JANE CAME OUT OF THE bedroom ten minutes later. "How did it go?" she asked as she saw the reports and photos spread out on the coffee table. "I gather Montalvo came through for you?"
"Yes." She couldn't look at these reports and newspapers stories anymore right now. They hurt too much. "He did what he promised. Joe's going to see if he can use them to get any more information."
"Cooperation between them?" Jane raised her brows. "Really?
"Really." Eve began to stack the information and put it back in the portfolio. "What did your agent want?"
"Nothing much."
"Jane."
She made a face. "He wanted me to go to Paris. A gallery there wants to exhibit the six paintings that didn't sell from the last show. He thinks it would open doors. I told him that a U.S. audience is just fine."
"Bullshit," Eve said. "Go. You don't have to sit here and hold my hand."
"I want to do it."
"Too bad. I'm feeling bad enough without guilt thrown into the mix. All I'm doing is sitting here while everyone else is trying to catch that bastard. You don't have to sit with me. One of us should do something productive." She got to her feet. "In fact, I'm going to start working on Carrie right now. You pack your bag and get out of here."
"No."
"Yes." Eve stared her in the eye. "I won't have Kistle spoil one more moment of my life. Everything around me is dirty and sad right now. You and your paintings are bright and full of beauty. I want to think of you in Paris. I want you to call and tell me what's happening in that world."
Jane gazed at her searchingly. "You mean it." She hesitated. "Will you call me when they catch Kistle? I'll fly back to be with you."
"The minute I hear." Eve gave her a quick hug. "Now get out of here so I can concentrate on Carrie." She moved toward the table. "Call and get me another pot of coffee before you leave, will you?"
Jane was still standing there. "I don't give a damn about Paris or the show, Eve. You're the only one who's important to me."
"The coffee," Eve said as she took off the drop cloth. "And Paris is important to me. Get out of here, Jane."
"Okay, I'm on my way." Jane went into the bedroom and closed the door.
Damn, she was going to miss her, Eve thought. But it was better for Jane to leave. She wouldn't have let her come with her to Bloomburg if she hadn't been so shaken. As she'd told Jane, it was ugly here and it was going to get uglier. After what Montalvo had told her about Kistle, it was clear that his behavior in contacting her was unusual for him. And those two poor deputies he had killed in her name were a message sent to frighten her. Kistle wasn't going to be content to keep his distance. He wanted to touch her, scare her, hurt her.
And Jane mustn't be here and get in his way.
She began to check the clay tissue depth beneath Carrie's cheekbone. "It's just you and me, Carrie," she whispered. "I have to work fast and finish you as quickly as possible. I don't think he's going to give me much time…"
"YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING, Venable," Montalvo said. "If you think I'm going to give you any information for a harebrained scheme like that, you're mistaken."
"It's my best bet." Venable said. "I can't keep Cassidy on the hook for more than another day. Hell, I know it's a long shot. But I'm going with it. I've called that Sheriff Dodsworth and asked for his permission and cooperation and he gave it reluctantly."
"He didn't laugh in your face?"
"He's too polite. But he was damn skeptical."
"Amazing," Montalvo murmured.
"Be quiet, Montalvo. I'm doing the best I can. I have to keep this low-key. You don't have to pay me until we locate Bobby Joe. But I'd appreciate it if you'd give this option the benefit of the doubt." He paused. "Or else you might end up with egg on your face."
Montalvo hadn't expected that last remark. He'd thought it had been desperation that had led Venable to come up with this bizarre scheme, but he knew few men more clever or practical. "You actually believe this is a solution?"
"Hell, yes, I've seen it happen."
What the hell? At least, it would be interesting and he might be able to use it. "I'll go along with you for a while. What do you want me to do?"
"I can't be a party to this and, under the circumstances, I doubt if Quinn would want to stand in. Will you be out there at six in the morning to guide the process and bolster up the sheriff?"
"Very well, but if the place is teeming with media, I'm out of there."
"Don't worry, I was very solemn and impressive with our sheriff. He's not going to leak anything."
"He wasn't the one I'm worried about." He took out his notebook and pencil. "Okay, give me the details."
Five minutes later Montalvo hung up the phone and thoughtfully studied his notes. Incredible. Even more incredible that Venable believed it to be a true and valid solution.
