadow over all the world. ------------------- "No, Senator Melton," Eve said
firmly. "I'm not interested. I have enough work to keep me busy for the
rest of the year. I certainly don't need any more." "It would help us enormously if you
could see your way clear to changing your mind. It's a very sensitive situation
and we need your help." The senator paused. "And, after all, as a
citizen, you do have a patriotic duty to—" "Don't give me that crap," Eve
interrupted. "Every time a bureaucrat wants to be put first on the list,
he pulls out patriotic duty. You haven't even told me what this job is going to
be about. All I know is that I'd have to leave my home and my family and go
running off to Baton Rouge. I can't imagine a job important enough to make me
do that." "As I said, it's a very sensitive, confidential
situation and I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you until you're committed
to—" "Get someone else. I'm not the only
forensic sculptor in the world." "You're the best." "I've gotten a lot of press. That
doesn't mean—" "You're the best. False modesty
doesn't become you." "Okay, I'm damn good." She
paused. "But I'm not available. Get Dupree or McGilvan." She hung up
the phone. Joe looked up from his book. "Melton,
again?" "He won't give up. Lord save me from
politicians." Eve went back to the pedestal and began smoothing the clay
over the skull. "God, they're pompous." "Melton has the reputation of being
fairly down-to-earth. He's certainly popular. They say the Democrats are
grooming him for president." "I wouldn't trust any politician.
They're all bedfellows in Washington. They scratch each other's backs." "Sounds a little disgusting."
Joe studied her. "But you're intrigued. It's sticking out all over
you." "So, I'm curious. Melton's evidently
experienced at piquing people's interest." Eve didn't take her gaze from
the sculpture. "The only thing he'd tell me was that it was my patriotic
duty. Bull." "No more than that?" "He said we'll discuss it when I
commit." She smoothed the area under the eye crevice. "I wonder who
they think it is...." He watched her for a moment without
speaking. "Louisiana in October isn't too unpleasant. We could take a
jaunt down to New Orleans. The department owes me some time, and Jane might
like it." "You're not invited." She made a
face. "Highly confidential and top secret." "Then screw him." He thought
about it a moment. "Was that a little lacking in tact and understanding? I
know better than to try to get in the way of your job. If you're tempted, I
guess we could put up with being without you for a few weeks." "Why should I be tempted?" She
wiped her hands on a towel and moved over to stand at the window. The lake was
glittering blue on this fine autumn afternoon, and Jane was down on the shore
playing with the new puppy Eve's friend, Sarah Patrick, had given her. The girl
was tossing a stick for Toby, and the mixed-breed dog was running crazily to
retrieve it. They both looked so alive and healthy and wonderfully happy. Well, what was there not to be happy about
here in this place at this time? "Eve?" She glanced over her shoulder at Joe, her
protector, her best friend, her lover. He was the bedrock of her life, and
every moment with him and Jane was precious. She smiled at him. "Hell, no,
I'm not tempted. Screw Melton." ------------------- "She refused," Melton said when
Jules Hebert picked up the phone. "She suggested I get Dupree." "I don't want Dupree," Hebert
said curtly. "We need Eve Duncan. I told you that from the beginning. It
has to be her." "It looks like you'll have to make do
with Dupree. He has a decent reputation." Hebert drew a deep breath. He had seen
examples of Eve Duncan's work on academic Websites and compared it to that of
other leading forensic sculptors. It was like comparing a da Vinci masterpiece
with a cave drawing. He couldn't entrust this skull to a Neanderthal. It was
too important to him. It was important to Melton and the rest of them, too, but
Jules didn't care about them. Not now. Melton had a safe job in a safe world.
He sat in his office and lifted his finger and sent men like Hebert out to take
his risks and do his bidding. "You told me I had to find a way to verify.
Give me Eve Duncan and I'll do it." "You made the mistake; it's your job
to correct it." Jules's hand tightened on the phone.
"There's always a way to get what you want, if you work at it. What's the
problem?" "My bet is that she's so mired in
domesticity that she can't see beyond her little cottage in Georgia. It's only
what you'd expect from a woman." "Never underestimate women. I've
known some that I'd rather avoid than come up against. Duncan is obviously very
strong-willed. You approached her in the way that I suggested?" "Yes, she seemed interested, but that
didn't make her accept." "Then we didn't press the right
buttons. There has to be some way. Tell me about her." "You know her reputation, or you
wouldn't be so sure she's the right one for the job." Jules looked down at the newspaper with
the picture of Eve Duncan that had first led him to call Melton. It was a photo
of a woman in her early thirties with a strong, intelligent face framed by
curly red-brown hair. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and looked out at the world
with an odd mixture of boldness and sensitivity. "I know about her
professional capabilities. I need to know more about her background. I need to
know how to manipulate her." "She's illegitimate and grew up in
the slums of Atlanta with a crackhead for a mother. In later years, the mother
gave up drugs, and she and Duncan became close. Eve got pregnant herself when
she was sixteen and gave birth to a child, Bonnie. She went back to school and
was working her way through when her seven-year-old little girl was murdered by
some nut who had killed eleven other children. They couldn't find the body, and
that spurred Duncan to become a forensic sculptor. She studied at Georgia State
and became one of the top forensic sculptors in the country. She works
freelance and also with several police departments nationwide." "And her personal life?" "She's living with Joe Quinn, a
detective with the Atlanta Police Department. They've been friends since her
daughter was murdered over twelve years ago, but they've only been living
together for the past two years. She's recently adopted a twelve-year-old girl,
Jane MacGuire, who grew up on the streets just as Duncan had done. They live in
a lake cottage outside of Atlanta. Her daughter, Bonnie, is buried on the
grounds." "You told me the body had never been
found." "Until last year. New information
emerged, and they located the skeleton in the Chattahoochee National Forest. DNA
tests confirmed that the skeleton was Bonnie Duncan." And Eve Duncan was now at peace, Hebert
thought. He knew the value of closure. He could imagine the dark world Eve
Duncan had lived in all those years. "Anything else?" Melton asked.
"I've got all the details; I can cross the T's and dot the I's if you need
it." So cut-and-dried. Jules was sure Melton
would relate all those details in the same detached way he'd revealed Eve
Duncan's past history. "That won't be necessary." He couldn't leave this to Melton, he
thought wearily. He'd have to work on Eve Duncan's weaknesses himself. She's so mired in domesticity that she
can't see beyond her little lake cottage in Georgia. She had a man and a child, and her own
personal cross was buried on that property near her home. She was probably very
happy. And why not? She had earned her peace. So the only way to get what he needed was
to destroy that peace. And he knew he would do it, just as he did everything
that needed doing. Drop everything and get to the airport. He had to get her to
leave Atlanta immediately. But there was one thing he had to do
before he left. "I'm going to Atlanta." "I'm glad to see you're taking
action. This had better be solved soon. Remember, you don't have much time to
clear up your mess. Boca Raton is set for October twenty-ninth." "You don't have to remind me. I can
take care of both matters." "We've trusted you for a long time,
but the Cabal isn't too pleased with you after that blunder with Etienne." And Melton was even less pleased. He was
probably looking over his shoulder and thinking he'd be next. Lily-livered
bastard. "I had to shoot him. It was
self-defense." "Was it?" Melton paused. "I
admit I've been wondering if you're playing a double game." "You have no reason to accuse me of
that." "Well, then, you'd better make sure
your mistake has no repercussions." "That's why I'm going to Atlanta.
I'll find a way." "See that you do." Melton hung
up. The threat had been veiled, but Jules
couldn't mistake Melton's intention to pressure him. He smothered the anger and
tried to compose himself. It was the first time in years that any of the Cabal
had been in the least critical of him. He had served them faithfully. Wasn't he
entitled to their trust? Well, they had trusted him with Etienne,
and he must make amends for that. Boca Raton. It would be all right. Jules had made the
advance preparations and the plan was proceeding nicely. He could leave the
matter alone while he concentrated on the Duncan project. Eve Duncan. Hebert leaned back and closed
his eyes. He would go soon, but another few moments wouldn't hurt. You'd think
after all these years that he'd become hardened, but it had never happened. Not
with the innocents. Get a grip. He had killed Etienne;
anything else would be easy in comparison. Joe Quinn, Jane MacGuire, and hadn't
Melton mentioned Eve Duncan's mother? Which one would he have to choose? ------------------- "Look at him." Jane's expression
was glowing with pride as she gazed at her puppy. "I think he's even
smarter than his daddy, Monty, don't you?" "Well... he's very good. But rolling
over isn't exactly the same as saving lives after an earthquake." Eve
smiled as she packed Carmelita's reconstructed skull in a box. "He's got a
way to go." "Well, he's only four months old. I have
to train him." Jane snapped her fingers and Toby bounced to his feet.
"Maybe I should go out to California and let Sarah help me. I bet she
could teach him in no time. She offered to do it when she gave him to me." Providing Sarah had time to do it, Eve
thought ruefully. Besides traveling all over the world with a canine rescue
group, Sarah was trying to adjust to marriage and keep her golden retriever,
Monty, and his mate, Maggie, content and peaceful. Peaceful wasn't that easy
when it came to dealing with an untamed wolf like Maggie. "That could be a
good idea. We'll ask her when she might have a chance to do it." She
addressed the label on the box ready for collection. "But not until your
school breaks for the Thanksgiving holidays." "I could make it up. I'm ahead
anyway." In more ways than in her studies. Jane's
background had ensured that in both experience and character she was twelve
going on thirty. Eve was glad to see this wild enthusiasm over the puppy.
Heaven knows the girl had been cheated out of most of the joys of childhood.
"Maybe. We'll talk about it." "Are you going to the FedEx office?
Can Toby and I go with you?" "Sure. Right after I go and put some
fresh flowers on Bonnie's grave. I haven't been up there this week." "The chrysanthemums by the side of
the house? I'll get them. Toby and I will go with you. He needs to stretch his
legs." "What are you talking about? That
puppy dashes around every minute of the day." "Running up hills is different. It's
good training and helps the lungs." She ran out of the cottage.
"We'll meet you." Eve smiled and shook her head as she went
out onto the porch. They'd be there long before she reached the grave, and
she'd be lucky if Toby didn't tear up the flowers Jane put down on it. Not that it mattered. Flowers were only
flowers. And Bonnie would have loved to see the puppy tearing around, full of
life and joy. She started on the path around the lake. To her surprise Toby was being
comparatively sedate, lying on his back beside the grave while Jane scratched
his tummy. "I told you hills were different," Jane said. "He got
tired. He needs to get in shape." She turned around and began picking
weeds from the grave. "It doesn't need much cleaning at this time of year.
I was up here three days ago and there was hardly any clover or anything." "You were up here?" "Sure. I know it's important to you.
You love Bonnie." Jane straightened the flowers "There. I was going
to brush those maple leaves off, but the red color looks kind of pretty. Like a
cozy little blanket." "Yes, it does." Eve looked down
at the fallen leaves. A blanket for her Bonnie. The phrase spoke of home and
shelter from harm. Everything she'd wanted for her daughter. "Is it okay?" Jane asked. "It's beautiful." Eve swallowed
hard. "Have I told you lately how much I love you, Jane?" "You don't have to tell me."
Jane didn't look at her as she jumped to her feet. "You keep thinking
you're cheating me or something. It doesn't have to be even. I don't expect
it." "It is even. It's just...
different." "Right. I'll see you at the car.
Maybe we can rent a video while we're in town, now that you're finished with
Carmelita. Joe said he wanted to see that new sci-fi spoof." The girl
streaked off with Toby romping at her heels. Still a few problems there, but they'd
come a long way. They had such a strong foundation that Eve couldn't believe
they wouldn't work everything out eventually. Time to go. She looked down at the grave.
"Goodbye, Bonnie," she whispered. She turned and started to follow
Jane. A sudden chill went through her. She whirled and looked back up the hill.
"Bonnie?" Nothing. No sound. No rustle of trees... Yet, had there been ... something? Imagination. She must have been working
too hard on Carmelita. Bonnie never gave her this sense of menace.... "Eve!" Jane was waving at her
from the bottom of the hill. "Toby's treed a squirrel. Or maybe it's a
raccoon. Come and see." Eve turned around and her pace quickened.
"I'll be right there." Chapter Two
The child could
be the key. Jules Hebert faded away into the bushes as
Eve left the grave site. The expression on the woman's face had told it all.
She was a mother, and radiated the love, endurance, and tenderness that all
mothers possessed. The death of a child could move a woman to do almost anything. Jane MacGuire? The idea made him sick. He did not like to
kill children. He stopped and leaned against the birch tree at the bottom of
the hill. He could do it. He could do anything he had to do. He had proved
that. But maybe it wasn't necessary. He had to
clear his head and think. Would he have to do this? Would it even bring the
result he wanted? The situation was critical, but wouldn't it be better to
explore other avenues? Everyone had secrets. Suppose he probed and pried until
he knew every detail of these people's lives. He had always been good at that.
He might be able to find something he could use.... It would take time. Not if he bent all his will and effort to
the task. He had come to admire Eve Duncan. With her strength and intelligence,
she reminded him of his own mother. Surely, he could wait a few more days. Boca Raton. Three days. Taking any more time would be
irresponsible. He could allow himself three days to find another option. Then he would have to kill the child. ------------------- "I need to talk to you." Jane's
voice was hesitant. "Could you spare a moment, Eve?" "I don't have time to—" Eve
looked up from the skull she was charting and saw that Jane was so pale her
freckles stood out. "What's wrong? Is it Toby?" "Toby's fine." Jane moistened
her lips. "I didn't know what to do. I thought about telling Joe, but it's
really you ... I tried to fix it, but I couldn't. And then I didn't want you to
go up and see—I had to tell you." "What are you talking about,
Jane?" "Will you come with me?" Jane
moved toward the door. "You have to see—" "See what?" "Bonnie..." "What do you mean—" Jane was gone, running down the porch
steps and down the path. "Jane!" Eve ran after her but didn't catch up
until she was almost up the hill. "Why are you—" Then she saw it. "I didn't know what to do."
Jane's voice was uneven. "I tried to clean it up." Blood smeared, dripping over the
headstone. Eve shuddered. "What did you— What
happened here?" "I don't know. I came up today to
clean off the weeds and it was like this. No, not like this. I made it worse.
I'm sorry, Eve." "Blood." "No, I don't think so. At first, I
thought... But it's paint or something." She edged closer to Eve. "I
couldn't get it off." "Paint?" Jane nodded. "Someone drew a big X
through Bonnie's name and everything else on the tombstone." She took
Eve's hand. "Who would do this to you?" Eve couldn't imagine who would commit a
horror like this. She felt ... bruised. "I don't know." It was hard
to think. "Maybe some kid who thought it was funny to desecrate a
grave." But not her Bonnie's grave. Not her Bonnie. "I can't think of
anyone else." "I'm gonna get him," Jane said
fiercely. "Maybe he'll come back. I'll wait here and when he does, I'm
gonna get him." Eve shook her head. "It would only
make it worse." She turned away. "Come on, we'll get back to the
cottage and see if we can find something to clean it off with." Jane fell into step with her. "We'll
tell Joe as soon as he gets home. He'll get him." "Not until we clean up the
tombstone." "You're afraid he'll be so mad, he'll do something to
him. He should do something. I'll help him." Jesus, she couldn't handle this right now.
Eve knew very well Joe's response would be just as violent and protective as
Jane's, and she was too shaky to play peacemaker. Besides, she didn't want to
be a peacemaker. Shock was quickly being replaced by anger. She wanted to wring
that sicko kid's neck. Not a good example for Jane. And Joe was an ex-SEAL and
would think little of doing just that. "Just go to the shed and see what
you can find. There may be some turpentine left from last spring when we
painted the porch." ------------------- "Having trouble?" George Capel glanced impatiently at the
man in a blue Saturn who had cruised to a stop beside him on the side of the
road. What a stupid question, when he was standing here with his head under the
hood of the Mercedes. "Not unless you're a mechanic. It's dead as a
doornail." "Sorry. I'm a computer
salesman." The man in the Saturn grimaced. "And believe me I've had
my share of breakdowns. I remember once in Macon, it was the middle of the
night and I—" He stopped. "But you're not interested in that. What
about a jump?" "We can try." Capel glanced at
the man's neat blue suit. "Better be careful. I've already got grease on
my shirt." The man smiled. "I'm always
careful." Ten minutes later Capel was cursing a blue
streak when the car still failed to start. "Piece of crap. For God's sake,
it's a Mercedes. Do you know how much this car cost me?" "A bundle. New?" "Last year." "Sorry I couldn't help. Maybe you'd
better call for a tow truck." "When my car's dead, my car phone's
dead, too. Do you have a cell phone?" The other man smiled. "You seem to be
having trouble with mechanical objects. I remember a Stephen King book about machines
gone amok. I listened to it on Books on Tape when I was driving through
Iowa." Capel tried to keep his temper. "Do
you have a phone?" he repeated. "Sure, but it's back at the motel on
the charger. I was only going to go out and find a restaurant to have
dinner." He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. "But hop in and
I'll give you a lift to the nearest service station. I'm new in this area. Do
you know where one is?" "There's a Texaco two miles
ahead." Capel hesitated, gazing at the Mercedes. "I don't think it's going
anywhere." "That's for sure. Piece of lousy
junk." Capel strode over to the passenger side of the Saturn and got in.
"Let's go. I didn't need this. I left the office early because I've got
tickets to the basketball game tonight. And then this has to happen. Damn, I
hate car trouble. The sooner we get this over with, the better." "That's what I think. I hate
unpleasantness." Jules Hebert got into the driver's seat. "Let's get
it over with." ------------------- Joe turned away from the grave.
"We'll replace the headstone." "I've got almost all the paint
off." "But every time you look at it,
you'll remember. We'll get a new headstone. I'll see to it when I go into work
tomorrow." He looked at her. "You haven't seen anyone around the place
in the past few days?" Eve shook her head. "Don't worry, it won't happen
again." "It's a big property. It's hard to
keep trespassers off it." "It won't happen again," Joe
repeated. "Go on back to the house while I take a look around." She looked at him warily. "Hey, I'm a cop. Let me do my
job." But this wasn't a cop standing before her.
He was in protective mode, and Joe could be lethal when he was this angry.
"I don't want you to do your job too well. It was vandalism." "It hurt you," Joe said flatly.
"I won't allow that. Never again." "And I won't allow you to kill some
kid who thought this was just one big giggle." He was silent a moment. "If it's a
kid, he may get by with learning a lesson he won't forget. Satisfied?" "No." But it was all she was
going to get from him. Eve was beginning to hope they'd never find out who did this awful thing. "You can't
call a forensic team out here to solve a case of vandalism." "I'm pretty good on my own." Joe
turned away. "Go on back to the cottage. Jane needs you. She's pretty
shook up." "Not anymore. She wants to do the
same thing as you. She said she was 'gonna get him.' " "Good. Smart girl. But she doesn't
have to bother." Eve watched in exasperation as Joe
disappeared into the bushes. He was on the hunt, and there wasn't anything she
could do about it. She turned and went down the hill. ------------------- Joe found the footprints almost
immediately. Not running shoes or mountain boots like
most kids wore in this area. Regular shoes. Size eight or nine, and the imprint
was shallow so the wearer wasn't very big. And he hadn't tried to brush the
footprints away. It was stupid enough to be a kid. Joe followed the prints down
the hill. Car tracks. It was getting dark. Joe turned on his
flashlight as he knelt down and looked at the tracks. He didn't know enough
about tire imprints to identify them. He'd go back to the cottage and get some
plaster to make a mold, and then run it through the database at headquarters. He didn't like any of this. His hand
clenched on the flashlight as he thought about the grave and Eve's expression when she'd told him about the
defacement. He was going to get that son of a bitch. ------------------- Hebert's phone rang as he was getting back
in the car. "I hadn't heard from you,"
Melton said. "Do I have to remind you that time is of the essence?" "No." "The situation may be escalating.
Have you thought any more about getting Dupree?" "Forget Dupree." Jules wearily
leaned back in the seat. "That may not be necessary." "Why not?" "Things are looking up. I want you to
wait one day and then call Eve Duncan again and make her the same offer." "She was quite adamant." "Try her." "Whatever you say. It's good that
things are proceeding so well." Melton hung up. There was nothing good about this but the
end result, Jules thought. It had been a hideous night. The man had been harder
to break than he had thought, and torture was always worse than a clean kill.
As he punched the end button, he noticed there was blood on the phone. He
looked down at his hands. Blood on them, too. He wiped his hands with a tissue, and then
the phone. He glanced at the sheet of paper on the seat beside him. Good. No
blood on the paper. He didn't want to leave any traces. He looked out the window at the drainage
ditch several yards away from the road. The water should wash away any evidence
he had left behind. He wished he could cleanse his mind and
soul as easily. ------------------- "I ran into the FedEx man
outside." Jane dropped her schoolbooks on the coffee table and tossed the
FedEx letter on Eve's desk. "Who's it from?" "Search me. No return address.
Where's Toby?" "Outside by the lake. He chased some
ducks this morning." "Well, he has retriever blood." "And he turned tail when one got mad
and bit his nose." Eve grinned. "Some retriever." "Poor Toby." Jane started for
the door. "That must have hurt his pride. I'll have to go soothe his
feelings." "He's forgotten already. I saw him
chasing a butterfly an hour later. Maybe he thought that wouldn't be quite so
dangerous." Jane giggled. "A little more respect,
please." She ran out the door and down the steps. "Toby!" Eve was still smiling when she picked up
the FedEx letter and tore it open. Thank heaven for Toby. He had completely
taken Jane's mind off that horror of two days ago. She only wished Joe would be
similarly distracted by— My God. ------------------- "Come home, Joe," Jane said as
soon as Joe picked up the phone. "Right away. You've got to come
now." "Easy. What's wrong?" "Eve. She's just sitting there. She
told me nothing was wrong, but she's just sitting there." "Maybe nothing is wrong." "Don't you tell me that." Her
voice was shaking. "You come home, Joe." "I'm on my way." ------------------- "Eve?" It was Joe. She curled up tighter at the
end of the couch. Go away. Go away. "What the hell's wrong?" She put it into words. "Go
away." He sat down beside her. "Stop closing
me out. I'm not going anywhere. Now what's wrong?" "I don't want... to talk about it
right now." "Well, I do. That's what a
relationship is about. Sharing." "Sharing what? Sharing lies?" He went still. "What are you talking
about?" "I told you, I don't want to talk at
all." She just wanted to close herself away and try to heal the raw wound.
"Go and see about Jane. I think I scared her." "You're scaring me. Did something
happen to Bonnie's grave again?" "I don't know," she said dully.
"It doesn't matter." "Jane said you got a FedEx. May I see
it?" She got to her feet. "Not now." He was silent a moment. "Let me help
you. You're not being fair to me, Eve." She whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "I'm
not being fair? My God, how do you have the nerve to say that after what
you've done to me?" He went still. "And what have I done
to you?" "Lies. You lied to me, Joe. The
cruelest lie, the cruelest thing you could have done to me." She drew a
deep breath, her gaze fixed desperately on his face. "You're not asking
what that was. Because you know, don't you, Joe? I wasn't really sure until I
saw your face. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe you'd do this to me." He glanced around the room. "Is that
the FedEx?" He crossed to the desk and picked up the single sheet of paper
and scanned it. She could see the line of his spine stiffen as if he was
bracing himself before he turned to face her. "Was there a return address?" She stared at him, stunned. "Christ,
is that all you have to say?" "No, but I have to know who wanted to
hurt you this much." He grimaced. "And who wanted to hurt me." "I don't care who it was. All I care
about is that you lied to me." She closed her eyes as waves of fresh pain
broke over her. "And that the little girl I buried on that hill is not my
Bonnie. Jesus, I can't believe it." "But you clearly do believe it. And
I'm sure you verified this particular scrap of poison." "It's not a scrap." She opened
eyes glittering with tears. "It's the official report from the Georgia
forensic lab stating that the DNA of the little girl found in Chattahoochee
National Park did not match Bonnie Duncan's. It was signed by Dr. George
Capel." "And you called George Capel?" "I tried, but he was out of the
office. So I talked to the head of the department. He couldn't find the
official paperwork on the results, but he finally tracked down some of the
transcripts from the work in progress. Shall I tell you what they were?" "Don't bother." "I was in Atlanta and you took the
call that day. When I came home, you told me that Bonnie had been found." "Yes, I did." "You deliberately lied to me." "Yes." The agony was exploding inside her.
"How could you do that?" she whispered. "How could I not do it?" Joe's
voice was harsh with pain. "I'd watched you suffer for twelve years. I'd
seen you search for Bonnie in every one of those faces you re-created. It was a
wound that never healed, that would never heal until you found Bonnie. Sarah
Patrick searched all through that National Forest, and we'd almost given up
hope when they found the skeleton. The chances of another skeleton being found
there were practically nil at that point. So I prayed every night that skeleton
would be Bonnie's." He threw the report on the desk with barely controlled
violence. "And then it didn't happen, goddammit. It was going to go on and
on. But it didn't have to. All I had to do was tell one lie, and you'd be at
peace." "A terrible lie. You ... cheated
me." "You want me to say I'm sorry? I'm
not sorry. Yes, I am. I'm sorry you found out and it's hurting you. But I'd do
it again if I thought I had a chance of keeping it from you." His words
came fast, hard, and full of passion. "I love you. You've been the
center of my life for over twelve years. I'd do anything to take you away from
the hell you've been going through all that time. I'd lie. I'd kill. Anything
to keep the pain away." "Well, you didn't do it." "No, I didn't do it." Eve raised a shaking hand to her lips as
she thought of something else. "Jesus, I received an official notification
two weeks later, verifying the telephone call. You did that, too?" "I bribed someone in the lab to do it
for me. I knew you'd expect it." "You were very ... thorough." "It was important to me. Maybe the
most important action I'd taken in my life." Joe was silent a moment, his
face pale, strained. "So now what?" "I don't know. I trusted you, and you
betrayed me in the most terrible way possible. I can't even think." Eve
moved heavily toward the bedroom. "I'm going to bed. All I want to do is
sleep." "You won't sleep. You just want to
get away from me." "I can't look at you right now." "You love me, Eve." She did love him. She doubted if that
could ever go away, and that was part of the pain she was feeling. "But
could I ever trust you again? You don't lie to people you love." "The hell you don't." She shook her head and closed the bedroom
door. She leaned back against it. Jesus, she felt empty. It was as if
everything had been drained out of her, leaving nothing but an aching hole. Was
Joe feeling this emptiness? No, he'd be full of sorrow for her, and anger and
desperation at the situation. She knew him so well, his mind, his character,
his body... But not well enough. She'd never have
guessed he'd do this. She moved over to the bed and lay down,
staring into the darkness. ------------------- "I made you some coffee." Jane
handed Joe the mug and sat on the porch step beside him. "Thanks." He set the coffee down
on the step. "Do you think we have a chance of
getting Eve to eat something?" He shook his head. She didn't look at him. "I
eavesdropped, you know. I had to know why she was hurting." "Me." "Yeah. You shouldn't have done it,
Joe." He didn't answer. "Unless you were sure you wouldn't
get caught." He looked at her. "I was sitting out by the lake with
Toby, thinking that maybe I
would have done the same thing if I hadn't been scared of her finding out.
She's been really happy since we brought Bonnie home. I mean ... that other
little girl. So is it better for her to be happy or to be sad?" She shook
her head. "I don't know...." He should have known that Jane wouldn't
see everything in black or white. She had been in and out of foster homes since
she was a baby and had seen too much in her short life. "Let me clarify.
It was a wrong thing to do for a right reason." "You told her you'd do it
again." "I probably would." His lips
twisted. "And that wasn't a lie." "Well, be smarter about it next
time." "There may not be a next time. I may
not get the chance to be close enough to her to—"
He rubbed his aching temple. "And I thought I was being smart, or at least
careful. I bribed the supervisor who ran the test very well to lose that result
sheet." "But he sent it to Eve. Did you make
him mad?" Joe shook his head. "And he didn't
even try to hit me up for more money." "What would you have done if he
had?" "Scared the hell out of him. Capel
was money-hungry, but not stupid." He sat up straighten "I shouldn't
be talking like this to you. The welfare people would whisk you away from us in
a heartbeat if they could hear me." "I wouldn't go." She leaned
against his shoulder. "Screw them all." "And that comment would be another
mark against me." He put
his arm around her. "I want to make sure of something, Jane. Don't ever
take my side against Eve. I'm wrong and she's right. Do you understand?" "Sure." "Then hadn't you better go in and
talk to Eve?" She shook her head. "She won't want
me. Not when it's about Bonnie. She's never been sure how I... She'd worry
about not hurting my feelings, and she's hurting enough herself right
now." He closed his eyes. "God, you've got
that-right." He had felt her pain as if it were his own. It was his
own. She took his hand. "So maybe I'll
just stay out here with you for awhile. Okay?" His hand tightened around Jane's.
"Okay." ------------------- Eve was still awake when Joe came into the
bedroom a few hours later. He knelt beside the bed. "Don't
stiffen up. I won't stay long. I won't even touch you." He was silent a
moment. "I just want you to remember a couple things while you're thinking
what a bastard I am." "You're not a bastard." "I want you to remember what we have
together. I want you to remember what we are to each other." He paused.
"And sometime it's going to occur to you that I lied because I wanted
Bonnie out of our lives. It's not true. If I'd thought you could heal and live
a halfway normal life, I'd have kept searching for her till the day we died.
But it's still an open wound for you." Eve could see his hand clench in
the half darkness. "And it hurts me. I wish I'd known her. I wish
she'd been our daughter. Then maybe you'd forgive me for doing this. Because I
would have done the same thing if Bonnie had been mine. Do you believe
me?" "I believe ... you believe it." Joe bent and rested his forehead on the
bed only an inch from her hand, but not touching her. "I guess that's all
I can ask right now. The ball's in your court, Eve." He got to his feet
and moved toward the door. "I'll see you in the morning. Try to
sleep." Not likely. Every word he'd spoken had
been like little knives, tearing her apart. He was tearing her apart.
She was so full of anger and a bitter sense of betrayal, and yet she had wanted
desperately to reach out and comfort him. It seemed impossible that those
conflicting emotions could exist side by side. How could she stand this? Jesus, she wished she could cry. ------------------- Jane knocked, then opened the door.
"Hi, do you want me to fix some breakfast?" Her gaze went to the
suitcase on the bed. "Uh-oh." "It's after eight. You've missed the
school bus." "Joe said it was okay if I stayed home today. He told me
to take care of you." She came into the room. "Where are you going?" "I'm glad you didn't go." Eve
put a smock and pair of jeans into the suitcase. "I thought we'd go and
spend a week or two with my mother. Why don't you go pack a bag?" "Can I take Toby?" "Of course. Mom loves that silly
mutt." She threw tennis shoes and socks into the bag. "We'll do all
kinds of neat things. Maybe go to the zoo to see the new pandas. What do you
think about that?" Jane didn't answer; Eve glanced at her
inquiringly. Jane moistened her lips. "I know what
Joe did. I listened last night. He feels real bad about it, Eve." "I know." Eve went to the
bathroom and brought back her toothbrush and an armful of toiletries. "I
know he does, Jane." "Are you going to come back?" "I don't know right now. I can't seem
to think. I have to put some space and time between us. It was a ... terrible
thing he did, Jane." She closed the suitcase. "I know you love Joe,
but I can't look at him every day without—" She swallowed hard. "Why
don't you go get packed?" Jane slowly shook her head. "I'm
going to stay here." "What?" She crossed the room and put her arms
around Eve. "You said you needed to think. I'd only get in the way. If I
were you, I'd want to just hide my head under a blanket and not see anyone or
anything." She stepped back. "And besides, Joe needs me. He needs me
a lot." "And you think I don't?" "Not now. Maybe later." Jane
smiled. "It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you or don't love you.
You know that?" "I know that." "Good." Jane turned away.
"I'll fix you some breakfast before you leave. Bacon and eggs?" "Fine." Eve's gaze followed Jane
as she left the room. Jesus, the girl's instincts were on target. Eve had felt
guilty for wanting to run away and isolate herself from Joe and everything that
reminded her of him. She had responsibilities, and Jane was one of them. But it
seemed Jane had made her mind up, and Eve wasn't included in that decision. She was on her way to the closet to get
another armful of clothes when the phone rang. "Ms. Duncan, I'm sorry to trouble
you," Melton said when she picked up the phone. "But I felt bound to
try one more time, since the task is so extremely urgent. I wonder if you'd
reconsider your decision..." ------------------- "You won't change your mind?"
Joe asked. "I don't like the idea of you traipsing off somewhere without
my knowing more—" He stopped as he saw Eve's
expression. "Okay, it's none of my business." He frowned. "The
hell it's not. You'll always be my business." Eve ignored the last remark. "Take
care of Jane. I've told her I'll call her every three days and touch
base." She picked up her suitcase. "I've called Mom and asked her to
take Jane whenever you're working." "Very efficient." "I'm trying to be." She met his
eyes. "It's not easy right now, and concentrating on this job will
help." "You won't phone me?" "Probably not. That would defeat the
purpose." She moved toward the door. "Good-bye, Joe." He watched her get into the car and drive
down the road. He felt hollow and lonely ... and scared. "Shit." He turned, got out his
phone, and dialed. "She's gone," he said when Logan picked up.
"What did you find out about Melton?" "Nothing really bad. Politically
savvy. Elected to the Senate two years ago from Louisiana and done a fairly
good job. He has friends in high places and may be up for the presidential
nomination in a few years." "Why would he be connected with a
hush-hush job like this reconstruction?" "Search me." Logan paused.
"If you're that concerned, you could follow her." "I told you what happened. Unless I
have a damn good reason, she's not going to want me on the same continent.
Maybe not even then." "Well, I can't give you a good reason
yet. I'll keep checking. Maybe you should just give her some time to herself.
That would be the smart move." "I'm not feeling very smart right
now. And I don't want advice. Do you think I would have called you if I hadn't
known you knew every politician in Washington?" "No, you've never forgiven me for
that year I lived with Eve. You should know that's water under the bridge.
We're just friends now." Logan paused. "Which appears to be more than I can
say for your relationship at the moment." "If you're friends, then find a way
to protect her. God knows I can't do it right now." "She may not need protection." "I don't like what was done to that
grave. And Capel hasn't shown up for work for the last four days." "I don't see a connection with Eve's
trip." "I don't, either. I just don't like
it. And I don't like not being able to make sure there's no connection."
Joe paused. "Get Galen to go to Baton Rouge, will you?" "The U.S. government doesn't exactly
approve of Galen." "Tough." "And Galen is freelance. He takes
jobs where he pleases." "You're friends. Use it." "An order?" "Please," Joe said through
gritted teeth. "Send Galen." "That's better. I'll ask him and call
you back." Joe went back to the window, but Eve was
already out of sight. Soon she'd be on that plane for Baton Rouge, traveling
far away from him at jet speed. She couldn't be any farther away from him
than she'd been a few minutes ago in this very room. She couldn't wait to get
away from him. The wall she'd put between them had been almost tangible, and
her expression... Forget the hurt. He couldn't expect
anything else. He should even have anticipated Eve would take this
reconstruction job. Whenever she was in pain or lonely, she always submerged
herself in her work. And that's what he should do. He'd take
that tire print down to the precinct and then go see what he could find out
about Capel. Maybe if he kept himself busy enough, he
might be able to block out the memory of Eve's face before she'd walked out the
door. Maybe. Chapter Three
A BIG, PORTLY MAN IN A DARK BLUE SUIT
HURRIED UP to
Eve as soon as she got off the plane. "Welcome to Baton Rouge, Ms. Duncan.
I'm Paul Tanzer with the mayor's office. Senator Melton thought you'd be more
comfortable with a fellow southerner. He asked me to meet you and make sure you
were comfortable. Did you have a good flight?" "Fine." It was a lie. It had
been a lousy flight. The air had been smooth, but she'd felt hollow and alone
and completely depressed every mile of the way. "I thought Senator Melton
was going to be here." "He'll be here tomorrow. He has to
attend a fund-raiser dinner tonight in New York." Tanzer was guiding her
toward his Cadillac in a parking space. "But I'm going to get you settled.
Don't you worry, little lady." Eve gritted her teeth at that patronizing
last sentence. "I'm not worried. I just want to get to work. That's what I
consider settled." "Very admirable." Tanzer helped
her into the car. "But I know you'll want to see a
little of Baton Rouge while you're here. Actually, you're very lucky the
senator picked me to take care of you. I know everything that's going on in
this city. Is this your first visit?" "Yes. I'm not much of a
traveler." "Then by all means we must see that
you get a taste of Baton Rouge." Tanzer wasn't listening to her. "What
hotel did you book me into?" "Senator Melton decided it would be
better if you didn't stay at a hotel. We've rented a wonderful plantation house
about an hour outside the city. It's close to the church where you'll be
working. It will be much more pleasant for you to just stroll over the bridge,
and I'm sure you'll like your quarters. The house is very old and elegant. Of
course, many things are old here in Baton Rouge. It has a real atmosphere of—" "Wait." She tried to slow him
down. "I'm going to be working at a church?" "Well, it used to be one. It's been
shut down for the last ten years. It was built in the 1800s and is pretty
decrepit. Our city government can't decide whether to tear it down or pour
money into restoring it, and welcomed Senator Melton's offer to rent it for
awhile. Is there a problem?" "I don't care. If I'm on site, then
maybe I could start this afternoon." "That's not possible. We'll have to
wait for Senator Melton." Tanzer beamed. "But I'll tell him how eager
you are to start. He'll be very impressed with your initiative." "I don't have any desire to impress
Senator Melton." Eve tried to hold onto her patience. After all, the man
was just doing his job. "And if you'll give me his number, I'll tell him
myself." "Certainly." Tanzer wrote a
number on one of his cards and handed it to her. "But it may be difficult
to get in touch with him. He's a very busy man. Now, let me point out a few of
our local sights to you..." Tanzer never ran out of either sights or
conversation for the next hour. Eve was deeply grateful when he finally nodded
at a white-columned house up ahead. "Here we are. I told you it was
pleasant. Rather like Tara from Gone with the Wind. Very picturesque,
and the bayou winding in front of it is quite lovely. It will be like being in
Venice, and our weather isn't bad at all this time of year." That's what Joe had said. Eve quickly
blocked the thought. Stop thinking about Joe. Easy to say. Joe was such an
integral part of her life that everything reminded her of him. Tanzer helped her out of the car.
"Most of the house is closed, but you have quite a charming apartment.
Four bedrooms and a lovely marble bath. There's even a very well-stocked
library. I've seen that there are several romance novels there for you."
He knocked on the door. "Marie Letaux is the cook and housekeeper. She's
Cajun, and has a real flair for the local cuisine. She comes highly
recommended. We were very lucky to get her." The door was opened by a
small, dark-haired woman in her late thirties. "Good afternoon, Marie.
This is Ms. Eve Duncan. I've just been telling her what a marvelous housekeeper
you are and how well you're going to take care of her." Marie Letaux gave him a cool glance.
"I'm Madame Letaux. And she takes care of herself. I take care of the
house and cooking." For the first time in two days Eve felt a
smile tug at her lips as she saw Tanzer blink. "Absolutely right, Madame
Letaux," she said. "I wouldn't have it any other way." The housekeeper looked at her appraisingly
and then slowly nodded her head. "You may call me Marie." "Thank you." Tanzer forced a smile and turned to Eve.
"I'll just carry your suitcase up to your room. Isn't this place as great
as I told you?" She glanced around the foyer. A gleaming
oak floor led to a staircase that might have come straight from the house in
the novel to which Tanzer had compared it. Fine wood everywhere and delicately
painted murals on the walls. "It's very nice." The bedroom was even nicer, with its
fourteen-foot ceiling and huge four-poster bed. Eve threw her handbag on the
satin-covered bed and went out on the wrought-iron balcony facing the bayou. The view was lovely. The winding waters of
the bayou snaked past the house, and cypress and willow trees formed a green
veil over the banks. An arched footbridge crossed the murky waters leading to
what appeared to be a mossy island. Near the bend of the bayou was a dark
looming structure that she— "Didn't I say it was
picturesque?" Tanzer said, behind her. "Now, how about going out to
dinner at a nice seafood restaurant I know, and then I'll take you for a tour
of the city." Lord, he was persistent. "I don't
want to go anywhere. I'm tired and I just want to take a shower and rest. Thank
you for the offer." He nodded. "You see? You couldn't
have worked anyway. It's just as well that Senator Melton was delayed in New
York." "I'm seldom too tired to work."
Eve turned back to the bayou. "Is that the church?" "Yes." Tanzer nodded at the
ornate entrance of the huge crumbling structure a few hundred yards away.
"See, it's only a short distance." "It looks completely deserted." "Perhaps it is. I wouldn't
know." "Is that where the skull is
now?" He shrugged. "I wasn't told. It's
where you'll be working." "Is there someone I should
contact?" "Senator Melton will know." It was like trying to draw blood from a
turnip, and Eve had had enough. She held out her hand. "I won't keep you
any longer. Thank you for everything." "Oh." Tanzer shook her hand.
"You're sure you'll be all right?" "I'll be fine. Thank you." "Well, you only have to call my
office if you change your mind. I'm at your disposal." "I'll remember." She waited
until he'd left the bedroom before crossing to the phone on the desk to dial
the number on the card. "I brought your towels." Marie
stood in the doorway. "Thank you. I'll be with you to help
in a moment." "Why? This is my job." She
crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom. Melton was not at the hotel, and Eve had
to leave a voice mail. Great. Just great. She didn't need to spin her wheels
this evening. She needed to work until she was so exhausted she could sleep
tonight. "Do you need help unpacking?"
Marie had come back into the room. "No, thanks. I didn't bring
much." Eve smiled. "And I don't want to impose on you. That isn't
your job." "Unless I choose." Marie smiled
back at her. "There's nothing shameful about being a servant. It's hard,
honorable work. I just don't like being patronized by a trou du cul" She
turned to leave. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes." What was a trou du cul} She had an
idea, but she'd have to see if she could find it in a French-English dictionary
in that library Tanzer had mentioned. She went back onto the balcony and looked
at the main entrance of the church. There might be someone there. Maybe she'd
take a walk over there after dinner.... But that dinner was going to be ready in
thirty minutes and she should take a quick shower. She'd have to hurry. If she
was late, she wouldn't be surprised if Marie threw the meal into the bayou. And what was a trou du cul?... ------------------- "This is delicious." Eve ate the
last bite of food on her plate. "What is it?" "Spezzatino di Manzo coi
Fagioli," Marie
said. "And that is?" Marie grinned. "Beef stew." "Is it a Cajun recipe?" "No, Italian. I don't only specialize
in Cajun food." She made a face. "I know Tanzer probably pigeonholed
me in a neat little corner of his mind, but I'm not as predictable as he'd
like." "It's not like any beef stew I've
ever eaten. What's in it?" "Everything. But I can't tell you.
It's my mother's recipe and it's a big secret. If I told you, then I'd have to
kill you." The woman's humor no longer surprised Eve.
She had found Marie's conversation interesting and her knowledge well rounded.
Marie was unusual, to say the least. "Heaven forbid. Your mother taught
you to cook?" "Partly. I went to the cuisine school
in New Orleans after I left the university. I was going to be this magnificent,
temperamental chef who would dazzle all the world with my delicious
concoctions." "Well, you dazzled me. You changed
your mind?" Marie shrugged. "Life changed it. I
got pregnant and I had to make adjustments. You can't take chances when you
have to care for a baby." "You have a child?" "A boy. Well, a man. Pierre's at
Tulane University in New Orleans himself now. He's very smart and kind. He's
going to be a wonderful physician, but it takes a lot of money." She
looked at Eve. "You have children?" "I have an adopted daughter, Jane.
She's only twelve, but she's pretty wonderful, too." "Then you understand how I feel about
Pierre," Marie said soberly. "I would do anything for him. He's my
whole world." "Yes, I do understand." "Good." The housekeeper drew a
deep breath. "More wine?" Eve shook her head. "I need to keep a
clear head. I thought I'd walk over to the church and see if I can find
something to do." "What work do you do?" "I'm a forensic sculptor." That
was seldom explanation enough. "I reconstruct faces from skulls." "I saw something on the television about
that." Marie made a face. "Very creepy." "It all depends how you look at it.
You get used to it." Eve got to her feet. "Thank you for a great
meal, Marie." "Who are you going to..." She
searched for the word. "Reconstruct?" "I try not to know. I might be
influenced. Will I see you when I get back?" Marie shook her head. "I'll wash up
and go home." "Where do you live?" "I have my own house in the city. The
key to the front door is on the table in the foyer. I'll lock the back door.
I'll be back at seven in the morning to fix your breakfast." "I'll see you then." But Eve
hoped she'd be up and working by that time. "Good-bye, Marie." Marie smiled and turned away. Nice woman, Eve thought as she left the
house. Thank God, she would have someone around that she liked and understood
in this strange place. She was already feeling more at home here. A few minutes later she was walking across
the bridge spanning the bayou. This ancient church was a strange choice for a
work site, she thought. Or maybe not. It was certainly private enough, and
Melton had stressed confidentiality. The brass knocker on the huge double doors
made a resounding noise. No answer. She knocked again. Silence, dammit. Well, it had been a long shot anyway. She
knocked one more time, waited for a few minutes, and then turned away and
started back toward the bridge. It was clear she'd have to be patient and wait
until tomorrow. But Eve didn't want to be patient. She
wanted to get to work. Why couldn't Melton have been here as he'd prom— What was that? She stopped, her gaze flying back to the
main entrance of the church. Had someone come to the door and called
her? The door was still shut. Yet she would swear someone had called
her. The impression had been so vivid... Well, it hadn't happened. It was probably
a case of so badly wanting that door to open. It was still early, but she'd go to bed
and try to sleep. When she woke, she'd grab some breakfast and try the church
again. She stopped before going back into the
house to glance back at the church. The door was still shut. Deja vu. She had a sudden memory of last week, when
she'd had that sense of ... something ... up on Bonnie's hill. Not Bonnie. It wasn't Bonnie. That had all
been a lie. But maybe that feeling she'd had on the
hill had not been a lie. Maybe the bastard who'd later desecrated the grave had
been there. But this feeling was ... different. She
would swear she'd heard someone call. Nonsense. It was because her nerves were
stretched taut and she was an emotional wreck. The only thing she'd heard
calling her was the work she'd been hoping to do tonight. Everything would be
better after a good night's sleep. ------------------- Eve woke three hours later and barely
managed to get her head over to the side of the bed before she threw up. "Oh, God." Sick. So sick. She staggered down the hall toward the
bathroom, but threw up twice before she reached it. Her stomach wouldn't stop wrenching. Pain.
Nausea. She dropped to the floor beside the
toilet. She threw up again and again and again. The stew... Her ribs hurt. She couldn't breathe. Food poisoning... She was going to die. Bonnie. She threw up again. Nobody was here. Empty house. No one to
help her. Get to the phone. She was too weak to walk. She crawled back
down the hall to the bedroom. It was a million miles away and she had to stop
to heave several times. Her ribs... The phone ... 911. No dial tone. She tried the operator. "Help ... me.
Please, help..." The phone dropped from her hand. She was
going to pass out. Not here. She'd die here. The balcony. Someone might see her. Maybe
she could call... She wasn't going to make it. That was okay. She'd be with Bonnie. Why
did she keep trying? It would be so easy to give up. Joe. She kept crawling. She was out on the
balcony, her cheek pressed against the wrought-iron bars. The metal felt cold, clammy... She couldn't see anyone near the bayou and
the houses were too far away for anyone to hear her if she called. The church
loomed huge and dark and silent. "Help..." Her futile cry was
barely audible even to her. Jesus, she couldn't stop retching. "Help ...
me." She was sliding down, her face was on the
tiles. She could no longer see the bayou, only the tall, dark doors of the
church. It filled her vision. Would that be the last thing she saw... Darkness. ------------------- "No. You mustn't sleep. Not
yet." She opened her eyes. She was being carried down the stairs. A man ... dark hair ... She couldn't see
his face in the darkness of the hall, but his tone was desperate. Desperate? Why? she wondered vaguely. She
was the one who was dying. "We'll be there soon. Hold on." Be where? She gagged again, but there was nothing to
throw up. Oh, God, her ribs hurt. ------------------- "Are you there? I'm coming,
Bonnie." "Don't you dare. It's not your
time." Bonnie was bending over her. "You fight, Mama." "Too tired. Too sad." "That doesn't matter. Things will get
better." "I want to be with you." "You are with me. Always. Why won't
you believe me?" "I'm too tired... I have to ... give up." "No, you don't. I won't let you. Do
you hear me, Mama? I won't let you...." ------------------- The house was dark, but he didn't turn on
the light. He moved quickly through the foyer and then down the hall. Quick. He had to be quick. He didn't know
how much time he had. The kitchen smelled of lemon and the clean
scent of soap, and the white refrigerator gleamed in the moonlight streaming
through the window. Hurry. He opened the refrigerator and took out
the only covered bowl on the shelf. He popped the lid and checked the contents
before closing the refrigerator door. Then he wiped the handle and moved toward
the door. It was done. As he reached the street, his gaze was
drawn to the doors of the church, as it always was when he was near it. He felt
his stomach muscles clench as the tension and horror gripped him. No, it was only partly done. Hurry.... ------------------- White. White everywhere. White walls, white
sheets on her bed. "Do you want some ice chips? They
said you'd probably want some as soon as you woke up." A deep voice with just a hint of a British
accent. Her gaze shifted to the dark-haired man
sitting in the chair beside the bed. It took a moment for her mind to clear
enough to recognize him. "Galen?" Sean Galen nodded. "The water?" She nodded. Her throat felt so sore and
parched that one word had rasped it. He put the glass to her lips. "You're
hooked up to an IV to help the dehydration, but this should feel good." The cold liquid slowly flowing down her
throat did feel good. Even though the actual act of swallowing was painfully
difficult. "What are you ... doing here?" "That hurt, didn't it?" Galen
leaned back in the chair. "I'll try to fill in the gaps. I have to ask a
couple of questions. You nod or shake your head. Talk as little as possible.
