Shadow Play Page 2

She nodded and took the cup he handed her. “For the time being.” She moved toward the porch swing and curled up next to him as he sat down. She sighed with contentment as she gazed out at the lake. The fragrance of the pines, the moonlight on the lake, Joe beside her at this place they both loved. “Nalchek is very polite, very concerned. And he’s going to be a thorn in my side until I finish her.”

  “Then don’t take his calls.”

  “That’s one solution.”

  A breeze was lifting her hair, and it made everything in this moment all the more wonderful. This perfect place, this perfect man for her.

  That little girl had not lived long enough to have a perfect anything. That took time and searching and the wisdom to know it when you found it.

  “Then do it.” Joe put his arm around her. “Why not?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  But she knew she wouldn’t do it.

  I felt like she was calling to me.

  * * *

  “So did your bone lady come through for you, Nalchek?”

  Nalchek looked up as Deputy Ron Carstairs came into the office. He was a friend as well as coworker, and Ron had been riding him since the night they’d found the little girl. He was a good guy, and they’d worked together for five years, but he didn’t understand why Nalchek hadn’t just dropped this investigation and pushed it into the hands of the medical examiner. “She’s not a bone lady. You’re thinking of that TV show. She’s a forensic sculptor and probably the best in the world.”

  “And she’s rushing to give that kid a face just because you asked her to do it?” Ron dropped down in the visitor’s chair. “Hell, then she couldn’t be that good. We’re small potatoes out here in the boonies.”

  “She’s that good,” Nalchek said. He tossed the Eve Duncan dossier to Carstairs. “Take a look for yourself.” He pointed to the photo of Eve Duncan. Red-brown shoulder-length hair, hazel eyes, features that were more interesting than beautiful. “She was illegitimate and born in the slums of Atlanta and had a baby of her own by the time she was sixteen. She named the little girl Bonnie, and the kid turned her life around. The kid became her whole life. She went back to school and then on to college. Then when the little girl was seven, she was kidnapped and killed. It was a terrible blow, and Duncan went into shock. But then she rallied and started to rebuild her life. Duncan went back to college to study forensic sculpting. Since then, she’s become the most sought-after artist in forensic sculpting. She works for police, FBI, and private parties.” He pointed to the dossier underneath Eve Duncan’s. “That’s Joe Quinn, ex-SEAL, ex-FBI, currently a detective with ATLPD. They’ve been living together for years.”

  Ron only glanced at the dossier. “I’ll look at them later. Nice looking woman. Not my type. Too intense.”

  “She’s my type. I want her intense.” He grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “Though I’ll probably stay away from Joe Quinn. His reputation is a little too lethal for me.”

  “You said he was a cop.”

  “There are cops, then there are cops. You know that as well as I do. He’s supposed to be totally bonkers about Eve Duncan and very protective.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with either one of them now that you’ve turned the skull over to Duncan.”

  Nalchek’s smile faded as he looked back down at the dossier. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Hey.” Ron was shaking his head. “Drop it. Let it go, Nalchek.”

  “I have let it go. It’s out of my hands.”

  “But not out of your mind. There’s a lot of talk around town about how weird you’ve been behaving since we found that kid’s skeleton. We all felt bad about what happened to that little girl, but you overreacted.”

  “How can you overreact to the murder of a kid?”

  “She’s been dead over eight years. What are the chances we’ll ever find her murderer?”

  “Damn good if we try hard enough.” He got to his feet. “And I’m trying hard, real hard. I’ll find the son of a bitch. I’ve got Eve Duncan, and soon I’ll have a face.” He moved toward the door. “And right now, I’m going back to that grave site and take another look to see if I can find anything more.”

  “You’ve been out there five times. Don’t you think it’s a little excessive?”

  “No.”

  I felt like she was calling to me.

  He had said that to Eve Duncan, and he was still hearing that call even though the bones were long gone from that crime scene.

  “You can never tell what you’ll find if you look hard enough. Want to come along?”