But the premise definitely had possibilities. This morning he'd been able to see that Eve was on edge and frustrated that she was unable to actively participate in the hunt for Kistle. Even if this scheme didn't pan out, it gave him an opportunity to involve Eve in a way that would be safe for her. They'd be working together as they had in Colombia.
Yes, it was definitely worthwhile.
He began to dial Eve's number.
EVE THREW OPEN THE DOOR to Montalvo's knock. "Okay, what is it? You said Venable had a plan to help catch Kistle."
"In a way. Actually, it's to keep the FBI on the job. We do want to have all the help we can get, don't we?"
"Of course we do. Though Joe says they may get in the way."
"I'm willing to risk it." He came into the room and closed the door. "But the FBI doesn't believe their expertise is needed to catch Kistle and the cop killings appear to be open-and-shut cases. But there may be a way to keep them involved. You knew about Bobby Joe Windlaw."
She nodded. "But he may not have been killed by Kistle."
"And he might have. I think there's a good chance. All we have to do is find the body."
"How does Venable think he's going to find this body when it's not been found by the local police?"
He grimaced. "There's the rub."
"What?"
"Venable is sending a psychic to that riverbank where the child's belongings were found. He asked me to be there at six tomorrow morning to meet with her. I thought you might want to go along in case they found something."
Eve stared at him in disbelief. "You have to be crazy."
"My reaction exactly."
"I can't understand how you could even consider this," Eve said curtly. "It's all bullshit and I won't be a party to it."
"I understand your attitude. But Venable seems to be convinced that she's authentic. I thought you might be interested in checking it out."
"A psychic?" she repeated harshly. "Crooks. Charlatans."
"You seem to be very adamant about it." He paused, studying her expression. "Experience?"
Oh, yes, she'd had experience. It had been part of that nightmare. "They flocked like vultures around me after Bonnie was taken. At least once a week I'd have a phone call or a letter offering to help me find her, saying they knew where she was. Some of them said she was alive and happy, others said she was dead and buried. I was so desperate I even answered a couple of them. Joe tried to keep me from doing it, but I would have tried anything." Her lips curled bitterly. "They always had some reason why Bonnie wasn't coming through to them. But they gave a lot of interviews afterward claiming they'd given the police valuable leads."
"Venable assured me there would be no media. He says this woman wouldn't participate if there was any chance of that."
"Sure," Eve said. "And pigs can fly."
"He also said that he was having a hell of a time persuading her to come and do the job. She wanted no part of it."
"Good. Then there's one less con artist to stir up mud."
"I take it that you're not going with me tomorrow morning."
"For heavens sake, are you deaf? Of course, I'm not going."
"I just want to be certain. Since you're so familiar with this kind of con game, you could be a big help in debunking."
"There's nothing to debunk. No wires. No ghostly figures. They just 'feel' things. They 'sense' a presence or 'see' a vision. All very safe. They rely on some poor fool to want it to be true so badly that she'll accept anything they say." She still remembered standing in a forest in south Georgia and being torn by agony so intense she had felt ripped apart when she'd realized that the faint hope given by that psychic who had said Bonnie was alive was bogus. "And, dammit, I did. I did."
"Eve." He took a half step toward her and then stopped. "I'd like to comfort you, but I'm experiencing odd qualms of conscience. I can be very calculating, but believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you by this."
"I know." She had to get control of herself. It had all come flooding back to her with just the mention of that damn psychic. "I'd tell Venable to go jump in the lake if I were you. You're wasting your time."
"I gave him my word." He shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps the sheriff will become inspired to bring in some of his officers to look a little deeper into the boy's case himself. It could happen. Sometimes good results come from bad actions." He turned away. "If you change your mind, call me."
"I won't call you," She started toward the reconstruction on the table. "It would be like going back to that hell I went through to hobnob with another one of those damn phonies."
THE BODY WAS HANGING thirty feet above the ground, a vine wrapped around his neck in a noose.
"Damn," Joe murmured as he played his flashlight on the man's face. "Who is it, Pete?"
"Don Astins." The deputy swallowed hard. "He's with the highway patrol. He volunteered to- God, another one. How does that bastard do it?"