You're at the Assisi Hospital in Baton Rouge. Do you remember how you got
here?" She shook her head. "You contracted the granddaddy of all
food poisonings. You nearly died. You were brought in after midnight, and it's
nearly four now. They had to work on you for a long time." "Food poisoning?" He nodded. "That's what they said.
Did you eat in a restaurant last night?" She shook her head. "At the house.
Marie..." "Who is Marie?" "Marie Letaux. Housekeeper. She made
me stew." "Did anyone else eat any of it?" She shook her head. "That's good. What room did you eat
in? Do you know if the rest of the stew is in the refrigerator at the
apartment? We need to get rid of it." "I ate in the kitchen." She
tried to remember. She had a vague memory of Marie putting foil over the bowl,
but she didn't recall her putting it in the refrigerator. "Probably." "I'll check it out." He poured
more water into her glass and held it to her lips. "Though it wouldn't surprise
me if she left it on the counter, if she's this careless in her cooking." "Don't blame ... Nice. Probably not
her fault. Someone must have sold her some bad food in the market." "Maybe." "What are you doing here?" she
asked again. "Logan gave me a call and asked me to
go and see what was shaking with you." He grinned. "What was shaking
was your tummy. More like an earthquake. Right?" She nodded. "Logan? How did he know
where—" She knew the answer.
"Joe." Galen nodded. "Logan said Quinn asked
him to make sure you were all right. He was uneasy about the setup here and
said the two of you were on the outs. Since Logan and Quinn are still not on
the best of terms, Logan thought it must be serious enough to give me a
buzz." What had Joe been thinking about? Eve had
met Galen only once before, but Logan had told her about his extremely dubious
background. He had been everything from a mercenary to a troubleshooter for
various corporations. She shook her head. "Don't ... need you." "Well, Logan paid me in advance. I
may as well stick around for a few days." He smiled. "You'll find me
very useful. I'm fabulous company, I'm a great cook, and I promise I won't give
you food poisoning. What else could you ask?" "I don't need company. I'll be
working." "Not until you get over this case of
food poisoning. The doctor won't release you until tomorrow, and said you'll be
weak as a kitten for a few days." She could believe it. She had just woken
up but she could hardly hold her eyes open. Galen's gaze narrowed on her face.
"If you won't accept my services, maybe I should call Quinn and tell him
about your bout with food poisoning." And Joe would be on the next flight here.
She couldn't face that right now. "Blackmail." He nodded cheerfully. "Do it well,
don't I?" Oh, what the hell. It didn't make any
difference. "You can stay, if you promise not to tell Joe about
this." "Done." He stood up and headed
for the door. "Now, I'll let you rest. Paul Tanzer is out in the waiting
room. He was pretty insistent about seeing you, but I held him off. Do you want
me to send him in?" She shook her head. "Tiresome. Marie
called him..." What was the word? "Trou du cul. What does that
mean?" He chuckled. "Asshole. I'm beginning
to realize your Marie isn't as thick-witted as I thought." "She's very smart. She'll wonder
where I am when she comes to the house in the morning. Will you tell her?" He nodded as he opened the door.
"I'll take care of it. Do you know where she lives?" "No." "Then I'll ask Tanzer." "Galen." He looked back at her. "It wasn't you who found me and
brought me to the hospital, was it?" He shook his head. "I came to the
hospital with Paul Tanzer. Logan found out from Melton that Tanzer was his
contact here, and I'd just had him routed out of bed when he got the
call." "Then how did I get to the
hospital?" "You don't remember?" "The last thing I remember was being
out on the balcony and thinking I was going to die. Then there was a man ...
dark hair." "That figures. The emergency room
people said you were admitted by a small, dark man who handed them your purse
with a card that had Paul Tanzer's name and phone number. He told them to check
for food poisoning. He left before they could get any other information.
Recognize the description?" Eve shook her head. "I only remember
him carrying me and telling me not to go to sleep." "How did he get in? Was the house
unlocked?" "I locked the front door myself, and
Marie said she was going to lock the back door. She might have forgotten." "Maybe." Galen shrugged.
"And maybe he was a Good Samaritan who heard you calling for help and
broke in. I'll check the doors. We may hear from him again. Good Samaritans who
don't expect compensation are rare these days." He lifted his hand.
"See you. I'll pick you up tomorrow and take you back to the
apartment." He was gone. Good Samaritan. If what Galen said was
true, he had probably saved her life. But how had he gotten into the apartment?
Well, maybe Marie had forgotten. She'd ask her tomorrow. She was too sleepy now... Chapter Four
The small house
where Marie Letaux lived was on
a twisting street on the south side of Baton Rouge. Like the rest of the houses
on the street, it was old but washed to pristine cleanness, and a pot of pink
geraniums bloomed on the doorstep. She didn't answer Galen's first knock. Nor
the second or third. He waited for a few minutes and then tried
the door. Locked. He examined the lock. Piece of cake. It
took him only a few minutes to spring it. He entered a living room that contained
comfortable furniture, but nothing ostentatious. He noticed there were more
geraniums on the coffee table. Several family pictures in matching maple frames
stared at him from the bookcase across the room. The overall impression was
that this was a nice house occupied by nice people. But Galen's experience was that things
were rarely as they appeared to be. He walked over to the desk and went through
it. Letters with a New Orleans return address. A checkbook and savings account
passbook, a receipt for the rental of a safety-deposit box dated two days ago.
More pictures, unframed, showing a young man in a green T-shirt. He closed the drawer and moved across the
room toward the far door that must lead to the kitchen. He could see the white
refrigerator with small colorful magnets against the far wall. Marie Letaux
obviously had a taste for whimsy and showed it in little things with which she
surrounded— He stopped inside the door, his gaze drawn
to the woman crumpled on the floor beside the stove. A small, dark-haired woman with hair swept
back in a chignon, her eyes wide open, as if she was staring up at him. Probably Marie Letaux. Undoubtedly dead. ------------------- "I can't tell you how sorry I am that
this happened on your first night here." Senator Kendal Melton's first
words were spoken with heartfelt sincerity. "I don't think it would have been any
more pleasant on any succeeding night," Eve said dryly. "No, of
course not. How do you feel?" "Lousy. My ribcage is so sore I can
hardly breathe." Eve sat up in bed and gazed at him appraisingly. He
appeared far more cosmopolitan than Tanzer. Melton's gray-streaked hair sported
white sideburns, complementing a tan that looked pure West Palm Beach.
"But I'm better than I was this morning. I'll probably be able to work
tomorrow." "I hope so." He came closer to
the bed. "Was Paul Tanzer helpful? I told him to give you the VIP
treatment." "He was very kind." . "It's our intention to give you
all the support you can possibly want." "Then tell me what I'm supposed to be
working on. I'm getting very tired of all this hush-hush stuff. I took the job;
now fill me in." "I'll tell you all I know, but I'm
afraid it won't be as much as you'd like. Hell, I don't know as much as I'd
like. I'm asking you to determine the identity of a skeleton discovered quite
recently in the swamps south of here." "Discovered by whom? And why wasn't
the skeleton turned over to the local police?" "Sheriff Bouvier of Jefferson parish
got a tip about the possible identity of the skeleton and its location. He was
the one who excavated it. The sheriff is a personal friend and notified me. He
gave me full permission to try to discreetly discover the identity before he
turned in his report. He knew the discovery might present difficulties for me
with the media if it wasn't handled correctly." "Why? Whose skull is this supposed to
be?" He hesitated. "Senator Melton, remind me to tell
you about the Miami drug lord who asked me to do a reconstruction on a skull
that—" "No, no. It's nothing like that. The
only reason that we're trying to keep it under wraps is that we don't want to
raise false hopes. We believe he may be Harold Bently." He paused.
"You don't remember the press on Bently?" She shook her head. "Well, it was over two years ago, but
there was a big furor over his disappearance. Bently was a candidate for the
senatorial seat I now hold. He was supposed to be a shoo-in, but vanished four
months before election day. He was a solid citizen, a man who wouldn't just
disappear of his own accord, so foul play was suspected. But no clues were
found. His disappearance has hung like a cloud over my career and I want to lay
it to rest." "Because you may want to run for
president?" "That's in the hands of Providence,
but I do want to keep climbing. Is that so strange?" "No." "Then help me out. The Bently file
has remained open, but nothing has surfaced ... until this skeleton was
found." "Have you told his family?" Melton shook his head. "Not yet. As I
said, I was afraid to raise false hopes. Please believe me. I'm not totally
selfish. Sure, I want to protect my career, but I also want to be able to give
Bently's wife advance notice before she has to face a media storm again. She's
been through enough." "Why do you need me? What about
DNA?" He grimaced. "Unfortunately, the body
of the skeleton seems to have disappeared." "What?" "Don't be alarmed. You're perfectly
safe." "Sure I am. Except that someone
doesn't want this body identified. What about the teeth?" "No teeth. And the skull was burned,
but we hoped..." Melton shrugged. "Extracting DNA may be very
difficult and time-consuming. We'll naturally pursue that avenue, but there may
be a media leak at any time. I have to have some warning of the identity." "So you can put a spin on whatever I
find." Eve shook her head. "It's not worth it to me." "You're afraid?" "I'm not dumb. Why should I risk my
life for you and your career?" "The skull was moved to the church in
great secrecy. No one will suspect it's there, and we'll have people at the
church at all times to protect you." Eve shook her head. "I don't blame you for not caring
about my problems, but Bently was a good man." Melton paused. "And he
had a wife and three children. I guess I don't have to tell you what hell
they've been going through for the last two years." Good move, she thought bitterly.
Calculated or not, the words struck exactly the right note. She knew the agony
of going through years of waiting with no closure. "Think about it. It's only a few
days, a week at most. I'll get what I want, Mrs. Bently and the children's
years of agony may be over, and you'll have the satisfaction of working on an
interesting project. Everybody wins." "Why didn't you just send me the
skull?" "We were planning on doing that
before the skeleton disappeared. After that happened, I thought we should have
increased security. I was also concerned about the media, since you have a greater
visibility in your hometown." Melton grimaced. "I didn't want to stir
up the media unless I had something positive to offer them. They'd love to
dredge up all that sensational stuff we went through after Bently
disappeared." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad we can have
everything out in the open now." Eve gazed at him skeptically. "Then
you won't mind if I check with Sheriff Bouvier about the skeleton." "I do mind your lack of trust, but
I'll call the sheriff and tell him to be entirely open with you." Melton
paused. "And now that you realize how fully you're going to have our
support, you certainly won't need any outside help." He was leading up to something.
"Meaning?" "You probably don't realize that Sean
Galen has a criminal background and is completely untrustworthy. I'm sure
you'll want to send him packing." "Really? John Logan trusts him." "Mr. Logan is a respectable
businessman and I'd never want to impugn his choice of associates. Perhaps he
doesn't realize the extent of Galen's—" "Logan doesn't wear blinders. He
knows more about Galen than you do." "We won't argue. The crux of my
argument is that you have no need of Galen. I'll be glad to dismiss him for
you." "He's not an easy man to
dismiss." Eve stared Melton directly in the eyes. "And I've no desire
to dismiss him. Galen stays." "In what capacity? You surely don't
think you need a bodyguard just because of this little incident." "This 'little incident' almost killed
me." She waved an impatient hand. "But no, I don't need a bodyguard.
Don't you dare suggest that in Marie's hearing. It was an accident. She's going
to feel bad enough about my getting ill." "Then in what capacity?" Melton
repeated. "Galen isn't qualified for anything but—" "You're Melton?" Galen was
standing in the doorway. "I'm Sean Galen." He came forward. "And
I really think you've overstayed your visit. Eve's looking a little
stressed." "I'm not stressed." "Will you accept 'pissed off?"
He turned to Melton. "Eve doesn't like to be told what to do. Now, I
realize that you only have her well-being at heart, but she can get a little
cranky. Suppose you leave." "You have no right to—" Melton broke off as he met Galen's gaze. He took an
involuntary step backward, but recovered quickly. "Ms. Duncan realizes I
only want what's best for her." His glance shifted to Eve. "I'll be
here to pick you up tomorrow morning." "I've already claimed that
pleasure." Galen made a shooing motion. "Bye." Melton gave him a cold glance and left the
room. "And what if I hadn't wanted him to
go?" Eve asked. "You were bristling. When a person is
as sick as you are, it takes a major annoyance to make her bristle. I overheard
quite a bit, including the bit about me. I'm flattered." "You shouldn't be. You're right; I
was only irritated because he was trying to tell me what to do." She
thought of something else. "But I'm not pleased you scared him away. I
wanted to ask him some more questions about this damn reconstruction." "To quote one of your fellow
southerners, 'Tomorrow is another day.' " "That's a terrible southern
accent." "It's the best a poor lad from
Liverpool can do." He sat in the chair beside her bed. "You didn't
know anything about this job when you came here?" "I knew it was a request from a
respected member of the Senate." "And you wanted to get away from
Quinn." She looked at him. "Okay, I'm obviously out of
line." "Right." She paused. "And
Melton was also right. I don't need you, Galen." "You're getting hoarse again. You've
been talking too much." He took her glass and filled it with ice chips.
"I'll stay away from talking about Quinn. But there's the slimmest
possibility you may need me, so I'll stick around." He handed her the
glass. "I just came from Marie Letaux's house. She's dead." Shock surged through her.
"What?" "I found her on the kitchen floor.
There was a plate on the table with the remains of stew on it." He
grimaced. "And also remains all over the floor. She'd evidently been
throwing up." "She took the stew home?" Eve
shook her head in horror. "My God, that's terrible." "You said you assumed she put it in
the refrigerator." "She must have changed her mind. I
left before she did." Sad. So incredibly sad. "She had a son. He was
studying medicine in New Orleans." Galen nodded. "She had pictures all
over the living room. Nice-looking kid." "It was clear she adored him."
Eve could feel the tears sting her eyes. "Shit. I'd only just met her, but
I liked her. I guess I identified with her. She was a woman alone who'd had to
make her way in the world. They're sure it was food poisoning?" "There hasn't been time for an
autopsy, but I suspect that will probably be the decision. Particularly since
you landed here with the same ailment." There was something in his tone... .
"You don't think it was?" "I didn't say that. I believe it was
food poisoning." "Galen." "Sorry. It's my suspicious nature.
She was in a nightgown and a chenille robe, and her bed had been slept in. That
means she probably got up in the middle of the night and ate a huge plate of
the stew. Very heavy meal for a midnight snack." "Maybe she didn't eat dinner and woke
up hungry-" "Possibly. Now when you started
throwing up, you tried to get help, didn't you? Marie Letaux had a phone, but
evidently wasn't able to contact anyone. She lives very close to her neighbors, so
wouldn't you think that she'd manage to get one of them to take her to the
hospital?" "It would have been difficult. I was
so weak I could barely move." "But you did move. And you said she
was a woman who was accustomed to taking care of herself. Evidently she was so
overcome she didn't even make it to the sink or the toilet to throw up. Wasn't
that your first instinct?" She nodded. "What are you getting at,
Galen?" "Oh, I was just playing 'what if.'
" He took the glass from her and set it on the table. "What if she
didn't get the munchies during the night? What if someone sat across from her
at that table and forced her to eat that stew and then waited with her until
the poison took effect." Her eyes widened in shock. "That's
crazy. For one thing, I didn't show symptoms for over three hours." "I agree it would have taken a good
deal of patience and tremendous focus. It would have taken even more nerve to
sit and watch her die. Particularly if he wasn't sure that someone wouldn't
barge in any minute after they figured out Marie might also be at risk for food
poisoning." She shuddered. "The idea's completely
macabre." "I have that kind of mind." "Why would anyone do that?" "Well, after I found the body and
before I called the police, I went to her desk and checked out her financial
records. There was no deposit in her checking or savings account, but she
rented a safety-deposit box two days ago. Very convenient. What if she stashed
a pile of loot in the box?" "You think she poisoned me on
purpose?" "I believe there's reason to ask why
you contracted food poisoning from a meal produced by an experienced
cook." Eve shook her head. "I can't believe
that." "Because you liked her." "And why would she have been
killed?" "So that she couldn't talk?"
Galen shrugged. "Any number of reasons." "But you're only guessing." He smiled. "What if?" "Did you suggest this to the
police?" "Be for real. I'd be the first one on
the suspect list. I had enough trouble explaining why I was the one who found
her. They even called the hospital to make sure you'd been checked in with food
poisoning." He thought for a moment. "I have a few friends in New
Orleans with forensic backgrounds who might be able to go in and scavenge
around and see what else they can come up with." "Official friends?" "Be for real," Galen repeated as
he tilted his head and studied her expression. "You're taking my theory
seriously?" Eve slowly nodded. She had to take it
seriously. She didn't want to believe any of it, but she had been exposed to
brutality and deception for most of her life and certainly all her career. She
shuddered. "To sit there and watch her ... Jesus, it sounds so ...
cold-blooded." "No more cold-blooded than trying to
kill you." "And why would anyone want to kill
me?" "Maybe we should ask Mr.
Melton." "You think it's the
reconstruction?" "It's a logical connection. And I'm
not sure I buy this story Melton's spinning. I don't like all this secrecy.
They know you like working away from the media glare; that knowledge gives them
another excuse to bring you here instead of sending you that skull. Don't you
think it might be wise for you to pack your bags and head home?" Eve rejected that suggestion immediately.
No way was she going home. "There's no proof that this is anything but
food poisoning. Maybe there's no money in that safety-deposit box. Or maybe
Marie was saving money for years and just got around to depositing it." He lifted a skeptical brow. "I liked her, Galen." "Few people are completely rotten.
Some just have a streak or two. But those streaks can be enough to hurt you.
And what about that missing skeleton? Doesn't that bother you?" "Of course it bothers me. It means
there's somebody who doesn't want Melton to identify this man. But most of the
skulls I work on are victims, and it's not the first time I've had this
problem. If I stopped work every time I thought there was someone out there who
didn't want me to do it, I'd never finish any reconstructions." Galen studied her face. "And you're
curious about this reconstruction, aren't you? You really want to do it." She nodded. "I really do. Harold
Bently sounds like a man I'd admire. I hate the idea of him ending up discarded
in a swamp like a piece of garbage. I want to know...." She shrugged.
"And it's intriguing." "Maybe a little too intriguing."
Galen stood. "Okay, we'll go with it. I know if you want to do it, there's
no way I'll be able to talk you out of it. But I'm not going to fade into the
background as I'd planned." "I'm sure that would have been a
first." "I can be unobtrusive." He
grinned. "It's just not so much fun." He moved toward the door.
"But I'm going with you to the church every day. And I'm your official
food taster. I stay with you night and day. Agreed?" "This may all be for nothing." "But you feel safer, don't you? How
could you not with me on the job?" Eve made a rude sound. "That was indelicate." He
glanced at her over his shoulder. "You're sure I shouldn't tell Quinn
about this?" "I'm sure." He gave a mock shiver at her tone.
"Just checking. The situation between you two seems to be taking on some
heat." She stared at him challengingly.
"What's the matter? Can't you handle it, Galen?" "That was a low blow. You're a tough
lady. I heard you grew up on the streets. I can believe it." "Takes one to know one. I'm sure
Atlanta is no tougher than Liverpool." "No, it isn't." Galen nodded.
"Okay. No Quinn." She watched the door swing shut behind
him. No Quinn. The words echoed in her mind. Joe Quinn
had been a part of her life for so long, the idea of his not being there was
practically incomprehensible. It would take time to understand what it meant. Could she become accustomed to Joe not
being in her life? Eve wasn't sure whether it would hurt more to cut the ties
between them or to live with what he had done. She didn't know and she didn't
want to think about it right now. She didn't want to think of anything but the
work she had come here to do. She would do the reconstruction, and then perhaps
send for Jane and go to New Orleans for a while. She should see something
besides her little corner of the world. She didn't have to go home. And the idea of Marie Letaux making an
attempt on her life was as bizarre as the ugly picture Galen had drawn of the
way Marie might have died. No one could be that cold-blooded. Yes, they could. Bonnie's killer had been
that kind of monster, and she had known other murderers equally terrible. She
just didn't want that kind of horror to touch her now when she was trying to
work through a horror of her own. She didn't want it to be true. Maybe it wasn't. Galen's experience had
made him suspect everyone and everything. Well, let him be suspicious. Let him
protect her. It wouldn't hurt. Not if it would allow her the freedom of
mind to get her work done. ------------------- "I know you didn't want any
interference, Jules," Melton said. "I attempted to get her to dismiss
him, but she's being very stubborn about it. I wanted you to know that I'm not
letting the matter lie. I'm going to call a few people and see what kind of
pressure they can put on him to nudge him out of the situation." "Leave him alone," Hebert said.
"He's not going to be a problem for us." There was a silence on the other end of
the line. "Perhaps I should send you a dossier on him?" "I already have one." "And you don't think he could be
troublesome?" "I believe he'll be more troublesome
if we try to get rid of him. I want her mind at rest when she's working on the
skull. Galen's presence will assure that she feels entirely safe and
secure." "Yes, that's important." Melton
was silent a moment. "I was uneasy when I heard about the food poisoning.
It was an accident?" "Of course it was." It was a
half-truth. It was an accident that Eve Duncan had not died. "I've just been told that Marie
Letaux was found dead of food poisoning a few hours ago." "Then that should prove it was an
accident to you." "Should it? What about those deaths
last month? They were supposed to be accidents, too." "And probably were." Hebert
added mockingly, "You're getting paranoid. Have you started looking over
your shoulder lately, Melton?" "I have a right to be concerned,
dammit." A pause. "First Etienne, and now this. Another very curious
incident. They seem to be hovering around you like a dark cloud." Hebert ignored the implication. "Is
she hesitating about doing the reconstruction?" "Yes, but I believe she's still eager
to do it. We just have to push the right buttons." "That's what we need. Eagerness ...
and speed." "She'll be released tomorrow and I
think she'll want to start work at once." "That's good. I'll make sure that she
does. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help." Hebert hung
up. Melton was suspicious, but not enough to
cause Jules any immediate problems. Melton wouldn't make a move until after
Boca Raton. The Cabal needed things to go smoothly, and advance preparations
took time and effort. They wouldn't want to bring in someone new at this point. Hebert leaned back in his chair and
covered his eyes with his hand. He could feel the panic rising within him and
he must crush it down. He'd had to lie to Melton, but things were still under
control. Events were escalating, and he had to move fast to keep from being
caught and drowned in their wake. God, Eve Duncan was strong. He had felt her
fighting to live. Too bad that her struggle was for nothing, he thought sadly. Because the way things were going, there
was no way he could let her survive. ------------------- "You scared me, Mama," Bonnie
said. Eve looked across the hospital room to see
Bonnie curled up in a visitor's chair by the window. The nurse had turned out
the light forty minutes ago, but the moonlight streaming in the window lit
Bonnie's curly red-brown hair. It was too dim to see the freckles marching
across her nose. Her small body was dressed in jeans and a Bugs Bunny T-shirt,
as it always was when she came to Eve. She smothered the surge of love she felt
and said accusingly, "You wouldn't let me go, dammit." "I told you, it wasn't your time. And
you didn't really want to die." "Don't tell me what I want to do.
Who's the mother around here?" "I think all these years of ghostdom
qualify me to have my input." Bonnie sighed. "You've been very
challenging, Mama. You still won't admit I'm anything but a dream." "Because your so-called ghostly
powers seem to be rather limited. Ghostdom? What kind of word is that? And if
you didn't want me to die, why did you let me eat that stew? It would have
saved me a bellyache." "I've told you I can't stop things
happening... it doesn't work that way." "Convenient. That means you're never
to blame." Bonnie giggled. "That's right. It's
one of the good things about being a ghost." "Are there bad things, baby?" "Look at you. You're tearing up. Yes,
the bad thing is trying to keep you from being so unhappy. I thought maybe you
were on the right track, but here you are all depressed and hurting and
hundreds of miles away from Joe." "Joe lied to me. About you. Your
grave. Why didn't you tell me it wasn't you?" "If I'm a dream, how could I do
that?" She grinned. "Gotcha." "Why?" Eve insisted. "You know the answer. It doesn't
matter to me where my body is. I'm always with you." She paused. "And
you were happier thinking I was there. So why not let you think it?" "You sound like Joe. It's important
to me. I want you home, Bonnie." "I am home." She sighed.
"But you're too stubborn to believe it. You make it very hard for me. And
I don't like this depression. You're a fighter, but you weren't fighting last
night until I nudged you. That's not to happen again, Mama. Things are very ... cloudy. You may have to fight hard
and I may not be around." "Is that supposed to make me feel
less depressed?" "I'll always come to you like this,
but you can't rely on me, Mama. But you have Joe and Jane and Grandma. Isn't
that lucky?" She made a face. "I could feel you freezing up when I
mentioned Joe. Get over it, Mama." "Bullshit." "Okay, we'll talk about something
else. I want you to feel good in the morning." Eve always felt better after the dreams.
They had started two years after Bonnie had died, and at times Eve felt as if
they had saved her sanity. A psychiatrist would probably have sent her to the
nearest funny farm if she told him that. Well, screw them. There was nothing
that wasn't positive about the dreams. "If my ribs are still this sore,
there's no way I'll feel good in the morning." "They'll be a little better."
Bonnie leaned back in the chair. "This is a nice place. I like all those
bayous. Why didn't we ever come here?" "I don't know. I guess I never got
around to it." "Well, Panama City was nice, too. I
loved the water...." "I know you did,
baby." "There are lots of things to love.
Now tell me about Jane's new puppy. Sarah gave him to her?" "Yes, and he's a complete rascal. Of
course, Jane thinks he's the smartest animal in the universe. She's talking
about going out to the coast and having Sarah help her train..." Chapter Five
"You're in a
better mood this morning." Galen studied Eve's expression as he helped her into his car after
they'd left the hospital. "And you look much healthier. Did you sleep
well?" "When I wasn't dreaming." "Nightmares?" She shook her head. "No, good
dreams." She gazed up at the brilliant blue sky. "It's a pretty
day." He nodded. "You could probably still
use a day of rest. Why don't you sit out on the balcony and just watch the
world go by?" The church, dark and looming, filling her
entire vision as she lay on the balcony floor. "I want to get to work. Did you find
out any more about Marie's death?" "Officially food poisoning. Case
closed." "I see." "I don't. I paid a small bribe to a
clerk at the coroner's department to get a look at the provisional
report." "And?" "Food poisoning." He paused.
"The only thing in the least unusual was slight abrasions on her upper
arms." "Caused by what?" "No conclusions. But I was
wondering... ropes?" "But that's not what the coroner
said." "No." Galen shrugged. "At
any rate, the body has been released and the funeral is tomorrow." "Her son is coming here?" "I assume he will. This is his
mother's hometown. Why?" "I want to see him and express my
sympathy." "What?" He grimaced. "I
believe it's very bad form to offer condolences to the family of someone who
tried to murder you." "I don't believe she tried to kill
me, and I think her son would like to know what she told me about their
relationship. It could help at a time like this. I'd like to go to the
funeral." "Okay. I'll find out when and where.
I'm surprised you're willing to delay the start of your work on the
skull." "Support means a good deal to the
bereaved. This time is a nightmare. No one knows that better than I do." "So I've heard." Galen's voice
was sober. "Your Bonnie." "My Bonnie." They had pulled up
in front of the house and she got out of the car. "Melton called the
hospital and arranged to meet me here at one, then go with me to the church.
Are you coming with us?" "I wouldn't miss it." Galen
watched Eve unlock the front door, and then preceded her into the foyer. He
glanced around the foyer and then started up the stairs. Eve followed.
"Skeletons are my cup of tea. Mind if I take a look around your bedroom? I
was here earlier and did a little cleanup job, but I'd feel better if I just
checked it again." "You cleaned up that mess?" "Well, your housekeeper wasn't able
to do it. I didn't want you to have to come home and face it." "Thank you. That was a very kind
thing to do." "I am kind." He threw
open the bedroom door and looked around. "My mum always said if you want
to get along in the world, you have to do unto others as they do unto
you." "That's not quite the way the quote
goes." "Makes more sense Mum's way." He
went onto the balcony and looked out over the bayou. "Seems okay. You
rest. I'll just check the bathroom and the downstairs, and then cook you a
light lunch." "I'm not an invalid. I'll do
it." "Are you trying to eliminate my job?
How can I be the queen's chief poison taster if you do everything
yourself?" He headed for the door. "By the way, I moved into the
bedroom next door. I checked and I can hear practically everything that happens
in this room through those paper-thin walls. I hope you don't snore...." Eve heard him running down the steps a few
minutes later. She gave one more glance at the church before leaving the
balcony. It was difficult to pull her gaze away. She supposed it was natural
the ancient structure would command attention, and it was the last thing she'd
seen when she'd thought she was going to die. That had guaranteed it would
capture her imagination. Eve forced herself to turn and go back
into the bedroom. That wide expanse of bed was very tempting. It was ridiculous
to be this sore and tired. She'd thought when she left the hospital that she'd
spring back much sooner. She should ignore the tiredness and hit the shower.
She'd be okay once she got going. Well, maybe just a short nap... ------------------- "The shoes were made by the Norton
Shoe Company." Carol Dunn tossed the report on Joe's desk. "It's a
southeast company with branches in Alabama and Louisiana. Size nine." "Distribution?" Joe asked. She shook her head. "Pretty heavy in
both states, and to a lesser degree here in Georgia. With this kind of flimsy
sole, they're not a high-ticket item so they sell pretty well." "That's just great." He frowned.
"What about the tire tracks?" "Firestone Affinity HP fifteen-inch.
Standard on the new Saturn L-three hundred." "Thanks, Carol." Joe scanned the
report. "I owe you." "You owe yourself a good night's
sleep," she said. "Jane called and told me to send you home
early." "I'm going." He stood up and
started for the door. "Will you call and tell her I'm bringing home Chinese,
but I have to make one more stop on the way?" "Coward." "Right. She's tough." He glanced
back over his shoulder. "Did I get a return call from George Capel when I
was out today?" Carol shook her head. "Don't you
trust voice mail?" "I'm an old-fashioned guy. I don't
believe in these newfangled gadgets." "And you were hoping it wasn't
working." "He hasn't shown up at the DNA lab
for a week. I went to his house—the mail is piling up and he didn't stop
delivery of the newspaper." "Doesn't sound good, but he could have
taken off on a little jaunt. It's happened before." "Yeah, I know. But I think it's time
I talked to his neighbors." "Okay, I'll call Jane," Carol
said. "But you'd better not forget the Chinese." Joe nodded and waved as he left the
office. He called Logan when he reached his car. "Have you heard from
Galen?" "He won't report to me unless he has
reason. He runs his own show." "So you don't know if she's
okay." "We'd have heard if there was a
problem. Galen's with her." And Joe wasn't with her and it was driving
him crazy. "Can you ask him to give regular reports?" "Galen doesn't operate that
way." "Then he should, dammit." "You asked for Galen, Quinn." Because he was the best, but that didn't
mean Galen's independence didn't annoy the hell out of him. He wanted to know. "How are things going with you?"
Logan asked. "Okay. I'm keeping busy." Not
busy enough. Three days had seemed like three hundred since Eve left. "I'm
trying to track down Capel. He seems to have disappeared." "You think he was paid to send that
report to Eve and then skipped town?" "Could be. He didn't try to hit me
for more money, so he must have another source." "Any ideas?" "Someone who wanted to hurt me or
Eve. Probably me. She doesn't have any enemies. I have case files full of
them." "Amazing," Logan murmured. "And you don't?" Logan didn't answer. "I'll let you
know if I hear from Galen." "Maybe I should call him. No, never
mind." "Good choice. You wouldn't want Eve
to know you're checking up on her. How's Jane?" "Great. Better than I deserve right
now." "I agree. Good-bye, Quinn." Joe hung up and started the car. Interview
Capel's neighbors and then get home to Jane. Don't think about Eve all those
hundreds of miles away in Baton Rouge. Company branches in Alabama and Louisiana. Louisiana... Don't jump to conclusions. The defacement
could have nothing to do with Eve's reconstruction job in Baton Rouge. But he
didn't like the way this investigation was shaping up, dammit. And he wished to hell he could contact
Galen without getting Eve's back up. Just do your job. Find Capel and the man
who bribed him. Do some more checking on the tire. Keep Jane as happy you can.
Try to keep yourself from jumping on a plane and flying to Eve in Baton Rouge. And hope to hell time was healing the rift
he'd torn between them. ------------------- "I fell asleep." Eve came down
the stairs, trying to straighten her rumpled hair. "For heaven's sake,
it's quarter past five in the evening. Why didn't you wake me?" "Easy. You needed the sleep."
Galen grinned. "And I needed time to prepare a meal par excellence." "I've got to get over to the church.
Didn't Melton show up?" "He was here right on time. I told
him to go away." "You had no right to do that." "I told him he could meet us in front
of the church at six." He checked his watch. "That gives you
forty-five minutes to eat my fine repast." He gestured to the dining room.
"I don't like hurried meals; they dull one's appreciation. But I'll accept
it this time." "You should have woken me." "You're wasting time. You don't want
to keep our honorable senator waiting." She followed him. "I've already kept
him waiting for four hours." Galen grinned. "He deserved it."
He seated her at the table and shook out her napkin and put it on her lap.
"Now start on the spinach salad." "No way." She jumped up.
"Galen, I want to go to meet Melton. I couldn't eat this meal, anyway. My
stomach is still upset." "What a dunce I am. Of course, you
can't. I got carried away with my sheer culinary genius. Okay, maybe I'll make
you some soup after we get back from the church tonight." "I may not come back tonight. I often
work at night." "And then again you may. You still
look pale around the gills." "Galen." "Don't worry. I'm not trying to
bulldoze you. I sometimes take advantage of circumstances to get my own way,
but I respect your free will." "You really like to cook?" "Eating is one of life's great
pleasures. It dulls the roughest edges." And Galen's life had probably had a
multitude of sharp edges. Eve's gaze wandered from the white damask tablecloth
to the flickering spring-green candles and then to the delicate bone china. It
was as different as night and day from her cozy meal two nights ago in the
kitchen. And that had been his intention, she
realized suddenly. He hadn't wanted to remind her of Marie Letaux or that last
meal she'd had in this house. "I'm sure your meal would have been
wonderful. Thank you, Galen." "You're welcome. It's just too bad I
have to wait a little longer to be truly appreciated." He took her arm.
"Let's get you over to the church so you can stop fretting." ------------------- To her surprise, Melton was waiting
impatiently outside the church when they arrived there. "Good, you're
early. You're better? Galen said you weren't feeling well." "I feel much better." Her gaze
went to the door. "I expected you to be inside." "I don't have a key. I've been
waiting for— Here he is." His gaze was on the
sandy-haired man hurrying toward them. "This is Rick Vadim. I hired Rick
to help you out here. Rick, this is Ms. Duncan." The young man nodded and smiled at Eve.
"How do you do, ma'am. It's my pleasure to meet you." "Hello. I'm very glad to meet
you." She shook his hand. "This is Sean Galen. He's—" "Ms. Duncan's assistant," Galen
supplied. "I make things run smoothly for her." "Then that makes two of us,"
Rick said solemnly. "That's also my assignment." "Rick has been hired to assist Ms.
Duncan in any way possible," Melton said. "You're a forensic
anthropologist?" Eve asked. "No, I have no scientific background.
But I'm very good at acquiring things and smoothing the way." He unlocked
the door. "You'd like to see the skull?" "That's why I'm here." Eve
glanced around the vestibule. She'd half expected the interior of the church to
be covered with dust, but it was spotless. "Where is it?" "The main chapel." Rick gestured
to the arched doorway. "This way, please." "The chapel?" "It seemed more respectful,"
Rick said. "From what I've read about your work, you believe in showing
respect for those who have passed on." "Yes, I do. But I doubt if I'll be
able to work in your chapel. I require a good deal of light, a work-table, and
a pedestal for my equipment." "I've already set up a room for you.
I think you'll be satisfied." He threw open the door. "There it
is." A huge black coffin. She stopped short in the doorway and
stared at it. The coffin dominated the small sanctuary. "I'll wait out here," Melton
said. Eve felt the same strange reluctance to
approach the coffin as he obviously did. "I thought you would have already
removed the skull from the coffin. I didn't expect to see—It's very ... big..." "The coffin is designed to protect
the remains from further damage or decay. We wanted to make sure the skull was
perfectly preserved," Rick said earnestly. "Believe me, I'm very
upset that the rest of the skeleton has been misplaced. I wasn't in charge here
when that happened." "Misplaced?" Eve repeated.
"I don't believe that's the term I'd use." "It seems incredible to me, too. This
entire affair is bizarre. But that's not my business. My job is to make sure
nothing goes wrong from now on." Rick moved forward until he stood beside
the coffin. "And I've been told the skull is in very good condition."
He opened the lid and stepped aside. "What do you think?" "I think I need some light. I can
hardly see it. It's too dim in here." "I'm sorry." Rick quickly lit a
candle on the altar. "You have wonderful light and heat in the workroom I
set up for you. I didn't know you'd want to do a close examination of the skull
in here. I should have thought..." He was so upset that Eve Smothered the
impatience she was feeling. "It's okay, Rick. If there's a problem, I can
take the skull back to the house." "No, please don't do that. Believe
me, I've made your workroom everything you could ask," Rick said.
"The senator wants the work done here." "Why?" Galen asked. "It's on an island. Senator Melton
was very concerned about the missing skeleton. He wants Ms. Duncan to be
perfectly safe, and the security people he hired say the church will be much
easier to keep protected. I promise I'll do everything I can to make the church
comfortable for you." "That will take some doing."
Galen stepped closer, took a penlight out of his pocket, and shone it down into
the coffin. "It's damn chilly. It must be damp in every molecule of this
place." "It's very warm in her
workroom." "It's fine," Eve said absently,
her gaze on the skull. She still couldn't see worth a damn, but the pen-light
was better than nothing. Although the skull was blackened by fire, it was
intact, except that there were no teeth and the jaw was shattered. But there
were no visible punctures or breaks. That was lucky. "It's a male. Caucasian. The skull is
surprisingly well preserved. I'll be able to work with it." "He's been roughed up a little."
Galen pointed to the shattered jawline. "And no teeth. He's been through
one hell of a battle. Reminds me of that gladiator movie." "Shut up, Galen," Eve said.
"I have to have an unbiased mind when I do the final stage. I don't want
the face to look like Russell Crowe." "Great movie." Galen glanced at
Rick and winked. "You can tell me who you think he is later when she's not
around." Rick smiled and shook his head. "I'm
as much in the dark as you are. I can only guess." He turned to Eve.
"I've got a pedestal and two worktables in your studio. I understand
you'll need a video and computer setup for confirmation. I've been in touch
with the Forensic Department at LSU and I think I've got it hooked up right. As
soon as you're ready, I'll bring the skull to you." He was obviously ready to whisk her out of
the chapel and set her to work. His eagerness was very appealing, but she
wasn't ready to leave the skull yet. "Galen, why don't you go with Rick
and check out the workroom for me while I try to take a better look at the
skull?" "Sure." Galen handed her the
penlight. "Not my most interesting assignment, but I live to serve." "Thanks." She shone the penlight
into the nasal cavity. "Definitely Caucasian..." "Come on, Rick. We're not
wanted." Eve was vaguely aware that they were gone
and she was alone in the chapel. It didn't matter. Her feelings of unease had
completely dissipated the moment she had seen the skull. He was just another
one of the lost ones. It didn't matter if this was Bently or some poor vagrant.
In the end he had clearly been as much a victim as little Carmelita, whose
reconstruction she had just finished. Judging by the condition of the skull and
the fact that those teeth had probably been jerked out after death, he might
have been more of a victim. Time to get to know him. Eve gently
touched his cheekbone. "What do I call you?" She knew it would seem
nuts to anyone on the outside, but she made it a practice to give all her
subjects names. Each one had a history and a life. They had laughed and been
loved by someone, even this poor beat-up warrior. He'd obviously not won this
last battle, but she hoped he'd had his share of victories. "Victor? Not a bad name." She
nodded. "Works for me." She carefully swung down the heavy lid.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Victor. And we'll see what we can do about
bringing you home." "Ready?" Galen was standing in
the doorway. "Rick's done you proud. Your workroom is wonderfully
equipped, lots of light and heat. Clean and shining as a Marine recruits'
barracks. Do you want to see it?" She started to tell him yes, and then
stopped. Dammit, the energy she'd thought she'd regained was draining out of
her. She came toward him. "No, I trust you. I'll see it tomorrow when I
move in." "Tomorrow?" "Okay, you were right about my not
being up to full speed. I thought I could start tonight, but I'm too tired. I
can't begin him when I'm this weak." She grimaced. "I'll be glad when
I get back to full strength. I took that long nap this afternoon, but even so,
all I want to do is sleep." "Then that's what you should do. I'm
glad you're not going to insist on starting work tonight." "I've already started work." Eve
glanced over her shoulder at the black coffin. "And keen wits and
alertness are essential to set up my equipment and start the measuring. Victor can
wait a few more hours." "Victor?" "The skull." "Oh." Galen didn't look at her
as they started down the hall. "I don't want to be impolite, but do you
always talk to skulls?" "No." She gave him a limpid
stare. "I'm very selective." "It's okay with me. Just thought I'd
ask." His gaze went to Rick standing with Melton at the front door.
"Rick seems to be a nice guy. Sharp, too. He went to school up
north." "That doesn't surprise me. He sounds
like a Yankee. Where did he go?" "Notre Dame. Big football fan." "It goes with the territory. He looks
like the all-American boy, with that fair hair and those rosy cheeks." She
dismissed the subject. "Did you find out when Marie's funeral is
tomorrow?" "Eleven. Are you still going?" She nodded. "I'll set up early and then
break to go to the funeral." As Eve and Galen left the church she held out
her hand to Rick, who was still waiting by the front door with Melton.
"Thank you for everything. I suppose I'll see you in the morning." "It will be my pleasure." He
shook her hand. "I'll have everything ready for you. I notice the skull is
a little dirty, but I left it for you to clean." "That's exactly right. We don't want
to risk any more damage." He nodded solemnly. "Certainly. Is
there anything else I can do?" Good Lord, he was intense. But that almost
childlike earnestness was kind of sweet. "You won't find me very
demanding. Just let me do my work." He smiled. "No one will disturb you.
I promise you." He turned to Galen. "An honor, sir." Galen looked taken aback. "See you,
Rick." He said in an undertone as he and Eve left the church, "Sir?
Am I getting that old?" "You don't see that kind of courtesy
anymore. I think it's refreshing." "You didn't answer me." "How old are you, Galen?" "Thirty-seven." "That qualifies." She had a
sudden thought and glanced back at Rick, who was still talking to Melton.
"Rick." He broke off and looked at her. "You
need something? You only have to ask." "A dragon to kill, a Holy Grail to
find," Galen murmured sarcastically. She ignored him. "Were you here two
nights ago when I came to the church, Rick?" He frowned. "You were here
before?" "The first night I arrived in Baton
Rouge. I came and knocked on the door. No one answered." "Because no one was here. I was at
LSU arranging for the video equipment. I just arrived yesterday morning. I
would have answered the door if I'd been in the church." "No one was here?" He shook his head. "Only the guards
patrolling the grounds. And I guess they must have realized you weren't an
intruder. You thought there was actually someone inside the church?" "No, I guess not. I just had a
feeling that ... Never mind. I'll see you in the morning." She turned to
Melton. "Good-bye, Senator." "I take it you're going to accept the
job? I wasn't sure you would. I'm very grateful." "I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing
it for that man's family." He smiled. "I'm still grateful. I'm
glad everything is working out well. You have my phone number; please call me
if there's any problem." "You can count on it. Come on,
Galen." Eve started toward the bridge. "Did you see anything that led you to
believe someone was here that night?" Galen asked. "No, it was only a feeling." He chuckled. "Maybe it was the ghost
of our gladiator." "I don't believe in ghosts." "That's probably good. Considering
how many skeletons you deal with, you could become a basket case.". She glanced away from him. "Do you
believe in ghosts?" "I don't not believe in them.
I think anything is possible. I just have to be shown." He smiled.
"And so far our ghostly friends haven't seen fit to show themselves to
me." "The mind sees what it wants to see.
It's all imagination ... or dreams." "Dreams?" She changed the subject. "And stop
calling him a gladiator." "That's right. His name is Victor.
Isn't that what you called him?" She glanced back at the church. Melton and
Rick must have gone back inside. The door was shut, and the entrance had
regained that air of forbidding secrecy she'd noticed the first time she saw
it. Well, secrets were meant to be solved, and
tomorrow she would start. "Yes, his name is Victor." ------------------- "Will you do it?" Joe asked.
"All I'm asking is an afternoon of your time. Just come with me to Capel's
neighbors and let them describe the guy to you." "Don't bullshit me. That's only where
it starts." Lenny Tyson penciled in a line beside the flaring nostrils of
the woman in his sketch. "Then the real work begins, and I'm swamped right
now. You know that, Joe." "A favor, Lenny." Tyson glanced up from the sketch.
"Why? Is the guy a mass murderer or something?" Joe shook his head. "This isn't
department business, it's personal. I'll pay you twice what the department pays
for composite sketches. George Capel was seen by two neighbors the day before
he disappeared. He entered his condo with a small, dark-haired man in his late
twenties or early thirties. They came out a few hours later and drove off
together. He was seen again later that same day at the bank where he has a
safety-deposit box. The same man accompanied him. That was almost a week ago." "And you want me to draw a sketch of
Capel's friend?" "Come on, Lenny. How long could it
take?" "It depends how good a memory the
neighbors have." Tyson leaned back in his chair. "Seven days is a
long time. It's promising that they remembered the color of his hair and that
he wasn't a big man. How close does it have to be?" "I want to try to compare it to mug
files." "Ouch. That's tough." "Will you do it?" "Twice what the department
pays?" "Three times." Lenny sighed, stood up, and grabbed his
art portfolio. "Let's go." Chapter Six Victor's skull
was sitting on a pedestal when Eve
walked into the workroom at seven the next morning. "I told you I'd have everything
ready." Rick beamed as he gestured around the small room. "There are
your worktables, and I got the pedestal from a sculptor who lives here in Baton
Rouge. Is it okay?" "Very nice." "And the video equipment?" "I'll check it out later. That's the
last stage." Eve set her case down on the worktable. "Now, if you'll
get me several towels and a bowl of water, I'll be able to start." "Sounds like you're going to operate
or deliver a baby." Galen had appeared in the doorway. Rick chuckled as he hurried out of the
room. "There are similarities to
both." Eve rolled up the sleeves of her loose white shirt. "I was
wondering where you were this morning." "I was on the phone most of the
night. I kept an eye on you from my balcony when you left the house." "Why were you on the phone?" "Research. Melton is a little too
slick for my liking. So I called a few contacts." He made a face.