  “Waste of time.” Ron grimaced. “Oh, what the hell.” He got to his feet, grabbed the Duncan and Quinn dossiers, and followed him toward the door. “Why not?”

  * * *

  “Are you still going to wait up for that call from Jane?” Joe asked as he paused before going back to their bedroom. “Want company?”

  Eve chuckled. “I’ve got company.” She moved across the room to her worktable, where the FedEx box remained unopened. “No, you go on to bed. You’ve got to work tomorrow morning. I won’t be too long. I’ll just take care of the setup and preliminary measuring, then come to bed after I get Jane’s call.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He still didn’t move. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Absolutely.” She started to unfasten the box. “Stop hovering. You’re acting like a grandma with her first grandkid.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Joe’s voice was suddenly deep, silky smooth, and infinitely sensual. “Grandma? Me? I think we’re going to have to address that insult when you come to bed.”

  She glanced up at him and suddenly lost her breath. Thigh muscles that were compact and yet sleek and full of leashed power. Tight stomach and buttocks. In this moment, he was totally male, completely sexual, and she could feel her own body respond. Even after all these years together, their sexual chemistry was just as explosive as when they had come together when he had been the FBI agent sent to investigate Bonnie’s death. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said softly.

  He grinned. “That was my intention. Anticipation is the name of the game.” The next moment, he’d disappeared down the hall.

  She stared after him for a moment before she ruefully shook her head. She was tempted to go after him, but he could just wait until she got the call from Jane. Anticipation worked both ways.

  She looked back down at the box and completed opening it. Then she carefully removed the plastic ties that held the skull in place and the protective plastic wrap around the skull itself. “Let’s see you,” she murmured as she took the skull in her hands. She always talked to these lost children when she first started the reconstructions. It seemed to aid her in making a connection and helped her over the first painful shock of seeing their remains. She never got used to that moment. She held the skull under the light. “Small. You were small for nine. I wonder if they were wrong about you…” Small, delicate features … fragile. She looked so fragile and vulnerable. Nothing appeared to be broken or devoured by animals.

  If you discounted the crushed side of her right temple where her killer had struck the fatal blow.

  She’d have to repair that immediately, so that she could concentrate on the actual reconstruction. Her fingers gently touched the crushed bones. “Bastard.” She felt a sudden surge of rage that was as intense as it was unusual. She always felt sad, but it was difficult to focus rage on a faceless predator. She was having no trouble focusing now. This child’s killer might only have been a shadow-figure, but it was malignant and evil and Eve felt as if she could reach out and touch him. “But I don’t think it could have hurt you for more than a few seconds. That’s a mercy. Though I’m sure he didn’t mean it to be.” She tossed the box in the trash and spent a few minutes setting up the skull on her worktable. “There you are. Now I’ll clean you up and start the measuring. I have to do a lot of measuring before I can start bringing you back the way you were. Were you a pretty
little girl? Not that it matters. I’ve always liked interesting more than pretty anyway. I’ve had two children of my own in my life. My Bonnie was both pretty and interesting, and Jane is very beautiful. But they both know that it’s what’s inside that counts.” She was done with the cleaning and tossed the cloth aside. “What’s inside you? Maybe we’ll be able to see after I finish. Right now, it’s difficult, but I’ve gone down this road before. Okay, that’s all. I just had to establish a sense of what we have to do together to find a way to get you back home. From now on, I just work and maybe you help a little.” She leaned back in her chair and gazed thoughtfully at the delicate skull. “One last thing. I always name my reconstructions. No offense. You can have your own name back once that sheriff finds out who you are. But I have to call you something besides ‘Hey, you’ when I talk to you or about you. It’s just the way I work.” She tilted her head. “What name … Linda? Penny? Samantha is a good name. It’s got substance. Do you like it? Maybe too heavy. How about Carrie? Short and sweet. I kind of like that for—

  Jenny. I … think … my name is Jenny.