Joe ignored the question. "When did you find him?"
"Twenty minutes ago. He didn't check in when he was supposed to do it, so we went looking for him. It took us a long time. We never thought to look up. Then someone saw the blood on the ground at the foot of the tree."
"Blood? He was hung."
"No, from the wound on his chest. I told everybody to leave him hanging. There might be evidence, right? He had to carry him up there."
"Could be." Joe moved to the left to get a better look at the front of the body. Wound on his chest, Pete had said. Dammit, don't let it be there.
He was in position to see the frontal area now. The stake driven into his chest and the-
"Shit!"
IT WAS CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT when Eve's phone rang.
"Did I wake you?" Joe asked when she picked up the phone. "Sorry, I just thought it was important enough to warrant a little loss of sleep."
"I wasn't sleeping. I was working." Her hand tightened on the phone. "You've caught him?"
"No." He paused. "He killed another police officer. According to the medical examiner he believes he was choked to death with a garrote and then hanged from the branches of the tree where we found him."
Eve closed her eyes. "Dear God."
"He had a stake through his heart."
She tensed. "With a note?"
"Yes."
"I don't have to ask what it said, do I?" she asked shakily.
"Same message."
She had known it was coming, but she still felt as if he'd struck her.
She could hear Joe cursing. "Dammit, I didn't want to tell you, but I was afraid someone else would get to you first."
"No, you were right to call me. I had to know." She steadied her voice. "How could it happen? You said there were so many deputies out there."
"You saw his history. He's trained to kill."
"And those deputies are like sitting ducks."
"I'll get him, Eve."
"Before he kills another man for me?"
"I'll get him," he repeated. "I'm tied up at the scene now, but if you need me, I'll come back right away."
She did need him. Another death… Who was the man who'd died in her name? Did he have a family?
"Eve, answer me. Do you need me?"
"I'm all right." What was she supposed to do? Take him away from the search because she was shocked and sad and felt helpless and weak? "Stay. Call me if you find out anything."
"Go to bed and try to sleep. It may take hours. These local forensic boys are doing their best, but they aren't exactly high-tech. I'll let you know if there's anything unexpected." He hung up.
She huddled on the couch and stared at the portfolio Montalvo had brought them this morning. Joe was right, Kistle was trained for guerrilla killing, and ordinary law enforcement officers had little chance in that forest. Even if they had even greater numbers, they could be picked off.
And there would be another killing. Kistle was enjoying proving how superior he was, how he could taunt her. There would be another stake through the heart, another note.
For you, Eve.
No!
She jerked upright and began to dial.
Montalvo answered on the second ring.
"Another officer was killed," she said. "Joe just called me."
"I know, I heard. I'm on my way there now."
"All those deputies and he's managed to kill three of them. For me, Montalvo. For me."
"No, you know better. He killed because he liked it. You're the excuse."
"I won't be an excuse for murder. It's got to stop. I have to do something."
He didn't speak for a moment. "Why did you call? What do you want from me?"
"I want that forest crawling with experienced men who aren't fodder for Kistle. I want the FBI back on the job. I don't want three agents. I want an army. I want them to bring in trackers and forest rangers and men like you and Joe. I want Kistle caught before he kills another man."
"That's a tall order. You know that Quinn doesn't believe we need the FBI."
"I won't see another man killed."
"Quinn is right, the FBI might not be the answer."
"Why are you arguing? You're the one who arranged for them in the first place."
"I'm not arguing. I want them on the job. I just want to be honest. I'm telling you that I'd bet on either Quinn or me getting Kistle. The FBI is just an ace in the hole."
For you, Eve.
"I want that ace in the hole."
"Then I'll get them for you. It has to be through Venable. You'll come with me tomorrow morning to the riverbank?"
She stiffened. "That psychic? No way."
"Venable set it up. If we go through his nice, safe scenario and come up with nothing, then maybe I can pressure him to forget about his jurisdictional red tape and help us."
"Why do I have to go?"
"You've been through this kind of charade before. Venable will listen to you if you tell him about your experiences and give him comparisons."
Her hand clenched in frustration on the phone. "Damnation, Venable's a smart man. I can't believe he's been taken in like this."
"Will you go?"
She didn't want to go. It would bring back too many hideous memories.