"But Melton seems to be telling the truth on all fronts. Bently did
disappear two years ago, and everything you were told about him seems to check
out. Model citizen, husband, and father. From all accounts he was a genuinely
nice guy. Sheriff Bouvier is a respected law enforcement officer and did
release the skeleton to Melton." "Skeleton?" "Bouvier knew nothing about the
skeleton disappearing. Melton promised him that he'd get an expert to quickly
do a DNA test and then quietly return the remains to him. When I told Bouvier
that there might be quite a few pieces missing, he was hopping mad. It's his
job on the line. When he calmed down, he said he'd contact the senator, and he
was sure Melton would use his influence to have the skeleton found and returned
to him. He was just brimful of excuses and praise for the senator. He's solidly
in Melton's camp." "You sound disappointed that Melton's
story checked out." He shrugged. "I've got a bad feeling
about this." "If we find out there's a problem, I
can always stop and go home." But she didn't want to go home. She didn't
intend to go back and face the very situation she'd run away from. She wanted
to work until she dropped, and then work some more. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to
bolt out of here? I'll call and see if I can get us tickets to Atlanta." "Us?" "My job's not finished. I stay with
you until I'm sure there's no more danger." "I'm not walking around for any
extended length of time with a bodyguard, Galen." "Just until I'm sure. The
airport?" Eve thought about it. She wasn't one to
undervalue the power of instinct, but there was no firm reason to think she
wouldn't be able to finish this job safely. True, her food poisoning was
worrying, but she was well guarded now by both Galen and the men she had seen
about the grounds of the church this morning. And she didn't like the idea of someone
killing a man like the one Galen had described and walking away from it without
being punished. You couldn't punish a crime without identifying a victim—and that was her job. "Not until I'm sure that there's a
reason to go." She turned back to the skull. "Now go away for a
while. I need to get to work." "He's pretty filthy." Galen
touched the mud on Victor's forehead. "Funny-looking dirt, isn't it?" She shrugged. "Dirt is dirt." "Are you going to be able to get it
all off him?" "The majority of it. I'm not going to
try to get it out of all the cavities. I might cause more
breakage." She made a shooing motion. "Go. I want to get a start on
cleaning up Victor before it's time for you to take me to Marie's
funeral." "You're still going?" "Why shouldn't I? One, it could have
been an accident. Two, if it wasn't, maybe someone else slipped something into
the ingredients Marie brought to the house. If she's innocent, then she was
killed to keep her from talking, or to make my attack look more accidental. Not
a pretty thought, is it?" "Murder is even less pretty."
Galen smiled. "But you want to believe the best of Marie. So we'll go to
the funeral. It can't hurt." After Galen left, Eve turned back to
Victor and began to carefully scrape the dirt from his skull. It's funny dirt. She paused and stared at it. It was
strange-looking. Minute white chips seemed to be imbedded in rich black mud,
making it appear lighter. Forget it. Maybe all the dirt in Sheriff
Bouvier's parish was like this. If it wasn't, then the police must have noticed
it. It wasn't her business. Just get it off and do your job. ------------------- Marie Letaux's son, Pierre, was tall and
good-looking and clearly devastated by his mother's death. He was surrounded by
friends and relatives when Eve approached him after the ceremony at the small
church. Eve held out her hand. "I'm Eve Duncan. I'd like to express my
condolences. I didn't know your mother well, but I may have been the last
person to see her. Did she tell you that she was taking a job with me?" Pierre nodded. "She was excited. She
knew you were someone important." "Not really." "Mr. Tanzer said that you were
famous. She liked the idea of working for a woman who'd made something of her
life." His eyes filled with tears. "Mama wanted to be famous. I
didn't tell her, but after I get out of medical school and set up practice I
was going to set her up with her own restaurant. I should have told her."
His voice broke. "I wish I'd told her. It was going to be a
surprise." "She knew you loved her. She was very
proud of you." Eve glanced at the flower-draped coffin, which had been
placed in a gray hearse. "She wanted so much for you to finish your
education." Pierre nodded jerkily. "She was
always thinking of ways to help me. She called me the night before she died and
told me not to worry, that she'd worked out a way to get the money for my
tuition. That everything was going to be fine." "She did?" He nodded, his gaze shifting to the
coffin. "I'm sorry, I have to go now." "Of course. I hope everything goes
well for you in the future." "I can't think of anything but Mama
now. It's very difficult for me. I thought my heart would break when I was
going through her things last night. So many memories..." He tried to
smile. "But I go back to school tomorrow, and I'll try very hard to make
something of myself that would have made her proud. I thank you for your good wishes." He
turned and moved toward the hearse. "Nice kid." Galen had moved
forward to stand beside her. She watched the hearse move slowly through
the cemetery toward the grave where Marie would be buried. "Yes." He took her elbow. "Ready to
go?" She nodded, her gaze still on the hearse.
"Did you hear what he said about the call from his mother?" "Yes." "Aren't you going to say
anything?" "You'll make up your own mind. I hate
to say I told you so." "It may not mean anything." Her
hands clenched into fists. "Dammit, I didn't want to believe it. I still
don't." "On the other hand, young Letaux may
find a pleasant surprise when he opens her safety-deposit box." Galen
gently nudged Eve toward his car. "Now how about having lunch and a little
tour of the city before I take you back to the house? I think you need to
unwind." "Okay." She took a final glance
over her shoulder at the hearse, and Marie's son, who was going to say his
final good-bye to the mother he loved. And Marie had loved him, too. Enough to do this terrible thing for his
sake? "Stop worrying," Galen said.
"Never ruin a good meal with bad thoughts. Tell me about your daughter,
Jane. I heard she took over my nursing duty last year after I left Sarah
Patrick's cabin in Phoenix. Don't deflate my ego by saying she did as
good a job as I did." "Well, Sarah must have thought she
did pretty well. Jane got a puppy out of it." "Do you consider that bad or
good?" Eve smiled. "It's good. The puppy is
pure Monty... I hope. I haven't seen any signs of anything savage about
Toby." "Too bad. I've never seen anything
wrong with a little dash of the tiger. It makes the mix more interesting." "I don't agree." "I believe you do. You chose
Quinn." Yes, Joe had more than a little tiger in
him, but she'd not seen it in the last year. She had seen nothing but love and
companionship and togetherness. It had been magic. No, better than magic,
because it had been honest and real. At least she'd thought it had been honest. She smothered the ripple of pain. Would
she ever be able to think about Joe without that hurt? She changed the subject.
"Where are we going to eat? Nothing heavy. My stomach still feels like
it's taken a beating from Evander Holyfield." ------------------- The safety-deposit box. Eve sat up straight in bed, her heart
pounding. "Galen!" "I hear you," Galen called from
the next room. He was there in seconds. "What's wrong? Did you see any—" "The safety-deposit box. I was
asleep, but I woke up and it was—" "Slow down. Get your breath." He
sat down on the bed beside her and set the revolver he'd carried on the
nightstand. "A nightmare?" "No. It must have been in the back of
my mind and it—Marie's safety-deposit box. You thought
there was probably a bribe in it, and whoever poisoned me was trying to make
sure to make it look like an accident. It was important to him not to draw,
attention to why it was being done." "And?" "Pierre, her son. He was going back
to New Orleans tomorrow morning. He wanted to be done with all these details.
There's a good chance he would have gone to the bank this afternoon and tried
to tie up all her affairs. If there was a huge amount in that safety-deposit
box, it would have sent up a red flag, wouldn't it?" "You're thinking someone might want
to stop him from reporting that money." Eve moistened her lips. "Oh, God, I
hope not." She got to her feet. "I want to go to see him. I'm getting
dressed. Will you call Marie's house and see if you can reach him?" "Do you have the number?" "No." "I'll call information." Galen
reached for the phone on the nightstand and turned on the light. She blinked. "You're naked." "You screamed. I wasn't about to take
the time to get dressed." He spoke into the phone and then glanced over
his shoulder. "Get moving." She didn't need to be told twice. She
hurried out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. When she came back five minutes later,
Galen was coming out of his room, tucking his shirt into his khakis.
"Pierre didn't answer." He glanced at her. "Look, this may be a
false alarm, but when we get there, I'm in charge. You don't do anything until
I tell you to do it. Okay?" "I hear you. Just hurry." ------------------- No one answered the knock. "He could have decided to leave
early," Galen said. "Or perhaps staying here brought back too many
memories." "I don't like it," Eve said.
"Is the door locked?" "Yes." Galen bent over the knob
for a moment. "But if it will make you feel better..." The door swung
open. "I go in first. You stay out here until I call you. If you see
anything, you call me." "I want to—" Eve nodded impatiently. "Hurry. If he's not here, I
need to track him down at a hotel." "I'll hurry." Galen disappeared
into the house. She didn't want to wait outside. She
glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the windows of the houses on either side
of the street. Dark, silent. Watching. Foolishness. No one was watching. "Come in." Galen was back.
"It's safe." "Is he here?" "He's here." He shut the door.
"But you may not want to see him. He's not a pretty sight. His head's half
blown off." Shock jolted through her.
"What?" "There at the desk across the
room." The lights were off, but she could dimly
see a figure slumped at the desk. "Pierre?" "As far as I could tell." "Murdered." "It's staged to look like a suicide.
The gun's still in his hand. He may have actually pulled the trigger." "Like Marie was forced to eat the
stew," she said dully. "Right." "I want to see him." "You're sure?" "It won't be the first corpse I've
seen, Galen." "I know, but I have to fight my
protective instincts." He flicked on the lamp by the door. "Don't
touch anything." Blood and brain matter were splattered
everywhere. She forced herself to walk forward until she stood in front of the
desk. Several framed pictures of Pierre's mother were spread on the desk in
front of him. To one side lay a pile of letters spattered with blood. "It looks"—she swallowed hard to ease the tightness of her throat—"as if he was going through her things." "And became despondent and took his
own life. Everyone at the funeral would testify to how distraught he was. Very
nicely staged. Or do you believe he'd actually do this?" Eve shook her head. "He wanted to
make all her hard work worthwhile. He wouldn't—"
She had to get out of here. She turned and headed for the door. "It wasn't
him—somebody else did this." "That's what I thought." Galen
followed her, stopping only to wipe his prints off the lamp and the doorknob
while she waited outside. "But the verdict will probably be suicide." She drew a deep shaky breath as she
reached the street. "We could tell the police about Marie." "With no real evidence but those
bruises? You didn't want to believe Marie Letaux's death wasn't an
accident." "I suppose he did go to the bank
today," she said dully. "I doubt if he'd be dead if he hadn't
discovered the safety-deposit box with the money. He must have had time to look
through it, or he wouldn't have been a threat." "He was so young...." "Yeah, it sucks." Galen took
Eve's elbow. "Let's get out of here. If anyone sees us around, they might
decide it wasn't suicide and zero in on us as suspects. You might be above
suspicion, but I'm not." ------------------- "Sit down." Galen pushed Eve
into one of the kitchen chairs and put on the kettle. "I'll make you some
coffee." "I'm okay." She was lying. She
wasn't okay. All she could think about was that beautiful young man who was now
no longer beautiful. Pierre, whose years had been cut short in that brutal
fashion. "Then keep me company." He
switched on the stove, then took down the instant coffee. "I'm very
sensitive. Blood always upsets me." She tried to smile. "Liar." "I am sensitive. There's just a layer
of scar tissue." He got down two cups from the shelf and spooned in the
coffee. "And blood is ... messy. To be spilled only when necessary. There
are so many neater ways." He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned.
"That got you. Did you expect me to soothe you? You're too tough for
that." "Am I?" "Sure. Of course, Quinn would
probably comfort you. But you wouldn't take it from me." He poured boiling
water into the cups and sat down across from her. "So take a cup of coffee
instead." In spite of what he said, he was trying to
comfort her. She took a sip. "I'm surprised a gourmet like you would
tolerate instant coffee." "It was quick." He leaned back
in his chair. "And I can tolerate anything. I'm used to making do." "It's good." She took another
sip. "I... did need it. I guess I'm pretty shaky. I hate death. We
fight and we fight and there's still nothing we can do about it." "Sometimes there is. Personally, I
intend to live until I'm at least a hundred and fifty. I figure with all the
research going on I could still be spry at that age." "Pierre was so young. There's
something even more terrible about the young dying." "Like your Bonnie." "Yes." Eve looked down into the
coffee in her cup. "Like my little girl." Galen was silent. Eve drew a shaky breath. "And I hate
the monsters who take those youngsters' lives. I want to reach out and get them
by the throat. I want to scream at them how unfair it is for them to steal all
those bright, wonderful years away. It's cruel and ugly— Shit." Tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to—" Galen was kneeling beside her chair.
"Hey, don't do this to me." He took her in his arms and rocked her
back and forth. "You're tearing up all my scar tissue." He felt her
stiffen against him, and immediately released her and sat back on his heels.
"Let's get this straight right now. I'm not trying to take advantage of a
bad moment. It's my natural instincts again. A woman weeps and I react."
He looked directly in her eyes. "But I know the difference between a
vulnerable moment and the real thing. I like you, I respect you, and, if I let
myself, I'd find you sexy. But you're not available. It's so clear that you
might as well be carrying around a sign. So I'm your protector, your friend,
and sometimes a shoulder to lean on. Got it?" She smiled shakily. "Got it." He smiled. "At least that little
misunderstanding accomplished one thing. You're not crying anymore." He
breathed a theatrical sigh of relief. "I can't take tears. They lay me
low." "I'll remember that. It may come in
handy." She stood up. "I'm going to bed. I have an early start
tomorrow." Galen looked at his watch.
"Tomorrow's already here. The airport?" "Hell, no." She started for the
door. "They're not going to get away with killing that boy. They're going
to pay for it. I'm going to give Victor a face." Chapter Seven
"May I come
in?" Galen asked. Eve glanced up from the skull. "If
you don't talk to me." "Just a few words. Where's
Rick?" She shrugged. "Around somewhere. He
brought me coffee a couple hours ago. Why?" "Just checking. He's usually so
attentive he makes me worry about losing my job." "He may be attentive, but he's quiet
and unobtrusive. I hardly know he's around." "I doubt you'd notice if he ran
around banging on a drum. I can see you're caught up in the project. I've never
seen anyone so obsessed." "It's what I do." Her work had
saved her from the depths of despair and helped her keep her sanity after
Bonnie had been murdered. It was her salvation and her passion. "I just thought I'd fill you in on a
few things I've learned about Bently." "I thought you'd already told me
everything." "Only the obvious. I decided to probe
a little deeper. I don't like to trust the obvious." "So what did you find out?" "He was an ardent environmentalist,
very passionate about solar energy and cleaning up the rivers." "And?" "That would make him a target for any
number of energy groups. What if he was planning to run on a platform that
would step on some very important toes?" "You're doing those 'what ifs'
again." "Can't help it. It's a game I have to
play. It's my suspicious nature." Galen smiled. "But at least you
should be relieved that Bently is turning out to be such a sterling
character." "Why?" "Because it's obvious you've become
so emotionally attached to that skull that it would give you a hell of a lot of
satisfaction if Victor turned out to be a good guy." "Either way, it won't stop me from
doing my job." Galen tilted his head and gazed appraisingly
at the skull. "You don't appear very close. He looks like a voodoo doll.
What are all those sticks all over his skull?" "Tissue-depth markers. I cut each
marker to the proper measurement and glue it onto its specific area on the
face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known
tissue depths." She carefully placed another marker. "There are
anthropological charts that give a specific measurement for each point." "Then your work is mostly
measurement?" "No, that's the donkey work. I take
strips of plasticine and apply them between the markers, then build them up to
tissue-depth levels. Then I smooth and fill in and work with the skull until
I'm satisfied. The last process is the most important. That's why I can't look
at photographs of the subject. I can't let even my subconscious be
influenced." "Well, you're safe for now. But I'm
planning on going down to the newspaper office and getting a photo." "Well, keep it 'til I've
finished." "When will that be?" "As long as it takes. Five or six
more days, maybe." She glanced at him. "Any news about Pierre?" "A story on page five of the
newspaper about the suicide of Pierre Letaux, who was apparently despondent
about the death of his mother." "You said the police wouldn't
question it." "I admit I didn't want to be right
about this one."-He shrugged. "But sometimes the bad guys win." "Not this time." She placed
another marker. "Now go away and let me work." "I'm on my way." He paused.
"You know, we could call Melton and tell him we think Marie's and Pierre's
deaths may not be quite what they seem." "I thought of that. And then he'd
assure me that I was mistaken and that the police reports were accurate." "Could be." "And I don't need to deal with Melton
right now." "I didn't think so. It might
interfere with Victor, and you won't permit anything to do that. Is Rick
feeding you?" "When I let him." She lifted a
brow. "It seems my poison tester hasn't been on the job." "Rick wouldn't let anything happen to
you. At least, not until you've finished Victor. I've never seen anyone more
intent on making your work easy for you. And I'll cook for you myself
tonight." "That's comforting." "It should be more than comforting.
You should be breathless with anticipation." "I don't have time." "Okay, forget about dwelling on my
fine cuisine." He turned to leave. "I'd like this job done quickly,
too." He couldn't be more anxious than she was,
Eve thought as he left the room. Ever since she had seen Pierre's body the
night before last, she had been driven to finish the reconstruction. Maybe even before that. There were so few
truly good people; Bently might have been one of those rare individuals. She placed another marker. "We're
getting there, Victor," she murmured. "Galen thinks you might have
been some kind of martyr, but I've got to be very careful not to pay any
attention. You might have been just a soldier or a tramp or some other victim.
It doesn't matter. You deserve to be brought home, too...." ------------------- "No identification, Lieutenant."
Officer Krakow shrugged. "And we're not going to get anyone to recognize
him. The forensic boys say he's been dead for at least four days, facedown in
the water in that drainpipe." "Four days?" Joe's gaze went
down the hill to the forensic team gathered around the entrance of the drainage
pipe. "Could be longer. You know it's hard
to pin down when a corpse has been out in the weather. We'll have to wait for
the medical examiner." "What kind of clothes is he
wearing?" "Oxford cloth shirt. No tie, but
nicely tailored pants. He appears to be very white-collar. He definitely wasn't
one of the homeless." Krakow gazed at Joe curiously. "This isn't your
case, is it, sir? You looking for someone in particular?" "Maybe. Thanks, Krakow." Joe
started down the hill. He could see the sprawled body, and the size seemed
right. Capel had been a big man with receding brown hair, but he couldn't see
the hair from here. White-collar described George Capel, and he'd have to see
about the time frame. Conditions were everything as far as decomposition was
concerned. He'd seen a woman taken out of the trunk of a car after only seven
hours; he would have sworn she had been dead for days. It didn't have to be Capel. He hoped to
God it wasn't. If that body was George Capel, it brought this whole mess to a
new and dangerous level. "Hi, Lieutenant." Sam Rowley
glanced up as he approached. "Looks like we've got one for you." Joe looked down at the corpse. The hair
was light brown, but he couldn't tell if it was receding from that swollen,
disfigured face. "Homicide?" "Appears to be a knife wound in the
back. There are multiple wounds on the body, but it's hard to determine if they
were inflicted before or after death. He's been out here awhile." "I need to know who he is.
Fingerprints?" "May be tough to match with the hands
so swollen. Probably have to go for the teeth." "How soon?" "The lab's pretty backlogged. Two
weeks, maybe." "I need to know now, Sam." Sam shook his head. "Talk to the lab
techs. You know I can't help you." "I will." Joe turned and strode
back up the hill. A knife wound in the back. Multiple other
wounds. The muscles of his stomach twisted as he
got back in the car. Don't panic yet. Get down to headquarters and pull strings
to get that ID right away. Christ, he hoped it wasn't Capel. ------------------- "How far along are you?" Galen
asked as he poured Eve's coffee that evening. "Have you gotten past the
voodoo stage?" "Tomorrow. I have to go very slowly
to have an absolutely true foundation." Eve lifted the cup to her lips.
"That was a very good meal, Galen." "It was a magnificent meal. You're
too tired to appreciate me." "No, I'm not." She studied him
soberly. What an unusual man he was. Complex, smooth on the surface with depths
that were definitely dark and enigmatic. Yet she'd never felt safer with any
man except Joe. "You've been very kind to me, Galen." "Just doing my job." "No. Ever since I woke up in the
hospital, you've given me whatever I needed." "That's my business. I'm a
provider." He leaned back in his chair. "And you've been easy. I
haven't had to maul or dispatch anyone lately." He was joking. Or was he? Maybe not. Those
murky depths again ... "I hope you won't have to do it in the future
either." Her hand tightened on the cup. "Death is ugly." "Yes, it is. And no one should know
better than you." "Not even you?" He smiled. "Let's say my experience
is active and yours is passive." "Why did you take this bodyguard job,
Galen? I got the impression that you played on a much bigger stage." "I like Louisiana. I even have a
house near New Orleans." "You took the job because you liked
the area? I don't think so." "Okay, Logan is my friend and he
asked me to do it as a favor. I move around too much to have many friends, so I
try to keep the ones I have." He paused. "And I guess I kind of liked the idea
of being cast as a knight to protect a lady. Usually my jobs are much less
noble. I'd only met you once, but I wasn't fond of the idea of you jumping into
trouble." She had certainly been in trouble the
first time she met him in Arizona two years ago, Eve thought ruefully. Besides
taking care of Sarah's wounded wolf, Maggie, she had been trying to sort out
her own problems with Jane. "Well, you were very good with Maggie. Sarah
was impressed." "We had a lot in common." He
took a sip of coffee. "Quinn must have been really worried about this trip
or he wouldn't have called Logan. I got the impression they're not the greatest
mates in the world." She stiffened. "I don't want to talk
about Joe." She finished her coffee and stood up. "And in a few days
there won't be anything for any of us to worry about. Let's get these dishes
done. I want to go upstairs and make my call to Jane before I go to bed. Do you
want to wash or dry?" "I'll do them. I need to expend some
excess energy. You go on and call your little girl. I checked out the upstairs
when you were taking your shower. It's secure. But don't go out on the
balcony." "You think someone's going to shoot
me?" He shook his head. "It would be too
obvious. Everything has been made to look like an accident or suicide so far.
But it won't hurt to be careful. Sometimes new elements pop up in these
situations." "You talk as if this is just
run-of-the-mill to you. I'm finding it a good deal more stressful." He started to stack the dishes. "It's
certainly interesting." She looked at him and shook her head. Just
when she thought she had made progress getting beyond that smooth exterior, he
pulled it firmly back in place. "Good night, Galen." "Good night. Pleasant dreams." Don't go out on the balcony or you might
get shot. Don't eat anything Galen didn't cook or
you might be poisoned. Not the stuff of which pleasant dreams
were made. ------------------- Jane looked up from the salad she was
tossing when Joe walked in that evening. "Eve called a little while
ago." "How is she?" "Fine. Tired. She's working on the
skull. She calls him Victor. Will you get out the steaks, Joe?" Joe came into the kitchen and opened the
refrigerator. "How soon will she be done?" "Doesn't know." Jane took out
the indoor grill and plugged it in. "You know Eve's never sure. It's going
well, though." "Did she mention Galen?" "Only that he'd called Victor a
gladiator and she was having the devil of a time keeping that out of her mind.
Oh, and she said that he was a terrific cook." She chuckled. "Good
thing one of them is. Eve's not so hot." "No, she's not." He handed her
the steaks. "Sounds very cozy." "Yeah." Jane looked at him and
her smile faded. "Joe? Is something wrong?" "No, of course not." He turned
away. "I've got to go wash up. I'll be right back." When he closed the bathroom door, he
splashed water on his face and then reached for the towel. Oh, no, nothing was
wrong. His grasp tightened on the soft cloth until his knuckles turned white.
Only that he was jealous as hell and wanted to kill Sean Galen. Shit, he'd want to murder everyone Eve
looked at on the street or smiled at in a restaurant. Very sane. Very
reasonable. But who said he was ever reasonable when
it came to Eve? She'd been the center of his life since he'd met her all those
years ago, and he'd had only this short time of her belonging to him. It wasn't
enough. It would never be enough. Joe drew a deep breath. Get control. He
had to go out and not let Jane see what a crazy, obsessive son of a bitch he
was. She'd been an angel since Eve had left. No, not an angel. She was too
earthy and real to be termed angelic. She'd always had that same tough, loving
nature that reminded him of Eve. Eve. Everything came back to her. And she
was in Baton Rouge with Galen, who was helping her, making those damn dinners,
talking to her, sharing ... He had sent Galen to be with her and he'd do it
again, but that didn't make it any easier. "Joe, the steaks are done," Jane
called. "Coming." He hung up the towel
and opened the door. He forced a smile. "I'm starved. I forgot to eat
lunch today." "You've been working too hard."
She carried the steaks over to the table, almost tripping over the puppy.
"Toby, get out of my way. You cannot have these steaks." "I bet he'll get the leftovers." "Maybe. I shouldn't do it. Sarah said
he should have a balanced diet and table scraps aren't really good for
him." She shook her head. "But he's such a chow hound. I never saw
any dog who loved food like Toby." "What else did Eve say?" "Nothing much. She mostly asked about
what I was doing and how Toby was. I told her he was fine." She sat down.
"I told her you were fine, too." "But she didn't ask, did she?" "No, but I figured she probably
wanted to know." "Optimist." "She's working, and she already seems
more cheerful than when she left. Work always helps her." "I know." "So you just have to hang on and be patient.
Now eat your steak." He smiled faintly. "Yes, ma'am.
Anything else?" "Yes, don't work so hard." She
frowned sternly at Toby who'd rested his head on her knee. "Don't beg. It's
impolite." "You're not going to last until
supper's over." "I will. He's got to learn—" Joe's phone rang. Jane sighed. "I was afraid you
wouldn't get through the meal." "I won't answer it. I'll let the
voice mail pick it up." "But then you'd get indigestion
worrying. Get it over with." Joe flipped on his phone.
"Quinn." "It's Carol. The teeth ID came
through. It's George Andrew Capel, age forty-two." Joe's hand tightened on the phone.
"Christ. Anything on the autopsy report?" "I don't know. Let me check. Yeah,
here it is. They just tossed it in the in-box. Death caused by knife wound that
entered the heart from the back. The other wounds were minor. None of them
capable of doing serious damage but would have been extremely painful. Looks
like our killer likes to toy with his victims." "Maybe. Thanks, Carol." He hung
up. "Joe?" Jane whispered. He was scaring her. "It's okay. It's
just that something's come up and I have to deal with it." "Eve?" "No. How could it be Eve? You just
talked to her. That was Carol at the precinct. It was police business." "You're never this upset about police
business." She was too sharp, and he was too panicky
right now to hide his fear. He got to his feet. "I've got to make a couple
of private calls. You go ahead and eat dinner. I'll be back soon." She frowned, still troubled. "Okay.
But your steak will get cold." "I'll heat it up." He wouldn't
be able to eat it anyway. Food was the last thing on his mind. The grave. The
report sent to Eve. George Capel. Eve's job in Baton Rouge. All the pieces were
falling together. And the picture they were making was
scaring him to death. ------------------- "He's still pretty ugly, even without
the sticks." Galen tilted his head as he studied the skull on the pedestal.
"Maybe it's those empty eye sockets." "Go away, Galen." "Nope, it's eight o'clock and you've
been here since six this morning. Time to close up shop. I'm going to walk you
home and feed you. Rick would let you work all night." "I'm not ready to go." "Are you going to be able to finish
him tonight?" "No way. I've still got a good four
days' work. Maybe more." "Then you'll do better with some
rest. Since there's no urgency." "There is urgency." "Not for you. Melton can wait." He didn't understand. When she started
work, the urgency came from within. It was as if the person she was
reconstructing was urging her, whispering to her: Find me. Help me. Bring me
home. "What color?" Galen was still
gazing at the eye sockets. "How do you know what color to use for the
eyes?" "I don't. I usually put in brown.
It's the most common eye color. Why are those sockets bothering you?" "I knew a bloke in Mozambique who'd
had his eyes cut out by a nasty customer in the drug trade. He got along
surprisingly well, but it always gave me the chills." "I can see why." "It made me mad. I hate mutilation.
No one should do that to anyone." Eve turned to look at him. "I've
never seen you angry." "You don't want to. I get pretty
nasty." "To that 'nasty customer in the drug
trade'?" Galen didn't answer directly. "No one
should be allowed to do that," he repeated. He suddenly smiled. "Now
you've done it. You've made me dwell on that unpleasantness and I'm all
depressed. You have to come home so that I can fix you a fine meal and forget
about it. It's therapy." "It's manipulation." She draped
a towel over the skull. "But I'll let you get away with it. Maybe I am a
little tired." "Right. Now wash your hands and we'll
be off." Galen crossed over to the window and looked out at the bayou.
"You should really see more of Baton Rouge. It's a great town." "I had lunch with you the day of
Marie's funeral. I saw Baton Rouge for hours and hours that day. And I didn't
come here to sightsee." "Someone needs to take you in hand.
There's more to life than skulls with empty sockets." "They're not empty when I fill
them." Eve dried her hands on a towel. "And I'm not a total
workaholic." "You come close. Me, I believe in
stopping to smell the roses." Galen opened the door for her. "Though
I do know New Orleans better than Baton Rouge. So we'll walk home very slowly,
and I'll tell you the history of the Big Easy and maybe a few bits of the
history of my stays there. You can decide which is more entertaining." Galen's stories were definitely more
entertaining, and lasted the walk back to the plantation house. They were
bawdy, funny, and full of colorful characters and incidents. "His name was really Marco
Polo?" Eve asked. "You've got to be kidding." "No way. He said his mum named him
that because he was destined to be a great explorer. Actually, he fit right in
with some of the weirdos who inhabit the French Quarter. He wore
thirteenth-century garb whenever he was at home, and he had a particular
fondness for Chinese prostitutes. I don't think that was the kind of Oriental
exploration his mum had in mind, but who am I—Shit!"
He jerked her to one side and stepped in front of her. "Who the hell are
you?" "Quinn." Joe stepped out of the
shadows next to the front door. "As Eve'll tell you, if you'll get away
from her." Eve stared at him in shock.
"Joe?" "You remember my name? I guess I
should be grateful." "You shouldn't have come. I don't
want you here." "You've made that clear. Tough. I'm
here and I'm staying." "Where's Jane?" "She's fine. She's with your mother.
Sandra's husband and little Mike are in Oregon on a fishing trip. The kid's
real mother was jailed again for drugs and they thought he should get away for
awhile. Your mother was glad to have the company." Shock was being replaced by anger. "I
told you when I left I didn't want you to come with me. Go back to Atlanta,
Joe." "Sorry." He turned to Galen.
"What's been going on here?" "None of your business," Eve
said. "Go home." Joe whirled on her and his Words spat out
like bullets. "You listen to me. I'm not going to barge in on your cozy
little establishment here. I know you wouldn't have me in the same house. But
I'm staying. You can't stop me. Now I'm coming in and I'm going to tell you a
few things, and then either you or Galen is going to fill me in on what's been
happening here." "I think we'd better invite him in,
Eve," Galen said as he unlocked the door. "I do hate scenes in
public." "He's leaving. There's not going to
be a scene." "Yes, there is. At this point I'm
ready to burn down the whole damn parish if I don't get my way." "We wouldn't want that," Galen
said. "I've just been telling Eve what a fine little metropolis this
is." "Oh, was that what you were telling
her?" Joe murmured. "I would have guessed something entirely
different." "Uh-oh. Is that the way the wind's
blowing?" Galen flung open the door. "Come in, Quinn. I can see this
is going to be an interesting chat." His gaze shifted to Eve. "Give
him twenty minutes, Eve. He obviously has something we might need to hear. From
what I've heard about him, he's not stupid enough to have come all this way
without a reason." "I don't want to—" She might as well get it over. She knew that expression on
Joe's face. He wasn't budging. "Twenty minutes." She passed Joe and
went into the house. "I'll be right back." Galen was
running up the stairs. "I have to check the upstairs. If you want to make
yourself useful, you might check the downstairs, Quinn." "You trust me to do that?" Joe
asked sarcastically. "Your faith is—" But
Galen was out of hearing. Joe turned and went toward the first door on the
left. "Is this the kitchen?" "Dining room. Kitchen adjoins
it." Joe opened the door. "Stay
here." "The hell I will." Eve followed
him through the dining room into the kitchen, and watched him while he checked
the two pantries, under the table in the kitchen, and the dining room.
"It's not fair for you to do this. I'm not ready to see you, Joe." "Will you ever be ready?" He
went past her into the hall. "Is that a parlor?" She nodded and watched as he checked the room
out. "Okay?" Galen was coming down
the stairs. "Now that we have that out of the way, I don't suppose you'd
like a glass of wine or a cup of coffee? No, I didn't think so." He came
into the parlor and sat down on the velvet couch. "You'll excuse me for
sitting down before you, Eve, but I can tell by your stance that you're in no
mood for relaxing." He turned to Joe. "She's bristling. I believe
you'd better hurry a bit." "I don't need your advice. I know Eve
better than you'll ever know her." His gaze never left Eve's face.
"Don't I?" "Do you? I thought I knew you." "You do. You just don't want to
accept what you know, what you've always known." He shook his head.
"I can't get through to you. Screw it. It doesn't make any difference
right now. I have to tell you about Capel." "Who's Capel?" "George Capel. He's the doctor I
bribed to send you that positive DNA report and bury the real one." "And the man who sent me the real
report." "It wasn't Capel. It didn't compute
that he would do that without trying to get more money out of me first...
unless someone paid him an enormous amount of cash. So I started digging. Capel
hadn't shown up for work in a couple days, so I assumed he'd flown the
coop." Joe's lips tightened. "He knew I'd be looking for him. But someone
had to have suspected something to have gotten to Capel. I went to the DNA lab
and asked questions. I went through a dozen administrative clerks before I
found one who remembered' a police officer from Forsythe County who'd asked to
check Bonnie's records. The clerk was pretty upset because she couldn't find
them. The police officer asked who would have been in charge of the case, and
she told him George Capel and asked if he'd like to see him. He told her he'd
come back when he had more time. Two neighbors saw a small, dark man with Capel
later that day. They went to his house and then left again. A man of the same
description accompanied Capel to the bank the same day. The bank teller who let
him into the vault commented that he looked sick. He told her he had the flu.
My guess is that the man who was at the DNA lab suspected some shenanigans when
there was no record to be found and decided to check out Capel. He struck pay
dirt. Capel was fairly transparent, and wouldn't have been difficult to break for
anyone determined enough. He was probably forced to go to his house so the guy
could search it. No DNA record. Then it got serious. I believe a good deal of
time was spent persuading Capel to reveal where he'd placed the record. Then
they went to the bank and got it. It was no wonder he looked sick. He was
probably in severe pain." "All this because of Bonnie's DNA
record?" Eve asked skeptically. "It doesn't make sense." "Does the fact that we found Capel's
body two days ago convince you?" Her eyes widened. "What?" "Murdered?" Galen asked. Joe nodded. "Knife wound from the
back. Several other cuts on his body." "The means of persuasion," Galen
murmured. "That's what I figure." Eve dazedly shook her head.
"Why?" "You," Joe said. "Why did
you come here? What drove you?" "You know why I came." "Hell, yes, I know. It was very well
orchestrated. The defacement of the grave to send the first shock wave. Then
the arrival of the DNA report. A one-two punch that sent you running as far
away from me as possible. And wasn't it convenient that you had a job beckoning
here?" "You're saying that man was murdered
to get me here?" "Do you want more proof? The shoe
prints at the hill were made by shoes from a company with heavy distribution in
this state. They led to tracks made by tires that are standard issue on the
Saturn. I had a composite sketch drawn of the man who went with Capel to his
house and the bank. I had the bank security videos checked, but he was too
smart and was looking away from the camera. But both the neighbors and the bank
clerk agreed on the face in the sketch, so I played a hunch and took it to the
rental car agencies at the airport. Bingo. Avis rented a Saturn to a Karl Stolz
from Shreveport, Louisiana. He paid by credit card and was very pleasant to the
clerk. He returned the car and boarded a plane for Baton Rouge the day you told
Melton you'd take the job." "You've done a good job of putting it
together," Galen said. "I suppose you traced the credit card." "Billed to the real Karl Stolz at an
address in Shreveport. A case of stolen identity. He hasn't left his home for
the past six months." His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Believe me, Eve. All this was done to draw you to Baton Rouge. Now get
the hell out of here." It was incredible. Yet she did believe
him. "You're saying this man tried to ruin my life and killed a man just
to get me to take this job?" She tried to think. "Melton?" "I called him before I got on the
plane today. He denies everything, of course, but the entire mess seems to lead
toward him—or an associate." "I'm surprised you didn't squeeze
that out of him." "I didn't have time." Eve shook her head. "Go home, Joe. I
don't want you involved. If there's a problem, I'll handle it." "You mean you don't want me in your
life. Well, that's too bad. You're not the only victim here. Whoever killed
Capel did a damn good job of messing up my life, too. Now are you going to tell
me what's been going on here?" "No, I'm not." "Then I'll find out on my own."
He turned on his heel. "If you change your mind, you can reach me at the
Westin Hotel." "Wait." Galen got to his feet.
"Could I see you for a few moments in private, Quinn? Why don't you go
upstairs and rest, Eve?" "Galen," she warned. "You're not involving him. I am. I'll
take all the help I can get. He's better occupied in helping than blundering
around and getting in my way trying to find out a few simple facts." He
smiled. "You can still keep your distance. Let me deal with him." "I don't want him here." "I do." Galen smiled. "So
unless you're going to pack up and go home, he stays. Not close. On the edge.
But he stays. So go and rest and I'll fix you dinner after Quinn leaves," "Stop treating me like a child. I'm
not hungry and I'll do what I please." Eve strode out of the room and up
the stairs. Dammit, she hadn't expected Galen to turn on her. It had come as a
surprise—but not as big a shock as the ugly story
that Joe had told her. It seemed impossible that anyone would go to such
diabolical lengths to get her here. That man had delved into the most painful
area of her life and used Bonnie to manipulate her. A surge of rage tore through her. Son of a
bitch. And what about the story that had been told to her by Melton. How much
was truth and how much was lies? Marie and Pierre Letaux? They had been
killed to keep her from doing the reconstruction. Where did they fit in? Oh, she just didn't know. She couldn't
think right now. She was confused and angry, and the shock and hurt she'd
experienced when she'd seen Joe didn't make it any better. For that first split
second she'd felt such soaring joy that it had rocked her, and then she had
remembered and the pain had come rushing back. She had to get Joe to leave Baton Rouge.
She couldn't live with this kind of confusion, and she certainly couldn't work. Work? She felt a sudden icy chill as she
realized that maybe she shouldn't be as worried about finishing Victor as about
just surviving. Chapter Eight
"Evidently
you haven't gotten to know Eve as well as I thought," Joe said to Galen as they heard Eve's
door slam. "You should never treat her with condescension." "I hardly think you can qualify as an
expert on the subject. You've put your ass on the line with her," Galen
said. Joe stiffened. "She told you about
the DNA report?" "That bothers you, doesn't it? No,
Logan told me everything you told him. You took a big chance." He changed
the subject. "Now, do you want to know what's been going on here or
not?" Joe was silent a moment. "I want to
know." "That wasn't too painful, was
it?" Galen filled him in on the events since Eve had arrived in Baton
Rouge. Joe was cursing by the time he finished.
"Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you let me know?" "Logan hired me, not you. And the
only way I could keep Eve willing to accept me here
was to agree not to tell you anything. So it was really your fault." "And you're enjoying telling me
that." "Antagonism always brings out the
worst in me. Did you turn over the sketch to the FBI to see if they could track
anything down for you?" "They couldn't. No matches." "I'd like to see the sketch. The man
who took Eve to the hospital that night fits the description. We can run it by
the admittance personnel. Do you have it here?" "I have several copies at the hotel.
I'll give you one." Joe looked up the stairs. "She won't listen to
me. Can't you talk her out of staying here?" "I'll try. She'll be absolutely
furious with Melton if she thinks he's connected with the things you told her
about. On the other hand, she's caught up in the work on Victor. I had to drag
her away tonight." "Dammit, it's clear whoever is behind
this isn't playing for small stakes. One false step and she could be—" He broke off and took a deep breath. "I can't take not
being here to help her. It's driving me crazy." "You're not keeping it a
secret," Galen said. "I'll do my best. In the meantime, give me your
cell phone number and I'll try to keep you informed." "I want to be more than
informed." "It's the best I can do. You lurk
around here and Eve will explode. Trust me, I've taken good care of her. I'll
keep on doing it." "I don't trust you, and I don't want
you to—" Joe jammed a card with his name and
cell number at Galen, turned, and moved toward the door. "If you don't let
me know what's going on, I'll tear you apart." "I do hate threats. They offend my
genteel nature." "Bullshit." "Now what can I do to get my own
back? What would rub you raw?" Galen smiled maliciously. "Shall I
tell you how well I've gotten to know Eve? We've exchanged viewpoints and past
history. We've eaten together, and shared sadness and death. I've protected her
and held her in my arms." "You bastard." "I thought that would do it." He
passed Joe and went toward the kitchen. "Now I have to go and get us a
bite to eat." Joe was tempted to go after him and
strangle him. Galen looked over his shoulder and shook
his head. "I'm her safety net, Quinn. Get rid of me and you'll be up shit
creek." Joe muttered a curse and jerked open the
front door. "Oh, I forgot to mention one small
thing," Galen said. "I was in her bedroom naked a few nights
ago." He disappeared into the kitchen. Joe could feel the pulse pound in his
temple as he started to follow him. He stopped and drew a deep breath. Keep
calm. Galen had wanted to score off him. He could have been lying. And he could have been telling the truth.
Okay, accept it. If he'd been telling the truth and Eve had taken Galen as a
lover, then he'd just have to take it. His own hands were tied. He needed the
bastard to keep Eve alive. He couldn't touch him. Not now. Later. ------------------- "I've brought you a sandwich,"
Galen said when Eve opened the door to his knock. "I know you said you
weren't hungry, but you've got to stoke the furnace if you want to finish
Victor." "I don't like to be overruled,
Galen," she said coolly. "Particularly when it concerns my personal
affairs." "But it doesn't only concern your
personal affairs. It concerns your life, and that's what I've been hired to
preserve. So you do what you please about Quinn, but if I need him, I'll use
him." He set the tray down on the bedside table. "Logan tells me he's
an ex-SEAL, besides his FBI and police training. He may come in handy." "No one uses Joe." "That's why it's so much fun."
Galen took a string of silver bells out of his pocket and crossed the room
toward the balcony. "That balcony's been bothering me, and I'm tired of
checking it a couple times a night." "I didn't know you did." "That's because I'm so good." He
went out on the balcony and tied the string of bells on one of the wrought-iron
spokes. He grasped another spoke a few feet away and pulled at it. Immediately
a shower of tinkling sound drifted on the night air. "There we go. Thank
God for this shaky ironwork. Not exactly high tech, but it sounds pretty and
it's loud enough to alert me if we have a cat burglar." He looked back
over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. "Or if Quinn decides to pull a
Romeo and Juliet scene. 'Once more unto the breach ...' " "That last line is from Henry
V." "I never let accuracy get in the way
if a quote fits." "And Joe is too pragmatic to play
Romeo." "He didn't impress me as being that
pragmatic. He was seething tonight, and he didn't like me this close to you. It
amused me at first, but then my defense mechanisms kicked in and I'm afraid I
was a little naughty." "What did you do?" "Oh, this and that." Galen
jiggled the spoke again, instigating another shower of silver sound. "That
is pretty." He left the balcony, closed the doors, and locked them.
"Eat your sandwich and try to get some sleep. I know what Quinn told you upset
you." "Of course it did." Eve
shuddered. "I feel... violated. That bastard used my little girl and tried
to twist my life to suit himself. And what he did to Capel..." "I'm surprised that bothers you.
Capel did some heavy manipulating of you himself." "No, that was Joe. He manipulated
Capel and me. When Joe makes a decision, opposing him is like trying to
stop a tornado." "I got that impression." Galen
moved toward the door. "But you may be being a little rough on him." "You don't know anything about it,
Galen." "You're right, but that never stops
me from offering an opinion." He smiled back at her as he opened the door.
"Good night, Eve. Be sure to eat that fantastic ham sandwich I made so you
can praise me in the morning." She shook her head as the door shut behind
him. He was completely impossible. She looked at the sandwich without
enthusiasm, but picked it up and started to eat. He was right. She needed
strength. Not only to work, but to get through this nightmare that was
escalating whenever she turned around. She had to plow through all that Joe had
told her and everything that had happened since she got here, and make a
decision. She should probably pack up and go back to
Atlanta. But Victor was waiting. She could feel him
calling her. She was getting closer to bringing him home every day. She had to think, and it was impossible
with the emotional upheaval she'd been thrown into when she'd seen Joe again. Jesus, she wished he hadn't come. ------------------- The bells on the balcony jingled softly in
the darkness. Eve stiffened in bed, her gaze flying to
the French doors. The bells jingled again. "Stay put." Galen was at her
bedroom door. "We have a visitor." He moved in darkness toward the
balcony. "And not too bright a one if he's still trying after he heard
that first jingle." "Be careful," she whispered. She
could barely see him in the darkness, but then the door was flung open and he
was outside on the balcony. She heard a crash and jumped out of bed and ran
after him. Galen and another man were struggling on
the floor of the balcony. Galen's arm lifted and his fist came down
on the jaw of his antagonist. The man went limp. "Also not much of an opponent,"
Galen said as he got off him and dragged the man past Eve into the bedroom.
"This job is proving no challenge at all." She followed him into the room. "I'm
sorry you don't believe he's worthy of your talents, but I find men crawling
over my balcony threatening enough." The man, who appeared to be in his
mid-forties, had heavy Slavic features and dark hair peppered with gray.
"Did you hurt him?" "Nah, he has a glass jaw." Galen
squatted beside the man and searched his pockets. "And a potbelly. He's in
lousy shape for this kind of—" "Shit." The man's hazel eyes had
opened; he was glaring up at Galen. "I think you broke every bone in my
face. What the hell did you do that for?" "It seemed appropriate." Galen
put a knee on the man's chest. "Eve doesn't like second-story men."
He opened the man's wallet and checked the driver's license. "Bill Nathan,
age forty-seven. Eye color is right, but the weight's wrong. He's a good
fifteen pounds heavier than it says here." "So I gained a little weight when I
quit smoking." Nathan's glance shifted to Eve. "Will you call this
... bastard off me so that I can talk to you?" "My name is Sean Galen, and you're in
no position to call me anything but sir." Galen finished searching him.
"He's clean." He handed her a card. "Press ID. He's with the Times
Picayune ... maybe." Nathan scowled. "Are you going to let
me up?" Galen glanced inquiringly at Eve. She nodded. "Maybe I shouldn't—" Galen shrugged. "Oh, well, he's not much threat either
way." He stood, pulled Nathan to his feet, and then pushed him into the
chair beside the bed. "Talk to me. What are you doing here?" "I'm on a rescue mission, dammit. And
I don't like being tossed around like this." "Why the balcony?" "I wasn't sure whether the front door
was being watched. Do you think I like crawling up the side of a house like
some nutty superhero comic-book character?" "It's definitely not your area of
expertise," Galen said. "Let him talk, Galen," Eve said.
"What do you want from us, Nathan?" "In the short term, I want to save
your necks. In the long term, I'm hoping for a Pulitzer." "Save us from what?" "From finishing your
reconstruction." Nathan gingerly touched his bruised cheek. "God, I
need a cigarette." "You're saying that finishing the
reconstruction is dangerous." "I think so. If you finish, they
don't need you anymore, and you may know too much." Galen lifted his brows. "You think
so?" "That's what I said," he said
sourly. "I can't look into a crystal ball and know what they'll do. I'm
still digging. I don't know what the hell's happening yet." "You evidently know more than we
do," Eve said. "Who are 'they'?" "The Cabal." "Sounds like a witch's coven,"
Galen said. "It's not funny." Nathan gave
him a poisonous glance before turning back to Eve. "Don't you think I was
tempted to just let you go on with the reconstruction until I could find out
who you were working on? If you don't finish, I risk losing my story." "Then why didn't you?" He grimaced. "Ethics. The bane of my
existence." "Inspiring," Galen murmured. "The truth." The man's reply was both bad-tempered and
defiant, but Eve thought she could also sense honesty. "How did you know I
was working on the skull?" "I didn't. I followed the skull and
staked out the church." He paused. "I'm not the only one. I almost
stumbled over two guys near the church." "Guards. There are four, sometimes
five," Galen said. "And much more talented than you." "I'm a journalist, not a thug." "From where did you follow the
skull?" Eve asked. "Well, I didn't exactly follow it.