For you, Eve.
"I'll go." She drew a deep breath. "Pick me up at five. What's this psychic's name?"
"Let me check." He came back on the phone. "Her name is Megan Blair."
"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MEGAN, tell him to go to hell," Phillip Blair said. "You don't know what it will do to you."
"I can't tell Venable to go to hell." Megan threw her computer into her duffel and fastened it shut. "He made me an offer I couldn't refuse, Phillip." Should she take her medical bag? She shouldn't be gone more than overnight, but she seldom traveled without it. Why not? She could never tell when it would be needed. Even though she wasn't practicing medicine at the moment, she felt a sense of terrible loss without it. She turned and smiled gently at her uncle. "Don't worry, Phillip. I'll be fine. I can get through it. I've done it before."
"I've heard how you got through it," Phillip said. "And I could choke Venable for insisting you do this."
That's the way she had felt when she had gotten that phone call from Venable. Not at first-her initial reaction had been sheer terror followed by the impulse to throw up. "He's not insisting. He just reminded me that he had ignored bud-get concerns in tracking down those kidnapped children from Molino's slavery ring. He promised me at least another year of fighting off the bureaucrats to keep the search going if I did this."
"Charming."
"He's a good man. He must need me."
"And what about you? You may end up in the hospital. Does Grady know?"
She shook her head. "Grady's still in Tanzania. He's having problems finding some of the children there." She turned and moved toward him. She could feel his anxiety, and it was hurting her. She laid her head on his chest. "It's only this one time. I'm not going to shatter and blow away."
"It's a little boy, Megan. You love kids. It will tear you apart."
"They don't even know where or if the boy was killed. I may go there and not hear anything."
"Lord, I hope so. I can't talk you out of it?"
"Nope." She brushed her lips on his cheek. "Now I've got to get out of here. Venable's agent will be here to pick me up any minute. I'm supposed to be in Illinois by six." She picked up her duffel and stopped in the hall to get her medical bag. "I'll call you when it's over."
"You'd better. Or I'll be heading to Bloomburg after you."
She could feel his worried gaze on her back as she went out on the porch. She wanted to run back inside to the safe haven her uncle had always given her. Had she been reassuring enough to him? Probably not. He knew her too well not to realize how frightened she was to go to that riverbank.
Please let it not be the place.
Please keep the voices away.
"HERE THEY ARE," MONTALVO SAID as he caught sight of the sheriff's car pulling up on the side of the road running along the river. "This shouldn't take too long, Eve."
"It might." It was cold on the riverbank. Or maybe it was she who was chilled by the memories of those other times. "How long do we have to put up with her playacting before you call Venable?"
"We'll play it by ear."
Sheriff Dodsworth was opening the door and a young woman was getting out. Megan Blair had glossy dark hair and bright eyes and she radiated vitality.
"She's pretty," Eve said. "The media must love her."
"Venable said she was as media-shy as you are."
"Yeah, sure." She watched the woman walk toward her. Megan Blair wasn't smiling and her hands were jammed into her jacket. "I'll believe that in six weeks if she hasn't given out any interviews."
The sheriff was obviously enamored, hovering next to Megan, smiling and talking. She was nodding absently, her gaze on Eve and Montalvo.
As she drew closer, Eve could see the tightness of her lips and the rigid straightness of her posture. Strange. She found herself studying Megan as the sheriff made the introductions.
"Eve Duncan, Luis Montalvo, this is Dr. Megan Blair. Ms. Duncan is a forensic sculptor, Dr. Blair."
"I know that. I'm from Atlanta and everyone there has heard about her. She's world-famous. How do you do?" Megan took her hand out of her pocket and extended it. Then, before Eve could shake it, she jerked it away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I wasn't thinking." She jammed her hand back in her pocket. She turned back to the sheriff. "Where do you want me to go?"
Good Lord, the woman was terrified, Eve realized. Or if she wasn't frightened, she was doing a darned good job of pretending.
The sheriff gestured down the bank. "Bobby Joe's tennis shoes and shirt were found by that big sweet gum tree."
"Then let's get it over." She turned and started down the incline.
"Unusual," Montalvo murmured as he took Eve's elbow to help her down the bank. "Why wouldn't she shake your hand?"
Unusual, but that didn't mean honest or not self-serving. "Maybe she has a phobia about germs. Or maybe she's feeling guilty."
They had reached the bank and Eve stopped and watched Megan Blair move toward the tree. "Aren't you going to ask the sheriff any questions? Won't it help you 'sense' what happened to him?"
"No." She looked over her shoulder at Eve. "Why are you so bitter? Do you think I like doing this?"
"You wouldn't do it if you didn't. What kind of doctor are you? Ph.D.?"
"Medical. I was in the ER at St. Andrew's."
"Then what the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "Is this some kind of weird hobby?"
"It's weird. It's not a hobby." She moistened her lips. "Now back off. I'm upset enough. I don't know why you're angry and I don't care. I just have to make it through this so I can go home."
"Am I interfering with your concentration?"
"I'd bless you if you could interfere. Why do you-" She broke off and her eyes widened. "Oh, my God, your little girl. I'm not here for her, am I? Venable told me it was a little boy."
Eve vehemently shook her head. "Do you think I'd have another phony psychic spitting out garbage about her?"
"I'm sorry," Megan said gently. "Of course you would have tried even that, wouldn't you? You wouldn't have been able to help yourself."
There was such understanding and pity in her expression that Eve couldn't stand it. "Don't pretend. Don't talk about her. Just put on your show for the sheriff and get out of here."
Megan nodded. "I don't blame you." She drew a deep breath. "I'm even grateful to you for distracting me. I was so scared I felt like throwing up." She started for the tree where Montalvo and the sheriff were waiting. "And I've no intention of putting on a show. I'd rather you all go away."
Eve followed her. "So that you can have a séance? Or do you need something that belonged to the boy so you can tell us where he is?"
"Knock it off," Megan said. "Good Lord, those vultures really did a number on you. I can see why you're such a skeptic. A few months ago I would have agreed with you right down the line." She didn't take her eyes from the tree. "Okay, do you want me to tell you what I do? I don't need any objects to tell me where Bobby Joe is. Someone who does that is called a Finder, and I have no talent in that direction. I'm a Listener. I hear voices. Whenever I'm in a place where something highly stressful or tragic happened, I can hear what took place, the conversations, the emotions… Oh, yes, definitely the emotions. I hear the complete echo."
"I've never heard anything like that."
"Good, then at least I won't remind you of one of the psychics who tried to cash in on your daughter's death."
"You're still bogus."
"I hope you'll be going away saying that." She went up to the sheriff. "This is the spot?"
"Yes, ma'am. Is there anything else I can do?"
She shook her head. "Why don't you all go back to the cars? I'll come up when I've finished."
"We'll stay," Montalvo said. "I find I'm very interested in all this."
She drew a deep breath. "Look, I've only done this once before and I don't even know if I'll draw a blank."
"But you're acting as if you hope you do," Eve said.
"You may not believe anything else I say or do, but believe that," Megan said.
"Only once?" Montalvo said. "Why would Venable trust you to-"
"Go away." Megan's hands were opening and closing at her sides. "Just leave me alone."
The fear was back, Eve could see it, feel it. "We'll wait for you on the slope."
"Whatever." She went to the tree and sank down on the ground.
"Do you mind if I go back to the car and check in with my deputies?" the sheriff asked as they started toward the slope. "I came straight from the forest to meet Dr. Blair and I need to see if there are any more developments."
Developments. Did he mean more bodies? Eve thought. "Go ahead. We'll call you if she suddenly comes up with something."
The sheriff glanced back at Megan. "She doesn't seem to be doing anything right now. I've never dealt with a psychic before. The sheriff in the next county invited one to a crime scene once, but nothing came of it."
"Imagine that," Eve murmured.
"I hope no one finds out about this. The guys will never stop rubbing it in. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." The sheriff took off up the hill.
She dropped down on the ground. "This is far enough. Too bad if our vibrations bother her from this distance."
Montalvo sat down beside her. "She didn't mention any vibrations."
"No, I was being sarcastic."
"I noticed. She took it well."
Yes, she had, Eve thought. So she was a class act. It was still a charade.
"She's not moving. What is she doing?" Montalvo asked, his gaze on Megan.
"Why, she'll tell you she's listening. She hears voices, you know."