Etienne told me it was going to be taken to the church." "Etienne?" "Etienne Hebert." He drew a deep
breath. "Look, I can't have a cigarette, so will you at least give me a
cup of coffee? I need the caffeine." "This isn't a social occasion,"
Galen said. "Conversation first." "Oh, for God's sake. If I hadn't
intended to tell you everything I know, I wouldn't have come here tonight. As
you've pointed out, I'm no great shakes at this kind of thing." "True. But it could be a ploy." Eve made a decision. "We'll go down
to the kitchen and get some coffee. He looks like he could use it." Galen shrugged. "Whatever." He
stood aside as Nathan got up and headed for the door. "I hope you don't
regret it, Eve." "A cup of coffee?" She followed
them out into the hall. "I don't think that's being particularly soft. I
have questions to ask, and he may as well be comfortable while he answers
them." She gave Nathan a cool glance. "And I assure you that you will
answer them." ------------------- Ten minutes later she was pouring steaming
coffee into Nathan's cup. "And who is Etienne Hebert?" "I don't
think the present tense applies to Etienne." Nathan took a drink of coffee, and gave a
deep sigh of satisfaction. "I think Jules killed him." He held up his
hand at Eve's exclamation. "Okay, okay. Let me do this in my own way. I'll
start at the beginning. About a month ago I received a phone call at my office
from a man named Etienne Hebert. He said he knew what had happened to Harold
Bently, and that Bently was the smallest part of the story. He asked me to meet
him outside New Orleans, at a little crab shack on the Mississippi." "Why you?" "How the hell do I know? Maybe
because I covered the Bently disappearance for the newspaper." He took
another sip of coffee. "Anyway. I met him. He was a big guy, not over
twenty-one or -two, and seemed a little simple at first glance." He shook
his head. "But he wasn't that dumb. After I talked to him for a while, I
realized he was smarter than I first thought. He was just troubled, and feeling
guilty about talking to me. He had a big brother, Jules, and there was no way
he wanted to get him in trouble. It was obvious he had a king-size case of hero
worship. Etienne was only a fisherman, but Jules was the smart one in the
family. He was the only one who made it to college." He grimaced.
"Maybe it would have been better for him if he hadn't. He was a junior at
Tulane when the Cabal recruited him." "What's the Cabal?" "It's a secret society that's been in
existence since the early 1900s." "Secret society?" Galen said.
"Be for real." "I couldn't be more serious." "And the society is named the Cabal?
For God's sake, that means secret society. They must be seriously lacking in
imagination." "They're called that because their
members are drawn from the top echelon of other organizations." Nathan
grimaced. "And they think of themselves as the ultimate secret society." Galen snorted. "That was my reaction until I did my
homework," Nathan said. "There are hundreds of secret societies
around the world, and the U.S. has taken them to its heart. The Freemasons, the
Odd Fellows, Skull and Bones." He studied Eve's expression. "I know.
They all sound a little ludicrous—unless you
study the membership lists. Did you know both George Bush and George W. Bush
belong to Skull and Bones, and George W.'s only comment about his membership
was that he couldn't talk about it?" "So what? I assume there's no proof
that Skull and Bones is involved in any nefarious activities?" "No proof. But there are also members
in positions of power in the CIA and on Wall Street and practically every level
of the business world. It's not only Skull and Bones. The Trilateral Commission
and the Council on Foreign Relations have always been influential. The
Bilderberg Group is supposed to be so powerful it can influence worldwide
politics itself. Margaret Thatcher's career took off like a rocket after she attended
a Bilderberg meeting. The same thing happened to Tony Blair after he was invited
to a meeting in Vouliagmeni, Greece. In 1991, David Rockefeller invited
Arkansas governor Bill Clinton to a meeting in Baden-Baden, Germany." "Now wait a minute. I respect Bill
Clinton and Tony Blair." "So do I. I'm not accusing them. I'm
just trying to show you the influence a secret society could wield. Probably
the great majority of the members of these societies are totally in the dark
about the activities, unaware of the elite groups in their organizations. I
don't even know which groups are part of the Cabal. Maybe none of the ones I
mentioned. Maybe all of them." He shrugged. "Etienne didn't know how
many secret societies were involved. He only knew what Jules had told him, and
that was that the Cabal comprised the highest echelon from several
organizations, and that these elite members used their societies to influence
the world economy." "How?" Nathan shrugged. "How the hell do I
know? But didn't you find it weird that the gas prices went up so high recently
when there was no lack of oil?" Eve had been as angry as everyone else at
that increase at the gas pumps. "And how could they do that?" "Use your imagination. There are
supposed to be members of OPEC, Wall Street shakers, and Japanese computer
executives in the Cabal." "Supposed? That's not good enough.
Give me names." "If I knew who, do you think I'd be
here? I'd be back home in New Orleans writing my story." Nathan's gaze searched their faces.
"Dammit, it's true. What else can I tell you? I watched the stock market
before and after the Greenspan announcements. There was always a flurry of
activity from the same banking quarters, and fortunes were made as soon as the
announcement came through. They know what's going to happen before it happens.
Secret societies pervade our past and our present. They have power in every
quarter. Almost every U.S. president of the twentieth century was a Freemason.
Hell, George Washington's inauguration ceremony was Masonic. Lyndon Johnson's
advisors were in the Council on Foreign Relations when he escalated the Vietnam
war. The first peace negotiator for Bosnia was Lord Carrington, chairman of the
Bilderberg Group." Nathan drew a deep breath. "Okay, don't accept
what I'm telling you as gospel, just look at the possibility. When men of power
get together, it's natural for them to try to combine and push to increase that
power. They work in the dark and behind the scenes, because if the public knew
they were being manipulated they'd be yelling to the high heavens. It's been
that way since the first secret societies in Egypt and Samaria in the B.C.'s.
The Cabal's worked for decades to form a spiderweb of tremendous power, and
they're not going to let that power be jeopardized." Galen shrugged. "I don't see how any
organization composed of such powerful, renowned figures could even meet
without attracting attention." "They usually don't meet. They
communicate by messenger and, more recently, on the Internet. The only
exception is when something really big is going down and they have to get
together to form a clear-cut majority. When they do meet, they schedule it at a
place and time where it seems natural that they would all be present. Like a
royal wedding. According to Etienne, the last meeting was at the Summer
Olympics. No one suspected that they were there for anything else but to cheer
on their national teams." "And was Etienne recruited by the
Cabal?" "No, his brother tried to persuade
the Cabal to accept him, but they didn't believe he was good material. However,
they had a gem in Jules. Etienne said Jules was brainwashed until he believed
that everything the Cabal said and did was right, that a strong guiding hand
was necessary to preserve peace and the status quo. He became their dirty-tricks
expert." "Assassin?" Nathan nodded. "He was trained in a
terrorist school in Libya, but he developed his own techniques. He became an
expert, and worked for the Cabal for ten years before the Bently murder." "Murder? You're sure he was murdered?" "Etienne said he was there when it
happened, and I have no reason to think he lied to me." "I thought you said he was refused by
the Cabal." "But Jules trusted him and took him
along on a number of jobs. Etienne was no problem to Jules until it came to Bently.
Something bothered him about the Bently killing." "What?" "He wouldn't tell me. He just said it
was wrong, and that why the Cabal was doing it was wrong, too. He didn't like
the murder, and he didn't like bringing the skeleton back two years later. It
must have worried him seriously to cause him to break with a brother he'd
previously always followed blindly." "But not enough to go into
detail." "He still hoped to change his
brother's mind about the Cabal, and he only wanted to use me as a safety net in
case he couldn't do it. He said someone had to know about the Cabal and stop
them. He said we had to hurry." He paused. "He was worried about
something that Jules had been ordered to do in Boca Raton. He kept saying that
we had to stop them before October twenty-ninth." "Why?" "That's all he'd say. I thought maybe
it was a Cabal meeting, but there aren't any scheduled events that would give
them an excuse to be in Boca at that time. So maybe it has something to do with
Bently." Nathan grimaced. "It's all guesswork. I was frustrated as
hell. He told me they were going to bring the skeleton here, but not when or
why. He said he'd call me again after the skeleton was in place at the
church." He paused. "He didn't call me." "There was no skeleton," Eve
said. "Only a skull." "Really?" Nathan frowned.
"He said skeleton. I wonder what happened to—" "A skeleton has infinitely more
possibilities for DNA," Galen said. "The skull had no teeth, either.
Etienne's work?" "Maybe," Nathan said. "If
it was, then I imagine Jules was a tad upset. I warned Etienne to be careful.
Stealing a skeleton isn't exactly the most cautious act." "But you didn't try to stop
him." "I'm a reporter, and this had all the
earmarks of a great story. I won't feel guilty about doing my job. Etienne was
hardly as pure as the driven snow." He smiled grimly. "But,
unfortunately, I do have a conscience where innocent lives are at stake. That's
why I'm here." "It took you long enough to decide to
come to warn us," Galen said. "I had to think about it." He
scowled as Galen lifted a brow. "It's the truth." His glance shifted
to Eve. "Then I read about Marie Letaux's death, and the article indicated
you were struck by the same food poisoning. I tried to tell myself it could be
an accident. Hell, it could have been. But when Pierre Letaux died ... Too much
coincidence, considering what Etienne had told me. I chewed on it for awhile,
and then decided I couldn't wait until you finished. I'd have to risk my story.
So pack up your bags and get the hell out of here." Galen looked at Eve. "Not a bad
idea." "You believe him?" "Enough. The evidence is growing, and
I don't like it. Added to what Quinn told us tonight, I think we'd be prudent
to fold our tents and flit away." She didn't like it, either. Nathan's story
of secret societies with that much control over people's day-to-day lives was
both frightening and outlandish. And so was the fact that she'd been lured to
this job by Melton, who could be in cahoots with the man who had used her
daughter's death as a tool. The thought brought a bolt of pure rage surging
through her. "Eve?" "I'm thinking." Galen was right.
Whether or not the Cabal existed, the evidence for some sort of conspiracy was
mounting. Capel's and the Letauxs' deaths should have been enough for her in
themselves. It was only her obsession with finishing Victor that had kept her
from admitting it. Victor. "We're getting out of here," she
said. "But I'm not leaving the skull. Victor comes with us." "What?" Nathan asked.
"Why?" "Because she wants to do it,"
Galen said. "And I'm beginning to want her to do anything she can to thumb
her nose at those bastards. Eve, we can't trust anything Nathan says until I
check him out, but if you're not going to be a cat's paw, then you have to be
on your own turf." "And take Victor with us," Eve
said flatly. "I'm not giving him up until I make up my mind what we're
going to do." Nathan shook his head. "You're
actually stealing him?" "Just borrowing his skull for a
little while. Until I make a decision, he's mine. It's my choice what happens
to Victor. Not Hebert's or Melton's or any half-baked secret society. Let them
all run around and kill each other. They're not going to use Victor in their
plans." She glanced at Galen. "The church may be locked at this time
of night, Galen." "Are you hinting I should get out of
here and do a little breaking and entering?" "You seemed to do well enough at
Marie Letaux's house. Will the church be a problem?" Galen shook his head. "What do you
need from your workroom?" "Victor. My tools, the leather skull
case, the box with the glass eyeballs. Rick is always at the church when I get
there in the morning, Galen. If he's there, I don't want him hurt." "I'll keep that in mind, but he may
be part of this, you know." She didn't want to believe that of Rick.
"And maybe he's not. Maybe he doesn't know anything about this. Until
we're sure any of this is true, I don't want him hurt." "Are you going to leave it to me
where we're going?" "You said that your job was to
provide what was needed. Provide." "Taking the skull is a mistake."
Nathan's voice was harsh with intensity. "If you go away and hide, they
may abandon the search eventually. Take the skull, and they'll come after you.
They'll suspect you know something and they'll never give up. Why won't you
listen to me?" "Because we don't have any proof
you're anyone more than a second-story man with a glass jaw," Galen said. But Nathan's desperation was very
convincing, and Eve felt a sudden frantic surge of urgency. "We are
listening to you within limits. That's why we're leaving Baton Rouge. I'll pack
our bags and be ready to leave when you get back, Galen." Nathan sighed. "If you won't do the
sensible thing, then I may as well help you pack." "No, you're coming with me,"
Galen said. "I'm not leaving you alone in the house with Eve." "For God's sake, after all I've told
you, I think I deserve a little trust." "Words aren't worth anything. Trust
is earned. You'll have to prove yourself." "By risking my neck at that
church?" "Good a way as any." Galen
glanced back over his shoulder at Eve. "Do you know how to handle a
gun?" "Yes." "There's one in my duffel. Get it. I
don't like leaving you in the house alone." "Then let me stay, dammit,"
Nathan said. Galen ignored him. "Scoot, Eve. Get
moving. We may be in a hurry when I get back. I need to get a couple items from
the kitchen cabinet, and then Nathan and I will be on the road." Chapter Nine
Where were they? Eve's gaze anxiously searched the
darkness, but she could see nothing but the shadowy outline of the church. It had been over thirty minutes. Surely
they should be back by now. Unless something had happened to them. She wouldn't let herself think that. Galen
was too smart to have let himself be caught, and she had heard no sound of conflict
while she had been standing here on the balcony. "Let's go." She whirled to see Galen coming toward
her. At least she thought it was Galen. He was covered in mud and slime, and
his wet clothes clung to his body. "What happened to you?" "Not a tenth of what should have
happened to him," Nathan said bitterly as he entered the room. He was also
wet and covered in slime. "He's the craziest son of a bitch I've ever met.
He made me swim that damn bayou." "What?" "We would have been spotted as we
crossed the bridge," Galen said. "It seemed the easiest way around
the problem." "Easy?" Nathan sputtered.
"He pushed me in the water. What if I didn't know how to swim?" "The water was almost shallow enough
to wade across." "It was not," Nathan said,
outraged. "And what about water moccasins, alligators ... Anything could
have been lurking in that foul mess." "Stop complaining. You didn't get
bitten by anything more dangerous than mosquitoes. You should be glad I let you
stay on the bank instead of going into the church with me." He went to the
bathroom and got two towels and tossed one to Nathan. "Dry off. We don't
have time to shower." "Did you get Victor?" Eve asked. He looked at her in surprise. "Of
course. Everything you asked me to get is downstairs by the back door. He's
fine. I put him in a big Ziploc bag for the swim back, with a couple of
inflated trash bags as floats. I took care of him, and I loaded Nathan down
with the other stuff you wanted." "No trouble?" He shook his head. "You're lying," Nathan said sourly.
"I saw a guard go into the church after you went in. He didn't come
out." "I'm not lying." Galen gave him
an annoyed glance. "I was just omitting an incident that
might have upset Eve. I told the truth. He was no trouble. I got him before he
alerted anyone." "Got him?" "Don't worry, it wasn't Rick. Let's
go. We have to get out of here before they find out the skull is gone." "He's crazy," Nathan grumbled to
Eve. "The bastard could have gotten us eaten." He looked
belligerently at Galen. "And I need a shower." "No time. Go as you are or not at
all. You made your way here; if you want, you can find your own way out of
it." "For this Jules Hebert to find?"
Eve asked. "He has to keep up with the program.
My mum always said that what goes around, comes around." "I'm getting very tired of what your
mum said. I think you make it up to suit yourself." She headed for the
door. "We're taking him." He shrugged. "If you insist. But we
both smell to high heaven, and two of us packed in that car will be enough to
make anyone sick." He passed her and hurried down the stairs in front of
her. "We go out the back door and get to the car parked in the cypress
grove a few hundred yards from the house." He stopped at the kitchen door.
"Stay here for a minute. I'll be right back." "Where are you going?" "I've checked the area out. Most of
the guards are located across the bayou at the church, but one rascal is a
little distance down the bank of the bayou watching the house. I didn't have
time to take care of him when I went for the skull." He glanced at Nathan.
"And besides, Nathan was making too much noise complaining. We were lucky
to get back to the house without anyone seeing us." "You were trying to drown—" "Be ready." Galen was out the
door and moving to the side of the house. "And cross your fingers they
don't find that guard in the church..." ------------------- "Come on. Move." Galen appeared
at the door a few minutes later. "We're on borrowed time." "The guard?" "Taken care of." He broke into a
trot as they neared the cypress grove. "It's the guard in the church we
have to worry about. It's been almost fifteen minutes. Someone will go and look
for him." Eve stopped short. Galen's brown rental
car was not parked there as she had expected. Instead, there was a late-model gray
Lexus. Joe Quinn was standing beside it. Eve whirled on Galen. "What the hell
is happening?" "I'm happening," Joe said
curtly. "Get in the car and let's get out of here." Eve ignored him. "You called him,
Galen?" "Sure. Before I went to the church. I
told you I might need him. I'd say the situation is escalating enough to bring
him in. I can't be everywhere at once. Pop the trunk, Quinn." He put the
cases in the trunk. "This is Bill Nathan. Get in the backseat,
Nathan." He turned to Eve. "Your choice where
you want to sit, but Quinn is going with us. I've invited him along for the
ride." "Galen, you're taking too much on
yourself." "It's a habit of mine. I'm
providing." He opened the back door for her. "And that includes as
much protection as I can manage." "For God's sake, I'm not going to
contaminate you," Joe said roughly. "Get in the car." She hesitated, and then got into the
backseat next to Nathan. "I don't like this, Galen." "Sorry." He looked over his
shoulder at the church as he got into the passenger seat. "Nothing
stirring yet. God, we're lucky. Let's go, Quinn." Joe got into the driver's seat.
"Where are we going?" "South. I have a place just a little
north of New Orleans. That should be safe for a time." "They won't look for us there?" "Well, when you're in my business you
don't want the entire world to know where you make your home. The paperwork is
buried pretty well." "Don't be overconfident," Nathan
said. "Jules Hebert has the Cabal behind him, and that opens a lot of
doors." "If this so-called Cabal even exists.
Anyone can find anyone, given enough time. But we may have enough leeway for
Eve to finish Victor." "Maybe." "Drive, Quinn," Galen said.
"He's depressing me." ------------------- Joe's shoulders were squared; he hadn't
looked back at Eve for the entire journey. And she had tried her best to keep her
gaze off him by looking out the window or trying to chat with Nathan, who was
less than communicative. Galen was no help. He'd been uncharacteristically
quiet during the trip, only giving Joe an occasional direction. So there had
been nothing to distract her from looking at Joe, thinking about Joe, during
these hours on the road. It seemed wrong to be back here, when she
was always beside him. All those years when they had been best friends and then
lovers... Lovers. Jesus, how she loved him to touch her. Her
body was readying, just thinking about the last time he had entered her,
driving deep and hard. And afterward was almost as good, being held as if she
was wonderfully precious. She always felt so safe.... She forced herself to look away from him.
Life wasn't sex. Life was trust and honesty. And sex. She hadn't been away from Joe's bed since
they had come back from Arizona two years ago. It was natural that she would
become used to his body, used to sex with him. It wasn't as if she couldn't do
without it. It would be better once she got out of this damn car. Okay, block him out. She had to try to
decide what to do once she reached Galen's place. There were too many important
issues to resolve. What was best for Jane and her mother? Think about them instead
of Joe. Hell, what was best for her? An hour later Galen pointed to a huge
wrought-iron gate mounted on an equally huge iron fence. "Turn in there.
The house is beyond those cedar trees." He pressed a button on his
keychain and the gates swung open. "Thank God, we're here. This wasn't the
most relaxing trip I've ever taken. I could have cut the atmosphere with a
knife." "It's all your fault." Eve said
her own prayer of thanks that the journey was over as she leaned forward to get
a shadowy glimpse of the huge two-story yellow-beige stucco house. "For
God's sake, it's a mansion." "I made the owner an offer he
couldn't refuse," Galen said as they drove up the curving driveway to the
two carved twelve-foot doors. "I thought it appropriate." "I hope we're not going to be
involved with the Mafia," Eve said. "That's all I'd need at the
moment." "I was joking," Galen said.
"My job pays pretty well and I had Logan invest for me. I have a few shekels
to rub together." "Quite a few," Quinn said dryly.
"One wonders why you're still working." "When you grow up in the slums,
there's never enough money in the world to make you feel safe." Galen got
out of the car and opened the back door. "But I tried to stop about a year
ago and I couldn't take it. I was bored to death. As a matter of fact, that
statement was pretty close to the truth. I started taking chances. Hell, I even
took up mountain climbing. When I sprained my ankle on one of the kiddie
slopes, I decided I was a sad case, so I went back to work. I figured it was
healthier." He helped Eve out of the car. "You okay?" "Fine." "I'm not," Nathan said.
"I'm smelly and dirty and I think I have leech bites." "Really?" Galen's brows rose.
"Anywhere interesting? If you were attacked by leeches, then they're
probably still attached. Want help pulling them off?" Nathan glowered at him. "You'd like
that, wouldn't you?" "Don't be surly. You'll survive. I
doubt if you have leeches." "You're such an expert?" "Sure. Though I'm more knowledgeable
about crossing piranha-infested rivers." Nathan snorted. "You doubt me? You always cross the
river at night when the piranhas are dozing, and you stay away from docks where—" "I don't want to hear about piranhas.
Will you unlock that damn door?" "Just trying to educate you."
Galen turned, climbed the four steps, unlocked the front doors and flipped on
the hall lights. "No servants, Eve. I have someone from town come once a
week and make a little headway in the dust. Other than that, we're on our own.
All the bedrooms are on the second floor. I think there are ten or eleven.
Choose any that suits you." "The only thing I want is a
shower." Nathan went past him into the house. "Wrap yourself in a sheet when you
get out of the shower," Galen called after him. "I'll try to find
some clothes of mine that are big enough for your rather Olympian frame." "I'm just a few pounds
overweight," Nathan said through his teeth. "Grumpy, isn't he?" Galen said
as Nathan disappeared. "But I agree with him about the shower. However,
I'll make the supreme sacrifice and give you a glimpse of the room I think will
be perfect for you to work on Victor, Eve. Come on." He went into the
house. "Go on. I'll get the bags." Joe
had moved around the car to the trunk. "I'm not all that eager to see
Galen's pad. I've had enough of him for the time being." "Then you shouldn't have come." "You know why I came." He met
her eyes. "And it had nothing to do with Galen." He opened the trunk.
"Apart from the fact that I might get the opportunity to break his
neck." ------------------- "What about working in here?"
Galen threw open the door of a room on the bottom floor. "Lots of
light." "A kitchen?" She looked around
at the huge room with stone floors, an ancient Aga range, as well as a
fireplace big enough to walk into. "It used to be a scullery in the last
century. The man I bought the place from converted another room to a kitchen on
the level above. This was impossible to update, and he liked his comforts. So
do I." He gestured to a butcher-block table. "You could put your
equipment there. Okay?" She shivered. "It's a little
cold." "That's what the fireplace is for.
I'll keep it stoked for you. So should I bring your stuff down?" She hesitated, tempted, and then shook her
head. "I don't think so. I did some thinking on the way here." "Second thoughts?" "Yes." "And what did you decide?" Joe
asked from the top of the stairs. "That I'm being a damn idealistic
idiot to even consider going on with this reconstruction." "Good." Joe came down the steps.
"That's what I've been telling you." "If I work all my life, I can't get
through all the reconstructions for people who really need me. Bently may have
been a good man, but there are other good people in the world. People are being
killed all around me. How do I know it won't touch my family?" Her lips
thinned. "Yes, I'm sorry at the idea of not finishing Victor, but I'm not
going to be stupid." "Well, you seem to have made up your
mind," Galen said. "How do you want it handled?" "I don't trust Melton. He lied to
me." "The FBI?" Joe asked. "Maybe." "I know, you don't trust them,
either." "You used to work with them. Do you
know anyone who has the reputation of being incorruptible?" "Incorruptible isn't easy to find.
Let me think about it and make a few calls." "Since I'm not needed, I'm going to
see about that shower." Galen turned and started up the stairs. "If
you like, I could bring Victor down and you could have one more go at him
before you turn him over." "No!" He stopped in surprise. "It was just
a suggestion. I thought you might like—" "She's afraid," Joe said.
"She thinks if she starts to work on him again, she won't be able to give
him up." Dammit, Joe could always read her.
"I'm not stupid. I know what's important." But Victor was important,
too. He was lost, and she could find him. If she worked on him just a little
longer she might— "Don't set Victor up." Galen nodded. "Try to get some rest,
Eve. It's been a long night." "Are you giving me orders,
Galen?" He started back up the stairs.
"Perish the thought. I know I'm in your bad books. But I stand by my
decision to bring Quinn along." She hurried after him. The last thing she
wanted was to be left alone with Joe. "Axe you going to check on Bill
Nathan? He seems okay, but nothing has been as it seems since I left
Atlanta." He nodded. "Right after my
shower." He smiled slyly. "I wonder if he really does have any of
those cunning little leeches..." ------------------- "She's gone?" Melton's tone was
controlled, but Jules could detect the anger beneath the smoothness. "With
the skull?" "Yes. But don't worry, I'll find
her." "You should never have lost her,
Hebert. Your orders were to see that she finished the skull, and then get rid
of her. Where the hell were you tonight? Why weren't you watching her?" "I had to be in Boca Raton to check
on the progress. I thought it was safe. She didn't appear to suspect anything,
and I knew she wanted to finish the skull. It seemed a good time to—" He stopped in disgust. He was babbling, making excuses like
a fucking amateur to this asshole. "I made a mistake. I'll rectify
it." "You certainly will. If it's not too
late. What if she takes the skull to the police?" "I don't believe she'll do that yet,
but I'll have to move fast. My men saw Joe Quinn enter her house earlier
tonight. Either he or Galen must have convinced her to run. But she can't know
anything for certain. If she took the skull, it's probably because she wants to
finish it. We both know how intense she is about her work. That may give me a
little time. I'll need your help." "As long as I'm not
compromised." "She won't go home. If she suspects
something, then she'll be hiding out. I need you to tap your sources and find
out where Galen may have taken her. Fast." "It's a big country." Jules tried to hold onto his temper and
spaced each word with precision. "Can you do this?" "I permitted you to pursue this line
with Duncan when you blundered with Etienne, but we can't risk it anymore. It's
too dangerous for us. You get that skull and then dispose of her and everyone
around her quickly. I don't want even a ripple of publicity. Do you
understand?" "I understand. Can you find
her?" "I'll try." He hung up. And he'd try very hard, Jules thought.
Melton might try to lay the entire blame on Jules, but he was responsible for
Boca Raton and wanted this Bently problem wrapped up before he had to answer
awkward questions. So did Jules. He was having trouble
keeping all the balls in the air. Ever since that night when he had killed
Etienne, he had been forced to lie and cheat and make compromises. If he wasn't
careful, everything would come crashing down on him. No, he wouldn't permit it. He had given up
too much to be defeated now. He couldn't sit here and trust Melton to find Eve
Duncan. He would take matters into his own hands. Chapter Ten
Christ, she
wanted dinner to be over. The meal seemed to go on forever. Nathan's
surly attitude had not improved with his shower. Joe had been almost silent,
and Eve had been so aware of him sitting across the table that she had only
been able to respond stiltedly to Galen's questions and comments. Galen was the only one who seemed to be
unaffected by the atmosphere. He was charged, wired, a one-man show. He
alternated between running to the kitchen for a variety of delicious dishes,
telling stories, and occasionally jabbing verbally at Joe or Nathan. "You're all a great disappointment to
me." Galen leaned back in his chair after he had served coffee. "If I
weren't so socially adept, this meal would have been a disaster. Your
performance has been abysmal." "This isn't a circus, Galen,"
Joe said. "And you're not the ringmaster." "Very good comparison, Quinn.
Evidently you're not totally lacking in the conversational arts." "Galen," Eve said. "She obviously wants to smooth the
troubled waters around here." Galen turned to Joe. "Is she afraid for
me or you? What do you think?" "I think I've had a bellyful." "Crude. Very crude." Joe turned to Eve. "I did some
phoning before dinner. I called a few of my contacts with the FBI, and they all
agreed that Bart Jennings is probably our man. He's smart and dedicated, and
he's been with the Bureau for the last twenty years." "Do you know him personally?" Joe shook his head. "But I heard
about him when I was with the Bureau." "What's happening here?" Nathan
asked. "Eve's decided to turn over the
skull." "Without finishing it?" Eve nodded. "Thank God. Smart move. Though you'd
have done better to leave the skull and just run for it." "I'm not giving the skull to Jules
Hebert and his crew." She met his gaze. "I don't know how much of
your story is true and how much is speculative bullshit, but I don't want to
have to deal with it. I'm turning it over to the authorities." "You can't trust the
authorities," Nathan said. "You can't trust anyone." "You sound like a character in a bad
movie," Joe told him. "Eve, I talked to Jennings and he's promised to
keep the problem absolutely confidential. But he'd like to come and see you at
ten tomorrow morning." Eve frowned. "You told him where we
were?" "No, I wouldn't do that without
checking with you. I told him I'd call him back." She thought about it. "Tell him I'll
see him. Then maybe Victor will be off my hands when Jennings leaves
here." Galen smiled. "You'll be sorry to see
him go." That was an understatement. She was always
sorry when she failed to bring a subject home, and Victor had become close to
an obsession with her. But she mustn't think about that now. She had fought the
battle on the trip here. "Did you tell him that you got the
information about the Cabal from me, Quinn?" Nathan asked. "No, I thought you'd prefer I didn't.
Though he was pushing pretty hard. As you reporters term it, I quoted a
confidential source." "Good. Because you may be making a
big mistake." Nathan stood and threw down his napkin. "I'm not going
to be there when you meet Jennings. I've kept my neck intact so far by not
letting anyone know I'm involved. I intend to keep on doing that." Galen watched Nathan leave the room before
he turned back to Eve. "By the way, I did some checking on Bill Nathan.
He's a freelance columnist on the Times Picayune, and pretty well known
for advocating various environmental reforms." He took a fax out of his
pocket and tossed it to her. "The picture in the newspaper isn't great,
but it's definitely him." She glanced at the fax. Galen was right;
the photo was bad but recognizable. "Then maybe you should get off his
back." Galen looked at her in surprise.
"Why? It's so much fun." "I've had enough." Joe turned to
Eve. "I want to talk to you." She stiffened. "Yes, you two run along." Galen
stood and started stacking the dishes. "I have to get these in the
dishwasher. A housekeeper's job is never done—" "I don't need your permission,
Galen," Joe said. "It's that ringmaster syndrome I
have," Galen started carrying the dishes into the kitchen. "And I
believe you can use any help you can get." Joe watched the door swing closed behind
him. "He's pushing it. I wonder if he knows how close I am to—" He turned and moved toward the French doors that led to the
veranda. "Let's get out of here." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Don't say no to me, Eve. I'm too close to exploding, thanks to that son
of a bitch." "Galen's been very kind to me." "Yeah, he told me. Are you
coming?" The last thing she wanted was a
confrontation with Joe, but she wasn't going to be able to bear any more of
this tension. Get it over with. She stood up. "I'm coming." The autumn night was cold; the breeze from
the lake sent a shiver through her. "Even the weather's against me."
Joe took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The jacket was warm from his body and
smelled of his favorite cologne. "I don't want this." "And I don't want to give you an
excuse to run inside and away from me." He leaned against the stone
balustrade and looked out at the lake. "I like our lake better. This is
too ... pretty." She knew what he meant. This place had
none of the wildness and rough earthy beauty of the lake cottage terrain.
"It doesn't look like Galen's scene either, but he said—" "We're not talking about Galen,"
he cut in. "We're talking about us and our life together. Galen doesn't
belong in it." "Joe, this is too soon. I can't—" "Don't you think I know it's too
soon? I was going to give you time. It was killing me, but I would have done
it. Then everything blew up. You could get yourself killed. I can't not be
with you now." He drew a ragged breath. "And I can't stand you
flinching away from me. So we have to come to terms." "What kind of terms?" "You let me stay with you, protect
you, and I won't ask anything else. I won't bother you. I won't back you into a
corner. I won't remind you of how damn good we were together." He paused
and then said through gritted teeth, "I'll even stand by and let you sleep
with Galen if that's what you want." "What?" His gaze narrowed on her face.
"You're not sleeping with Galen?" "Are you nuts? After all these years
of knowing me, do you believe I could just jump into someone else's bed without
a second thought?" Joe slowly let his breath out. "I'm
definitely going to kill him." "He told you I was sleeping with
him?" "Not exactly." He changed the
subject. "Will you go along with me on this? After all this is over, I'll
step out of the picture and let you go back to pondering my sins. Since you've
called in Jennings, it shouldn't be that long. I just can't leave you
now." Eve didn't answer. "You listen to me." He grasped
her shoulders and shook her. "I deserve this. You may think I'm a bastard,
but after all the years and all we've gone through together, you can't close me
out. How would you feel if it were me? You care about me. You can't turn it off
and on just because you think I did something unforgivable." "It was terrible." And
standing here close to him being bombarded by his intensity and her own
feelings was terrible, too. "And you're tearing me apart, dammit." "Answer me. How would you feel if I
was the one who might get knifed in the gullet by some scum-ball?" A world without Joe? Pain. Agonizing loss.
Emptiness. "You see? Now give me what I want. Be
fair to me. Let me stay and help you." Eve was silent a moment before nodding
jerkily. "Okay. But it may only make everything worse." "I'm prepared for that." Joe's
lips twisted. "Though God knows how they could be any worse than they
are." His hands moved yearningly on her shoulders before he slowly
released her. "Do you know I haven't touched you in days? It
hurts...." He turned on his heel. "But I'm not supposed to talk about
that. It's against the damn rules." He disappeared inside the house. Jesus, she was going crazy. She could
still feel the weight of his hands on her shoulders although they were no
longer there. She was surrounded by his scent and the warmth of his jacket and
the sound of his voice, and his words lingered. What if it was me? It was the one question that would have
broken through any wall she could erect. She remembered how devastated she'd
been when Joe had been shot a few years ago; they had grown still closer since
then. Don't think about it. Try to run on automatic when you're around him. She
had given in because she had recognized she was being unfair, but to dwell on
Joe and their life together would be masochistic. She took off Joe's jacket. Cold and
loneliness immediately assaulted her. It was only a coat, dammit. She carried
it inside and laid it on a dining room chair. Let him get it later. She
couldn't face him again right now. He had said he would stay out of her way,
but just by being in the same house he disturbed her. She would go upstairs and
go to bed. She glanced longingly at the scullery door as she passed it. She was
too disturbed to sleep well tonight. If she had Victor to work on, it would
give her both distraction and release. She could go find the skull and... No, she mustn't fall into that temptation.
The decision had been made. Tomorrow that FBI man would be here and both the
threat and the emotional upheaval would be over. ------------------- "Thank you for agreeing to see
me." Bart Jennings smiled at Eve. "Logan explained that your attitude
toward government agencies isn't entirely cordial." He grimaced. "I
have a few problems with bureaucracies myself." "A man of judgment," Galen
murmured. "I think I like him, Eve." She knew what he meant. From the moment
Jennings had appeared at the front door a short time ago, she had been
impressed. Jennings was a man in his forties, with salt-and-pepper hair that
had an unruly cowlick. His manner was straightforward, his demeanor frank and
open. "Logan told you that we didn't want Senator Melton involved in this?" "I've no problem with that. The
senator has some pretty heavy connections in Washington, but I've seen power
figures come and go in my years with the Bureau. From now on, he's out of the
loop." "Really?" Joe's gaze narrowed on
Jennings's face. "You sound very definite about that." "Let's say, I don't trust him. He may
be a stooge, or he may be up to his neck. Either way, we need to be
careful." "You believe this grand conspiracy
theory?" "I can't dismiss it until I prove
it's not true." Jennings paused. "I've heard scraps of information
that suggest there's some substance to the story. Some of it's pretty hard to
believe, but it could be damn serious if even a tenth of the things we've been
told are true. You say this Etienne thought something big was happening in Boca
Raton?" Eve nodded. "At first, he thought it
might be a meeting of the Cabal, but there was no event taking place that would
give the members an excuse to come. It had to be something else." "I need the name of your
informant." Joe shook his head. "I told you, I
promised to keep it confidential." "You're making my job harder."
Jennings turned to Eve. "Which leads me to you. When do you expect to
complete the reconstruction?" "Three, maybe four more days would
finish it." She stiffened. "But I'm not going to finish it. That's
why you're here. You're going to take him off my hands. I want out." He nodded sympathetically. "I
understand perfectly. I'd feel the same way. And if I were you I'd want to
throw the request I'm going to make back in my face. But I've got to make it
anyway: Give us those four days. Finish the reconstruction." "The hell she will," Joe said. "No way," Eve said. "Just listen. Hebert and Melton are
obviously desperate to have that skull finished, and they must have a reason.
Why?" "Bently?" "But why do they need to know he's
dead? And what connection does it have to whatever is going to happen in Boca
Raton?" He paused. "We need to know, too. We were involved in the
investigation of Bently's disappearance, and we uncovered a few intriguing
little morsels of information. Bently had some hush-hush dealings with a bank
in Grand Cayman right before he disappeared." "Money laundering?" Galen asked. Jennings shrugged. "Why? Bently's
personal fortune was enormous. His grandfather was in oil—that was one of the reasons Bently became an environmentalist.
Payback. But huge transfers were going on in that bank in Grand Cayman. It was
a joint account with a Thomas Simmons, who was allowed to withdraw any amount
he chose. Then the account was closed, and the money disappeared." "Who was Thomas Simmons?" "We questioned Bently's wife and
business associates and came up with a blank. No one knew anything about
Simmons." He paused. "But another lead surfaced that guided us down a
possible path. We ran a nationwide computer search on think tanks and
university personnel, and came up with a Professor Thomas Randall Simmons at
Cal Tech. He took a sabbatical about the time Bently disappeared. We couldn't
find any other link until we checked with Grand Cayman and got a sample of his
handwriting. It was a match." "A con game?" Joe suggested.
"Maybe you should look a little harder for the elusive Mr. Simmons. It
could be that Bently found out he was being taken, and Simmons decided to get
rid of him." "We have been looking for him,
dammit," Jennings said. "We came up with zilch. But Bently was very
intelligent. It would have taken someone pretty sharp to put anything over on
him." "Then we go back to whether Bently
was a crook himself. Some people never have enough money." Jennings shook his head. "We don't
think so. Bently was an idealist and squeaky clean, but there were signs he
might have been channeling his money into a secret project." "What project?" "Something he believed in enough to
stake his personal fortune on it. That was the lead that sent us scurrying to
every think tank in the country to find Simmons. He was up to his eyebrows in
some very interesting research." He paused. "What do you know about
fuel cells?" "Not much. It's supposed to be one of
the alternatives to using oil and gas to fuel cars. Some of the auto companies
have experimented extensively with the cells, but it's never gotten off the
ground. Too expensive." "Their energy potential goes far
beyond the automotive field. Everything from power plants, to homes, to space
stations could be operated by fuel cells. At a fraction of the present cost and
no environmental side effects. There's hardly a person on the planet that
wouldn't benefit if fuel cells became a viable alternative. Scientists are very
close to making it a reality. Yet most people have never heard of the
technology. Don't you find that curious?" "What does this have to do with—" Eve stopped. "You think Bently was funding research to
develop a workable fuel cell." Jennings nodded. "Simmons was deep in
research on the cells. And we've been able to follow the money trail to a
source in Detroit. Bently was being sold several key components for the
development of fuel cells. He wasn't a fool. He wouldn't invest that kind of
money unless he was pretty sure he was onto something." "Why keep it secret?" Eve asked.
"If this fuel cell is going to be so beneficial, why not go to the
government and persuade them to sink a billion or two into the research?" "Maybe he wanted a finished product,
or maybe he didn't trust Congress to pass a bill that wouldn't antagonize every
energy lobby in the country," Joe said. "Or maybe there really is a
Cabal," Galen said slowly. "Maybe he knew about it and was afraid
that they'd put all their power behind an effort to stop him." Jennings nodded. "Well, he was
stopped cold. Now we need to know what happened, and why it matters to Hebert
and Melton." She gazed at him in frustration. "And
I'm supposed to stay involved in this godawful mess?" "Please. Four days." Jennings's
expression was sober. "I'm not going to give you any bullshit about duty.
Everyone has to make their own decision about that. But there's a good chance
Bently was killed because he was trying to do something good for all of us. I
will tell you that you could make a difference. It's important." "It's important for me and the people
I care about to stay safe." "We'll give you security." He
paused. "Only four days." "You don't have to do this,
Eve," Joe said. "I know that." She went over to
the window and stared out at the garden. "How safe are we here,
Galen?" "Pretty safe. I made damn sure we
weren't tailed. And, as I said, it will take time to locate us. And neither
Quinn nor I is a slouch at this kind of business." She turned to Joe. "Are my mother and
Jane safe?" "Of course. I called the department
and saw to it last night. There will be squad cars cruising by the condo
several times a day, and I've asked a detail of several plainclothesmen to keep
them under constant surveillance. And I called your mother and told her about
the surveillance and not to let Jane go anywhere alone." His gaze narrowed
on her face. "That being said, I don't like where this is going." Neither did Eve. It was difficult enough
to fight her desire to finish Victor without Jennings giving her the excuse she
needed. She was torn between desperately wanting to be free and clear of all
the ugliness connected with this reconstruction and bringing Victor home. She
didn't want to be influenced by Jennings. She should tell him to go to hell. But wouldn't it still be hanging over her?
As long as Victor remained unfinished, she would be nagged by both her own
desire to finish it and the knowledge that Jennings or some other official
might appear and try to pressure her into doing it. There was only one way to
put an end to it. She whirled to face Jennings. "Oh,
for God's sake, okay. I'll do it. But I want it out of my hands the minute it's
done. I want it over." "Agreed." Jennings smiled.
"Whew. That's a relief." His tone became businesslike. "Is there
anything you need? Anything we can do?" "Just keep my child and my mother
safe. And try to be unobtrusive. I don't want them scared." "No problem." "There had better not be." "And I'll send agents up here from
New Orleans to protect you and—" "No," Galen interrupted. "I
allowed Quinn to tell you about my little home-away-from-home because you said
it would be absolutely confidential. No one else is to know about it. Quinn and
I will handle the security here." Jennings looked at Eve. "You trust
them?" She nodded. "Well, if you change your mind, let
me know." Jennings turned to go. "I'll be in touch. Thank you, Ms.
Duncan." "Don't thank me. Just be on my
doorstep the second I've finished him." He smiled. "Let me know and I'll be
here." She whirled on Joe the minute the door had
closed behind Jennings. "No arguments?" He shook his head. "I don't like it,
but I know better than to argue with you once you've made up your mind. I'll
have to call the department and tell them that there will be some FBI agents
showing up on the scene. They're not going to be happy." "Shall I set up Victor and your
equipment in the scullery?" Galen asked. "Yes. Right away. If I have to go
back to this blasted reconstruction I'm going to get it done as quickly as I
can." "Yeah, sure," Joe said.
"Admit it, you've gotten a reprieve. You can't wait to get your hands on
Victor again." He was right. She could feel a tingling in
her hands and the familiar eagerness flowing through her. "That doesn't
mean I won't get him done quickly." "I don't doubt it. You'll be working
every minute of every day. But then, what's new?" "It's different this time." "It's different every time." He
smiled. "Go ahead. Get to work. I'll keep the world away." "I don't want you to—" He was gone. Chapter Eleven
"Where's
Eve?" Joe asked Galen when he came downstairs at ten the next morning. "You missed breakfast," Galen
said. "Actually, your absence made the atmosphere a good deal
lighter." "I've been on the phone with the
department. Besides, I couldn't take another dog and pony show like the one you
put on two nights ago." He repeated, "Where's Eve?" "Downstairs, working." Galen
glanced at the portfolio Joe was carrying. "The sketch?" "Yes. The FBI is going to go through
its files and try to send me a photo of Hebert for comparison, but it hasn't
come in yet. This will have to do for now." Joe was already going down the
stairs to the former scullery. "I'll go with you." Joe didn't answer. He paused at the bottom
of the steps. Eve was working on Victor by the window, the sun shining on her
red-brown hair and lighting the absorbed intentness of her expression. How many
times had he seen her like that at the cottage.... She glanced up and stiffened. Dammit. He jerked his gaze away from her and
continued down the stairs. "I need your help, Eve." "Is this what you call staying in the
background, Joe?" Eve asked. "I spared you my presence at
breakfast. I'll be out of here as soon as I get a confirmation on this. I've
been checking with the department on a possible criminal record for
Hebert." He moved across the room and slipped the sketch out of the
portfolio. "Have you ever seen this man?" She took the sketch and looked at it. She
frowned. "There's something familiar ... This is Hebert? Galen, come
here." "What's the—" Galen broke off and gave a low whistle. "Rick." Eve inhaled sharply. "What?" "Imagine him with light hair."
Galen pointed at the lean cheeks. "Fuller cheeks. Nice, clean-cut
look." "The man helping you at the
church?" Joe asked. My God, Galen was right. Eve nodded.
"Rick Vadim. Except his hair wasn't dark. It was light brown, and his
cheeks were fuller and sort of... rosy." "Small?" "Yes, but he looked very athletic, so
you hardly noticed." "Disguises are stock-in-trade for men
in Hebert's line of business." Galen studied the sketch. "And this
one would have only required dye for the hair, a little rouge, and some cheek
pads." "He seemed almost boyish," Eve
said. "And he was very sweet and eager to please." "Sweet!" Joe whirled on Galen
and said sarcastically, "Sharp. Very sharp, Galen." Galen frowned. "My instincts are
usually pretty good. I'd swear he didn't want to hurt her." Joe frowned. "But why would he think
he had to have a disguise? You're sure you never saw him?" "No, I don't believe I—" Eve stopped. "The man who took me to the hospital. I
didn't really see him. It was dim and I was in and out, but the more I think
about it, the more it seems like him." Her lips tightened. "This is
the man who killed Capel and sent me that report?" Joe nodded. "It's the composite
sketch." "Bastard." She rubbed her
temple. "What the hell is happening? If he didn't hire Marie to poison me,
who did?" "Good question," Galen murmured.
"It seems Hebert wanted very much to keep you alive." "Which doesn't mean a damn
thing," Joe said. "Don't think he's your Good Samaritan. Believe me,
he's a sadistic son of a bitch. You should have seen what he did to
Capel." "No, thank you," Eve said.
"I'm sure he had his reason for keeping me alive: Victor." "I'd better notify Jennings we may
have a wild card in the pack. And, if Hebert's in disguise, he'd better know
about that, too. Though he'll probably jettison his Rick Vadim persona since
he'll know we're suspicious." "Jesus, I can't take this," Eve
said in frustration. "How the hell do you expect me to finish Victor? I
don't want to have to try to figure out whether it was Hebert or one of his
cohorts who poisoned me. I don't want to think about Hebert or Rick or Melton
or anyone else. Do you understand? Do whatever you have to do." She turned
back to the pedestal. "Now, both of you get out of here and let me get
back to work." Joe hesitated, then headed for the stairs. Galen caught up with him as he reached the
foyer. "When you get the photo from the FBI, will you make some copies? I
have a few contacts who might be helpful." Joe nodded. "You'll have them within
two hours. It might be a good idea. I'm sure your 'contacts' have a chance of
knowing the bastard intimately." "I know it's hard for you to believe,
but I do know a few people who aren't criminals," Galen said. "Look
at you and me. We're best buddies, and you've never even pulled a heist." "You're not going to yank my chain,
Galen." "Hmm." Galen gazed at him
speculatively. "That should have irritated you, but you're pretty calm.
I'm afraid Eve's told you that we didn't make beautiful music together. Pity, I
was having such a great time." "You came very close to being
slaughtered." Galen grinned. "Served you right for
mistaking Galahad for old lecherous Lancelot." "Galahad?" "I have references. Of course, some
of them are forged." Galen's smile faded. "I guess it's just as well the
fun is over. We're going to need to work together to make sure Eve gets through
this intact. Pax?" Joe stared at him for a moment and then
reluctantly repeated, "Pax." "Good. Then get me the photos and
I'll get on the fax machine and get to work. Even though I've buried the
paperwork on this place, it won't take more than five or six days to unearth it
if the search is done by someone with means. Evidently Melton qualifies. But
since Eve's so close to finishing, I doubt if he'll be willing to wait that
long. He'll look for another way to find us." "And I suppose you have an idea what
that will be?" "No, but I'm working on it."
Galen glanced at the sketch. "He knows a lot about you, and he'll be
digging out everything he can about me. So we start on that basis." His
gaze shifted to the door leading down to the scullery. "And the fact that
Eve won't budge again until Victor is finished. Is she always this
single-minded?" "Usually more. She's been distracted
on this one. But she won't allow that to continue for long." "Tough to live with. Is it worth
it?" "It's worth it." Joe added
deliberately, "When troublemaking assholes don't get in the way. I'm
having enough problems without you causing more." Galen chuckled. "I'll try to restrain
myself. Most of the pleasure has gone out of it, anyway." His smile faded.
"The only weak link I can see is Jane and her grandmother, and you seem to
have taken precautions there. Are you sure it will be enough?" "Atlanta police are very good, and
they'll be extra careful since Jane's mine. They're going to call me if there's
anything the slightest suspicious." "Good, then I reckon you've done
pretty well so far. But today is another day." He started up the stairs to
the second floor. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to get to
work." A final jab, Joe thought, as he watched
Galen disappear down the second-floor hall. At least, he hoped it was final.
There was no time for personal duels now. Logan had tremendous respect for
Galen, but Joe would judge for himself. Galen was tottering perilously on the
line between the straight and narrow and the criminal underbelly, and Joe
wasn't comfortable with that. Not when he was around Eve. Yet Galen seemed to
know what he was doing. He'd gotten them out of Baton Rouge and provided Eve
with this safe house. And now it was Quinn's job to keep Eve
safe, and he wouldn't do it by standing here worrying about Sean Galen. He
strode toward the library to call Jennings at the FBI and light a fire under
him. FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C. "Interesting." Assistant Special
Agent in Charge Robert Rusk leaned back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully at
Jennings. "You think the Cabal actually exists?" Jennings shrugged. "Considering the
other information that's been trickling in, I'd say there's a chance. I think
we need to dig, and dig deep." Rusk nodded. "My ass would be on the
line if we didn't check everything out thoroughly. Take the next flight to Boca
Raton." "I don't have lead one." "Then look the town over and see what
you can come up with. It can't hurt. Sometimes things jump out at you." Jennings nodded. "I have to fly to
Atlanta first and set up protection for Duncan's daughter." "Right, I'll send McMillan to head
that team. Get in and get out. Boca Raton may be more important." Jennings grimaced. "Eve Duncan
doesn't think so." Neither did he. Boca Raton probably was going to be a
blind alley. "I might be of more use in Atlanta. I'll be blundering in the
dark in Boca Raton." "You're a fine agent, Jennings,"
Rusk said. "And you have damn good instincts. I've seen you pull some
amazing rabbits out of the proverbial hat. I want you in Boca." It was no use arguing with Rusk. He was
not only the boss; he was usually on target. Though God knows this might be the
exception. Jennings turned and headed for the door. "Whatever you
say." ------------------- Atlanta It might have to be the little girl after
all, Jules thought sadly. He watched Jane MacGuire running down the
path through Piedmont Park after her puppy. Her grandmother, Sandra Duncan, was
helplessly laughing as she ran after them. The death of the mother might bring Eve
Duncan out of hiding, but a threat to a child always had more impact.
Particularly in Eve Duncan's case. His phone rang. "We've located one of Galen's
contacts in New Orleans," Melton said when he picked up. "There's a
possibility Galen may have a house near there." "How near?" "He doesn't know. He says Galen's a
secretive bastard. He thinks within a two-hour drive. I'm working on it. He
gave me a solid lead where to start checking paperwork." "Then put more people on it. Send
teams to every city courthouse within that two-hour radius. I have to know—" A squad car cruised slowly by. He hung up and ducked deeper in the
shadows of the oak tree where he was standing. It was the third time in the
last half hour, and it couldn't be a coincidence. He had also spotted that
gray-haired jogger in the green sweatshirt outside the child's school. Quinn
had called out his old friends at the police department to watch the little
girl. It would make Hebert's task more difficult. But not impossible. ------------------- New Orleans "May I come in?" Bill Nathan
stood hesitantly at the bottom of the scullery steps. Eve didn't look up. "No, I'm
busy." "I'll only be a minute." Eve breathed an exasperated sigh.
"What is it?" "I've decided I should help
you." "What?" "Well, I'm here, but Galen and Quinn
don't think I'm qualified to help them. The most I've been able to get them to
let me do is go to the supermarket and buy groceries." He grimaced.
"So I thought I'd stay down here and protect you." "Protect me? I don't need you." "You never can tell." Nathan
scowled. "I wouldn't get in your way." "You'd talk to me." "I can be quiet." He paused and
then said grudgingly, "Please." "Why?" Eve carefully smoothed
clay over Victor's mid-therum area. "You obviously disapprove of my doing
the reconstruction." "I don't disapprove. I just think
you're taking a big chance. I went to a lot of trouble to try to save you, and
I don't want my efforts wasted." His gaze went to Victor. "But I want
to know if this is Bently as much as you do." "Your news story." "I'm not apologizing for that. It's
my job." "Did Joe tell you about Jennings's
fuel-cell theory?" "Yeah. It makes sense." He
paused. "There's another reason I kept pushing for Bently's case to remain
open months after his disappearance. He was fighting for something I believed
in, and it made me mad as hell that the special interest groups had him taken
out. Do you know there's a dead spot in the Gulf of Mexico fifty miles wide,
where the Mississippi empties into it? The fertilizer in the river sucks up the
oxygen and nothing can live. And do you remember the oil spill in the gulf ten
years ago? I covered it for the paper. It made me sick. All the birds and fish
that died, smothered by the oil slick. When I was a boy, I used to go fishing
in the gulf with my grandfather..." He shook his head. "I thought it
was a memory that couldn't be spoiled no matter how long I lived. I was
wrong." He grimaced. "I want my kids to grow up with clean air and
clean water and some of the beauty that I knew. Bently wanted that, too, and
was fighting for it. It's not right he ended up like this." Eve stared at him in surprise. It seemed
beneath that surly facade Nathan had a soft side. It was clear he meant every
word he said. "What are you looking at?" he
asked gruffly. "Is it so weird that I don't want the earth to get any
crummier than it is now?" "No, it's not weird," she said
gently. "I live on one of the most beautiful lakes you could ever hope to
see. I wouldn't want anything to spoil it, either." "Okay, then, we're kindred
spirits." Nathan plopped down in the easy chair by the fire. "So is
it all right if I stay and kind of watch out for you? I'm getting bored as hell
waiting around for something to happen. I want to do something." "I don't need—" Oh, what the hell. His intentions were good, and he was
obviously at loose ends. "If you don't bother me." "I won't." He took out a
paperback from his back pocket. "You work, I read." He opened the
book. "Forget I'm here." "Don't worry, I will."
Concentrate. Forget about Nathan and Jules and Joe and everything else troubling. Think only about Victor and the task of
bringing him home. ------------------- "I brought you coffee and a
sandwich." Galen set the tray on the worktable. He glanced at Nathan,
sound asleep in the big chair by the fire. "If I'd known you had company,
I'd have brought more food." "He's protecting me." Eve
grinned as she glanced at Nathan. "He was very insistent, but he got bored
after about four hours and dropped off. He meant well." "Hmm." Galen poured Eve's coffee
before turning away from Nathan. "How are you coming on Victor?" "I'd be better if I didn't keep being
interrupted." "Ouch. Well, you won't have to worry
about me for much longer. I'll be out of your hair. I'm going to snoop around
and see what I can find out about our friend Jules." "Where are you going?" "New Orleans, first." "How long will you be gone?" "Not long, I hope. I'll be in
touch." "So much for my poison taster." "I'm designating Quinn as my
temporary replacement." He held up his hand as he saw her stiffen. "I
knew that would be your reaction. That's why I decided to come and talk to you
before I left. It's important that I go, and I wouldn't have the option if
Quinn weren't here. You're evidently resigned to his presence, but that's not
enough." He paused. "He knows what he's doing, Eve. You have to
cooperate. You have to listen to him." "Do I?" "You're not thinking straight. Do you
believe there's a threat to your life?" "I'd be stupid not to consider the
possibility." "Do you believe Joe Quinn is
competent?" "Of course." "Then, dammit, stop being stubborn
and let him help you. He's not going to take advantage of the situation. I'll
feel better about being away if you'll promise me you'll cooperate with
him." She didn't want Galen to go away. He had
been a buffer between Joe and her. Now he was tearing down the barrier and
leaving her exposed. Okay, be adult. It was a life-and-death
situation, and she couldn't expect to have everything her own way. She was the
one who had chosen to take Victor from the church. Face the consequences.
"I'll cooperate." "Good. I'll be back as soon as I can.
You should be okay with Quinn protecting you." He glanced at Nathan.
"Though I doubt if Nathan is going to be of any use." He started for
the stairs. "I have to see Quinn before I go. I'll be back as soon as I
can." "Where are you going?" Nathan's
eyes were suddenly open, and he was sitting upright in the chair. "Ah, good to see you with us again. I
was afraid I'd have to get a frog to kiss you to wake you up. Or is that the
right fairy tale?" "Where the hell are you going?" "To track down Hebert. But I feel
very confident that Eve will be safe with you as long as you take your
No-Doz." "Smartass." Nathan glowered at
Galen. "At least, I don't willingly jump into bayous with alligators
and..." He was talking to air. Galen had already
disappeared up the stairs. Nathan muttered an oath, and his glance
shifted to Eve. "Quinn's staying?" "Yes." She turned back to the
reconstruction. With all these interruptions, it would be incredible if she
ever finished Victor. "Now I have to get back to work." "Sorry." He didn't speak for a
moment, and then he grumbled, "I wasn't really sleeping. I was just
resting my eyes..." ------------------- "Anything from the FBI?" Galen
stood in the doorway of the library. "I have your photos. The sketch and
the photo were two peas in a pod." Joe nodded at the four faxes on the
desk. "Hebert must be very smart. He's been picked up on suspicion of
murder once, but he's never gone to trial. Lack of evidence." "Or pull in very high places." "I'm not going to believe that until
I get proof." "That's the problem with being a cop.
I have the advantage of being able to make guesses out of the blue." Galen
folded one of the faxes and put it in his jacket pocket. "But this could
come in handy. I'm heading into New Orleans and I have to take the car. I'll
stop and have another car dropped off for you. Any preference? Another
Lexus?" "Why are you going to New
Orleans?" Galen didn't answer for a moment. "To
catch a plane to Atlanta. I'm not really needed here, and I thought I might as
well join the legion you have looking out for your Jane and her
grandmother." Joe stiffened. "You think something's
going to happen in Atlanta?" "I don't know. It shouldn't. You have
enough protection for them." He shrugged. "My problem is that I never
trust anyone but myself. Since you're here, I thought I might as well go scout
out the area." He paused. "Unless you object?" Joe thought about it and then slowly shook
his head. "Not if you call me every day and keep me informed. I think
you're wrong. Eve will be the target. But I'd never turn down any help to
protect Jane, even yours." "I'm touched by your confidence. I'll
call you." Galen turned and headed for the front door. Joe followed him and watched as Galen walked
toward the Lexus. "Did you tell Eve?" "Not that I was going to Atlanta. I
didn't want her to worry when I didn't really have any solid reason to question
your security arrangements." He opened the car door. "The car being
delivered here isn't a rental car. I have a few contacts in New Orleans who
managed to find a car to borrow." "Borrow?" Galen grinned. "It's not hot. I'll
drive over to Mobile and drop this car off there. It may lay a false trail for
Hebert if he manages to trace it." He started the car. "Nathan seems
to be determined to keep Eve safe. He could prove helpful to you on a limited
basis, but don't trust him too far. He wouldn't measure up to Hebert." "I can make my own judgments,
dammit." Galen studied him. "You're uneasy
about me leaving. I'd be flattered, but I know it's only because you're afraid
Eve will prove difficult. You'll be relieved to know I got her to promise to
cooperate with you." He smiled slyly. "That struck a sour note,
didn't it? You don't like having anyone act as an intermediary between you and
Eve. Well, you won't have to worry for a little while. You're on your own,
Quinn." He lifted his hand in farewell as he pressed the accelerator. Joe watched the Lexus rolling down the
long driveway. He was glad to see Galen go and to know that he was now in sole
control of the situation. And he couldn't deny he felt a little relieved that
Galen would be one of the team looking out for Jane. A heavyweight like him on
the job almost guaranteed her safety. Now he had his own job to do. He
straightened his shoulders as he turned back to the house and went inside. ------------------- "You've turned Victor around on the
pedestal," Nathan said. "Why?" "I'm getting to the final stage and I
don't want you to see me working on him." "Why not?" "You know Bently. Your expression
might tell me something. If I see your approval or disapproval as I do the
final sculpting, it might influence me. I might zig when I should zag and spoil
the reconstruction." "You're very careful." "I have to be. Victor deserves it.
They all deserve it." "Bently deserves it. I'm not sure
about the other skulls you work on. Some of them probably deserve to be tossed
in the ground and forgotten about." "But I don't know that." "What would you do if this skull
belonged to the man who killed your daughter?" Eve stopped in mid-stroke. "I'd
finish it." She finished the stroke. "And then when I was sure, I'd
stomp on it, crush it, and then incinerate it. I might even hire a voodoo
priest to put a curse on it." She glanced at Nathan. "Is that what
you wanted to know?" "Yes." Nathan smiled. "I
didn't want to be insensitive, but I feel much better now. You were a little
too noble for me." "Noble? Nonsense. I didn't have much
of a home life as a kid, and I guess home became something of an obsession to
me. I believe everyone should have their own home, their own place, even in
death. Maybe even more in death, if their life was tortured and troubled. If I
bring them home, it validates their life, it shows the world they weren't disposable,
that they had value." She glanced at Nathan. "Does that make sense to
you?" He nodded slowly. "Knowledge of your
own value is important. We all have to realize what's important to us." "What's important to you?" "My kids, my job." "How old are your children?" "Henry, twelve, and Carolyn, seven.
Great kids." He made a face. "I wish I were as great a father. I
haven't seen them for over four months." "Why not?" "I'm divorced and she has custody. It
was the fair thing to do. I'm freelance and I specialize in environmental
stories, so I travel all over the state. I couldn't make a stable home for
them. My ex-wife lets me see them when I can. She's a nice woman. She put up
with my job for longer than she should have before she bailed." He made a
face. "In a way, I'm like you. I'm kind of obsessive about my work. I wish
I could have put her and the kids first. You know, journalists get a bad rap.
But often we're the guards who keep the public safe from the bad guys." "My experience hasn't been too
positive, but I've known a few reporters I respect." Eve had a sudden
thought. "And what I've just said is strictly off the record. I don't like
hearing myself quoted by the press." "You won't. You have my
promise." She believed him. "Thank you." "Thank you for letting me come down
and keep you company." He grimaced. "It's pretty obvious that all of
you are pretty skeptical where the Cabal is concerned." "Jennings seems to put some stock in
it." "But you don't." "I think there's a possibility." "It's more than a possibility; it
exists. Etienne was telling me the truth. I know it in my gut. These days,
every time I hear about another Bosnia or Sarajevo, I wonder if the Cabal
decided it was politically to their advantage to use a war to move their agenda
forward." "Now that I have trouble believing.
Starting wars is on a different scale from manipulating economic
policies." "Wars are economic tools. Look beyond
the rhetoric and idealism, and you find the money pot. War scares me. The Cabal
scares me." His lips tightened grimly. "And not knowing what's going
to happen in Boca Raton scares me most of all. It must be something pretty
nasty to shake Etienne enough to make him bring me into this." He believed what he was saying, and he was
making her believe it, too. And belief brought her the same uneasiness Nathan
must be feeling. Jesus, she didn't need this disturbance. She instinctively
pushed it away, her gaze fixed on the skull before her. "Maybe Etienne was
telling the truth. Maybe the Cabal is everything he says it is. But dealing
with them is the FBI's job. Mine is to reconstruct Victor. I know Hebert is out
there killing people and that Melton is probably in it up to his neck. That's
as much as I need to know right now." "It must be comforting to be so
focused." Nathan stood and arched his back. "God, I'm stiff. I must
be getting old. Oh, well, it's time I took a look around the grounds and
stretched my legs, anyway." He headed for the stairs. "I'll be back
in thirty minutes with coffee." A moment later the door at the top of the
stairs slammed behind him. He was a strange and complicated man, she
thought as she turned back to Victor. At first, she had been torn between
exasperation and amusement at his interchanges with Galen, but since he had
parked himself in her workroom, she had begun to like and respect him. He was
smart and perceptive, and his rueful honesty was appealing. "Nathan asked me to come down and
stay with you." It was Joe at the top of the stairs. "No, he didn't
ask, he ordered me to come. He didn't want you to be left alone." Eve tensed and then forced herself to
relax. "He's being overprotective. He seems to think I'm helpless. But I
can take care of myself." "I know. I taught you." Yes, he had. He'd taught her self-defense
in those first years after Bonnie had been killed. She had felt helpless and
angry, and he had empowered her. She looked away from him at Victor. "Then
you shouldn't have paid any attention to Nathan." "Give me a break. I'm overprotective,
too. You know that." He paused. "If you don't want me to come down
there, I'll just stay here." She didn't want him to stand there at the
top of the steps. She didn't want him anywhere near her. She was acutely
conscious of him whenever he was in the same room. All the comfort of their
relationship had vanished. Well, she'd have to get used to it. She had promised
Galen to cooperate because it had made sense. She wasn't a child who hid her
head under the bedclothes. "You might as well come on
down." She kept her gaze fixed on Victor. "You'll be less distracting
sitting by the fire than hovering up there like a gargoyle." "Heaven forbid," he said as he
came down the steps. "After that comparison, I guarantee I won't
hover." He settled down in the chair. "I know the routine." Yes, he had sat on the couch in the lake
cottage for hundreds of hours, reading, doing paperwork, helping Jane with her
homework while she worked on her reconstructions. He had rubbed her neck and
shoulders when she was tired and stiff. He had forced her outside for walks
when she had become so obsessed she wouldn't leave the cottage. "Those times weren't so bad, were
they?" Joe asked softly. Dammit, he knew the memories that last
sentence had brought to mind. She didn't answer, and continued to work
on Victor. How the devil could she close him out when he was only ten feet away
and she was aware of every breath he took? He wouldn't be here long. Nathan
would soon be coming in that door with coffee, and Joe would leave. Just keep working. ------------------- "Good to see you, Mr. Galen."
The red-haired young man was at the gate when Galen's flight arrived from New
Orleans. He shook Galen's hand. "David Hughes. Welcome to Atlanta. I've
heard a lot about you. Bob Parks gave me a picture of you and asked me to meet
you and extend all courtesies. Do you have any more luggage?" Galen shook his head. "I'm traveling
light. Have you put the kid under surveillance?" "As soon as you called last
night." Hughes walked down the corridor with him. "The police squad
cars Quinn arranged for surveillance are on the job, and he has at least two
plainclothes officers hovering over her. The cops and the FBI guys you called
us about seem to be working together. My guys have had a few problems avoiding
them." "They're not there to check out the
squad cars. Have you seen any sign of Jules Hebert?" "Not yet. I made copies of the photo
you sent us and distributed them. Maybe he's not here." "And maybe he is. It's where I'd be
if I wanted to flush out someone. You always try to hit them where they hurt
the most. What's the kid's routine?" "Her grandmother takes her to school
every day and picks her up. The kid takes the dog for a walk in the morning,
and they all go for a run in the park after school. The kid doesn't leave the
condo after she gets back." He checked his wristwatch. "They should
be in the park in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to go there?" "Yes." He wanted to see the
child and her grandmother and make sure he'd be able to recognize them.
"Let's go." "I'm surprised Quinn isn't with
you." "He has another priority."
Massive understatement. Eve was clearly an obsession with Quinn. "And he
thinks the kid is safe. He trusts his police buddies." "But he knows you're here?" Galen nodded. "He thinks I'm wasting
my time." Maybe Quinn was right. Everything seemed to be fine on the
surface, but he was uneasy and he'd always trusted his instincts. "Let's
hurry, okay?" Chapter Twelve
He was leaving, thank
god. Eve watched Joe walk up the staircase. She
had always loved the way he moved. There was a sort of sensual grace, an
alertness so different from the stillness of Joe at rest. Yet even that
stillness was never passive. She could always sense the intelligence, the
emotions that were going on behind that almost expressionless face. "I didn't bring cream," Nathan
said from across the room. "You take your coffee black, don't you?" "What?" She quickly picked up
the cup Nathan had put on the worktable beside her. "Yes, I take it
black." She heard the door at the head of the
stairs close behind Joe. "I thought I remembered right." "It will be fine." Everything
was fine. Joe was gone now. She could work. She pulled her gaze back to Victor.
Concentrate, dammit. ------------------- "Go to bed," Eve ordered Nathan.
"It's almost midnight, and you've been sitting there all day." "When you go to bed, I'll go to bed.
I haven't disturbed you, have I?" "No, you've been very quiet."
Eve took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "But it's nonsense for you
to hover over me. I'm beginning to feel guilty every time I look over there at
you." Nathan smiled faintly. "You've been
so absorbed, you haven't even known I was here for the last six hours. How's it
going?" "Okay." Eve's glance shifted
back to Victor. "He's coming along." "You're excited. Will you finish
tonight?" "I'd like to, but I'm too tired. I
should stop." Her fingers longingly touched the cheek of the
reconstruction. "But I'm so close, dammit." "May I look at it now?" "No, you couldn't recognize anything
yet. It's the final stage that tells the tale." She wiped her hands on a
towel. "But by the end of tomorrow, he'll be done." "Good." Nathan's gaze was fixed
on the back of the skull. "Why are those last hours so important?" "It's the time when instinct takes
over. Sometimes I feel as if the subject is guiding me, telling me." She
made a face. "Weird, huh?" Nathan shrugged. "I've heard crazier
things. The whole process is a mystery to me. I don't understand how you do
it." Eve smiled. "First, you have to want
to do it with your whole being. After that, it's a piece of cake." "Yes, sure. That's why you work your
ass off. Because it's so easy." "No career is easy if you want to be
the best. You're pretty driven yourself, or you wouldn't be going after that
Pulitzer." "It's the peak of a journalist's
career. I've never wanted to be anything else but a reporter. Maybe someday
I'll write a book or two. I'm a simple soul." "Yeah, sure." "You're the one who chose a career
that's considered macabre at best." "Everyone believed I should have had
enough of death after Bonnie died. But you go where you're led." She cast
a final glance at Victor before turning away. "And I'm being led to bed so
that I can get up early tomorrow." "What time?" Nathan got to his
feet. "I want to be here for the great unveiling." "Whenever I wake up. But he'll still
take several more hours' work." "I'll be down at six." Nathan
moved toward the staircase. He paused at the top of the stairs to gaze back at
Victor. "Are you sure I wouldn't recognize him now?" "I'm sure." Eve followed him up
the stairs. "Now forget about him and get some sleep." "Have you heard from Galen?" Eve shook her head. "But it's only
been two days. He'll let us know if he finds out anything." She flipped the
wall switch that controlled the lights in the scullery. "And we'll call
him tomorrow if I finish Victor." She took one last look at the dim shape of
the skull on the worktable below. We're nearly there, Victor. You're almost
home. Boca Raton,
Florida October 23 "It's a waste of time, sir,"
Jennings told Rusk. "I've checked in with the agents in our Miami office,
and there's not even a hint of anything happening down here except drugs,
confidence schemes, and money laundering. I might as well come back." "If you're sure." Rusk's voice
was disappointed. "I was hoping you'd get lucky." He hung up the
phone. It would have taken more than luck,
Jennings thought. He leaned back in his chair and gazed out the hotel window at
the gray-blue Atlantic. Everything on the surface in this city was all
small-time. Maybe below the surface, too. There was nothing like the ugliness
of that anthrax scare. As he had told Rusk, it had been a waste
of time. He hadn't accomplished anything here; he should go back and try
another path. Yet why did he have this nagging sense
that he had missed something? What the hell? One more try. He flipped open his portfolio to the notes
on Bently and the Cabal that Joe Quinn had given him that first night he had
called him. Beside it, he placed the notes he'd made since he'd arrived in Boca
Raton. It was fifteen minutes later that he
suddenly stiffened in his chair. Holy shit. ------------------- The little girl looked a little like Eve
Duncan, Galen thought as he watched her running through the park after the pup.
Strange. He knew the two were not related, but that red-brown hair was almost
the same shade. She didn't have Eve's wariness, though. This was Galen's second
afternoon of watching her, and she was blissfully unaware of anything but that
dog. "She reminds me a little of my
daughter. My Cindy's that age." Hughes sat down beside Galen on the bench.
"Cute kid." "Yes." Galen watched Jane pick
up a stick and toss it for Toby. "No sign at all of Hebert?" "No. Maybe you're barking up the
wrong tree." He suddenly chuckled. "Like that dog of hers. He doesn't
seem to know that you have to concentrate on one tree and not the whole park
when you're on the hunt." "Maybe I am wrong." But Galen
didn't think so. "No one hanging around the condo?" "Nope. We checked out all the
vehicles and questioned a few people who seemed to be loitering. Everyone on
the street belongs there." He grinned. "Here she comes, running after
the pup again. Better open your newspaper." Jane was careening toward them after Toby.
Galen lifted his copy of the Atlanta Journal Constitution in front of
his face. "Who are you?" He lowered the paper to see that Jane had
stopped, and was standing in front of them. "I beg your pardon." "What's happening?" The child
was staring him belligerently in the eye. "Why are you watching me?" "I don't know what you mean." "Don't lie to me. You've been here
for two days. Are you a plainclothes detective like Joe? If you are, I want to
see your ID." "No, I'm not a detective like Quinn.
And you shouldn't confront strangers in the park." "The squad car will be driving by any
minute, and a plainclothes detective is trailing behind Grandma. I'm not
supposed to know about them, either." Her lips tightened. "I'm not
supposed to know about anything. What's your name and why are you here?" And he'd thought this kid was lacking
Eve's wariness, Galen thought ruefully. "My name is Sean Galen. This is
David Hughes. We're here to make sure you're safe." "You're Logan's friend. I've heard
about you. You're supposed to be with Eve now." She glanced at Hughes.
"But I don't know anything about him. Send him away." Hughes hurriedly got to his feet.
"I'm out of here. See you later, Galen." She turned back to Galen. "Let me see
your ID." "Yes, ma'am." He handed her his
driver's license. She glanced at it and then handed it back
to him. "If you're Galen, you must know my dog Toby's mother's name." "The beautiful, bad-tempered Maggie.
Satisfied?" Jane relaxed. "No." She glanced
over her shoulder. "Here comes Grandma. We have to be quick. Why are you
here?" "I'm sure that if you ask your
grandmother, she'll tell you anything you should know." "Don't give me that bull. Grandma
doesn't want to worry me. If I asked her anything, she'd only lie to make me
feel better. It's something to do with Eve, isn't it? Is she in trouble?" "We're trying to keep her out of
trouble." "I could tell something was wrong
when I talked to her on the phone a few nights ago. She said everything was
fine with her, and that Joe was with her." "He is." "But you're here. Why?" "Jane!" her grandmother called,
running toward her. Jane turned and waved before telling
Galen, "Hurry." He decided to level with her. The kid was
sharp, and it wouldn't hurt to warn her. "We think there's a possibility
the people who are trying to hurt Eve may attempt to get at her through you.
Have you seen anyone suspicious?" "You mean besides you? You're not
very good at this, are you?" "I can be. I didn't try to be this
time. I didn't expect you to be suspicious, and the sight of me could have been
a deterrent to anyone else." "Who? The other creep?" Galen stiffened. "Creep? You noticed
somebody else watching you?" "Two days ago. He followed me to
school, and then he was here in the park. He was much better than you." "Did you get a good look at
him?" She nodded. "I made sure I did. I'd
already noticed the squad cars. I knew something was happening." He took out the photo of Hebert.
"Look anything like this?" She glanced at it. "That's him." "Why didn't you tell your
grandmother?" "I couldn't be sure he was a creep.
He might have been one of Joe's friends, and it would just have worried her. Or
he might have been just your ordinary run-of-the-mill pervert. I've seen plenty
of those." "Oh, have you?" "I haven't seen him since. I have to
go, or Grandma will call the cops on you." Her lips tightened. "I
don't like not knowing what's happening. You tell Eve and Joe that." He shook his head. "I'll tell Joe
what you said, but I won't tell him about your 'creep' yet. It would be a sure
way to make them drop everything and come running. They're much safer if they
stay in hiding." "Hiding? Eve never mentioned anything
about that. Why are they in hiding?" "It's complicated. Eve wanted to
finish the job she started." "Then why are you here? You go back
and make sure Joe and Eve are safe," she said fiercely. "You do your
job. Don't you dare let anything happen to them. I'll take care of
Grandma." She whirled and ran back toward her grandmother. "It's
okay," she called. "He only wanted directions, Grandma. Just another
lost Yankee. They get so confused with all these Peachtree Streets." "I told you not to talk to
strangers." Her grandmother whisked her up the path. "Now you call
that idiot dog and we'll go home to supper." "Wow," Hughes said softly as he
strolled back to Galen. "Correction: She's not at all like my kid. If I needed
some muscle, I might decide to hire her." "Eve told me she grew up on the
streets." He watched Jane and Sandra Duncan walk down the path. "She
didn't tell me she was twelve going on fifty." "You showed her the photo?" "She saw him. Hebert is here in
Atlanta. Or at least he was two days ago." He stood up. "But where
the hell is he? If he was hanging around, you should have been able to spot
him." "Maybe he was scared off." That scenario didn't fit with the picture
of Jules Hebert Galen had been building up. "Or maybe he went underground
and is only waiting for his chance." The idea of Hebert stalking that
bright kid, hovering over her like a dark cloud, turned his stomach.
"We're not going to give it to him, Hughes." Jules watched as the black pickup truck
sank below the waters of Lake Lanier with scarcely a ripple. There was so much
water here in Atlanta. He had found it very convenient. He had chosen a deep part of the lake so
the man would not be found too quickly. There should be no outcry for at least
three days. Leonard Smythe was divorced and lived alone in his mobile home, and
from Jules's brief surveillance he appeared a solitary man. Jules glanced down at the treasure for
which Smythe had died. If he'd been given a choice, Smythe would have given it
up in a heartbeat, but Jules couldn't risk giving him that option. It was sad when a man had to die for a
clipboard and a few scraps of paper. ------------------- New Orleans Victor's skull was dimly lit by the
moonlight streaming through the window. Nathan didn't flip the switch that would
have lit the steps to the scullery. He knew Joe Quinn made several trips around
the grounds at night, but he had no idea what time. He moved carefully, quietly down the
steps. It should be safe. He had checked on Eve and she was sound asleep. But
both Eve and Joe Quinn were still unknown quantities to him, and the unknown
was always dangerous. He reached the bottom of the stairs and
glided silently across the scullery toward Victor's pedestal. He knew the back of that skull so well,
and nothing about his features. He had only been able to watch Eve's intent
expression as she worked. He took out the flashlight he had found in
the kitchen cabinet and moved closer to the pedestal. He took a deep breath,
his thumb pressing on the flashlight switch. The scullery was suddenly flooded with
light. "Would you like to tell me what
you're doing?" Joe Quinn said from the top of the stairs. Dammit. He stiffened defensively. "I wasn't
going to hurt it." "You didn't answer me." Joe came
down the stairs. "What are you doing creeping down the stairs in the
middle of the night?" "I just wanted to see it." "But Eve didn't want you to see it
until she finished. Is she done?" Nathan shook his head. "Not until
tomorrow. She said I wouldn't be able to tell anything until then. But I
thought maybe I could tell where it was going." He scowled. "I'm
going to look." "Go ahead. I'm not going to stop
you." Nathan moved around the pedestal to stand
before Victor. Disappointment surged through him. The visage had form, but no
definition. No one could recognize the features at this point. "You should have believed her,"
Joe said. "Eve doesn't lie." "I didn't think she'd lied. I just
thought I might be able—" His hands clenched at his sides.
"Dammit, it's hard to wait. I want to know." "And you didn't trust her." "In my business you learn not to
trust many people." Nathan started toward the stairs, and then stopped to
stare at Joe. "Are you going to tell her I was here?" "I should. Eve likes you, and she has
a habit of trusting people she likes. She doesn't appreciate people sneaking
around behind her back." "I didn't do anything to hurt her. If
I'm guilty of anything, it's of caring too much." Nathan's gaze went back
to Victor. "It's important to me to know who he is. God, I hope it's not
Bently. I hope he's still around, maybe gone underground and ready to come out
swinging against those bastards." Joe studied him. "I believe
you." He shrugged. "I'll hold my peace for now. There was no harm
done. But you made a mistake." "Everyone makes mistakes. You must
have made a big one, or Eve wouldn't be angry with you." Nathan moved
quickly up the stairs, and then stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Joe.
"I must have made another mistake. How did you know I was down here?" "I was outside patrolling, and I saw
movement in the kitchen through that bank of windows. It aroused my curiosity
when I saw it was you rifling through the cabinets. Particularly when you only
took that flashlight." "I checked outside the kitchen, but I
should have been more careful." "Like you said, we all make
mistakes." And Quinn wasn't making him pay for this
one. "Thanks. I owe you." Nathan
hurried up the rest of the stairs. It could have been much worse. He had done
what he felt he had to, and no real harm had been done. He had hoped to get a
jump on the situation, but he would just have to wait. Damn, it was hard to be
patient. ------------------- The basement was well lit, the heating and
air-conditioning mechanisms gleaming and powerful. The best of American
technology, Jules thought, as he moved down the aisle. "Hey, what are you doing down
here?" He glanced over his shoulder. A uniformed
security guard was coming out of the elevator. "Don't you guys ever talk to each
other?" Jules waved his clipboard. "I just went through this with the
guard at the front door." He glanced at the man's badge. "Phillips.
I'm from the supe's office. I'm sup-posed to do the yearly service check." "I've been out on a coffee
break," the guard said defensively. Jules knew that. He hadn't expected
Phillips to be back this soon, but you always had to be ready to make
adjustments. "I'm almost through here. Have you noticed any problems on
your rounds? Puddles beside the air conditioners? Excess steam?" Phillips shook his head. "Since you're here, would you mind
coming with me to that furnace room and holding my flashlight? I have to crawl
in back of the units and it's damn hard to see." Phillips frowned. "If it doesn't take
too long. I have to get back to the front door and relieve Charley." "Like I said, I'm almost done."
Jules picked up. his toolbox and started down the aisle. "It won't take a
minute." Phillips followed him. "If you're
sure." "Oh, I'm sure." Jules smiled at
him over his shoulder. "I know my job." ------------------- "Ready, Victor?" Eve murmured.
"It's almost time." "Did you say something, Eve?"
Nathan asked from across the room. "Hush. I don't want to hear a word
from you until I'm done." The clay was soft, cool beneath her
fingers. She touched it delicately, tentatively. Smooth. Don't think. Instinct. She was moving quickly; her fingers were
tingling. Who are you, Victor? Tell me, help me. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. She had no idea how to shape the ears.
Make them generic. The mouth. God, the mouth was hard. She
only knew the width.... Instinct. Close out what she didn't know,
and let her hands flow. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. She was going too fast. Stop for a minute and study the eyes, the
angle of the orbits, the bony ridge above... Okay, go for it. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. Check that lip height... 12mm. That was
right. Nose projection 18mm. It should be 19. Change it. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. Be aware of the measurements, but let
instinct dominate now. Tell me, Victor. Let me bring you home. Her hands flew over the visage. Her
fingertips seemed to have a life, a mind of their own. Smooth. Mold. Fill in. ------------------- Galen stepped out of his car and strode
over to Hughes, who was standing under a streetlight. "Anything?" Hughes shook his head. "Everything's
quiet. The kid went into the condo with her grandmother at the usual time. A
squad car cruised by five minutes ago. They must have put more plainclothesmen
on the job. I saw one guy I didn't recognize talking to the frontdoor
guard." He held up his hand as Galen opened his lips. "It's okay, I
watched him and he got into the squad car twenty minutes later. The cops knew
him." "Inside?" "I have a guy on the same floor as
the kid, and he reports no activity. What have you been doing?" "Scouting. There's a telephone truck
five blocks from here. What's it doing here at this time of night? Have you
checked it out?" Hughes shook his head. "Why not?" "It wasn't there today. I'll get on
it." "Now." "Why are you so edgy? It's five
blocks away." "It could be a surveillance van. Eve
calls Jane regularly." "I told you we'd checked out the
high-rise. The condo's too high and there's too much interference for the
phones to be bugged." "Just check the truck, okay?" "Whatever you say." Hughes
reached for his phone. Galen stared up at the condo while Hughes
was telling one of his men to check out the vehicle. Damn, he felt uneasy. Hughes hung up. "He's trying to get
through to the telephone company. Satisfied?" "No. Something's happening. He's got
to be around here. He knows he doesn't have much time." "What do you mean?" "Never mind." He glanced at the
cars parked along the street. There were no new vehicles, and all of these had
already been checked out. "It just feels wrong." "If Hebert's gone underground, he's
buried himself pretty deep," Hughes said. Galen stiffened. "What?" "You said that Hebert must have gone
underground, or we would have been able to—" Underground. "Shit!" Galen moved toward the
canopied entrance of the condo. "Come on." Hughes got out of the car and hurried
after him. "Where are we going?" "You're going to distract the
security guard and find out from him if anything unusual has happened
today." He opened the glass door. "And I'm going to see how far
Hebert is willing to go to get that kid." ------------------- Galen found a uniformed guard in the
furnace room behind the massive units that heated the high-rise. His throat had
been cut. He found the plastic explosive and the
timer that controlled it behind the furnace unit beside the dead man. Twenty-two minutes. Shit. It wasn't a simple timer, and was probably
booby-trapped. No time to disarm it. He turned off his telephone as he ran
toward the elevator. A ringing phone could set off a bomb. He turned the phone
back on as he reached the street. It rang at once. "Nothing much unusual," Hughes
said. "A building inspection. One of the guards got sick and had to go
home. Want me to—" "Forget it." It would take more
time for him to go get Jane himself than to delegate. "Get out of the building.
Call your man on the twelfth floor to get Jane MacGuire and her grandmother out
of there. Now. He has about twenty minutes. Then call the bomb squad and get
them here. I think it will be too late, but I could be wrong." "Right." Hughes rang off. Galen checked his watch. Nineteen minutes. Jane MacGuire was on the twelfth floor.
Not much time. And no time at all for the rest of the
people who lived in the building. Galen wouldn't get past the first few condos
before the bomb went off. Christ, what the hell could he do? ------------------- "It's done." Eve leaned back
against the worktable and wiped her face. God, she was exhausted. The
adrenaline was draining out of her, and she felt limp as a dishrag. "It's
the best I can do." "I thought you'd never get done. It's
almost three in the morning." Nathan leaned forward, his body tense with
eagerness. "May I look at it now?" "Not yet. I have to put the glass
eyes in the sockets." She smiled faintly as she turned to the eye case on
the worktable. "Galen would be glad of that. He has a thing about empty
eye sockets." "Hurry!" Nathan moistened his
lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I'm just...
anxious." "I know." Eve opened the case
and took out a pair of brown eyes and turned back to Victor. Only it might not
be Victor now. He might soon have a real name. "It will only take a few
minutes." It took less than that before she stepped
back and turned to Nathan. "You can look now." Nathan jumped up from the chair and moved
quickly across the room. He stopped, took a deep breath, and then moved around
to stand beside Eve. He stared at the features of the
reconstruction. Eve's gaze searched his face. "Well,
say something. Is it Bently?" "It's him." Nathan's lips
thinned. "It's Harold Bently." "You're sure?" "I'm sure." His voice was uneven.
"You did a good job. That's him." He turned away and moved quickly
toward the staircase. "Excuse me. I'm so mad I want to choke someone. I
can't look at him. I was hoping—" Nathan flew up the stairs and almost ran
into Joe coming down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" He brushed past him and was out the door. "What's wrong with him?" Joe
asked as he came the rest of the way down the stairs. Then he saw Eve's face
and said, "Oh, the moment of truth?" "It's Bently." Eve rubbed the
back of her aching neck. "You always have hope until you actually see the
proof." Joe came to stand beside her, and looked
at the face. "You evidently did a good job if he's so certain." "I was hoping as much as he was that
it wouldn't be Bently," Eve said. "From what I've heard of him, he
was a very good man. I didn't want him to have died like this." Her eyes
were filling with tears, too. She blinked them back. "But it never does
any good. So many more of the good die than the bad. They trust. They have no
defenses. Like Bonnie..." "Shh." He pulled her into his
arms. "Jesus, you're so tired you can hardly stand up. Listen to me, you
did a good job. You brought this poor guy home. Isn't that what's
important?" "Yes." Comfort surrounded her,
keeping out the cold and the loneliness as it always did when she was close to
Joe. "That's important. But not right now." "It will come." He rubbed the
exact spot between her shoulders that always bothered her. Her knees went weak
with relief. "Your muscles are all knotted. Go on to bed and try to sleep.
I don't guess you'd let me give you a massage?" "No." She shouldn't even be
standing here like this. There were reasons, good reasons, why she should be
pushing him away, but they didn't seem to matter right now. "I'll be
okay." "You'd be better than okay with me.
I'd make sure you were." He shrugged. "But that's not in the cards.
Come on, I'll help you up to bed and tuck you in." "I'm fine." "Stop arguing. You're about to fall
over. I know you're vulnerable right now, and I'd love to take advantage of
you. But I won't." He slid his arm around her waist and half led, half
carried her toward the stairs. "Why are you fighting it? It's no big deal.
How many times have I done this after you've finished a job?" So many times she couldn't remember.
Sometimes it seemed as if they'd been together all her life. Ten, twelve years?
She couldn't think. Everything was a blur right now. "Now that Victor's
done, I guess it's time to call Jennings. The FBI should probably..." "I'll take care of it." "I really didn't want it to be
Bently, Joe." "I know. Never mind. It will seem
better in the morning." Eve was barely aware of Joe helping her up
to her room and pushing her down on the bed. He took off her shoes and pulled
up the coverlet. "I'll be right back." He went into the bathroom and
came back with a damp washcloth. He carefully wiped the clay off her hands.
"That'll do for now. You can hit the shower when you wake up." "Thanks, Joe." "I've always liked doing things for
you. It makes you more mine. Next to sex, I liked it better than anything.
Didn't you know that?" She shouldn't be listening to this. It was
... intimate, and everything was wrong between them. It was hard to remember
why. She didn't want to remember why. Not now. "No, I didn't
know...." "And you don't want to think about
it. That's okay. I'll settle for you not scuttling away from me." He sat
down beside her and took her hand. "That's good enough." Her hand tightened around his. "It
shouldn't be..." "Shh. Go to sleep." She was already half asleep. She curled up
on the bed and closed her eyes. "It's ... so sad.... Poor man..." Chapter
Thirteen Eve was asleep. Joe stared down at her face. Christ, he
wanted to ease her pain. Fat chance. Ever since Bonnie's death, Eve had been
dealing with this pain. Giving her mind and skill and heart to bringing both
the living and the dead home. Well, she had found another lost one and, as
usual, he could only stand on the sidelines and help when she would let him. Hell, he felt pretty lost himself right
now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She doesn't need that, too. He released
Eve's hand and bent down to press his lips to her forehead. "Sleep well,
love," he whispered. He didn't want to leave her, but he forced
himself to stand up and head for the door. When she woke, they'd probably be
back to square one, but maybe he'd made a tiny inroad tonight. He hoped to hell
he had. His phone rang as he reached the hall. ------------------- The side of the high-rise had exploded in
a ball of flame and concrete. Galen gazed up at the flames erupting out
of the windows. It could have been worse. The bomb had been placed so that it
only affected the west side. Jane MacGuire's grandmother's condo was on the
west side of the building. "Grandma's scared. You get that
creep." Jane MacGuire took a step closer to Galen. "A lot of people
could have been hurt if those sprinklers hadn't gone off. Did you do
that?" "It was the only thing I could think
of that would get everyone up and out of the apartments in time. I disconnected
the fire alarm bell that might have set off the bomb, and sent Hughes's men to
knock on doors as long as it was safe. The water flooding their apartments
saved a lot of arguments." His glance wandered over the dimly lit street
filled with men, women, and children in all stages of dress huddled together.
Dogs ran around barking at cats held tightly in their owners' arms. "I
hope they all got out." "Me, too." Jane pulled at Toby's
leash to keep him at her side. "Grandma didn't want to go when that man
came to the door. It was only when the sprinklers went off that she ran
out." He could hear the sirens of fire trucks in
the distance. "Where's your grandmother?" "Over there trying to calm down Mrs.
Benson. She just had a baby and she's pretty shook up." "I'm surprised she's letting you talk
to me." "I just told her who you were. Maybe
I should have done it before. Grandma's usually pretty cool." She looked back at the fire. "He did
all this to kill us?" Galen nodded. "And he did it to get Eve out of
hiding?" "Yes." "Then you tell her to stay put."
She moistened her lips. "And you'd better do it fast. The first thing
Grandma did when she got down to the street was call Joe." "What?" "Joe told her to call him if there
was a problem." She looked at the burning high-rise. "He's going to
think this is a big problem." "How long ago?" He'd wanted to
call Quinn himself. "Five minutes. He told her to stay
with me and he'd send a black-and-white." She glanced at a squad car
careening around the corner. "There it is." "Maybe." A police car appears
and whisks Jane and her grandmother away? No way. Not until he'd checked it
out. He moved toward the car. "Stay here." ------------------- "What the hell is happening?"
Joe demanded when Galen answered his phone ten minutes later. "I just got
a hysterical call from Eve's mother, and she was talking about you and the
condo blowing up and the sprinkler—" "Jane's safe. The squad car you sent
picked her and her grandmother up and took them to a safe house. That's what's
most important." "You went there to protect Jane. How
did that bastard get so close to her?" "She's safe. That's all that's
important." Galen looked at the high-rise, which was still in flames.
"I'll tell you about the rest of it later." "The hell you will. I need to know
what—" "Wait a minute." Hughes was
trying to get Galen's attention. "There's something going on." "Sorry," Hughes said. "I
just heard about that telephone truck. Bell South says they sent no truck to
that area." He paused. "And the truck is gone now." "Jesus." Galen's hand tightened
on his phone. "What's happening?" Joe
demanded. "Is Jane okay?" "Jane's fine." Galen was
thinking, going over the possibilities. He didn't like any of them. "But
Hebert may have gotten what he wanted." "Then what do you mean Jane's okay?" "Calm down. I think Hebert hedged his
bet. There's a good chance he had a surveillance truck parked a few blocks from
here tonight. There was no question of him intercepting phone calls from the
high-rise, but once Eve's mother was out of the building he'd have no
trouble." "And she called me right away." "If the bomb killed them, you'd come
out of hiding. If the bomb didn't kill them, she'd call you and give him a
chance for a trace. Get out of there, Quinn." "You're guessing." "Do you want to risk proving me
wrong? Hebert may prefer to do his dirty work personally, but he wouldn't risk
losing you because he wasn't on site. He'd send someone else to do the job. If
he got the fix, you don't have much time." Galen repeated, "Get the
hell out of there." Silence. "Where?" Thank God Quinn was listening. "Just
get on the road. Call me when you're clear. I'll be working to find you
somewhere safe." "Wherever that is." Quinn hung
up. ------------------- Joe hesitated for a moment, thinking. Eve
was exhausted. She'd been barely coherent. So he'd let her sleep as long as
possible while he made preparations for departure. He moved down the hall to Nathan's room,
threw open the door, and turned on the light. "Get up. I need your
help." Nathan sat up in bed. "What's
wrong?" "We have to get out of here. Go down
and pack up all Eve's equipment and the reconstruction. I'll go and bring the
car around to the front door." "Why?" Nathan swung out of bed
and pulled on his pants. "What's wrong? Why do we have to go?" "Galen says we may have visitors any
minute." "Hebert?" "No, Hebert's in Atlanta. So is
Galen." Joe turned away. "Get moving. I have to get Eve out of
here." "Have the trunk open so I can put the
equipment in." Nathan was tying his shoes. "You'd better pack Eve's
clothes when you get her up. She was pretty tired." "I'll take care of Eve." Joe was
already moving down the hall. "Hurry." ------------------- "Wake up, Eve." Joe was shaking her, Eve realized dimly.
So tired... "Wake up. We have to get out of
here." She opened her eyes. "Sleepy..." "Sorry. You can sleep in the car. We
may have visitors." At the lake cottage? They seldom had
visitors. It was always an oasis of peace and quiet. Joe made sure of that. But they weren't at the lake cottage, she
realized suddenly. New Orleans. Victor. No, it wasn't Victor. It was Bently.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What are you talking about?" "I've got your bag packed." Joe
pulled her to her feet. "Nathan's already in the car." He half
carried her from the room and down the stairs. "He packed up all your
equipment. All we have to do is get on the road." "Why?" "Galen called. We have a
problem." He pulled her out the front door. "It's not safe here any
longer." "Why not?" "Later." He pushed her into the
passenger's seat of the Lexus that Galen had sent and ran around to the
driver's seat. "Did you get everything, Nathan?" "The equipment's in the trunk. I have
the reconstruction back here with me." Nathan fixed his gaze on the road.
"Headlights. They'll be at the gates in no time." "They're locked, aren't they?"
Eve asked. "They'll have the equipment to get
them open," Nathan said. "It will only take a few minutes." "Then let's use those few
minutes." Joe didn't put on the headlights, but drove slowly, silently
down the driveway. When he got to the small wood surrounding the house, he left
the driveway and drove into the trees. The car that stopped at the gates was a
dark-colored Volvo. Two men got out of the backseat and went up to the gates.
It took less than three minutes before the gates swung open. The men piled back
into the car. Eve held her breath as the car glided by
them and up the driveway to the house. The Volvo's lights were out now, too,
and the car appeared sleek and menacing in the darkness. "Now," Nathan whispered. "Not yet. Let them get inside."
Three men entered the front door. Two others went around the back. "Close
enough." He let out the brake and pressed down on the accelerator. The sound of the engine couldn't have been
as loud as it sounded to Eve, but it was loud enough. One man ran around the
side of the house. "Gun it," Eve said. Joe was already gunning it. He tore
through the open gates and hit the road at sixty miles an hour. Damn those trees surrounding the house,
Eve thought. She couldn't see anything. What was she thinking? Those trees
might well have saved them. Now she could see. Headlights racing down
the driveway toward the gates. Then they were gone as Joe went around the
corner of the road and stomped on the accelerator. "There's a gas station up ahead. It's
closed, but I can see the pumps," Nathan said. "You could pull behind
it and let them go by." "It worked back at the house."
Joe pulled off the road and came to a stop behind the gas station. "Maybe
they won't expect it a second time. We'll have to see...." He cut the lights. Or maybe they would expect it, Eve
thought. Joe's hand was sliding beneath his jacket. She knew that gesture. He
was loosening his gun in his holster. "Get out," Joe said.
"Now." "What?" "Don't argue. Both of you. Get out,"
he snapped. Eve instinctively obeyed and found Nathan
beside her. "Take care of her, Nathan." The
Lexus roared away from them and back on the road. Shit. Eve's hands clenched into fists as
she watched the taillights disappear around the curve. Everything had happened
so fast she hadn't realized what Joe was doing. But she should have realized.
She knew him, dammit. The Volvo screamed around the turn and
barreled toward them. Closer. Almost on top of them. And then passed them. It was out of sight seconds later. "It worked," Nathan said.
"We should leave now." "What do you mean, leave? They're
going after Joe." "But that's what he wanted them to
do. We have no way to help him. We'll call him once we're clear of this place.
You'll ruin his plan if you stay here. If he loses them, they could double back
to check out the area." "You give him a little time to shake
those men, and then call him and tell him we're not going anywhere. I'm not
moving until Joe comes back." Nathan gazed at her expression and then
shrugged. "Okay, but it's not good tactics." "I don't care about tactics."
She leaned against the wall of the gas station, her gaze on the curve where Joe
had disappeared. Jesus, she was scared. "He'll probably make it," Nathan
said. "He's been well trained, hasn't he?" "Just because he was a SEAL doesn't
mean that he's a champion race car driver. And he shouldn't have left us here,
damn him." "It was a good tact—" Nathan broke off as he met Eve's gaze. "Sorry."
He quickly pulled out his phone and in a moment was talking to Joe. "He's
not happy," he said when he hung up. "Too bad. He had no right to take off
like a bat out of hell. He's not the only one involved here." "There wasn't much time for
discussion." Eve knew that, but it didn't make her feel
any less angry and helpless ... and terrified. Joe. "He seemed to be able to drive pretty
well," Nathan offered. He was trying to comfort her, Eve
realized. "Yes." "And I think the Lexus was faster
than that Volvo." "Let's not talk about it, okay?"
she said jerkily. Nathan nodded and fell silent. Ten minutes passed. Where the hell was he? Fifteen minutes. It was forty-five minutes before Joe
appeared around the curve and glided to a stop behind the gas station. He
reached over and opened the passenger door. "Get in. I think I lost them
five miles back, but we should get out of here." Nathan scrambled into the backseat.
"You didn't do bad at all, Quinn." "Thank you," he said ironically
as he pulled back onto the road. "I'm glad I met with your approval." "I tried to get her to leave, but she
was worried." "Was she?" Joe glanced sideways
at Eve's set face. "I wasn't worried. You were
stupid. You could have stayed with us and we'd have given them the slip, but
you probably enjoyed playing Keystone Kops." Her voice shook. "It was
... stupid." "It seemed the most reasonable thing
to—" "It was good tactics, right? Just
shut up and get us out of here." Joe gave a soundless whistle. "Yes,
ma'am. Right away, ma'am." Joe went back in the direction they had come
from. "Where are we going?" "I have no idea. I'll worry about
that when I'm sure we don't have anyone tailing us." ------------------- Joe didn't stop until he was fifty miles
away from Galen's house and he'd changed roads and directions twice. He finally
pulled over at a supermarket lot in a small town on the east side of New
Orleans. He pulled out his phone and dialed Galen.
"We're clear. We did have visitors." "I was afraid of that. No one was
hurt?" "No, but we're in a Podunk town in
the middle of nowhere. Find me a place to put Eve." "I'm working on it," Galen said.
"I'll get back to you." He hung up. "Now can I find out what the devil is
happening?" Eve asked. He got out of the car. "Come on,
let's take a walk." "I do have a stake in this, too, you
know," Nathan said. "Later," Joe said. "Stay
here and take care of the skull." It was chilly, and Eve jammed her cold
hands into the pockets of her jacket as she fell into step with Joe. "Talk
to me." "You're not going to like it." "So what's new. I haven't liked
anything to do with this reconstruction," Eve said. "This strikes close to home." She stiffened. "Jane?" "Don't panic. She's okay. So is your
mother." He quickly filled her in on what her mother and Galen had told
him. "And you say she's okay?" Eve's
hands clenched into fists in her pockets. "For God's sake, that crazy
bastard blew up the condo. It's a miracle they're still alive." "But they are alive." "I should never have left her. You
should never have left her." "Don't you know that's what I've been
telling myself ever since I got that call from your mother? I thought Hebert
would concentrate on you, but I still tried to give them enough
protection." "You didn't do it. She almost died.
You should have—" She shook her head. "Why am I
blaming you? It's just as much my fault as it is yours. I'm the one who took
this job. I'm the one who chose to steal the damn skull. I thought he'd go
after me, too. I'm the one who's to blame." "Shh. Stop shaking. Nothing
happened." "What do you mean? Something did
happen. He almost killed them. I was so worried about Victor and so busy
thumbing my nose at Hebert that I—" "Hush." He took her in his arms
and pressed her head into his shoulder. "Jane and your mother are fine,
and we're going to keep them that way." Oh, God, she needed him. An anchor in a
rough sea. A rock that never moved. "Joe..." Without thinking, she
slid her arms around him. "Jane's never been sure that I really loved her.
She's always thought Bonnie came first. I do love her. It's just ...
different." "She knows you love her." "She's not sure. I want to tell her
again. What if she'd died and I didn't get the chance to tell her how much she
means to me?" "But she didn't." "There are so many things I didn't
tell Bonnie before she was taken from me. I'm not going to make that mistake
again." Tears were flowing down her cheeks. "But I almost did. Shit." "Okay, you're not perfect. Who is?
But Jane's not one of your lost children. She's strong and smart, and she's a
survivor. She'll only take so much from you. We're lucky she lets us as close
to her as she does." His hands cupped her face and he looked down into her
eyes. "Are you listening to me, Eve? Jane doesn't want a mother. She loves
you, but you came together too late for all the maternal folderol. She doesn't
expect it. You're a damn good friend, and that's great with her." "Is it?" Eve smiled with
quivering lips. "I never realized you'd made such a study of our
relationship." "I had to. Anyone who touches you
touches me." She couldn't look away from him. His eyes... Joe's hands dropped away from her and he
stepped back. "That's the way it's always been; that's the way it is. I'm
just very fortunate that I love Jane, too." She drew a deep breath. "Well,
neither of us has been very good at showing her we love her by keeping her
safe." She turned back toward the car. "Well, it's not too late,
thank God. It's time I thought about Jane and Mom instead of my damn job." "And that means?" "I'm going back to Atlanta. I'm not
going to let Jane and my mother take the punishment for my actions while I'm
hundreds of miles away." "Galen said that was what you'd do.
He thinks you'll walk right into Hebert's hands." "Screw Galen. Jane needs me." "She needs us." Joe
smiled faintly and nodded. "Screw Galen." Eve's phone rang as she reached the car.
It was Bart Jennings. "I need to tell you that there was—" "Damn you," Eve's voice was
shaking with anger. "You promised me they'd be safe. That's all I asked,
and you fouled up." "You have every right to be angry.
Galen called you? My men would have appreciated it if he'd been working with
us. He didn't even identify himself to them until they were taking away your
daughter." "It was a good thing he was there.
You screwed up." "I'm not making excuses. If it will
make you feel any better, we're working hand in hand with the Atlanta police,
and we have the safe house completely covered." "You had the condo covered." "Hebert's ID was perfect, and he was
in disguise. There was supposed to be an inspection today—the guard at the desk verified it with the superintendent's office
when Hebert arrived. We can't locate Leonard Smythe, the man who was to do the
inspection. We have to assume Hebert got to him." "I don't want to hear it." "I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't make
excuses. I'm sending two agents to pick you up and bring you—" "Too late. You blew it." She
hung up. "He's sorry. He had the nerve to say he was sorry. My mother and
Jane were almost blown up, and he's—" "Easy. He's a decent guy. What else
could he say?" Joe's lips tightened. "Not that I don't want to take a
poke at him right now myself. He should have—" His
phone rang, and he didn't wait for Galen to speak. "We're going back to
Atlanta. Don't argue, Galen. Just find us a way to get home." He took out
his pen and wrote down a name and phone number. "Okay, I'll see you in
Georgia." Joe hung up and turned to Eve. "He said he knew it would
come down to this. He gave me the phone number of a Philip Jordan. He said to
call him and he'd pick us up and take us to a very private airport in Metairie,
Louisiana." "Just so it's soon." "You're going to Atlanta?"
Nathan asked. "Yes." "I want to go with you." "What a surprise," Joe said.
"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Hebert may be there?
He could be on his way here, you know." He shook his head. "Not when he finds
out they didn't get us at Galen's. Jules Hebert is smart. Take me with
you." "You've become something of an
albatross, Nathan." Nathan turned to Eve. "I want to
come. We're in this together." Eve gazed at him a moment and finally
nodded. "I thought as much." Joe began
dialing his phone. "I'll tell Jordan there'll be one more to pick
up." The plane landed at an airport north of
Gainesville, Georgia in the rosy dawn light. Galen met them as the plane drew
up before the hangar. "Welcome home." His brows lifted as his gaze
went beyond them to Nathan. "I see you brought your bodyguard." "Be quiet, Galen." Eve moved
toward the car on the tarmac. "I'm mad enough at you for not telling me
you thought Hebert would go after Jane." "Ingratitude, thy name is
woman." "I am grateful. I just wish I'd known..."
She turned to face him. "I'm a bitch. You saved their lives. I'll owe you
a debt for the rest of my life." "That's better." He looked
pointedly at Joe. "Now, do you have something to say to me?" "Yes." Joe pushed the leather
case he was carrying at him. "Stop playing around and put Bently in the
trunk." "I'm not playing around. I'm trying
to garner what's due me." He looked down at the box. "It's really
Bently?" Eve nodded. "Nathan's certain, but
I'll have to do the usual photo and video comparisons. I'll get on that as soon
as we get settled." She got into the car. "Where's Jane?" "She and her grandmother are in a
safe house in Gwinnett." "I want to go get them." "What a surprise." He turned to
Joe. "I've set up security around your lake cottage. I thought you'd want
to go there. I've hired Bill Jackson and his team to patrol the area around the
cottage. I've used him before and he's very good." Joe looked at Eve. She nodded wearily. "I want to take
Jane home. She's been bounced around enough." "She's not going to be pleased,"
Galen said. "She wanted you to stay in hiding. She told me to tell you not
to be dumb and come home." Eve smiled. "That sounds like
Jane." "And you're going to ignore
her." Galen put the case with the skull in the trunk. "I can
guarantee the safety of the cottage and the immediate area around it, but the
hills and the lake are vulnerable. You have a hell of a lot of private acreage.
Which means you can't go outside, and being cooped up nonstop with that dog may
be worse than facing Hebert." "We'll confront that problem when we
come to it." "May I make a suggestion? Hebert has
gotten what he wants. You're out in the open, and you brought him the skull.
You're the target now, not Jane. The danger to her will only increase the
closer she is to you. We can have the police switch the safe house to Markum, a
town within a five-minute drive to the lake cottage, but she shouldn't be with
you." "Don't tell me that. I want her close
to me. I can't stand the thought of—" "He's right, Eve," Joe said. She knew he was right. It didn't make the
prospect of being separated from Jane and her mother any easier. She drew a
deep breath. "Okay. But you'd damn well better make sure they're safe." "I will," Galen said. "With
the help of Quinn's friends and four very sheepish FBI agents. I'd never take
chances. But as I said, Hebert's got what he wants. There's no longer a reason
for him to go to the trouble of going after Jane when he can concentrate on
going after you. After all, you have the skull." "Okay, okay, you've made your
point." Eve got into the passenger seat. "But I want you to take me
to see Jane right now. I'm not going to have her know I'm in the same city and
staying away from her. You can take us to the cottage later." "She won't like it," Galen said.
"But I'll drive you there." Nathan made a face. "Can you drop me
off at a rental car agency? I'm tired of being without wheels, and I don't want
to butt in on a tender family moment. I'll meet you at this lake cottage." "Why, Nathan. How sensitive,"
Galen said. "I'm touched." "Only in that convoluted brain,"
Nathan said dryly as he got in the car. "Did I tell you how pleasant these
last days have been without you?" "All good things must come to an
end." As the car started, Eve gazed blindly out
the window. "This is such a damn mess. There has to be some way out of it
that's safe for Jane. I just have to think about it." "What do you mean?" Joe asked. "I mean I may be mad as hell at Jennings,
but he could still take this skull off my hands. It was the smart thing to do
before, and it's the smart thing to do now." "Does that mean you're going to hand
it over to him?" "I don't know what I'm going to do. I
can't even think straight right now. I just want to keep Mom and Jane
safe." Chapter
Fourteen The house in
Gwinnett was a small brick bungalow with a wide front porch. Jane came out on the porch when she saw
Eve get out of the car. "What are you doing here?" She stared
accusingly at Galen. "Can't you do anything right? I told you to keep them
away from here." "I tried. I had to make a
compromise," Galen said. "She's almost as tough as you." "Yes, she is." Jane was still
frowning. "Joe, you know this isn't a good idea—Oh, what the hell." She ran down the steps and into Eve's
arms. "I've been so worried," she whispered as she gave Eve a bear
hug. "I've missed you." Eve blinked back the tears. "Me, too.
I'm so sorry you've been put through all this." "No big deal. But you still shouldn't
be here." She released her and gave Joe a hug. "You tell her,
Joe." "We're only going to be here for a
little while," Joe said. "A few hours maybe. Where's Sandra?" "Inside feeding Toby. I'll be glad
when I can get him away from her. She feeds him every time he begs. He's going
to be fat as a polar bear." "And where are the detectives that
are supposed to be protecting you?" "Playing cards." Jane wrinkled
her nose. "I like them better than those two FBI guys in the house across
the street. They follow me wherever I go." "Good. But they shouldn't have let
you come out on the porch." "They looked out the window and saw
who it was. Detective Brady said he knew you. Come on, let's go inside."
Jane turned away. "I've got to stop Grandma from stuffing Toby." "And I'll take on the job of stuffing
us," Galen said. "I hope you've got a well-stocked kitchen?" "Frozen food. Grandma's a lousy
cook." Galen flinched. "Frozen? I'll
improvise. I'm sure I can still provide a superb lunch." Jane opened the screen door. "I hope
you manage to do something without bungling it." There was a sound from Joe that might have
been a chuckle. Galen darted him a baleful glance.
"Not a word." Joe gazed at him innocently. "From
the mouths of babes." Eve's mother, Sandra, looked up from the
dog bowl she was washing. "It's about time you got here."
She hugged Eve. "The only person who doesn't complain about my cooking is
Toby." "She actually fed him pancakes this
morning," Jane said. "Come on, Toby. I'll take
you in the backyard to run it off." Eve turned from watching Jane leave the
room. It was obvious Jane wanted to give Eve and her mother a chance to mend
some fences, but it wasn't necessary. Eve's relationship with her mother was
complicated, but their affection had overcome a multitude of hurdles and still
survived. "I'm sorry about all this. How bad has it been?" "Well, other than having the condo
blow up—" Sandra smiled as she saw Eve
flinch. "Really. It's okay, Eve." "It's not okay. I dumped a
responsibility on you that should have been mine." "Shit happens." Sandra shook her
head. "You're feeling guilty. Maybe you should. Or maybe it was my turn to
be the responsible citizen. I didn't do a very good job of it when you were
growing up. It's a wonder you're not serving a sentence in some prison. It's
time I paid my dues." "That's bullshit." "Okay, then maybe I like taking care
of Jane and that idiot dog. They keep me on my toes." Sandra's gaze went
to Jane in the backyard. "She calls me Grandma. No one has called me that
since Bonnie ... I thought it was odd, since she calls you and Joe by your
given names. But then I realized she sensed that I'd like it. She's a very
smart girl. Like you, Eve." "Probably much smarter." "No way. You got through a childhood
with a mother like me. That qualifies you for Einstein status." She took
Eve's arm. "Now shut up and let's go get Jane. She won't come in until she
thinks we've had enough time together." Eve gazed at her in loving exasperation.
"Will you at least let me say thank you?" "You've said it. Or something pretty
close. Now you're getting boring." "Heaven forbid." Eve smiled.
"By all means, let's go get Jane." ------------------- "Someone else has to wash and dry the
dishes," Galen announced after lunch. "I've done the creative part
and provided you all with a meal par excellence. It's only fair that you do the
drudgery." "I'll wash them," Jane said.
"Galen would probably mess it up." "Another blow to my
self-esteem." Galen sighed. "She has great aim, Eve." He moved
toward the living room. "I've got to go out on the porch and fill your cop
friends in on the relocating change." "I'll help Jane," Sandra said.
"I've grown to be an expert over the years. People always rather I do the
cleanup than the cooking." Eve stood and started stacking the dishes. Jane shook her head. "You and Joe go
sit in the living room with a cup of coffee and let us do the work. You'll just
get in the way." Eve hesitated. "Go," Sandra said. "And
after I finish here, I'll take Toby for a turn round the yard. He's been a little
lazy today." "Because you feed him too much,
Grandma," Jane said as she went over to the sink.
"How am I ever going to make him a search-and-rescue dog if he weighs five
hundred pounds?" "You're exaggerating..." "Come on. We've been evicted."
Joe picked up his coffee and Eve's. "The living room." Eve followed him into the living room and
sank down on the couch. Lord, she was tired, and Galen's meal hadn't made her
any less sluggish. Joe handed Eve the coffee cup and sat
beside her. "I'm glad we came to see her. I've missed her like the
devil." "Me, too." The arched doorway
allowed a clear view to the kitchen and Sandra and Jane standing working at the
sink. "You're right, there's no one like her." "Well, maybe one person like
her." Joe's gaze followed hers. "You." Eve shook her head. "Just because we
both grew up on the streets doesn't make us twins." "Close enough for me." "You said something like that
before." "Oh, I'm not saying I love her
because she's like you. She deserves better than that. But every now and then I
get a glimpse of something that reminds me of you." Joe smiled. "And
I melt." "Melt?" Eve quickly looked down
into the coffee in her cup. "Not you, Joe." "Oh, yes. 'Melt' is a good
word." He finished his coffee and stood up. "And now I think I'll go
out on the porch and see if I can help Galen set up that new safe house." She watched him until the screen door
closed behind him. Those few minutes had been so comfortable and warm that she
had almost forgotten the distance between them. Or was time making the distance lessen? She didn't know, but she had felt a
closeness that was both familiar and perilously sweet. The events of the last
few days had thrust them together and blurred the jagged lines of the break
between them. Yet she knew the break was still there.... Stop staring after him. It only disturbed
her. Jesus, it disturbed her. She jumped to her feet and went into the
kitchen to help her mother and Jane with the dishes. ------------------- "You should never have come. But I'm
glad you did." Jane gave Eve a final hug after walking her to the car.
"Now you know I'm fine and that I'll take care of Grandma." "I know you will. I'm sorry I let you
in for all this, Jane." "Hey, maybe Toby needed to put on a
little weight." "Don't joke." "It's okay. Stop worrying." Jane
paused. "What are you going to do about that creep who blew up the
condo?" "Don't worry. He won't get near you
again." "That's not what I asked. You're not
going to let him get away with it, are you? You're going to go after him." Eve stared at her. "I'm going to do
what's best for you and my mother." "I thought that was the
problem." Jane frowned. "It's not like you to hide out and let that
bastard run around and do a lousy thing like that. He could have killed a lot
of people in the condo." "He could have killed you." "But he didn't, and now you're trying
to find a place to hide me again. You're going to crawl into a cave and try to
protect all of us. Don't do it, Eve." "What?" "I've been thinking about it. I want
you to be safe. But you can't run away from creeps like that. You've got to
slug away toe-to-toe. So go after him and nail the asshole." "That's not a wise thing—" "Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm tripping
over all the protection you've set up for me. Don't you dare use me as an
excuse. If I could do it, I'd go after him myself. It sucks to be a kid." "It's not an excuse. It's the right
thing to do." Jane shook her head. "Hiding isn't
like you. Maybe you've forgotten who you are, what you do. It's partly my
fault, and I don't like it. Promise me you'll think about it." "I promise." Eve hesitated.
"I love you very much, Jane." Jane nodded. "Don't get mushy." "I just wanted to make sure you
knew." "I know. Just get that SOB and take
care of yourself." Jane took a step back and watched Eve get into the car
before leaning forward to whisper, "And take care of Joe. He needs it more
than he'll let you know." How the hell could Eve answer that?
"I'll call you tonight, Jane." ------------------- Nathan met them as they drove up to the cottage.
"Everything okay?" Eve nodded as she got out of the car.
"Okay. Not perfect." "Not many things are." Nathan's
gaze shifted to the lake. "But this place comes pretty close. You were
right; your lake is beautiful, Eve. It soothes the soul." "We like it." "It reminds me that there are still
some battles worth fighting." "Galen tells us you're quite a
crusader," Joe said. Nathan shrugged. "I try. Most of the
time it's a losing battle. I get really tired of going up against the big
companies who pollute our lakes and streams. They have money. I have only
words." "I don't see how a man who feels so
passionately for water can have such a dislike for alligators and snakes."
Galen started to unload the car. "You need to rethink and include our
companions in the wild. I bet you never wrote an article about the virtues of
the preservation of leeches." "No bet," Nathan said. "I
ran into Hughes, the head of your security team, when I showed up here. He said
he wanted to see you." Galen nodded. "I want to see him, too."
He handed Nathan two suitcases. "So you can play the beast of burden and
take these inside." He pulled out his phone as he started down the path. Nathan gazed after him. "One of these
days..." He turned and carried the bags into the cottage. Eve picked up the leather skull case, but
hesitated before following Nathan, gazing out at the lake. It soothes the soul. Beauty did soothe the soul, she thought.
She could feel some of the rawness and pain of the past few days ebbing away. "Home," Joe said quietly. She looked at him, and then quickly looked
away. But the word lingered with her as she
walked up the steps. Home. ------------------- "Where's Galen?" Eve asked Joe
as she came out of the bedroom after talking to Jane on the phone that evening. "Out on the grounds talking to the
security team. He's complaining the area is one big headache to secure. Nathan
is out on the porch communing with nature. How's Jane?" "Disapproving." She made a face.
"And making her displeasure known at every opportunity." "And that means?" "She wants us to go after Hebert and
try to nail him." "That sounds like Jane." He
smiled. "Not a bad idea. I've been thinking the same thing." "So have I." She shook her head.
"I get so angry when I think of that condo, I want to murder the bastard.
But it's not a responsible thing to do when Jane—" "It may be the most responsible thing
we could do. Get rid of the bastard before he does any more damage. Maybe if we
had a lead..." She didn't answer for a moment. "We
may have a lead." He looked at her inquiringly. She emphatically shook her head. "I
don't even want to think about it. It's not—" "Okay. Okay. We'll talk about it when
you're not so upset." He paused. "Jennings called on my cell phone
while you were talking to Jane. He wants to come and pick up the skull." "He'll get it when I decide I want to
give it to him. I'm still pissed at him." "He was very persistent. Just thought
I'd relay the message." He stood up and moved over to the window.
"The sun's going down. Pretty. I always like autumn sunsets. They seem to
be sharper, more defined." Like Joe. He was silhouetted against the
dim light streaming through the window, and he seemed made of edges and angles.
How many times had she watched him at this window? She crossed the room to
stand beside him. "It's beautiful." Her gaze went to the lake
glittering mirrored gold in the twilight. "I've always loved it
here." "I know." His glance shifted to
her face. "But I'm surprised you're admitting it now. You couldn't wait to
run away from here." "I was hurting." Eve's gaze went
to the hill where she'd thought she'd buried her daughter. "Everything
reminded me of what you did." He stiffened. "Was?" She hadn't realized she'd spoken in the
past tense. "I don't know, Joe. I still feel—It's not
over. I'm not sure if it will ever be over." "I don't know if I want it to
be." "What?" "That surprises you." Joe's gaze
shifted back to the lake. "Do I want to live with you for the rest of my
life? Hell, yes. Am I sorry I hurt you? You know I am. Do I want to go back to
what we had before? I'd take it, but I think we can do better." "Do you?" "I asked you to marry me two years
ago. You said you loved me. Why didn't you do it?" "We were both busy. We just didn't
get around to it." Joe turned to look at her. "You never pushed it, dammit." "Because I was scared. I was always
the supplicant in our relationship." "The hell you were." "It took me ten years to get you to
admit you loved me and agree to live with me. Do you think I'd rock the boat by
trying to nudge you anywhere you didn't want to go?" "I did want to marry
you." "Then why didn't you do it?" "What are you trying to say?" "I'm saying that I've made some giant
strides, but I'm still second banana to Bonnie." "And I suppose that's why you lied to
me?" "No way. I would have done the same
thing even if I thought I was number one on your hit parade. I wanted your
search for her to end." "By lying to me." "It was a mistake. But it wouldn't
have been a tragedy if you'd fought your way back to the land of the living before
it happened." "You don't know what you're talking
about," she said shakily. "No one knows better how far you've
come. I watched you battle your way back from pain and depression and madness.
Why do you think I love you so much?" He gently touched her cheek.
"You just have to come a few more steps." "I'm ... confused. You're trying to
turn this all around." She blinked back tears. "And you were never a
supplicant, blast you." "Yes, I am. I'm asking you to let me
stay. Let me help you take those final steps. It's all out in the open now. We
can make a fresh start." "Joe..." "You love me. You were happy here.
You can be happy again." She stared at him helplessly. "Okay." He took a step back.
"I'm not pushing you." Then he took a step forward and kissed her,
hard. "The hell I'm not. I'm tired of being patient. We need each other,
and I'm not going to let you blow it." He headed for the front door.
"I'll see you in the morning." She flinched as the door slammed behind
him. The air seemed to vibrate with the passion he had emitted. And not only
Joe's passion. She was shaking from emotion. All the barriers she had erected
between them seemed to be toppling. She lifted her hand to her lips. She could
still feel the pressure of his lips. Joe... Why didn't you marry me? Why hadn't she? Why had she shied away
from that final commitment? Joe thought he knew, and had still been willing to
accept second best. He wasn't second best. He'd never be
second best to anyone. She was being defensive, trying to protect
him, she realized. But she was the only one who could hurt him. How much had
she hurt him during these past two years? He was walking down the path, every
movement suggesting pent-up emotion ready to explode. His attitude was so
different from the last time she had watched him and Jane together just a few
weeks ago. But then, nothing was the same now. She turned away from the window. She was
too upset and confused to sort out her emotions now. So stop staring after Joe
and think about something else. Yeah, sure. "Jennings is coming." Joe had
thrown open the door again and was striding into the room. "Galen just
called from the checkpoint at the main road. Jennings is alone in one car, but
he's accompanied by a police vehicle." "What?" Joe shrugged. "I don't know what the
hell is happening. This isn't Jennings's style." Eve went past him out on the porch. Headlights were coming down the road. Nathan got up from the porch swing.
"What's happening?" "Jennings. He probably wants
Victor." He frowned. "Why the police car?" Joe didn't answer. "If you don't want
anyone to know you're involved, you'd better disappear, Nathan." Nathan hesitated, and then slowly shook
his head. "I'm tired of skulking around. You came out in the open. It's
time I did, too." "Suit yourself." A few minutes later Jennings's car was
pulling up before the cottage. He got out of the car and started up the steps.
"Sorry to do it this way," Jennings said quietly. "But I have to
have that reconstruction, Ms. Duncan." She bristled. "I don't like to be
pushed, Jennings. You'll get it when I'm ready to give it to you." "I know you're angry with me, but
don't let that get in the way of your good judgment. You did your job; now let
us do ours." "Or you'll break down the doors and
take it?" She glanced at the patrol car. "Do you have a search
warrant?" "Oh, yes." He pulled it out of
his pocket and handed it to Joe. "I couldn't take the chance of your
refusing me again. Since the condo was blown up, my superior, Agent Rusk, has
been on my ass about finding Hebert." "I'm not done. I've finished the
reconstruction, but I haven't done photo and video confirmations." "I'll do it. I have photos of Bently
in the car. Rusk wants me to check it out right away. I have to get on the horn
and call him as soon as I leave here." "It's not the same. I want to do it
myself." Eve's lips firmed. "Did it ever occur to you that Hebert
might come after it? Why don't you stake out the cottage instead of taking the
skull away from me?" My God, she had just suggested she be used as bait. What
the hell was wrong with her? "Actually, we may set up a similar
situation to lure Hebert. That's one of the reasons we have to have the
skull." "But I'm out of it?" Jennings nodded. "I don't see why
you're objecting. You couldn't wait for me to take the skull when I came to see
you." "I don't like to have my work taken
away from me by force. If you'd waited, I'd have probably called you." "We don't have time." He paused.
"I just got off a plane from Boca Raton. I've been there scouting around
for the past few days." "And?" "Nothing concrete, but something
occurred to me when I was down there. I went over what you told me, and the
answer just came out of the blue. It was all there right in front of me, but I
didn't see it. I may be wrong, but I have a hunch..."
He shook his head. "I need to talk it over with Rusk and see if he thinks
I'm nuts. If not, we'll have to move fast to put everything together." Eve sensed an undercurrent of excitement.
There was tenseness, an alertness in his manner that was unmistakable.
"What hunch?" Jennings shook his head. "Will you
please go get the skull for me? Don't make me take it." Joe took a step forward. "No
way." "I wonder how this kind of harassment
would play in the press," Nathan said softly from his seat on the swing. Jennings glanced at Nathan sitting in the
shadows. "Who the hell are you?" "Just a friend," Joe said. Jennings looked back at Eve. "Quinn
is a policeman. Do you want to make him disobey a legal writ in front of men
from his own department?" So that was why he'd brought the police
car. Smart. Very smart. Joe never took his gaze from the FBI man.
"I don't give a damn about your writ. Eve?" "No." She turned on her heel.
"I would have eventually given it to him anyway. I just don't like the use
of force, and I wanted to do the finish work myself. It's not worth causing you
trouble." "I can handle any trouble he's
dishing out." "No, Joe." She went into the
cottage and got the leather case with Victor's skull from her bedroom. She took
it back out on the porch and thrust it at Jennings. "Thank you." He unfastened the
snap, glanced inside, and then fastened it again. He looked up and said
soberly, "I apologize for causing you this disturbance. It wasn't my
choice. I would have been glad to give you a little more time, but the matter
is too urgent." "Don't you think I'm feeling a sense
of urgency? My daughter almost died in that condo." "You can safely leave the matter in
our hands now." "I left my daughter's safety in your
hands and you fouled up. Why should I believe you'll be any more effective in
finding Hebert?" He flinched. "I deserved that."
He turned and went down the stairs. "I'll try to keep you informed." "Not likely," Joe said. "I
was an agent. I know the drill." Jennings got in the car. "I'll do
what I can. That's all I can promise." Eve watched the two cars wind down the
road and around the bend. She should have felt relieved, she told herself.
Victor was out of her hands, and the responsibility was entirely with Jennings.
But she didn't feel relieved. She felt strangely flat and ... cheated. "He was hard for you to give
up," Nathan said. "I hadn't completed the work. I
needed to do the video overlay and the final comparison." "The Bureau will do it." "But Victor was mine." "You didn't have to give him
up," Joe said. "I would have backed you." "Yes, you would have fought them all
and probably lost your job." "Maybe." "And you love that damn job." "Yes, but it's way down on my list.
Shall I tell you what's at the top?" "No," she said unevenly. "I didn't think so." He started
down the stairs. "Then I'll go try to find Galen and tell him what's
happened." "I'm sorry, Eve," Nathan said.
"I tried to help." "I know. You should have kept quiet.
Jennings may have been too absorbed to follow up on what Joe said, but later
he's going to remember you being here." "So what? It won't kill me." He
grimaced. "I hope." Eve felt a chill go through her. "Hey, it's a joke." "Yeah." She nodded jerkily and
went into the cottage. Chapter Fifteen
Jennings waved
the police car on past him and pulled
over to the side of the road. He speed-dialed Robert Rusk in Washington.
"I've got it, sir. It wasn't pleasant. I like that woman, and if
we'd given her another day she'd probably have turned it over without a
protest." "You didn't have time to be
diplomatic," Agent Rusk said. "We've got to know if this is Harold
Bently. You brought the photos of him with you?" "Sure." Jennings turned on the
overhead light before taking the three pictures out of the briefcase and
spreading them on the passenger seat. Then he opened the leather case and
carefully pulled out the skull. "I'm doing a comparison now." "And?" He studied the features of the skull and
then carefully did the same to the photographs. He gave a low whistle.
"Duncan's really good." "Is it Bently?" "No doubt about it." Jennings
studied the skull again. "It's definitely Harold Bently." "You're positive?" "Yes." "Good." "Shall I bring it to the office right
away? And I need to talk to you about Boca Raton. I may have found the—" He never finished the sentence. ------------------- Eve heard the explosion first. The sound
was so loud it shook the cottage. She ran out onto the porch. "What the hell?" Nathan was
running down the porch steps. Then the night sky lit up with a red glow. "I don't know what—" Eve stared in horror at the tops of the pine trees flaming
on the horizon. She ran down the steps and up the path, followed closely by
Nathan. "Come on, we'll get the car."
Joe was beside her, taking her arm and pulling her toward the jeep. "I
think it's on the road. But it's got to be a couple miles away." Eve and Nathan jumped into the jeep and
Joe stomped on the accelerator. She moistened her dry lips as they raced
down the road. "What is it?" Joe didn't answer. The sky was still lit by a baleful red
glow. Fire. But what had caused it? As they turned a corner in the road, she
saw billowing black smoke and a roaring inferno. At first she couldn't tell
what was at the heart of the flames. Joe took a deep breath as he stopped the
car. "Christ." A car, or pieces of a car. "My God." Nathan jumped out of
the jeep. Eve's eyes widened in shock.
"Jennings?" Joe nodded. "That's my guess." "Could he still be alive?" She knew the answer before Joe said,
"No chance. Whatever device blew that car was damn powerful. There's not
much left of the metal." And human flesh was so much more fragile.
"It was a bomb? How?" "It may take days of lab work to
determine that. Somebody didn't want any pieces left to put together." "Hebert," Eve said dully.
"He seems to be very good with explosives. The condo was—" "I'm getting the hell out of
here." Galen was running toward them. "My guy at the highway phoned
to say the police car is turning around and coming back. They must have heard
the explosion." "I'll talk to them," Joe said. "Fine. But that won't help me. You
two may be fairly above suspicion, but I'm not." Galen glanced at the
burning car. "And you may have a few things to explain yourselves. You
tell me you're hostile to Jennings, and a few minutes later his car blows up.
Jennings was FBI. The least that could happen is that you'll be grilled about
your involvement. I'll call you later tonight after all the hoopla dies
down." "I'll go with you." Nathan got
out of the car. "Then you'd better move fast."
Galen turned and disappeared into the forest. Nathan muttered an oath and trotted after
him. "Wait, dammit, I'm carrying a lot more weight than you are." Eve turned and looked back at the burning
car. Poor Jennings... "Listen," Joe said.
"Galen's right; there are going to be all kinds of questions. I'll handle
as much as I can, but I can't keep you out of it entirely." Eve nodded numbly. She was so stunned, it
was difficult to think what was best to do. She didn't want to end up at either
the police department or FBI headquarters answering interminable questions. On
the other hand, taking off and running was not an option, either. "I don't
expect you to keep me out of it. I'll be okay." "Tell me that after we get through
this night." He flipped open his phone. "I'm calling the chief and
telling him to get a forensic crew out here right away. I want any evidence to
be channeled first through our labs. There's no guarantee that the Bureau won't
step in, since Jennings was one of their own, but if they do barge in and take
over, at least they'll be obligated to share results with the ATLPD." "Will your chief bow to
pressure?" "Probably. Like I said, if the tests
are already underway before the FBI steps into the picture, the chief will have
a legitimate gripe if the information isn't shared. The Bureau is always saying
that everything's peaches and cream between the Feds and local police
departments, but the antagonism is still there. It would be a bad public
relations move for them to refuse access." Eve continued to look at the flames as he
spoke quickly into his phone, and felt her stomach clench. At first, she'd only
been aware of the smell of gasoline and burning pine, but now she realized
there was another scent.... "You okay?" Joe's gaze was on
her face. She took a deep breath and nodded.
"But let's go back to the cottage." "Sorry." His gaze was on the
road. "Here comes the patrol car. I'll get you out of here as soon as I
can." ------------------- They didn't get back to the cottage until
after the forensic team arrived at the wreckage fifteen minutes later. Special
Agent Hal Lindman from the FBI Atlanta field office arrived an hour later,
followed closely by two detectives from Joe's precinct. It was several hours
after that when the questioning ended and the final statements were taken. "It's not over," Joe said as
they watched the police cars drive down the road away from the cottage.
"The FBI is going to come down on this case like gangbusters as soon as
the man Rusk is sending down from his office gets here. They'll take over the
investigation and be on our doorstep tomorrow morning at the latest." "We won't be here." "What?" "Call Galen and get him and Nathan to
come back right away. I want to talk to them." Joe studied Eve's expression, and nodded.
"I'll get them." She crossed her arms over her chest as she
gazed out at the pine trees. The sky was no longer red, but the trees were
scorched and bare. Jennings was dead. Blown to bits. She
closed her eyes, sick, as the memory of that blazing car came back to her. She
had been angry with him for arbitrarily taking the skull, but she had genuinely
liked the man. He didn't deserve to have that monster kill him. "They'll be here within an
hour," Joe said. "They'll have to take a speedboat from the opposite
end of the lake to avoid the guards around the crime scene." The crime scene. It was an ugly phrase for
an ugly act. "Eve?" Rage was beginning to supplant the horror.
"I'm mad as hell, Joe. Hebert killed him because of Victor. When Hebert
thought that he might not be able to find out who Victor was, he wanted to make
sure no one else would know, either. He didn't care that a decent man was blown
up, too." "It may have been more than
that," Joe said. "Jennings was on the track of something in Boca
Raton." Yes, Jennings had been excited. What had
he said? It was there in front of me all the time.
I didn't see it. What had been there in front of Jennings? She rubbed her aching temple. She couldn't
think. She was in too much of a rage for cool reason. She wanted to strike out
again and again and again. You have to stand toe-to-toe and slug it
out. Jane had said that, but Eve had backed
away. Now there was another death, and once more Hebert had gotten away with
it. Damn him to hell. She wasn't going to crawl into a cave and
hide again. ------------------- Galen cut the motor of the speedboat as he
reached the pier. "You called, we came." "Come into the cottage," Eve
said as she walked back up the pier. "We may not have much time. Joe's not
sure when the FBI will show up again." "Yes, ma'am." Galen gave a low
whistle as he got out of the boat and followed her toward the cottage.
"Whatever you say." Joe was sitting in the easy chair by the
window. "Any trouble getting here?" Nathan shook his head. "No problem.
God, I need some coffee." He moved toward the kitchen. "You talk,
I'll listen while I'm making a pot." His face was pale and pinched, Eve
noticed. "You don't look well." "I'll be okay. I'm not used to this
kind of thing." He scowled. "I once thought I'd like
to be a police reporter, but I never made it past the first gang
shooting." He poured water into the coffeemaker. "I hate violence. It
makes me sick." "Join the club." Eve shivered as
she remembered Jennings's burning funeral pyre. "It shouldn't happen. We
shouldn't let it happen." Joe's gaze narrowed on her face. "And
do we have a way to stop it?" "We've got to try." Her hands
clenched at her sides. "We can't let him keep on with this. He almost
killed Jane and my mother. He did kill Jennings and Capel and—" She stopped and drew a deep shaky breath. "Jane told
me that I should 'slug it out toe-to-toe,' but I was too scared of what he'd
do. That was a mistake. I have to stop him before he does anything else. No one
is safe as long as he's alive and free. I can't let him go on like this." "To stop him, we have to find
him," Joe said. She was silent a moment. "Or he has
to find me." "He's already destroyed the
skull," Nathan said. "He may not target you now. Particularly if he
has other fish to fry in Boca Raton." "Oh, I think he'll target me. I know
too much, and he evidently likes to keep everything tidy for the Cabal."
She paused. "But it will add a little impetus if he thinks I'm going after
evidence he doesn't want to be discovered." "And that is?" "Bently's grave. I don't have to have
the entire skeleton. In this day of DNA technology, if I discover hair, a bone,
even a tooth, I may have a chance of spoiling whatever game Hebert and the
Cabal are playing." "How?" "I'm not sure yet. But they don't
want him identified, or they wouldn't have blown up Jennings's car
tonight." "And how are you going to find the
grave?" "I may not be able to. But if Hebert
thinks I'm getting near it, he may be drawn in." She opened her handbag.
"On the other hand, I may be able to find it." She took out a
letter-size manila envelope and opened it. "If I can find out where this
came from." Joe took the envelope and looked inside.
"Dirt." "Galen called it 'funny dirt,' "
Eve said. "It's a light color, and it has a large amount of tiny bones or
shell chips. Victor had this caked mud in all his orifices." Nathan made a face as he poured coffee
into his cup. "Pleasant." Galen smiled. "Isn't it nice I'm so
observant? You were so obsessed with Victor, I didn't think you were paying
attention when I made the comment." "I didn't want to. It got in the way
of my work. But after you left, it kept nagging at me. So I scraped some of the
mud into an envelope and put it in my purse." "Why didn't you tell me?" Joe
asked. "I forgot about it." He raised his brows. "Forgot?" "Okay, I blocked it out," she
said defiantly. "I told you, it was getting in my way with Victor." Galen shook his head.
"Obsession." "And what are you going to do with
the mud?" Nathan asked. "Take it to Louisiana State
University. They have one of the best geology schools in the South there. I'll
see if they can give me a lead as to where dirt like this can be found." "And then?" "I go there and Hebert follows
me." "No," Joe said flatly. "Yes." Eve looked him directly
in the eye. "Toe-to-toe, Joe. I'm going to get the son of a bitch." He was silent a moment. "I wasn't
objecting to that. You said I, not we. I'm going with you." She opened her mouth to protest, and then
slowly nodded her head. It was no time to worry about their personal conflict. They
had worked together before, and there was no one she trusted as she did Joe. Trust... Galen nodded. "I think I'll tag
along, too." "No," Eve said. "I want you
to stay and watch over Jane. I need you here." "That wasn't what I was hired to
do." "I want her safe." Galen grimaced. "Okay, but Jane will
have my head if she finds out that I'm not dogging your footsteps." She smiled faintly. "You'll
survive." "I'm not so sure. She's a tough
customer." Eve turned to Nathan. "Are you coming
with us?" He shook his head. "I'm heading for
Boca Raton. If Jennings found out something down there, I might be able to do
the same. I'll be in touch." He poured more coffee into his cup. "We
don't have much time. It's already the twenty-fifth, and the twenty-ninth was
the date Etienne was so concerned about." The ticking clock. She wouldn't think
about it. She would move as quickly as she could, but there was no sense in
panicking. "Then we need to get going." She turned to Joe. "Can
you call your chief and get them to keep the FBI off our backs for a few
days?" He shook his head. "But I can try to
get the chief to keep his mouth shut about where we are." "Good." Eve turned to Galen.
"I need Hebert to know what we're up to." "He already seems to know a hell of a
lot more than I'm comfortable with." "I have to be sure." "Any ideas?" "I believe what Melton knows, Hebert
will know." She frowned, thinking. "Tanzer. He bragged that nothing
went on in Baton Rouge that he didn't know about. Can you finesse someone at
the college to filter information to Tanzer after we leave there?" "And Tanzer will call Melton."
Galen nodded. "I might be able to get one of my contacts to work it."
He smiled faintly. "After all, Tanzer is a trou du cul." Jesus, it seemed a long time since Marie
Letaux had used that phrase. So much had happened, so many deaths... "Be careful," Nathan said
soberly. "I wouldn't want you to be caught in the trap you're setting for
Hebert. The man gives me the willies." She had a sudden memory of the chill she
had felt when talking to Nathan earlier in the evening. "You be careful,
too." "I'm always careful." He
finished his coffee. "I have to live to get my Pulitzer." He started
for the door. "Come on, Galen. Get off your ass and take me to the
airport." Chapter Sixteen
Louisiana State
University 11:45 a.m. October 25 "It's
Terrebonne parish." Professor Gerald Cassidy straightened his bifocal glasses on his nose before
looking up at Eve and Joe. "I'd bet on it." "You haven't even tested it,"
Joe said. "How can you be sure?" "I'll take it to the lab and run some
tests, but I've seen this dirt before. It's unusual. I did a paper on the area
for my doctorate." Which couldn't have been too long ago, Eve
thought. Cassidy didn't look a day over twenty-five. "Why is it unusual?" "High concentration of calcium."
Cassidy pointed to the minute white chips embedded in the dirt. "Shells.
Hundreds of years ago, the entire area was flooded and the shells were
deposited all over." He frowned. "But I've never run across this heavy
a percentage of shells in the soil samples I took. I'd be interested to know
where it's located...." "We need to be absolutely sure we can
start at Terrebonne," Joe said. "Will you run some tests?" Cassidy shrugged. "Sure. Come back
this afternoon." He paused. "Why do you want to know? What are you
looking for?" Eve hesitated. "A grave." Cassidy made a face. "Good luck.
That's bayou country. Hundreds of waterways, and the Cajuns aren't all that
communicative. They don't like strangers. It took me months to gather enough
information for my thesis." "But you must have made a few
contacts. Can you put us in touch with anyone who might be able to pinpoint the
area where this might be found?" "Jacques Dufour. If he needs money
and wants to cooperate, he knows the bayous better than anyone else I was able
to hire. I'll give you his phone number in Houma." He opened a desk
drawer, took out a black leather address book, and flipped through it. "I
wouldn't use me as a reference. He made no bones about showing his contempt for
me." "Why?" "I was twenty-four years old, a
little bookish, and not Cajun. All sins in his eyes." He studied Joe.
"Somehow I don't think you'll have a problem with him." "I won't." Eve wrote down the
phone number and stood up. "When will you know for certain?" "It should be about four this
afternoon. Are you coming back here?" Eve shook her head as she went toward the
door. "Joe will give you our cell number. We're leaving for Houma right
away." ------------------- "They're going to Terrebonne parish,"
Melton said as soon as Hebert answered the phone. "They're after the
grave. For God's sake, can you screw up any worse than you've been doing?" Hebert smothered the surge of anger.
"They won't find anything." "I'm not so sure. You've screwed up
everything about this business from the beginning." "It will be all right. Maybe better
than all right. I know those swamps, and the people who live there. Etienne and
I grew up near those bayous." "Listen to me. I want no disruption.
Get rid of them quickly, quietly, and then get your ass back to Boca Raton.
Christ, I can't believe you've cut it this close. You're sure that everything's
on schedule down there?" "It's all in motion. I'm sure your
informants have already told you that the plan's working beautifully." "Yes, there was an article in the
newspaper this morning. Security?" "In place. As soon as I finish, I'll
get back and tie up any loose ends." "Then do it, damn you." Melton
hung up. Arrogant son of a bitch. Hebert didn't
need Melton to tell him how tight the time frame was getting. His gut twisted
every time he let himself think about it. Every move he had made lately had
been either threatened or checkmated. It was as if there were some force
keeping him from succeeding. Etienne. He closed his eyes. Ridiculous
superstitious nonsense. He mustn't panic. All he had to do was remove Duncan
and Quinn, and he'd be free to concentrate on his job in Boca Raton. It would
be easy to do. Unless it was a trap. But even if it was a trap, he'd have the
advantage. Every year people disappeared into those swamps and never came out.
There was death waiting for the careless around every bend of the bayou. But he
was experienced enough to spring any trap—or set a deadly
one of his own. A two-hour flight and he'd be in New
Orleans. An hour later and he'd be deep in the
swamp. Waiting. Houma 4:05 p.m. October 25 "Shells?" Jacques Dufour
shrugged. "There are shells all over the parish." "But this place has a very high
concentration of them," Eve said. "Professor Cassidy said you might
know where it was located." "I might. I'll have to think about
it." Eve gritted her teeth. The man was as
arrogant as Cassidy had told them. "Then think about it." "Maybe we should just go looking. My
swamp tour is the best in the bayou." "I don't want a tour. I want to find
a place with—" "How much?" Joe asked curtly. "I didn't say—" Dufour stopped as he met Joe's gaze. "I have an idea
where it might be. My cousin, Jean Pierdu, lives in an area where there are
many shells." "Then give me his telephone number. I
want to talk to him." Dufour smiled. "He has no telephone.
People are very poor here. You'll have to go to him. Five hundred." "Three hundred. And you'd better be
right about the shells. I wouldn't want you to waste your time." Joe's
voice lowered to silky softness. "Or mine." "Too cheap. It's deep in the bayou,
and I might have to—" "Maybe I didn't make myself
clear." Joe took a step closer. "Three hundred, and you might come
out of that bayou with your skin intact. Annoy me with this bullshit and you
may end up alligator bait." Dufour's lips tightened. "You should
remember that a bayou can be a dangerous place for someone who isn't familiar
with it." "Three hundred." Dufour hesitated, then shrugged.
"Three hundred." He turned away. "We leave tomorrow
morning." "Now." "I have a swamp tour in forty
minutes, and after that it will be too dark to see." He smiled
maliciously. "We go very close to the trees. I think you'd want to be able
to see a coral snake before it dropped in the lady's lap." Joe muttered a curse as he watched Dufour
swagger away from them. "It might have gone a little better
if you'd been more patient and not threatened him with the alligator," Eve
said. "I'm tired of being patient." That was evident to Eve. Ever since they'd
arrived at Houma, she'd been aware that Joe had gone into battle mode. She had
seen that side of him only a few times since she had known him. He tried to
keep the violence of both past and present apart from her. Yet she still
recognized the tension, the alertness, the barely contained eagerness. Yes,
eager was the word. He was eager, wanting to break loose, wanting to strike
out. No wonder Dufour had backed down. "We might as well find a hotel to
check into for the night," she said. "I need to call Galen and make
sure Jane's safe." ------------------- "Of course, she's safe," Galen
said. "I believe I'm insulted." "Insulted? May I remind you that she
and my mother were almost blown up?" "Good point. But now I have them
surrounded by so many of Hughes's security men that it would take an army to
get near them. Even if Hebert could breach the FBI and police guards, it would—" He stopped. "But Hebert is going to be too busy to
make an attempt, isn't he? Any sign of him?" "Not yet. But we have a lead on the
grave site. We're at Houma and we go into the swamp tomorrow." "I'm very good in swamps. I think you
need me. Hughes could do my job here, and I—" "We don't need you. Stay with Jane.
Have you heard from Nathan?" "No, but he'd more likely contact
you. For some reason, he finds me a little annoying." "I wonder why. I'll call you
tomorrow." She hung up. Eve was relieved. The odds that Hebert
would strike again at Jane were slim, but that hadn't stopped her from
worrying. Galen's attitude might have seemed light, but she knew him well
enough now to know that he was dead serious about his job. Jane was safe in his
hands. She stood up and moved over to the window.
It had started to rain; the distant swamp looked gloomy and menacing in the
early dusk. "Did you reach Galen?" Eve turned to see Joe standing in the
doorway. "Yes, Jane's fine." She smiled faintly. "He wanted to come
and help us. He says he's good in swamps. I told him we didn't need him." "Thank God. In my present mood I
don't think I could handle Galen's humor. As it is, I may have to drown Dufour
before this is over." "Did you find out anything from the
department about Jennings?" He shook his head. "Not yet. The FBI
took the forensic testing away from them, but the chief is pushing hard to get
all the reports as soon as they come out of the FBI labs. I asked Carol to call
me as soon as the reports hit any desk in the precinct." He made a face.
"And Rusk isn't at all pleased about our disappearing before his team got
down to Georgia. He's raising hell." "Tough." "That's what I said." Joe
paused. "I don't suppose you'd let me go alone to see Dufour's
cousin?" "No." "I'm pretty good in the swamps
myself. I learned a lot on assignment in Nicaragua when I was a SEAL." "I bet you did. And you can't wait to
use it." "No." He held her gaze with a
searing intensity that caused her eyes to widen with shock. "You're not
the only one who's mad as hell. I almost lost you. He's got to pay." Jesus. She finally managed to tear her gaze away.
"I'm going." "Just thought I'd try." He
turned away. "I'll see you in the morning. I've got the room next door. If
you need me, call." Eve stood staring at the door that had
closed behind Joe before finally forcing herself to turn back to the window. If you need me, call. Her hand clenched on the drape. She did
not need him. But, God, she wanted him. Chapter
Seventeen 1:10 p.m. October 26 "HOW CLOSE ARE WE?" EVE ASKED.
"IT SEEMS AS IF we've been in this boat for days." "Only four hours." Dufour
maneuvered the motorboat around a huge mangrove branch jutting out of the
water. "These bayous wind around like eels. You're lucky you have me to
guide you." He darted a glance at Joe. "Maybe you pay me more money
to take you back." Joe didn't look at him. "You're
pushing it." "It's a terrible thing to be lost in the swamp."
"I'm not lost." Joe's gaze shifted to Dufour's face. "I
memorized every turn you've taken from the time we left the dock. Do you want
me to repeat them back to you?" Dufour blinked, disconcerted.
"No." He quickly looked back at the muddy water ahead. "Can't
you take a joke? A deal is a deal." Joe smiled without mirth. "That's my
philosophy." Eve didn't doubt that Joe had told the
truth about knowing where they were, but she didn't see how. The weather was
chilly and damp, and ever since they had left the dock, it had been like being
in an alien world. Scraggly cypress trees formed a dark canopy over the narrow,
muddy waterway. Brown-black snakes occasionally glided by the boat, and
skeletal trees clung with desperation to the bottom of the bayou, fighting for
life in this hostile environment. And the vegetation was not the only thing
fighting for life. "What are those shacks on those
little islands? Do people actually live there?" Eve asked. "My cousin, Jean, would not be pleased
to hear you call his home a shack. His place is very like those houses. Though
most of the places we've passed are used primarily as camps by hunters and
fishermen," Dufour said. "But as you go deeper you find Cajuns who
live as well as hunt in the swamps and marshes. I told you the people were poor
here; they don't have the guts to get out and earn real money like I do. So
they're lucky to have a roof over their head." "Sometimes overcoming poverty isn't a
matter of guts." He shrugged. "Guts or stupidity." "Why are the houses built on stilts?
The ground comes up to the front door." "That's not the ground, it's mud.
This area is close to the ocean and, when the tide comes in, it brings the mud
with it. When the tide goes out, the houses would sink below the water if they
weren't on pilings." "What a precarious way to live,"
Eve murmured. Precarious and sad. "How deep is that mud?" "Sometimes five or six feet."
Dufour grinned. "Not good if you're a sleepwalker. You drop off the porch
and you have a mouthful of slime." He pointed to a shack several yards
ahead. "That's Jean's place." It was another small cypress shack, built
on stilts and linked to the bayou by a narrow pier. A woman came out onto the
porch and stood staring unsmilingly at them. She was small, thin, and very
pregnant. Two small boys garbed only in dirty T-shirts and underpants were
clinging to her skirts. "Don't stand there gawping at us,
Marguerite," Dufour said as he guided the boat close to the makeshift
pier. "Tell Jean he has guests." "We don't want the kind of guests you
bring us. We've no use for tourists." She glanced at Eve. "If you
want to see how we Cajuns live, then go somewhere else. Leave us alone." "Such rudeness." Dufour clucked
reprovingly. "I'll have to tell Jean to beat you more often." He tied
the boat and jumped out on the pier. "Is he here?" She nodded. "He won't want to see
you." "Yes, he will. There's money to be
had." He glanced at the woman's swollen belly. "And you can obviously
use money right now. Two children under five years and another mouth to feed on
the way?" She hesitated, then turned on her heel.
"Bring them." "Stay here, Eve." Joe jumped out
of the boat and strode toward the shack. "I'll just take a little look
around." Eve stiffened as he disappeared into the
house. Joe was obviously in protective mode. The hell she'd stay here. She scrambled out of the boat, but was
only halfway up the wooden dock when Joe came to the door and waved for her to
come in. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe. For now. ------------------- "I might know of such a place,"
Jean Pierdu said slowly. "How much?" "Five hundred to take us there,"
Joe said. "And another five hundred if you can tell us anything that might
be of interest to us about it." Jean gazed at him impassively. "I
know nothing about shells." "What do you know about graves?"
Eve asked. His expression didn't change. "We
keep to ourselves here." "But that doesn't mean you don't know
exactly what's going on," Dufour said. "I heard rumors there were
outsiders here a few years ago. We don't care about outsiders, Jean. Why not
get a little money for yourself?" "We need it, Jean," Marguerite
said quietly. "He's right, why should we care about outsiders?" "Don't interfere, Marguerite."
Jean was silent a moment, and then slowly nodded. "A thousand." "I can tell you and Dufour are
related," Joe said dryly. "Seven hundred." "Give him the thousand, Joe."
Eve's gaze was fixed on Marguerite and the two children. Joe smiled faintly. "Okay." He
turned back to Jean. "Where is it?" "The money." Joe reached for his wallet and counted out
the cash. "Satisfied?" Jean nodded and stuffed the money in his
pocket. "There are two islands about four miles from here. They're in a
little natural pocket of the swamp, and they caught the bulk of the shells when
the floods came. That might be what you're looking for." "They're little mud islands like this
one?" Eve asked. Jean nodded. "I've lived here all my
life and I've never run across anywhere else that had that many shells." "Are the islands close
together?" "Yes." He paused. "But
you'll only be interested in the second one. There's nothing on the
other." Joe stiffened. "And what's on the
second one?" "You won't find your grave. It's not
there anymore." "But it was there?" "Get more money," Marguerite
said. Jean gave her an annoyed glance. "I
was going to do that." Joe peeled off another five hundred.
"Was there a grave?" Jean nodded. "Two. Not marked. But
they were there. I saw Etienne digging them. He was having a hard time. He said
he had to anchor the bodies to the pilings because he didn't want to chance the
bodies being washed out and found." "Etienne Hebert? You knew him?" Jean nodded again. "He came about the
time the other two came. But he wasn't like them. He was Cajun like us." "What other two? When?" "About two years ago. Two men came
and hired some of us to build them a house on the island and then forget they
were there." He shrugged. "The money was good. Why should we care
what they were doing? As long as they didn't sell their drugs to our children,
they could make all the powders they wanted. It wasn't our business." "You thought they were into
drugs?" "We knew they were. Etienne told us.
He would come and bring a bottle of wine and sit in that very chair and tell us
about all the supplies that he brought down the bayou from Houma to the
island." "He was a nice man," Marguerite
said. "You're not going to get him into trouble? He wasn't to blame." "No, I promise Etienne won't get into
trouble," Eve said. "He always said that those crazy men
would blow themselves up with all those chemicals they had him bring,"
Marguerite said. "He was sad. I think he liked them." "And what happened to them?" "What Etienne said would happen. One
night there was a big explosion. When we went to see what happened, we found
Etienne digging two graves. He told us to go away and forget what had happened.
He said the police mustn't know, or they would think we were all criminals,
too." "And that's what you did?" "We're not fools. The police think
we're scum. Etienne was right." "And what were the two men's
names?" Joe asked. "What do you think?" Jean's tone
dripped sarcasm. "Smith and Jones. Do you think they'd give us their real
names?" "How long were they on the island
before the explosion?" Eve asked. "Four months, maybe. They came to us
two months before that, but we wasted a little time because we started building
on the first island. Then they decided it would be better to go a little deeper
into the swamp, and we had to start again on the second." "How far apart are they?" "About a mile. But a mile can make a
big difference in the swamp." "You said you knew the grave wasn't
there anymore. How do you know that?" "Etienne came back. He told us that
the police were asking questions and he had to get rid of the skeletons."
Jean grimaced. "Trust the police to worry about dirt like that and try to
cause us trouble. It wasn't our fault they blew themselves up." "What do you know about Etienne's
brother?" Jean frowned. "He has a
brother?" "He didn't talk about him?" Jean shook his head. "That's enough," Dufour said.
"Don't tell them anything else unless they give you more money,
Jean." He smiled. "And a little bonus for me for bringing them to
you." "You've probably squeezed enough out
of them without dipping into my pockets," Jean said. "And I'll need
all my money if me and my family have to disappear for a while." "Why do you have to do that?" "You think I trust you or these
people?" He looked at Joe. "We did nothing. We're not responsible for
how those crackheads died. They did it to themselves." "We're not blaming you," Eve
said. "You don't have to run away." Jean ignored her. "Pack up,
Marguerite." "We need you to take us to this
island," Joe said. "Why? I told you, there's nothing
there." "There may be more than you
think." Jean gave an exasperated exclamation.
"Waste of time." He stood up and headed for the door. "You want
to see the place? You have a guide. I'm through with this." He motioned to
Dufour. "Come on, Jacques. I'll walk you to the boat and tell you where it
is." Joe moved after them. "I think I'll
tag along and listen in. I want to make sure we're heading in the right
direction." Eve was about to follow Joe out of the
house, but stopped beside Marguerite, who was pulling out clothes from a scratched,
shabby pine bureau. "Where will you go?" "That's none of your business." "We really mean you no harm." "Go away." Eve started for the door. "Wait." Marguerite was silent a
moment. "We'll be all right. We'll go stay with friends for awhile until we're
sure it's safe to come back. No one can find us in this swamp unless we want to
be found." "If you knew you'd have to run away
like this, why did you take the money?" Marguerite looked at her in wonder.
"We needed it. It may not seem like a lot to you, but that much money will
keep my children fed for months." She pulled out a faded duffel bag from
beneath the bed. "It's worth the risk." "Eve," Joe called from outside. "Coming." Joe's gaze raked her face as she came down
the pier. "Did you convince her that we don't mean to toss her family in
jail?" "No, she wouldn't believe me. But she
said the money was worth the risk. Those two little boys ... I wonder if they
get enough to eat. Poverty sucks, Joe." Joe nodded, his gaze on Jean. "That's
not all it does." She went still. "What do you
mean?" "It was a little too easy. It should
have been harder to dig that information out of him." She nodded thoughtfully. "And it was
a little odd that they didn't know Etienne had a brother. From what we've
heard, Etienne wasn't the most discreet person in the world." He smiled. "I thought you were so
concerned about those two little kids that you weren't paying attention." "I'm sympathetic, not blind. You
think Hebert got to Jean and set up a trap?" "It's possible." "Then his story is all a lie?" "Not necessarily. The best lies are
always the ones founded on truth." He gazed thoughtfully out at the bayou.
"Etienne probably did spin them a tale about a drug lab, and Jean and his
neighbors did turn a blind eye. That doesn't mean that Jules Hebert didn't pop
in last night and offer them enough money to make our bribe seem
piddling." A chill went through her. "Then he'll
be waiting at the island." "That's my guess." She drew a deep breath. "Good. Now
how do we find a—" "Later." He turned and helped
her into the boat. "Leave it to me." Like she'd left it to him when he'd dumped
her by the road outside New Orleans? No way. Chapter
Eighteen "Here's the
first island." Dufour pointed to the mound of mud looming ahead. "The one that your drug-dealing
friends were afraid was too out in the open and decided to abandon. My cousin
didn't get much done on it, did he?" A narrow pier weathered by water and
time led to an equally weathered platform that must have been meant to be the foundation
of the research facility. "According to Jean, the next island should be
the one where you'll find your grave." He grinned. "Or lack of one.
You sure you want to go on?" "We want to go on," Joe said.
"But pull over to this island first. I want to make sure cousin Jean
wasn't lying about the shell content." Eve looked at him in surprise. Dufour shrugged. "Why not wait until
you get to the right island?" "Pull over." Dufour hesitated and then guided the boat
close to the pier. "You're wasting time." "It's our time, and you've been well
paid for it." Joe jumped out of the boat before helping
Eve. "We'll be back in a minute, Dufour." "What the hell are you doing?"
Eve asked in a low voice as she followed him onto the platform. "I saw Dufour press a button on his
cell phone right before we turned the last bend in the bayou. It was probably a
signal to Hebert. I'd bet he's waiting for us up ahead." "And why are we here?" "I'm getting rid of an
encumbrance." Joe stood gazing out at the bayou. "You." Eve stiffened. "Encumbrance?" "You don't like the word. But I'm not
going to be polite. You'll be in my way. You're staying here." "The hell I am. You pushed me out of
that car in New Orleans. You're not going to do it again." "Yes, I am." He turned to face
her and a ripple of shock went through her. His expression was colder and
harder than she had ever seen it. "I'm not going to let either one of us
die because you don't want to be left out. This is my job, not yours. I don't
interfere when you're doing the work on your skulls. Don't interfere with me
now." "I'm just supposed to let you go out
and maybe get yourself killed?" "I'd be more likely to be killed if I
had to worry about you getting in my way. That's not going to happen." "And how are you going to stop me
from going with you?" "I'll put you down for a little nap
if I have to. Don't make me do it, Eve." And he would do it. She could see it in
his expression. Joe had been heading in this direction since they had entered
the swamp. The subdued excitement she had sensed had now broken free. Eve had
never seen him more alive ... or more dangerous. He was the hunter, the
stalker, the warrior. "You can't wait to dive in and go after him." He nodded. "I'm not like you. You
want Hebert to be taken out because he's a danger, because it's
necessary." "And you're happy as hell to get the
opportunity." "You're learning a lot about me that
you didn't know before." He smiled crookedly. "For instance, I never
told you why I left the SEALs. You didn't want to know about that part of my
life. It was too violent for you." "Why did you leave the SEALs?" "Because I liked it too much,"
he said simply. "And I was getting too close to the line no one should
cross, I was a killing machine." "That's not true. That's not
you." "It was me. It could be me again. It
could be me now." "No way. You couldn't—" "Hey, Quinn," Dufour shouted
from the boat. "Are you going to be all day?" "He's getting impatient." Joe
smiled. "Or maybe Hebert is impatient. We mustn't keep him waiting."
He reached in his jacket pocket and handed her his gun. "Just in
case." "Are you crazy? You're going after
Hebert without a gun?" "I won't need it." He glanced
down at the machete holstered on his belt. "In the swamp, guns aren't my
weapon of choice." He turned and crossed the platform. "Keep cool
until I get back." "Joe, dammit." He glanced over his shoulder at her.
"You know I'm right. You know you'll be an albatross and could get me
killed. You know you'd have to shoot me to keep me from going after him." "I might do it." He shook his head as he jumped into the
boat. "Move, Dufour." "Joe." "You shouldn't leave the lady
alone," Dufour said. "What if a snake—" "Go," Joe said. Eve's hand clenched on the butt of the gun
as she watched the boat glide away from the island. Joe's head was lifted as if
he was scenting the wind. Maybe he was. Nothing would have surprised her in
this strange, fierce Joe. She shouldn't have let him go. She should
have found a way to stop him. Yet he was right. Joe knew what he was
doing, and she could have put him in terrible danger if she'd gotten in his
way. No matter how much she wanted to help, logic told her that going with him
would have been a mistake. Screw logic. She hated feeling this
helpless. She crossed to the edge of the platform,
her gaze straining to get a last glimpse of Joe. Too late. The boat had already
turned the bend of the bayou and was out of sight. Come back. Be safe, Joe. Come back. ------------------- "It should be right around the next
bend, Quinn," Dufour said without turning around. "A few minutes. No
more." Where was that bastard Hebert? Dufour didn't want to be the one to
take out Quinn. He didn't like the vibes the man was sending out. Hebert had promised him things would go
smoothly, and yet Quinn had already taken the woman out of the situation. He'd
tell Hebert that he wasn't to blame, that it wasn't his fault. Another moment passed. No Hebert. He would have to do it himself. "There's your island. On the
left." He cut the engine and gestured with one hand while the other
reached surreptitiously into his knapsack for his gun. "It's not much of a
place. The house is burnt to the ground, and look at that—" He whirled with the gun in his hand and
fired. "What the—" No one was there! Quinn's jacket and boots
were on the bottom of the boat, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then Dufour saw him, beneath the water on
the left side of the boat, moving fast. Shit. Lightning fast. Toward the boat, not
away from it. Dufour carefully aimed and fired. ------------------- Eve glanced at her watch. Jesus, it had
been only fifteen minutes. It had seemed like an hour. She couldn't take this.
What was she going to do? she thought bitterly. Go swimming after them through
the swamp? She should never have let— A shot. Her heart leaped in panic. Joe didn't have
a gun. It was here in her hand. Another shot. Then another. Oh, God. "There's a very good chance he's
dead, Eve." She whirled to the right from where the
voice had come, raising the pistol. A bullet shattered the barrel of the gun, the
force of the vibration whipping the weapon from her grip. She got a lightning
glimpse of Hebert as she dropped to the ground. He was sitting in a canoe,
pointing a rifle at her. "So much violence. I would never have
thought it of you." He cradled the rifle in his arm as he paddled closer
to the pier. "And when I was trying to be merciful and give you a little
more time. I could have killed you before you even knew I was here. You didn't
hear me coming, did you?" "No." "That's because I don't believe in using
motor-boats when I'm in the swamp. A paddle can be whisper-silent if it's
wielded by someone who knows what he's doing. Now, I'm going to get out of this
boat. Don't move or I'll be forced to blow your head off." Hebert stood up
and jumped onto the pier. "There. You can get up now." Eve slowly got to her feet. "Where's
Joe, Rick?" "You recognize me? But then, my
disguise wasn't that elaborate. I thought you'd been too ill that night to pay
me much attention. Still, I did make Rick Vadim a likable fellow, didn't
I?" "Where's Joe?" "The last time I caught sight of him,
Dufour was going around a bend near the research island. I was going to take
Quinn out, but I couldn't get close enough to him without him seeing me." "We thought you'd be waiting there on
the island." Hebert shook his head. "No cover. I
had to get some distance away. But then I saw you weren't in the boat, and I
knew he must have dropped you someplace. So I decided to let Dufour take his
chances with Quinn and come back and find you." "So you found me. Now what?" "You heard the shots. We wait to see
if Dufour comes back alone." "Or if Joe comes back alone." "There's always that possibility. I
hear Quinn is very good." "Better than you. Better than
anyone." Eve's nails bit into her palms as her hands clenched into fists.
"He's not dead." "Then he'll come back for you. And
I'll be here. You shouldn't have come here. It was useless. Do you think I
wouldn't have come back and made sure there wasn't any evidence?" "You're not infallible. You've made
mistakes before. Evidently you made one here." "I'm not the only one who makes
mistakes. Quinn made a big one leaving you here." "He thought I'd be safe. He wanted to
protect me." "And he's desperate to get back in
your good graces. He wanted to fight the wicked monster and lay my carcass at
your feet." Hebert smiled. "You know, I was sorry at the time that I
had to pull you into the reconstruction by using your daughter, but it does
keep paying dividends." "Sorry?" "I'm not made of stone." "You're a murderer." "So is a Medal of Honor winner who
kills the enemy in battle. It's all a matter of means and ends." "You're no hero." "I never said I was. I just fight for
what I believe in." "And you believe it's right to kill
me." "I believe it's necessary. But I'm a
little sad to do it. I admire your strength. I'll give you as long as I can
before I put you down. I know how precious every moment can be." Hebert's
gaze shifted to the bayou and he moved to the shadows at the side of the
platform. "You just stand there where Quinn can see you when he comes
around that curve in the bayou." "And you'll pick him off." "If Dufour hasn't done it for me. I
paid him well enough to do the job, but I'm not sure he has the balls to tackle
Quinn." Eve drew a deep breath. "Joe doesn't
have to die." "Of course he does. You know better
than that. He knows too much. It's my duty to keep the Cabal safe." "The FBI already knows of its
existence." "Suspects." Hebert smiled
faintly. "There's a difference. We have people in almost every FBI field
office in the country. Evidence gets misplaced, information doesn't get to key
personnel, agents who know too much have 'accidents.' " "Like your brother. You killed him,
didn't you?" His smile disappeared. "He betrayed
me; he betrayed the Cabal." "How?" "I made a mistake. Once I'd tracked
them down, and found Bently and Simmons here doing research on fuel cells, I
sent Etienne to work for Bently and Simmons to bring in supplies from the city.
I thought it would be easier for him to destroy them and the prototypes from
inside. They trusted him. Everyone trusted Etienne. He was everyone's
friend." "When he wasn't killing people?" "He never killed anyone. I took him
along because I hoped if the Cabal could see how loyal he was, they'd accept
him. I taught him everything I could, but he had no heart for it. Still, I
wanted him with me. I was lonely." He drew a deep breath. "I set the
charge to blow up the facility, but Etienne was the one who went in to verify
that they'd both been killed after the explosion. People were used to seeing
Etienne go back and forth to the island, so it was less suspicious. He told me
that he'd seen the bodies and buried them." "He didn't?" "He liked Bently and Simmons."
Hebert's lips tightened. "He liked everybody. He was only a youngster, and
it wouldn't have been hard for a smart man to manipulate him. I thought
everything was fine. Until four months ago, when our sources in Detroit told
the Cabal that there were new purchases being made similar to the ones that
were bought by Bently two years ago. The order came from Louisiana." "It could have been someone else
experimenting." "That wasn't quite all. During the
last two months, three Cabal members from Louisiana have died under
circumstances that were a little suspect. They could have been accidents, but
all three were known to be against environmental restrictions. The Cabal
doesn't like coincidences, and they don't like their members targeted." "Revenge?" "It was a possibility." Hebert
smiled grimly. "Enough to scare Melton shitless. He was afraid he'd be
next." "But how would Bently or Simmons know
who the Cabal members were?" "Haven't you guessed? Bently belonged
to the Cabal for over four years. He believed, as I do, that the power of the
Cabal could work miracles. He was the one who brought Simmons's invention to
our attention. He wanted our help. Then when it was decided that the fuel cell
had to disappear, he dropped out of sight and took Simmons with him." "They sent you after them." "And I found them. I always find
them." "But this time you fouled up, didn't
you? You failed your precious Cabal." "I didn't fail them," he
said, stung. "I made a mistake, that's all. A mistake I corrected. After
we heard from Detroit, we had to make sure that both the research and the men
who'd done it were destroyed. Melton asked me if I was positive Simmons and
Bently were dead. Of course I was positive. Hadn't the person closest to me,
the only man I trusted, told me that they were? But they asked me if I'd seen
the bodies myself. What could I say? So they told me to go get the skeletons
for DNA testing. I was in Barcelona at the time and I called Etienne and told
him to retrieve the skeletons and meet me at Sarah Bayou near Baton Rouge.
Melton had already arranged for a forensic anthropologist and DNA expert to
meet us at the church, so that we could rush the tests." He was silent a
moment. "When Etienne showed up with the coffin, I could tell something
was wrong the minute I saw him." "He didn't have the skeletons?" "Neither one. Just that damn skull.
At first, he told me that the skeletons had been stolen. Then when he could see
I didn't believe him, he told me he'd destroyed both skeletons but had brought
me Harold Bently's skull." "Why?" "He thought it would get me off the
hook with the Cabal. He'd made sure the skull was almost impossible to
identify, but he didn't want to get me in trouble. He was proud of himself for
thinking of a way to save me and still keep the Cabal from getting what it
wanted." "But it didn't save Etienne, did
it?" "He didn't understand. I talked to
him for hours trying to persuade him to tell me if we'd killed both men, and to
whom the skull belonged. He wouldn't tell me anything. All he'd say was that
what the Cabal was doing was wrong and we should do what was right. He wanted
me to break with the Cabal." He shook his head. "He didn't
understand. The world would be chaos without the Cabal to guarantee order.
There have to be checks and balances. Someone has to guide our path." My God, he actually believes what he's
saying. "I'm with Etienne. I don't understand that concept, either. It's
just propaganda. So you killed him?" "You make it sound so easy,"
Hebert said bitterly. "You think I wanted to do it? I loved him. If there
had been a way to save him, I would have done it." "There's always a choice." "I had to tell the Cabal what he'd
done. It was my duty. He'd betrayed them." "And they told you what to do." "Yes, Melton said to find a way to
lure him to the church and dispose of him there. It was isolated enough for our
purpose, and for what I had to do." He paused. "I told Etienne that
we'd find a way to fool the Cabal. I'd steal a skeleton from one of the old
graveyards outside of town and put it in the coffin, so that we'd have
something for the experts who were supposed to be waiting at the church to
examine it." He swallowed. "It was easy. He thought it was a
wonderful idea. He wanted to believe me. He always wanted to believe me." "Until the minute he died?" "Until the minute he died."
Hebert's eyes glittered with tears. "It was a merciful death. He was happy
until the end." "No death is merciful." "It could have been worse. Melton
told me that I had to make him talk before he died. That's why he wanted me to
take him to the church—so that I'd have all the privacy I needed.
I'm very good at making people talk. I know every agonizing way. I couldn't do
that to Etienne. He was very strong, very stubborn. It would have been a long,
long time before he broke, and then he would have had to die anyway. So I disobeyed
and killed him quickly." His lips twisted. "Melton wasn't pleased. I
had to find a way to make amends for destroying any information Etienne might
have given me." "And you found me." "I found you." "But you couldn't know if Etienne had
told you the truth about Bently's skull." Hebert shook his head. "I thought I
knew him well enough to know if he was lying about it— although he'd managed to fool me for two years. I could only
hope." He paused. "But after you became ill, I knew that either
Bently or Simmons must still be alive. One of them wanted you dead, so that no
one would know that he was still alive and working on the fuel cells. I
questioned Marie Letaux that night before she died, but she genuinely had no
idea who had hired her. She got a phone call and then money in her mailbox, and
the promise of a final payment when she'd done the job. She kept saying that it
was only supposed to make you ill. That it wasn't her fault." He shrugged.
"She was no help to me. I had to wait until you'd finished the
reconstruction to find out which one had hired her." "How did you find out the skull was
Bently's?" "A mole in Rusk's FBI office.
Jennings told Rusk right before he died that your reconstruction was definitely
Bently. All hell broke loose after Jennings was killed; it was easy enough to
pick up the info." "Then your mole must have found out
what Jennings discovered about Boca Raton. What was it?" Hebert smiled
faintly as he shook his head. "So that you can ride to the rescue? You
still think you're going to live through this, don't you? I've always found
that no one really believes they're going to die until they do. I assure you,
Eve, if I told you what was going to happen, you still wouldn't be able to save
the old tiger. The plan's already in motion, and calculated down to the last
gasp." "Then you shouldn't mind telling
me." "But I do. Life still has to have
some mysteries. You'd only fret, and your last moments should be
worry-free." "You're not worry-free. Even if you
kill me, you're still going to have to contend with Simmons." "I'll find him. I know who I'm
looking for now. It's difficult for a man to hide in this world, particularly
if the Cabal is looking for him." Hebert's glance shifted again to the
bayou, and he moved to the edge of the platform. "Quinn's been a long
time. I'm beginning to wonder if I should—" He shrieked. A machete blade had bitten through the
bone and sinew of the hand holding his gun. The weapon dropped from his
almost-severed right hand, and Eve dove across the deck to get it. "No!" Joe spat out the reed
between his teeth. "Stay away from him." He lunged up from the mud
beside the platform, grabbed Hebert's knees, and jerked him backward into the
mud. Hebert was struggling desperately. She
suddenly saw a glint of metal in his left hand. Oh, God, Hebert had a knife. And Joe had
thrown his weapon at him. Eve lifted the gun to aim at Hebert, but
the two men were rolling, sinking, fighting in the watery mud. She might hit
Joe. She jumped off the deck into the mud and
waded toward them. "Joe, get away from him for a minute.
I can't—" Hebert's knife was gone, sent spinning
into the mud by a blow from the edge of Joe's hand. And then Joe was on top of Hebert. His
hands closed in a stranglehold on Hebert's throat. He pushed his head under the
mud and held him there. Hebert's arms and legs flailed helplessly as he
struggled for breath. The mud was suffocating him. "Joe," Eve whispered. For an instant she wasn't sure he had
heard her, and when he glanced sideways she flinched at the sheer blind
ferocity she saw in his expression. Joe drew a deep breath, and then his grasp
strengthened and she heard a snap as he broke Hebert's neck. He released Hebert, stood, and stepped
back. "I expected a harder time with him." "Why?" Eve drew a shaky breath.
"You almost severed his hand when you threw that machete." "He was pointing a gun at you." She shivered as she stared down at Jules
Hebert lying in the mud, his face submerged beneath the surface. "Did he hurt you?" Eve turned to look at Joe. Covered with
mud, he was still almost as terrifying a figure as the creature that had lunged
out of that muck and unleashed a spearhead of death, blood, and violence. "Dammit, did he hurt you?" Joe
repeated. "He didn't touch me. How about
you?" "A few bruises. Not that you could
tell under all this mud. You're almost as muddy as I am. Why the hell didn't
you stay out of it?" Because she couldn't stand by when she saw
him in danger. "He had a knife." "Did I look like I was
helpless?" No, he had looked absolutely terrifying.
She tried to smile. "You reminded me of Swamp Thing." "That's what I feel like." Joe
grasped Eve's shoulders and glared down at her. "You listen to me. Never
again. This is the last time I'll let you risk your neck. I can't take it.
Screw women's lib." He turned, waded through the mud toward Hebert's
canoe, and crawled into it. "I'll be right back. I'm going to take
Hebert's canoe around the bend to where I left Dufour's motor-boat. We'll go
back to town and clean up." "What happened to Dufour?" "He won't bother us anymore." I was a killing machine. I could be again. Eve shivered, and her glance shifted to
Hebert. "And what will we do about him?" "Let him rot." Joe grimaced.
"Okay, I know. I'm an insensitive bastard about the dear departed. We'll
tell the police in Houma where we left him." "Not yet." "No? That's a surprise." "The Cabal doesn't know that he's
dead and we're alive. It may buy us time before they send anyone else after
us." "Did he tell you anything about what
was happening in Boca Raton?" "Not much." Yet Hebert had said
something ... Surely there was some fragment of sense in his words that she
could examine. "Maybe. He said something about a tiger and us not being
able to stop it. That it had all been planned down to the last gasp." She
rubbed her temple. "I don't know. I can't think." Joe studied her. "I don't like the
way you're shaking." "I'm just cold." "Chilled and shocked and wet to the
bone. October is no time to take a mud bath." "You did." "Yeah, but I don't have a sensitive
nerve in my body." "That's bullshit." "You really aren't feeling yourself
if you're giving me credit for tender feelings. I've got to get you back to the
hotel and a hot shower." Joe's paddle cut into the water. "Don't move
a muscle." Easy to say. It seemed that every muscle
in Eve's body was trembling with cold and fatigue. She should try to think, but
her mind was just as dulled as her body. Fight it. There wasn't much time. Try to
think what Hebert had said. Tiger. Something about a tiger and his
last gasp. That meant death, a killing. Why couldn't she remember? She had to remember, or Hebert's death
would mean nothing. He would still win and the killing would go on. There wasn't much time. ------------------- Joe turned on the shower and pushed Eve
naked under the warm spray. Another moment and he was in the shower with her,
soaping her hair with shampoo. "I can do it. Take care of yourself." "Shut up." He soaped her body
from shoulders to feet and then pushed her to the front of the shower to rinse
off. "Just stand there and let the water warm you while I get some of the
dirt off me." "No time. Have to think. Someone's
going to die, Joe." "I know. You told me in the boat
coming here. Several times." "Did I? I hate death. I hate
it." "I know you do." "I don't understand killers like
Hebert. He didn't care about the death of anyone, except for his brother. It
didn't matter to him about other people who have fathers or brothers or little
girls..." "Shh. Are you warmer now?" "He was going to kill Jane and my mother.
Two wonderful lives just snuffed—" "Are you warmer?" He had asked that before. She thought
about it. The shaking was gone and so was that icy lethargy. "Yes." "Good." He was out of the shower
and reaching for a towel. "Then let's get you dry and into bed." "I can—" "Hush." "You know, I didn't really believe in
the Cabal before I heard Hebert talking about it. It wasn't real to me. I
believe in it now. They're the ones who pointed Hebert at Jane and my mother
and told him to kill them. Someone has to stop them. So much evil..." "Yes." "Jennings said it was right there
before him, but he didn't see it. What didn't he see, Joe?" "We'll figure it out later." He
wrapped her in a dry towel and gently pushed her toward the bedroom.
"Climb in bed while I dry off." "If it was right there before him,
then it was right there before us, too." "The only thing right before you is
that bed." "I can't go to sleep. I have to put
it together." "You're not going to put anything
together until you get some rest." He took her arm and drew her toward the
bed. "Come on. I'll hold you and keep you warm, and you can think your
little heart out." He slipped into bed, pulled her down beside him, and
cuddled her close. "Better?" Better? Warmth and safety against death's
cold inevitability. "Don't let me go to sleep." "No guarantees. You're on your own.
The only promise you'll get from me is that I'll always be beside you to wake
you in the morning." Wonderful promise, beautiful promise... Bittersweet promise. "You're stiffening against me,"
he said. "Don't do it. Take this moment, Eve. I want to give it to
you." And she wanted to take it. She relaxed
against him. "That's it." "This isn't a good idea." "Shh." He stroked her hair.
"Never argue with Swamp Thing." God, she was actually smiling. Or was she
crying? Maybe it was a little of both. "I wouldn't dream of it. If Swamp
Thing will just shut up so I can try to think." "That can be arranged." He
kissed her temple. "Close your eyes; it will help you to
concentrate." He just wanted her to go to sleep. She was very much afraid he was going to
get his wish. Her lids were too heavy to stay open.... No, fight it. Go over everything Nathan
and Jennings had told them. Clear her mind and remember everything she'd
learned from Hebert in those last moments before Joe had killed him. And keep her damn eyes open. Houma 3:35 a.m. October 27 It was right there before me. There's
nothing you can do about the old tiger. It's been timed down to the last gasp.
Royal weddings ... The Olympics.... "Oh, my God." Eve jerked upright
in bed. "It's a funeral, Joe." "What?" Joe rose up on one
elbow. "What are you talking about?" "It is a meeting of the Cabal at Boca
Raton. But they had to have a reason. No Olympics, no wedding. It's a funeral.
There's going to be a funeral so important in Boca Raton that it would validate
the presence of dignitaries from all over the world." Joe nodded slowly. "It's
possible." "Why else would the Cabal send their
number-one assassin to Boca?" She felt sick. "Christ, I wonder how
many important people have been killed to provide the Cabal a reason to
meet." "Wait a minute. We're not sure you're
right." "We're not sure I'm wrong." Eve
swung her feet to the floor. "But Hebert talked as if his target wasn't
dead yet. He said I couldn't stop it, but that means he's still alive. Maybe we
can find a way to save him." "Providing we can find out who he
is." "He's well known enough to attract
worldwide notice." She was thinking quickly. "Probably not an
entertainer or movie star. He lives in Boca Raton and has plans to be buried
there. Otherwise the meeting would have been planned for somewhere else."
She reached for her telephone. "What's Nathan's cell number?" Joe reached in his pocket and brought out
his phone book. "You're right, Nathan's a newspaperman. He should be able
to track the target down." "And he's in Boca right now."
She was rapidly dialing Nathan's number. "Which is where we need to be.
Will you call and get us reservations out of New Orleans while I talk to
Nathan?" Chapter
Nineteen "Christ."
Nathan was silent for a moment after Eve had finished speaking. "It's got to be Franklin
Copeland." Shock rippled through Eve.
"What?" "I'm surprised you didn't guess. It's
been all over the newspapers and television for the past couple days. The Old
Tiger is a sick man." "We haven't been paying any attention
to the news." "I can see how you've been a little
busy." "Old Tiger," she repeated.
"That's what Hebert called him." "That was Copeland's nickname when he
was a colonel in Vietnam before he became president. War hero, ex-President of
the United States, and for the last fifteen years, he's been known for his work
with UNESCO. I'd say he'd warrant a pretty impressive guest list for his
funeral." "Is he supposed to be buried in
Boca?" "I don't know. I can find out."
Silence. "Jesus, I met Copeland once when he was lecturing in New Orleans.
I liked him. He's one hell of a guy." Eve had never met him, but she'd liked
what she'd known of him, too. He had seemed a warm, intelligent man with no
delusions of grandeur. "We're talking as if he's dead
already," Nathan said. "What the hell can we do to save him?" "What's he suffering from?" She
inhaled sharply. "Anthrax?" "No." It had been her first thought, connecting
Copeland's illness to the anthrax scare in Boca Raton a year or two ago. "Then what is it?" "Nothing suspicious. He has heart
problems aggravated by severe asthma. The asthma seemed to be pretty well under
control for the past couple years, but he's had several attacks in the past few
weeks. He's been in and out of the hospital three times—the last bout of asthma triggered a heart attack." "Asthma ... What could trigger an
attack? Some kind of poison?" "Beats me. But the Secret Service
should be able to find out, once they know what's happening. You're on your way
down here?" "As soon as we can get a plane. Find
us a place to stay outside the city. We have to keep a low profile. We don't
want anyone to know Hebert's dead." "That's smart. Then you'll want me to
go to Copeland's Secret Service team right away and tell them what we
know." "Right." "I'm on it. Maybe they can save the
old guy. Let me know what flight you're on and I'll meet you at the
airport." "God, I hope it's not too late."
She hung up and turned to Joe. "Franklin Copeland." He gave a low whistle. "It would fit.
Not only famous, but loved by the masses." "And they're killing him just for an
excuse to have a goddamn meeting." She could feel the tears sting her
eyes. "I wish they'd all burn in hell." "It must be a pretty important
meeting," he said thoughtfully. "Etienne told Nathan they never meet
in person unless something critical is in the balance. I'd be interested in
knowing what's on their agenda." "So would I. We'll find out."
She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. "But it's Copeland
who's important right now. What time can we get out of New Orleans?" "First flight is ten A.M. to Fort
Lauderdale. It's about a forty-minute drive to Boca. There's nothing
direct." She started for the bathroom. "Then
let's get out of here." ------------------- Nathan was waiting for them at the gate.
She didn't have to hear his first sentence. It was all there in his face. "Sorry. Copeland died two hours
ago." Disappointment flooded her. She had been hoping against hope that
they could save him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. "I really hoped—" "Let's get out of here." Joe
took her arm and guided her down the corridor. "What about the Secret
Service? You got through to them?" Nathan nodded. "For all the good it
did me. It took me time I didn't have to convince them they had to take me
seriously. They thought I was just some wild-ass reporter trying to drum up a
story. Then they called Rusk at the FBI to verify there was an ongoing
investigation about the Cabal." "Did it help?" He shook his head. "Rusk was killed
in an automobile accident yesterday afternoon on his way home from the
office." She stiffened in shock. "What?" "Hit-and-run as he was crossing the
street to go to the supermarket." Another death. No, another murder. Christ,
would it never stop? "The Cabal." "That's my guess. First Jennings, and
then Rusk. They're plugging all the possible leaks." "They didn't catch who did it?" Nathan shook his head. "A witness
said the car was an old beat-up Buick. The driver was possibly of Hispanic
descent." "But the Secret Service had to be
suspicious that Rusk had been killed so conveniently." "His death could have been unrelated.
No one in Rusk's office knew anything about Copeland or anything that was going
on down here." Evidence gets misplaced ... agents have
"accidents." Hebert's words came back to her with
chilling impact. "So they wouldn't listen to
you," she said dully. "I didn't say that. When they decided
there was a small possibility the threat to Copeland could be genuine, they
started to move. But it was too late. Copeland was already dead." He made
a face. "I'm feeling guilty as hell I didn't get them to move
faster." "I don't know if we could have done
any better," Eve said. "There's not even any proof Copeland was the
target. Is there going to be an autopsy?" Nathan nodded. "I hope so. I believe
I convinced Copeland's Secret Service agent Wilson to do it. But any
investigation will be done very discreetly. They don't want either his family
or his high-powered friends to be on the attack if they find my story is
bullshit. They want Copeland's death to be as dignified as his life." "So the funeral will go on." Nathan nodded. "So it seems." "And the Cabal has what it
wants." "At least the Secret Service knows
that they may be meeting here." Nathan opened the passenger door of a gray
Chevrolet rental car. "That could lead to something." "Except they don't know who they're
looking for." Eve got into the car. "And if they don't find any
evidence Copeland was murdered, it may stop right there." "But we know one member of the Cabal
who will be here," Joe said. "Melton." Eve shook her head. "If he even
comes. Hebert said he was scared shitless that he'd be targeted by Thomas
Simmons. Melton suspected that the deaths of three Cabal members from his state
weren't the accidents they appeared. Melton thought he'd be next." "A meeting of the Cabal probably
doesn't happen that often, and it seems to be a pretty big deal," Joe
said. "I imagine Melton would have to have cast-iron proof there was a
threat to his life to be excused from coming." "That's what I thought." Nathan
backed out of the parking space. "So we still have a ball game. We trail
Melton until we find out where they're meeting, and then have the FBI close
in." Eve shook her head. "What good would
that do? These are important people, leading citizens of their countries. How
can we prove they're doing anything illegal? Do you think the FBI is going to
take any action? It's our word against theirs." Nathan's lips tightened. "I'm not
going to let it go. I've been cooling my heels down here, searching for the
Cabal, searching for Simmons, and now I have a lead. Okay, we may not be able
to call in the big guns. But we can shine a bright light on their damn secret
society. We can get names and faces." "And maybe something more
concrete," Joe said thoughtfully. "Long-range listening devices.
Videos. Photographs." "Their security has got to be fairly
ironclad," Eve said. "It will be difficult to get that close." "Their top man, Hebert, isn't on the
scene. That may give us a little opening." "I doubt it. They wouldn't rely
exclusively on Hebert. And they're going to be suspicious when they can't
contact him. It might make them be even more careful." Nathan looked at Eve. "Are you saying
you want to bow out?" "No way. I'm just telling it the way
I see it. We may not get everything we want, but I'll take whatever we can
get." Nathan smiled. "And, like Quinn said,
it may be more than we think. I may get my Pulitzer after all." ------------------- The small, white beach house to which
Nathan took them was a few miles outside the city. "This is the best I
could do in the short time I had. I handled the rental over the phone with a
broker." "It will be fine." Eve got out
of the car. "As long as it's private." "I'll just take a look around the
grounds. Be with you in a minute." Joe strode around the house and down to
the shore. "The key should be under the palm
tree in a lock-box...." Nathan found the box, pressed the combination, and
unlocked the front door. "You go inside. I'll see if I can do anything to
help Quinn check out the area." "He doesn't need help." "I'll do it anyway. I'm feeling
responsible, since Galen isn't underfoot." He added fervently, "Thank
God." Eve wearily shook her head as she closed
the door. All this concern for her safety, and yet no one had been able to keep
that poor old man safe. Not even his Secret Service guards. How had Hebert
managed to kill him? She crossed the room and turned on the TV
set to CNN. Franklin Copeland's face appeared on the
screen. They were running an obituary segment and she sank down on the couch to
watch it. His wife, Lily, was still alive, and they showed her at the hospital
when Copeland had suffered a heart attack a few weeks ago. She was a thin,
elegant woman in her seventies; the bond between husband and wife was clear.
Toward the end of the obituary they listed Copeland's many accomplishments and
works for charity. It was an impressive list. She hadn't been aware that he was
involved with Habitat for Humanity. She hadn't paid much attention to the
details of the man's life. But she'd damn well pay attention to his
death. Nathan and Joe came into the house a few
minutes later. Joe dropped down on the couch beside Eve. "Anything?" "The funeral is going to be at St.
Catherine's Cathedral day after tomorrow." "October twenty-ninth," Joe
said. "Right on schedule." She nodded
at a TV shot of Kim Basinger getting on a plane in Los Angeles. "She traveled
to Africa with Copeland for UNESCO. She's on her way to the funeral." "I doubt if she's one of the
Cabal," Nathan said dryly. "Before her they showed James
Tarrant, the British media mogul, hurrying from a meeting in London to the
airport. He was quoted as saying the world had lost a great man, and he was
going to pay homage." "Touching," Joe said. Nathan nodded. "It's going to be hard
to separate the gold from the dross. But Melton may be the key." He turned
to leave. "I'm going to the local newspaper office to see if I can find
out when Melton is due to show up on the scene. I'll let you know as soon as I
do." "And we need some photos of Thomas
Simmons. Can you get them for us?" "Ah, the shadow man." It was an apt description, Eve thought.
Simmons had been lurking in the darkness all along, overshadowed by Hebert's
looming menace. "That 'shadow man' tried to kill me, and evidently has
killed at least three Cabal members. I want to be able to recognize him." "I'm one step ahead of you. When I
first came down here, I went on the Internet to the Cal Tech site and pulled
off a staff picture and one from the college newspaper. I'll make a couple
copies for you and Quinn." "What was the name of Copeland's
Secret Service agent you talked to? Wilson?" Joe asked. "It's a little
soon, but I'm going to see if they found out anything from the autopsy
yet." "Yeah, Pete Wilson." Nathan
grimaced. "I hope you have better luck with him than I did." The door
shut behind him. Eve looked at Joe. "What next?" "We need a car. We need surveillance
equipment. We obviously need information. With any luck Nathan will supply the
info. I'd better get busy on the rest." "Wait." She hesitated.
"Let's call Galen." She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to
protest. "Among other things, Galen is a provider, and he does the job very
well. He has contacts everywhere. I'll bet he could pick up a phone and get us
anything from a space suit to an atomic bomb. We need him, Joe." "We don't need him." He
hesitated and then grimaced. "But we could use him." Her eyes widened in surprise. "I can work with him. He brought me
into the picture in Baton Rouge because our personal differences didn't mean a
damn to him if it meant keeping you safe. They can't matter to me, either. Do
you want to call him, or should I?" "I'll do it." "Good." Joe headed for the
kitchen. "I'll make coffee and then call Wilson and the precinct to find
out if Carol's seen any forensic reports yet." Eve nodded absently as she dialed Galen's
number. "Hebert's dead? Hallelujah,"
Galen said when she'd finished filling him in. "And what an interesting
way for Quinn to kill him. I approve." "I'm sure that will make him happy.
Can you get us the items we need? It would be better if the Cabal doesn't know
Joe and I are still alive." "Piece of cake. Give me your address
and phone number." "I don't know what—" She saw the number on the phone and rattled it off, and
then checked the address on the mailbox outside. "Good." Galen said. "I'm
moving. I think Jonas Faber is still in Orlando. He can help." "Who's Jonas Faber?" "Ask him no questions, he'll tell you
no lies. Just accept that he can produce. And I'll work on finding out where
the meeting will be." "Nathan's already on Melton." "Don't send a boy to do a man's job.
I'll get on the tech stuff right away." He hung up. "Well?" Joe stood in the kitchen
doorway. "He said he's moving. Did you find
out anything from Wilson?" Joe shook his head. "No
autopsy." "What?" "The attending doctor said he knew
exactly why Copeland died, and it was natural causes. He was allergic to mold,
and lately the allergy had increased to a dangerous degree. He was tested a
number of times in the hospital and it was always the same problem. They did
everything to maintain sterile surroundings and keep mold away from him, but he
refused to leave his home here in Florida or live in a bubble. Mold is
everywhere down here." "An autopsy might show something
else." He shook his head again. "He's not
about to disturb the family without concrete proof. The body could always be
exhumed if the investigation proved he had been murdered." ------------------- A black Chevrolet rental SUV was delivered
to the door two hours later. After dinner that night they received a
phone call and then a visit from Jonas Faber. He was a small, cheerful little
man who asked Joe very politely to accompany him to his van. Joe came back twenty minutes later shaking
his head. "Something wrong?" "Not if I want to open a spy shop or
start trading in small arms. The FBI doesn't have as sophisticated surveillance
equipment as Faber brought us. He parked a damn tech van in our backyard."
He smiled. "Complete with tutorial. He's not going to let me go until he's
sure I know how to operate every single camera and piece of equipment. He even
wanted to show me how to use an AK-seven. I told him I wasn't exactly an
amateur with firearms." A tech van? She had only asked for
surveillance equipment. "It seems when Galen said he was moving, he meant
it." ------------------- Nathan called an hour later. "Melton
is in Boca. He arrived two hours ago, and went directly to Copeland's home to
pay his respects to the widow. Bastard." "You're following him?" "Every step." "Be careful." "Hey, no problem. I value my
neck." "I have a favor to ask. I'm going to
the funeral service day after tomorrow." "Why?" "I want to be there. I want to look
at every person who goes into the church and be able to recognize them later.
Will you find me a black hat with a dark veil?" "You probably aren't going to
accomplish anything by going." She knew that. She also knew that she
wanted to pay her last respects to Copeland in person. He had been a great man,
and along with regret she felt a sense of... connection. "It can't hurt. I
don't want to sit here and do nothing. Joe's going to be busy familiarizing
himself with that surveillance equipment." "You'll have to stay out with the
crowd in the street. You have to be on the A-list to get inside." "I'm going to be there." "Okay. I'll drop your hat and
Simmons's photos by the house after I'm sure Melton's tucked into his hotel for
the night." ------------------- "Here's your black hat." Nathan
handed her a plastic bag. "It wasn't easy. The regular stores were closed,
so I went to an all-night drugstore and bought a black straw beach hat and a
black sheer scarf. You'll have to rig a veil out of that." "I'll manage. Thanks, Nathan." "No problem." He reached in his
pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Simmons." She drew out the pictures. One was an
informal photo taken in front of a building. The other was a close-up in the
college newspaper at the time Simmons had been hired by Cal Tech. Professor
Thomas Simmons was thirtyish, with regular features except for a slightly pouty
lower lip. He was wearing horn-rimmed glasses and smiling confidently into the
camera. "Nice-looking. It's hard to believe he's a murderer." "Maybe he popped his cork when the
Cabal tried to blow him up." Nathan looked around the room. "Where's
Quinn?" "Out back in the tech van." She
made a face. "He's fascinated by all that equipment. He's decided to make
me the audio tech." "Pretty complex stuff." "Not really. Faber made sure it was
user-friendly." "Well, then, I'd better get back to
the hotel and keep an eye on Melton so that you'll have something to
record." He turned to leave. "I'll keep in touch, but I'm going to
stick close as glue to Melton now that he's on the scene. I'll meet you day
after tomorrow in front of the church." "Right." After the door closed
behind Nathan, Eve took the hat and scarf out of the plastic bag. Both items
were cheap and flimsy, but it didn't matter. They would keep her from being
recognized and wouldn't appear out of place. "Did Nathan bring the photo?" She turned to see Joe standing in the
kitchen doorway. "Two." She held out the envelope. "Finished for
the night?" He shook his head absently as he gazed at
the photos. "Clean-cut. I told Nathan that it was
hard to believe he was a murderer." "I'm not having any trouble. But I've
seen more murderers than you have." "Maybe I'm just confused by this
whole scenario," Eve said wearily. "Thomas Simmons was probably a
very good man with a wonderful future. Now his life's been twisted out of shape
and he's become a killer. It's difficult to understand." "Not to me. Killing is a choice. You
make a decision and then you weigh the consequences. I'm a cop, but I have no
problem scraping up the remains of some of the scum out there on the
streets." He jammed the pictures in his pocket and turned away. "But
he made the wrong choice when he tried to kill you." Boca Raton October 29 The crowds were six deep on the roped-off
streets outside St. Catherine's Cathedral. It took Eve a few minutes to locate
Nathan standing near the back of the throng and then make her way toward him. "Eve?" Nathan peered at her
features through the dark veil. She nodded. "Is Melton inside?" "Thirty minutes ago. He probably
wanted to get his share of the limelight before the President arrived." "The President is here?" "Arrived ten minutes ago."
Nathan nodded at four dark-suited men in sunglasses, standing on the steps.
"Secret Service." "I hope they can protect the
President. They didn't do a very good job with Copeland." She stared at
the door of the church. "I'm glad President Andreas is here. Copeland
deserves all the honors he can get." "You're taking this very
personally." She shrugged. "I guess I'm feeling a
little guilty. If I'd figured out the situation here sooner, maybe we could
have saved Copeland." "And maybe not. You didn't know that
Hebert was targeting Copeland until it was almost certainly too late for
him." "Minutes can matter when a man is
dying." She watched blindly as limousine after limousine pulled up before
the church and deposited their passengers. "I don't know if—My God." She grabbed Nathan's arm. "Tell me I'm crazy.
Is that Thomas Simmons?" Nathan stiffened. "Where?" "Across the street. Green polo shirt.
Hell, he's not three yards from that Secret Service man." Her gaze clung
to the man staring intently at the arriving guests. Same pouty lips, same
horn-rimmed glasses ... "It is him, Nathan." "If not, it's his double."
Nathan was edging toward the front of the crowd. "Let's see if we can get
closer." Eve pushed after Nathan through the crowd.
Simmons. My God, Simmons... Thomas Simmons suddenly lifted his head
and looked directly at Nathan, who was only a few yards away now. Nathan smiled. "Hi, could we have a
few—" Simmons turned and dove back into the
crowd, pushing people out of his path. As the crowd thinned out down the
street, he broke into a run. "Shit." Nathan took off after
him. Eve tried to run, too, but she was slowed
by the crowd until she reached the end of the block. Had they gone around the
corner? Yes, she could see Nathan.... She broke into a sprint. Almost a block away, Simmons was diving
into a beige Toyota. Nathan's pace increased. "Stop. You
can't get away. Let me—" The Toyota peeled away from the curb and
down the street. Nathan stopped and was cursing a blue
streak as he watched the car vanish out of sight. "It was him, right?" Eve was
beside him now. "It was Simmons." "I think so." Nathan reached in
his pocket and took out a notebook. "And I hope to hell I remember that
license number." He scrawled down a number on the pad. "Not that it
will probably do us any good if it's a rental. Do you think Quinn can check it
out?" She nodded as she took the paper.
"But what was he doing here?" "Who knows? If he did kill those
other Cabal members, then he could be picking out his next target. Or he could
be following Melton, like I am. Or if he's a total wacko, it could be any
reason." He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath.
"Jesus, I've got to lose weight. That run almost killed me." "At least we know he's here." "Well, he's definitely not a
shadow." He wrinkled his nose. "And he's in far better shape than I
am." He straightened away from the wall. "Now I've got to get back
and wait for Melton to dry his crocodile tears and come out of the church.
Coming?" She shook her head. "I'll phone this
license number to Joe and go back to the house." Lake Cottage
Atlanta, Georgia 3:05 p.m.
October 29 The funeral service had already started
when Galen switched on the television set. Jonathan Andreas, the President, was
standing at the podium giving the first eulogy. Full house, Galen thought, as the camera
panned the audience. There must be at least fifteen hundred people at the
service. He recognized several dignitaries: Tony Blair, Norman Schwarzkopf,
Colin Powell. With this kind of firepower, it would be perfectly reasonable to
have— "Could I see you for a minute,
Galen?" David Hughes was standing at the doorway. "A problem?" "Maybe." He was frowning.
"I just don't understand. It's not right. Come and take a look." Chapter Twenty
"It's not a
local rental car." Joe hung up the phone. "They're running a computer search now. It shouldn't be
too long." Eve frowned. "I hope not. The idea of
Simmons hovering makes me very uneasy." "If we can nail down where he is now,
I guarantee he won't ever make you uneasy again." She had a sudden chilling memory of Joe
and Hebert struggling in the mud. "Why do you always think that you're the
one who has to—" Her cell phone rang. "Saved by the bell," Joe
murmured as she pressed the answer button. "I've found it." Nathan's voice
was shaking with excitement. "After the funeral, Melton met with a man
outside his hotel. It was at the newsstand and it was only for a few minutes. I
knew Melton was going to be surrounded by reporters, so I took a chance and
followed the guy." "Where?" "Fort Lauderdale Airport." "What?" "Well, not actually the airport.
There's a deserted naval air station down there. It's being fought over by the
local historical society and the airport. It's the base from where those flyers
took off in 1945 and were lost in the Bermuda Triangle. There's a big concrete
building that is evidently going to be the meeting place. It's enclosed by a
chain-link fence, completely private, and guarded by at least five men besides
the guy who met with Melton." "An airport," Eve murmured. "It's perfect. The members leave Boca
separately sometime after the funeral, presumably to fly out to their homes.
They congregate at the naval base, have their meeting, and then go on to the
airport at a staggered pace and board their flights. Very smart." "But when?" "Probably the middle of the night.
They'd want the area absolutely deserted. I'll know when Melton moves, and I'll
call you. Let me talk to Quinn." Eve handed the phone to Joe. He was on the phone for only a few
minutes. "I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and turned to Eve.
"He wants me to take the surveillance equipment to the naval base and set
it up outside the fence. He said there's no way of getting near the building
with all those guards, but there's cover close to a drainage ditch a little
distance from the base. Shouldn't be a problem. The camera and audio equipment
have a range of over a mile." She nodded. "Let's go." "Eve." "Don't you say a word. Ever since I
got here I've been twiddling my thumbs, watching all those hypocrites on
television tell the world what a fine man just died." "Some of them were sincere." "But which ones? I need to find
out." Eve headed for the door. "I need the whole damn world to find
out." She glanced over her shoulder. "And there's not going to be any
leaving me on the roadside or some deserted island. We're in this together. Do
you understand?" "Okay, but we have to—" He broke off as his phone rang. He punched the button.
"Quinn." He listened for a moment. "What the hell?" He
stiffened. "Plastic?" Fort Lauderdale
Naval Air Station 2:45 A.M. October 30 The windows of the white concrete building
were covered so that no light showed from the outside. Guards in dark clothing
patrolled the area with Dobermans. "Here comes the next one," Joe
murmured as he focused the video camera. He kept it trained on the dark sedan
as the door opened and a man got out. "I recognize this one, too. Big
time. Sheikh Hassan Ben Abar." She nodded. "OPEC." The last hour had been an incredible
parade of well-known wheeler-dealers from every walk of life. Eve took the
listening device from her ear. "I can't hear much right now. It's cutting
out. Every time an airplane takes off I get static." "Have you heard anything
interesting?" "Maybe. It's definitely not small
talk, but I'm not a linguist. I need to zero in on a conversation between some
of the English members." She adjusted the earpiece, turned one of the
knobs on the panel in front on her. "That's better." She listened for
a moment. "Something about a gorge. They need a clear majority because
it's high risk.... What's high risk, dammit? Talk about it." She switched
to another part of the building. "Tarrant, the British media tycoon. He's
talking money and the ramifications for the World Bank. He's not sure how
they're going to handle the repayments if the regime falls." "What regime?" "Shh." She held up her hand,
listening. She suddenly stiffened. "Oh, my God." "Eve?" She shook her head. Dear God, she couldn't
believe what she was hearing. Stop shaking. Do your job. Make sure it's being
recorded. She glanced at the panel. Yes, it was okay. Joe frowned. "You're white as a
sheet. What the devil are—" He fell silent, watching her. It was a full ten minutes before she took
the earpiece out of her ear. "It's the Three Gorges Dam in China. Do you
remember that PBS special we watched last year on the dam being built on the
Yangtze River?" "Yeah. The biggest project since the
building of the Great Wall. It's supposed to generate eighteen thousand
megawatts of electricity and control flooding." She nodded. "Three hundred thousand
people have died in the last century from the flooding of the Yangtze. It's a
killer river." She drew a deep breath. "The dam is the target.
They've decided they have to move fast before the first stage is finished. The
construction is still in semichaos and will be easy to sabotage right now. But
the Chinese government is pulling in the reins, and the security is going to be
tightened." "Sabotage?" She nodded. "It has to be done before
November third, when the increased security is going into effect. That's why
they had to make sure to have the meeting no later than the twenty-ninth. As it
is, they have only a few days to implement. If they don't get a majority and
move fast, then they'll have to wait until the dam is completed and it will be
much more difficult." She moistened her lips. "Can you imagine the
devastation...?" "Too well. Why are they doing
it?" "The power generated by the dam will
be a tremendous boost to the Chinese economy. The economy is moving too fast
under the present regime, and the Cabal is having problems controlling
it." Her lips twisted bitterly. "Control is clearly the name of the
game with the Cabal." "And, if the dam fails, the regime
could fall with it." "That's the plan. And the new regime
would have a few high-placed Cabal members. Control." "Nasty." "Tragic." She closed her eyes.
"God knows how many people will die as a result of the sabotage..."
Her lids flew open; she straightened in the chair and put the piece back in her
ear. "Let's see if they have any more dirty tricks in the works. We can't
stop them if we don't know what—" "Dirty tricks?" Nathan asked
from behind them. He shut the door and came into the van. "What's
happening?" "Sabotage of the Three Gorges Dam in
China," Joe said. Nathan gave a low whistle. "So that's
the agenda." "That seems to be the subject of
everyone's conversation." Eve turned another knob. "I'm trying to
find out if there's anything else crucial going on." "I'd bet it's gonna get more
interesting," Nathan said. "Melton should be the next to get here. I
followed him as far as the perimeter road and then cut around here. Did you get
a count?" "Fifty-two," Eve said. "And
Joe got a shot of every one of them." "Be sure you get Melton." Nathan
lifted binoculars to his eyes. "Here he comes..." "Bingo," Joe said as Melton
disappeared into the building. "The good senator recorded for
posterity." "Your bright light is shining clear
and true," Eve told Nathan. "Truth is a beautiful word, isn't
it?" Nathan's gaze fastened on the concrete building. "So clean and
simple." "Looks like that's it." Joe
stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to scout around and make sure
those guards are sticking inside the fence. We don't want to be
surprised." "Good idea." Eve adjusted
another dial. "Because the meeting's come to order. Melton is giving a welcome
address." "They must all be here." Nathan
moved toward the door. "I'll go and give the FBI a call and then see if I
can help Quinn." "Wait, Nathan." "We have to move fast now, or the
whole show is—" He stopped as he saw the gun in her
hand. "Eve? What the hell are you doing?" "Franklin Copeland was a very good
man. Didn't you feel even a twinge of conscience when he died?" He gazed at her in bewilderment. "Why
should I? I didn't kill him." "You didn't kill him. You just let
him die." He went still. "I beg your pardon? I
went to the Secret Service. They wouldn't listen to me." "Joe called the Secret Service again
this afternoon and did some more in-depth questioning. You went to them four
hours after I called you. Four hours, Nathan." "It took me a while to get in to see
them. Red tape. It wouldn't have made a difference, anyway." "It might have made a difference if
you hadn't deliberately made the Secret Service agents think you were
unbalanced. Agent Wilson said you were raving when you came to the house. No
wonder they didn't believe you." "I was frantic, dammit. I couldn't
get them to listen. Not that they would have found anything suspicious, anyway.
Hebert was too smart for us." "Actually, they did find something—once Joe persuaded them to go to the house with him for a search
earlier tonight. It was the filter on the vent in Copeland's bedroom. It was
coated with a substance that reacted in his lungs like mold. Every breath
Copeland took weakened his lungs and helped to bring on his asthma attacks." "Diabolical." "Hebert said it was planned down to
the last gasp. I'm sure the doctors in the Cabal measured out the irritant to
cause a final seizure no later than the twenty-seventh. That way the funeral
could be scheduled for two days later, and it would be perfectly natural for
all the members to be flying into the area before the twenty-ninth." She
paused. "Copeland was a fine man. You shouldn't have let him die." "I told you that—" His gaze narrowed on her face. "That's the second time
you said that. Ridiculous. Why would I have let him die?" "Because you didn't want the Cabal
meeting to be canceled. You wanted them all here. You've been planning this
from the moment Etienne told you that the Cabal was meeting in Boca
Raton." "But he didn't tell me." "Yes, he did. Why wouldn't he tell
you? He liked you and trusted you. You'd been working on him for two years to
make sure he'd feel that way." "Two years?" "Since he came to work for you at the
research center." "What?" "Oh, for God's sake, no more pretense.
It's over. You're not Bill Nathan." His brows lifted. "I'm not?" He
tilted his head. "Then who am I? Now, let me see. A good reporter should
be able to make a decent guess at where you're going with all this. You believe
I'm Thomas Simmons?" She shook her head. "Another red
herring. How long did you think you could keep me from knowing that you were
Harold Bently?" A flicker of expression crossed his face.
"What? Are you crazy?" "Joe got a call from his precinct
about the explosion that killed Jennings. The car wasn't rigged. The bomb was
in the skull itself, and triggered by a remote device." She paused.
"And the skull wasn't the one I worked on. It wasn't a human skull at all.
It was a very good imitation, made of plastic and coated with clay. Now, it was
obviously switched. I had to ask myself who had the opportunity to substitute
the plastic skull for Victor, and why. Then Galen called us and told me Hughes
had caught a glimpse of some kind of metal glinting beneath the porch at the
lake cottage. He found a very small, very sophisticated long-range listening
device. The rains had washed away the pile of leaves it was hidden under.
Someone wanted to know exactly what was going on in our cottage, and there was
no way Hebert could have gotten that close. But you were out there on the porch
most of the evening, and you were on the steps when I came out of the cottage
when Jennings's car blew up. You could have monitored Jennings's conversation
with Rusk and then blown the car. It all began to come together. I asked Galen
to find some pictures of Simmons and scan them into the computer. Lo and
behold: Victor wasn't Harold Bently at all, but Thomas Simmons." Bently was silent a moment. "Too bad.
It seems the jig may be up." "And you did some more swapping last
night when you gave us the shots of the man you called Simmons. Computer
substitution on those pictures from Cal Tech. It's easy these days, with a
photo program. Who was the man at the church?" "Just someone I picked up and hired
on the local skid row. He cleaned up pretty well, didn't he?" "Why did you go to so much
trouble?" "I thought you might become
suspicious if I didn't give the 'shadow' substance." "And when did you do the switch on
the skulls?" "When I packed up your equipment when
we left Galen's house. That's why I had to go with you. I had to make sure you
didn't take the reconstruction out of the case to do any more work on
him." "Because the plastic reconstruction
was of you, and Victor was Simmons. You took a big chance." "Not so big. You were so upset about
the threat to your daughter that you weren't thinking of Victor. It helped that
you always refuse to look at photos of your reconstructions. I knew you'd find
out eventually, but I hoped it would be long enough." "You mean you hoped Hebert would kill
me before I did a photo comparison of the reconstruction." "Hope didn't enter into it. It was
just another tragic necessity in an already tragic situation." Bently
grimaced. "I knew you'd have to die from the moment Hebert brought you
into the picture. It's not something I wanted to happen. I respect and admire
you." "Is that why you bribed Marie to
poison me?" "I was playing for time. If you'd
died, then they would have had to get another forensic sculptor. It would have
delayed them. I needed that delay." "But Hebert rushed in and killed
Marie so that I wouldn't suspect I was targeted and be frightened enough to
stop the work." "Yes, damn his soul. You started the
reconstruction, and I knew time was running out. If the Cabal found out I was
alive, then they'd turn loose all their bloodhounds to find me. I know what
kind of power they wield. It wouldn't have been a week before they tracked me
down. I couldn't let that happen. All I needed was that two weeks and the Cabal
would be here." "And that's why you killed Jennings,
too?" "At first, I was only going to use
him to throw the Cabal off my trail and onto Simmons. I was going to get him to
ID the skull, and then blow it up and have Hebert blamed. But I could tell
Jennings was getting too close to knowing about Hebert's plans for Boca Raton.
I needed to stop him in his tracks." "So many deaths." Eve shook her
head. "Why the hell didn't you just take your fuel cell and leave the
country? Work on it somewhere else?" "Because I realized after the Cabal
tried to kill me that they would never stop. That they'd find a way to bury me,
the way they buried Simmons and his invention." His lips tightened.
"Do you know what a miracle that fuel cell would have been? How many
millions of people it would have helped? It would have cleaned up our planet.
But the Cabal wouldn't let us do it. We were interfering in their profits,
their control. They crushed us the way they crushed every other advancement
that got in their way." Bently smiled bitterly. "Think about it. How
many marvels of invention have you read about that just disappeared from view?
Do you remember reading about the car down in Daytona with a super-efficient
electric engine that met all the problems posed by the environmentalists? It
was bought by Detroit and never heard about again. The inventors are always
bought out, or scared out, or held up to ridicule by the media, consumer
groups, or the government. They fade away as if they had never been. Well,
Simmons and I weren't going to fade away. I had the funds and he had the fuel
cell. We were going to make final refinements, and then I'd contact a few
influential backers and we'd be on our way." "Until Hebert set off that
explosion." He nodded. "Simmons was killed
instantly. I was burned, but I crawled out into the mud and put out the flames.
Etienne found me there." "And helped you?" "He took me to a shack in Houma and
nursed me for months. I had plenty of money in a safe on the island, but he was
afraid to call in a doctor. I almost died several times. When I was on the
mend, I tried to think what was best to do. I wanted to try to continue
Simmons's work, but it was too dangerous to confront the Cabal alone. Then the
solution occurred to me: the media. What would a secret society fear most? The
light of public attention glaring on them. I had Etienne phone Bill Nathan and
ask him to meet me in secret, because I thought he'd be sympathetic to my
cause." "He wasn't?" "Oh, he was sympathetic, as long as
there was no risk involved. He was a miserable coward. I knew he'd probably go
straight from me to Melton. I couldn't let him do that. Not after all I'd
suffered." "You killed him and took his
identity." "It wasn't too difficult. He was
divorced and worked freelance, so he moved around the state a lot. I had a few
facial burns and had to have plastic surgery anyway. I had Etienne buy a phony
driver's license and passport for me, and I went to Antigua and had some work
done. Nathan and I had similar features that only had to be made more
similar." "And you had the plastic skull made
there?" "No, that was later. After I failed
to remove you from the picture, I realized it might be necessary." "Might? I can't imagine you taking
anything for granted. I'd bet you planned every detail." "Well, I did know buying the
fuel-cell components might attract attention. I knew enough about Simmons's
invention to complete it, but I had to be prepared, in case the Cabal became
dubious about my demise." "Prepared to blow me up?" "If the bomb wasn't used for you, I
thought it might be a nice gift to give to the Cabal at their next meeting.
But, as it happened, circumstances dictated that I use it in another way.
Jennings. Kismet." "Murder." "Call it what you like. I was doing
what I had to do to survive and bring something decent into the world." He
shrugged. "The Cabal taught me that I couldn't be squeamish about the
means of doing it." "So you became like them." "No!" Bently tried to temper the
violence of his voice. "I gave up my wife and my children and a life I
loved because I wanted to help the world become a better place. The Cabal tried
to butcher me, and then made me hide like a wounded animal. I didn't even dare
go home because I knew they'd target my family. Every act of violence I've
committed is their fault." Eve shook her head. "Murder is
murder." "It's easy for you to say. Sometimes
sacrifices have to be made for the greater good." "You sound like Hebert. In your way
you're as twisted as he was. And you brainwashed Etienne until he was willing
to do anything you told him to." "Not anything. I couldn't persuade
him not to take Simmons's skull to Jules. He was a simple soul; he wanted to
please all of us." "You knew Jules would kill him." "If he hadn't, I would have had to do
it myself. That's why I followed Etienne to Baton Rouge. I couldn't risk him
talking." She shook her head in amazement.
"You're incredible. He saved your life. If you were there on the spot, you
could have helped him." His lips tightened. "But I needed the
time. After Etienne told me what was going to happen here, I knew that
opportunity was knocking. The only way to guarantee that the Cabal couldn't
stop the research was to bring them down. And the only way to get them all was
to make sure they gathered in one place like the vultures they are." His gaze
went to the concrete building. "And now I have them all in there,
roosting. Fifty-three of the most powerful and egocentric bastards on the face
of the earth." "They won't be there for long. Joe's
calling the Secret Service man he talked to this afternoon. He asked Pete
Wilson to be on the alert." "I'm surprised he left you alone with
me for the great confrontation." "He didn't know about the
confrontation. He thought I was just going to play along with you until the
Secret Service came." Bently smiled. "But you wanted some
other recordings to give to the law, besides those of the Cabal. You've been
getting our little conversation on tape, haven't you?" "If you guessed, why did you talk to
me?" "Because I don't care. It's not going
to matter. I have a boat waiting at a dock near here. I'll be on it and heading
to a lab I have set up in the Caribbean. I watched Simmons every minute while
he was creating the fuel cell. I can re-create his invention. Besides, you
deserved to have some answers after all your hard work." "Christ, I'm pointing this gun at
you. It will matter. You'd have to be nuts not to—" "Eve." The door had swung open
and Joe stood in the doorway of the van. He resignedly shook his head as he
stared at the gun in her hand. "I was a little worried about this
happening." "So you rushed back to safeguard the
lady," Bently said. "And is the Secret Service on its way?" Joe nodded. "Ten minutes, tops." "Do you really think those Secret
Service agents will do anything about the Cabal? No way. Hell, the Cabal will
say they're having a private memorial for Copeland, and the authorities will
question them very respectfully and then go away with apologies." "But they'll know who was there.
We'll have tapes and videos. They'll all be marked men. The Secret Society will
no longer be secret. It's hard to organize the kind of power plays they've been
doing when everybody suspects them. That bright light will push them out into
the open." "Spotlights don't last forever." "Nothing lasts forever," Eve
said. "You're wrong. One thing is very
permanent indeed." Bently looked back at the concrete building. "I
became very skilled with explosives during my recuperation period. Etienne was
an excellent teacher. He'd learned from a master. He knew how to rig bombs and
place them where they'd go undetected. Do you know there are even ways to mask
the scent from dogs? He was very proud of his knowledge." Eve tensed as she realized he wasn't
talking about the explosive in the skull. "You're bluffing. There was no
way you could get near that building with all the guards." "But the guards weren't here three
weeks ago." God, all the half-lies, half-truths.
"Etienne told you exactly where the meeting was being held." Bently nodded. "Did I forget to
mention that? When you figured everything else out, I would have thought you'd
guess." She headed for the door. "For God's
sake, you're going to—" The tech van rocked as the night exploded. The gun flew out of Eve's hand as she was
hurled against the wall and the van lurched drunkenly. Joe was thrown backward
from the door to the ground, stunning him. Bently was already at the door as Eve
straightened. He glanced back over his shoulder, his face alight with fierce
satisfaction. "Death is forever, Eve. Nothing is more permanent. No more
Cabal." Then he was gone. She grabbed up the gun, tore across the
van and out the door. "Stay here." Joe was shaking his
head to clear it as he got to his feet. "I'll get him." "Dear God." Eve stopped in shock
as she saw the remains of the concrete building. What was left of the concrete
was spread in huge chunks about the grounds; the remainder of the structure was
enveloped in flames. She tore her gaze away. Bently. He was racing toward the drainage ditch.
She started after him. Joe was ahead of her, closing on Bently at
a dead run. Bently waded through the ditch. He was out
and plunging into the brush. Joe glanced over his shoulder at her.
"Dammit, I told you to stay in the van. He could have set another—" The earth heaved as another explosion
rocked the concrete building. Concrete flew in all directions like deadly
shrapnel. "Down," Joe yelled. Eve dropped to the ground as concrete
missiles speared the air. Jesus, it was like being in the middle of an erupting
volcano. She lifted her head, and her skin stung as a barrage of small rocks
hit her face. "Joe, are you— "Joe!" Chapter
Twenty-one Joe was lying
crumpled on the dirt. He wasn't moving. She raced across the intervening ground
and dropped to her knees beside him. "Joe." Pale. Eyes closed. A cut bleeding at his
temple. Was he breathing? He had to be breathing. "Joe. You talk to me. Do you hear?
You talk to me." He didn't open his eyes. Oh, God, don't let him die. She reached into her pocket to get her
cell phone. 911. Call 911. Headlights. A line of cars were pulling up in front of
the burning naval air station. Secret Service. Forget them. Call 911 for Joe. ------------------- Joe's eyes opened. "Hi. You ...
okay?" Eve nodded. "And so are you.
Concussion." She tried to smile. "You scared me. You wouldn't wake
up. It's been two days." He reached out and took her hand.
"Sorry." "You should be." "Won't happen again." His eyes
started to close. "Sleepy..." "Then go to sleep." "You going to stay here?" "You bet." "Bently?" His eyes were open
again. "Did he get away?" "He got to his boat and out on the
ocean. After I told the Secret Service he planned to escape that way, they
called in the Coast Guard. They intercepted him later that night." Joe searched Eve's expression.
"And?" "The boat blew up before they could
board it." "Suicide?" She nodded. "It's just as well the
Secret Service didn't have to deal with him. They're having enough trouble
trying to explain the deaths of all those power brokers." "All dead?" "They didn't have a chance. The
authorities are even having trouble identifying most of them." "Did it cause you any trouble?" "Are you kidding? This thing is
massive. Secret Service questioned me for a solid five hours. The FBI for
another three. You'll be on the carpet, too. Thank God, we had the surveillance
tapes." Joe yawned. "As soon as I wake up
I'll talk to them, make sure they don't bother you anymore." "Joe, I'm handling it." "A little help won't hurt..." "Go back to sleep." "Something's wrong." His gaze
was searching her face. "You're not telling me everything." "I told you everything that's been
happening." "No, I mean with you. You're worrying
about something. What's bothering you?" "I'm not worrying about—" Eve met his gaze. "It's what Bently said. He wondered
why we hadn't figured out that he'd lie about Etienne not telling him the
location of the meeting. I was wondering if somewhere in my subconscious I did
figure it out, and just ignored it." She looked down at their joined
hands. "The Cabal deserved to be destroyed, and we couldn't be sure that
exposing them would be enough. Did I close my eyes and let Bently blow them
up?" "Bullshit." "Did I, Joe?" "No, you didn't." His answer was
absolutely certain. "I know you. There were so many lies, red herrings,
and half-truths floating around that this one got lost in the shuffle for you.
As much as you might have wanted the Cabal to disappear, you couldn't do it.
Death is the enemy for you. You fight it every single day." He lifted her
hand and kissed the palm. "So forget it, okay?" Eve moistened her lips. "Okay." "Good." Joe's eyes closed.
"Then let me go to sleep so I can get enough strength to tackle those
Secret Service assholes..." "They're not assholes. They're just
doing their—" He was already asleep. Eve sat there, holding his hand, staring
at his face. She was at peace again. Another gift from
Joe. But he had spoken only of her own lack of
guilt, she realized suddenly. He didn't say that he hadn't figured out
that Bently might have known enough to set a death trap. Joe was one of the
smartest men she had ever known, and he had a memory like a steel trap. Had he
known there was a possibility the Cabal would not survive the night? Her hand tightened on Joe's. It was a question she knew she'd never ask
him. ------------------- "So Bently is dead," Galen
repeated thoughtfully. " 'Down to the sea in ships ...' " "We'll be back at the cottage
tomorrow," Eve said. "The questioning isn't over, but they're going
to let us go home." "Jane will be jumping up and down
with joy. Is Quinn okay?" "Headache. But that's to be
expected." "If I'd been there, it wouldn't have
happened. You should take it as a lesson learned." "I take it as another example of your
inflated ego." Galen chuckled. "Maybe. Are you going
to call Jane, or shall I?" "I will." "Dammit, I wanted to do something to
get into her good graces. She might be so happy she'd forget she considers me
an ass." Eve smiled. "Jane's always been a
girl of impeccable judgment." "Cruelty, thy name is Eve." ------------------- "I have to go down to the precinct
right away. They're feeling very cheated they don't know as much as the
Feds." Joe put their bags inside the cottage. "Will you be
okay?" "Of course." "Try to rest." "I'm not the one who got knocked on
the head." Her gaze wandered over the lake to the scorched trees where
Jennings had died and then, compulsively, to Bonnie's hill. "Shit." Joe's gaze had followed
Eve's. "I know, dammit. No more threat, no more sword hanging over us, and
everything is coming back to you. I knew it would happen. It's always going to
be here." "What do you want me to do? I can't
forget it, Joe." "I'm not an idiot. It's got to be
faced. Just do me a favor," Joe said. "Don't think. Don't make any
decisions. You're tired. Just try to live in the present until I get these next
few days of red tape over with and we can talk." She nodded. "I'll try." He started down the steps. "And I'll
pick up Jane, your Mom, and Toby on my way home tonight. They should keep you
too busy to think of anything but them." Eve took one last look at the hill as he
drove off. She had hoped the pain would go away, but it still lingered. Keep
your promise, she told herself as she went inside. Don't think. Just live in
the moment. It was the best advice she— There was a note propped on the coffee
table. ------------------- Eve, I had a few things to tie up. I'll
call you. Tell Jane I didn't run away because she intimidated me. She doesn't
scare me ... much. Galen She smiled as she put down the note. A few
things to tie up? Now what the hell was that rascal up to.... ------------------- It was two days later that Eve got the
call from Galen. "Where the hell are you?" "I've been busy. I just thought I'd
fill you in. I've called Hughes and told him he's to stay with you and maintain
protective surveillance until the end of the week. That should keep some of the
media away. Have you brought Jane back home?" "Yes. I brought her and Mom back to
the cottage." Eve's gaze shifted to Jane and Toby playing outside by the
lake. "She couldn't be happier. Where are you, Galen?" "Barbados. I felt the need for a
vacation." "Out of the blue?" "My last job was very exhausting.
You're not an easy woman to work with, Eve." "Why are you in Barbados?" "The sun. I got a little chill in my
bones while I was at your lake." "Galen." He was silent a moment. "My
suspicious nature. I don't think Bently was the type to commit suicide. And I
found it very convenient that his death took place in the middle of the ocean,
where his remains couldn't be retrieved." "You believe he staged it." "He's very, very smart. He would have
to be, to fool me into thinking he was an ass." "Your pride is hurt." "Well, maybe. I'm just exploring
possibilities. He got rid of the Cabal, his primary threat. He was obsessed
with the idea of that fuel cell, and he told you he knew enough to put it
together himself. Why not fake his own death to make sure he had the
opportunity to work on it?" "You believe Simmons's fuel cell may
become a reality someday?" "We'll have to see, won't we? At any
rate, I don't think Bently's any threat to you. You're off his radar now. I'm
just going to poke around and see what I can find out down here." "And what if you find him?" "I'll make a decision then. I don't
believe in throwing the baby out with the bathwater." "When will you be back?" "Not for awhile. You're on your own.
Well, not on your own. You'll always have Quinn. How's he doing?" "Okay, I guess. I've scarcely seen
him since we got back. He's been closeted with the Secret Service and the FBI
from morning to night." "Drudgery. I don't envy him. I like
the easy life. If I don't find Bently, I may go on a real vacation. Then I'm
going to get on with my life. I highly recommend it. Why don't you do the
same?" He hung up. Annoying bastard, Eve thought crossly as
she pressed the disconnect. She had actually been stupid enough to worry about
Galen for the past couple days. She should have known he'd pop up like some
zany jack-in-the-box. His lack of certainty about Bently's death
was a little far out, but not totally crazy. Bently had actually told her about
the boat and his preparations to get away. So that she could tell the authorities and
set his real plan in motion? Let Galen worry about it. Eve and her
family were safe, and she didn't want to think about Bently. She agreed with Galen
that if Bently was alive, there was no reason for him to target her or Joe. She moved onto the porch and stood looking
out at the lake. The water looked beautiful and serene today. If she hadn't
known Hughes and his men were moving discreetly around the property, it would
have reminded her of the time before she had gotten that DNA report. Her gaze lifted across the lake to the
hill. Would she ever be able to look at that grave again without remembering
Jules Hebert and his death in those swamps? Or that gravestone with her
Bonnie's name crossed out and smeared with ugly red paint? Get on with your life, Galen had said. Sometimes things get in the way and you
forget who you are and what you do. Why did those words of Jane's suddenly pop
into her head? They had been spoken when Jane had been trying to convince her
to go after Hebert, and had nothing to do with— She stiffened in shock. "Dear God..." She slowly moved down the porch steps. ------------------- Jane was sitting on the porch swing when
Joe got home from the precinct. Toby was curled up at her feet. "You must have worn him out."
Joe bent down and petted him. The dog raised his head, lazily licking the back
of Joe's hand. "I've never seen Toby this quiet." "Yeah. He runs until he's ready to
drop and then he collapses. Stop that, Toby. You're getting his hand all
wet." She was frowning. "I've been waiting for you." "Problems? Why didn't you call
me?" "Eve didn't want me to." He stiffened. "Eve?" His gaze
flew to the front door of the cottage. "What happened? Did she
leave?" Jane shook her head. "She just wanted
me to give you a message. She wants you to go up to the grave." "What?" "That's what she said. She left the
cottage over an hour ago. I asked her if she wanted me to go up there with her,
and she said no." "You're sure she went to the
grave?" His gaze shifted to the hill. "Did she give any reason?" Jane shook her head. "How did she look?" She shrugged. "Sometimes it's hard to
tell what Eve's thinking. She didn't look mad, but she wasn't smiling. I don't
know, Joe." "Then I guess I'd better go see for
myself." He turned and started down the steps. Jane's voice followed him. "I hope
everything's okay, Joe." "Me, too." He started down the
path around the lake. "Me, too..." ------------------- Eve was standing beside the grave, staring
down at the tombstone. "Eve?" She didn't look at him. "There are
still the faintest traces of that red paint. I thought we'd gotten it all
off." "I'll do it tomorrow." "No, it doesn't make any
difference." Silence. "Why are you here, Eve?" "I had to get my head straight. I
thought I'd better do it here." "It has to hurt to see that
tombstone." "Of course it does." "And makes you even more bitter
toward me." "A little." "Only a little?" Eve's gaze lifted to meet his. "I'm
trying to be honest with you. Galen called today. He's in Barbados." "Doing what?" "He thinks maybe Bently staged his
own death. He's looking around." She studied Joe. "You're not
surprised?" "I considered the possibility, and
was tempted to go down and scout around. I decided my priority was here." "Galen says even if he's alive, he
thinks we're off his radar." She paused. "And he recommended that I
get on with my life." "And what did you say?" "I didn't get a chance to say
anything." Eve looked back at the tombstone. "But it rang a bell. And
then I remembered something Jane said when she was trying to talk me out of
hiding. She said everything was getting in my way and making me forget who I
really was and what I did. That struck a note, too. I've been running around,
hurt and angry and so defensive I blocked out everything else." "Who could blame you?" "I blame me," she said fiercely.
"I felt so much the victim that I forgot about who I really am and what I
do." She gestured to the tombstone. "I only thought about Bonnie. I
never thought about that little girl we buried in her place. She was one of the
lost ones, and I didn't even think about her." "You couldn't be expected to—" "Bull. I made the choice years ago
that if I couldn't help Bonnie, I could at least help the parents of other lost
and murdered children. I've devoted years to doing that, and yet I allowed
myself to be derailed because I felt so sorry for myself. The little girl in
this grave was about the same age as Bonnie. She had everything to live for,
and it was taken away from her." Her hands clenched into fists at her
sides. "And I never thought about her. I had no right to be that selfish
just because I was hurting." "You weren't selfish. If you need to
blame someone, blame me." "I'm tired of blaming you." Joe smiled. "Then I'm not about to
urge you to do it. I know when I've gotten a break." His smile faded as
his gaze went to the tombstone. "So why did you want me to come up
here?" "Because I wanted to know how I'd
feel if I stood here with you." He stiffened. "How do you feel?" "Sad. Regretful. Scarred." "And what does that mean?" "It means you made a mistake and it
hurt me terribly. It means I probably made a few mistakes myself. It means I
have to heal and it will take some time." Eve met his gaze. "But I
don't want to do it alone. I want you with me. Whether it hurts or not, I can't
imagine life without you." "Hallelujah," he whispered. "I don't promise you everything will
be the same. But then you said you weren't sure you
wanted it that way." "I would have taken it." Joe
moved to stand beside her, but not touching her. "Tell me what you want
from me." "I want you to have this little girl
disinterred. I'm going to do a reconstruction on her. Then I want you to help
me find out who she is." "Done." "And I'm going to find my Bonnie.
Will you help me?" "For God's sake, of course I
will." He paused. "I've never stopped looking. I've followed up on
every report, every lead, even after I paid to have that DNA report sent to
you." She went still. "You didn't tell me
that." "I didn't think you were in the mood
to believe me." "Maybe I wasn't. Would you have told
me if you'd found her?" He smiled crookedly. "I asked myself
that a thousand times. I think I would. I hope I would. I can't guarantee it." "I hope you would, too. Because I
want to trust you again, Joe." "You already trust me. You just have
to recognize that you do. Why else would you agree to start again?" "Because I love you so much that
life's not worth a damn without you," she said simply. "In spite of
everything that's happened, that's the bottom line." Joe drew a deep breath and held out his
hand to her. "Yeah, that's the bottom line." Eve hesitated, then slowly reached out and
took his hand. Strength. Comfort. Love. His touch was so
familiar, and yet it had an element now that was tentative and entirely new. Rebirth? Maybe. Whatever it was, like Joe, she'd take it. Her hand tightened around his as she
turned away from the grave. "We'd better get back to Jane. I think she was
worried." "I know she was." Joe walked
beside her toward the path. "She was afraid you were going to ditch me.
She was probably concerned about who would get custody of Toby." "Don't be silly. Jane would get
custody even if she had to run away from home with that dog." She suddenly
stopped to look back over her shoulder at the grave she had called Bonnie's all
these months. "Okay?" Joe asked gently. She was beginning to think it would be
okay. Hope was a wonderful thing, and they had that great bottom line.
"Sure, I was just thinking about that little girl. I want to get to work
on the reconstruction right away." She started down the path again.
"I think I'll call her Sally...." Epilogue "I like the name Sally," Bonnie
said. "One of my friends at school was Sally Meyers. Do you remember her,
Mama?" Eve looked over her shoulder to see Bonnie
curled up on the window seat. "You had a lot of friends." She went
back to measuring the child's skull for depth markers. "And if I'd
remembered her, I certainly wouldn't have named this poor kid after her." "Why not?" Bonnie giggled.
"You're superstitious. You think it might be bad luck." "I'm not superstitious." "Yes, you are." "I've just learned not to take
chances, brat." "Sally's fine. Her daddy gave her a
car and she almost died in an auto accident last year. But she's getting
well." "I don't call that exactly
fine." "Well, she would have been happier on
this side, but she's still fine." "And I can't relate to your notion of
a happy little afterlife, either." "I know. It's out of your realm of
experience. That's why you're so determined to find me." "Don't be patronizing. I'm still your
mother." "Yes, you are." Bonnie smiled
lovingly. "And I understand why you want to bring me home. It's just that
I don't want you to hurt yourself doing it. You almost lost Joe this
time." "We're working it out." "Yes." Bonnie leaned her head
back against the window. "I can feel it in you." "Feel what?" "A sort of glow, a serenity..." "Oh, give me a break." "Have I embarrassed you? Serves you
right for being such a cynic." Her glance shifted to Sally. "I hope
you're able to bring her home. She's been lost a long time." "How long?" "Longer than me. Have you heard
anything from Galen?" "No, have you?" "Do you mean, is he dead? I don't
think so." "I shouldn't have asked. I don't know
why it even bothers me. He's a law unto himself. I refuse to worry about
him." Bonnie chuckled. "You'll worry."
She was silent a moment. "I have to leave now. Jane and Toby will be
coming up the porch steps in a few minutes. She's going to show you a trick she
taught him." "Is that supposed to prove you're
clairvoyant? She teaches him a new trick every other day." "Well, I thought I'd try. You're a
tough sell. By the time they come in that door, you'll have persuaded yourself
that you've just woken from a nap and started working on Sally again." "Which is probably what
happened." She could hear Toby scrambling up the porch steps and then
shaking his coat. "He sounds like he's been in the water. We can't keep
him dry. He refuses to stay out of the lake. The rascal's full of the
devil." "He's full of life. You could learn
from him. Let life in, Mama." The door was opening, and Eve knew if she
glanced at the window seat Bonnie would no longer be there. "Eve, you've got to see this!" Bonnie was gone, but life was here,
joyously bounding into the room with Jane and Toby. "I can't wait." Eve wiped the
clay from her hands and went forward to meet it. About the
Author IRIS JOHANSEN, who has more than eight
million copies of her books in print, has won many awards for her achievements
in writing. The bestselling author of The Search, Final Target, The Killing
Game, The Face of Deception, And Then You Die, and The Ugly Duckling lives
near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is currently at work on a new novel. |
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