  Eve went still. Out of the blue, out of the darkness, those words had come to her. Weird. Imagination? Or had she been concentrating so hard on this little girl that the name had just popped into her head, and she’d mentally couched it in terms that the child might use. It didn’t matter. The name was there, and she might as well use it. “Jenny. I like it. And it seems to suit you. Much better than Samantha.” She opened the drawer of the desk and drew out her measuring tools. “And now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s time to get to work. Let’s see if we can get the basic stuff done before I have to leave you and get to bed…”

  * * *

  Ringing.

  Her cell phone was ringing, Eve realized vaguely with annoyance. She wished she’d turned it off before she’d started working as she usually did. She had just begun the mid-therum section of—

  Shit! Jane! Three and a half hours had passed, and she hadn’t even realized it.

  She grabbed her phone from her pocket and punched the access. “Jane! Hello. Has your flight landed?”

  “Yes, I’m in a taxi on the way to my apartment. It took you long enough to answer. I was beginning to worry.”

  “I was working. I just received a new reconstruction, and I was doing the preliminary measuring.”

  “I should have known. You cut down your schedule while I was there recuperating, and you probably had to make up for lost time.” She paused. “I was a bother. I’m really sorry, Eve.”

  “I’m not.” She got up from her worktable and moved across the room to the couch. “I loved every minute of having you with us. I wish you’d stayed twice as long. No, I wish you’d never go away.” She added quickly, “But I know that’s not practical. You have a career. So do I. We’ll work it out.” She changed the subject. “Good flight?”

  “Smooth as glass. So is your new reconstruction a little boy or girl?”

  “A little girl. Nine. Found in the vineyard country in California.”

  “And what did you name her?”

  “Jenny.” She looked back at the skull on her worktable. “I called her Jenny.”

  “Pretty name. I’ve always liked it.”

  “So have I. I guess. It just sort of fits her.”

  Jane chuckled. “How can you tell? It’s a skull, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I can tell.” She added, “She definitely wasn’t a Samantha.”

  “Samantha? Where did that come from?”

  “You’d have had to have been here.”

  “And I’d just as soon not.” Jane paused. “I don’t know how you do it. So sad … Never being sure what you’re doing is going to help those children’s identities to be discovered.”

  “I’ve had a good percentage over the years.”

  “I know, and I admire you more than I can say. I call myself an artist, but it’s you who are the true artist, Eve. You create life from death.”

  “Only the semblance. But sometimes that semblance can cause the bad guys to be caught and revenge exacted.” Her lips tightened as she looked at the reconstruction. “This little girl is so fragile-appearing. It makes you wonder how anyone could bear to hurt her. Yet that bastard crushed her head and—” She broke off. “For some reason, I couldn’t do the measuring until I’d done a temporary cosmetic fix on that wound. I was going to wait but it … bothered me.”

  “Because you have a gentle heart. Why else would you have taken a street kid like me into your home?”

  “Because that street kid was remarkable, and I knew that she’d light up our lives.” She added, “And you’re a very good artist, Jane. You have great vision. And it’s not of skulls or death.” She chuckled. “Far more socially acceptable. You must be close to your apartment. I’ll let you go. Thanks for calling.”

  “My pleasure,” Jane said. “Truly. Good luck with your Jenny. I hope you find a way to bring her home to those who loved her.”

  “I think I will.” She added dryly, “She seems to have a young sheriff in California rooting for her. He says she wants to be found.”

  “A psychic?”

  “No, he just has a feeling. Good night, Jane.”

  “It’s morning here. Have a good day.” She hung up.

  Night here. Morning where Jane was living. It only pointed out how far apart they were.

  Don’t think about it. They were together in their hearts.

  Time to go to bed. She wanted to get up with Joe and have a cup of coffee with him before he left to go to the precinct.

  She washed her hands and dried them on the towel she kept at her worktable. She turned off the work light. “We made a decent start, Jenny. It will go faster later.”

  No answer naturally.

  The fragile bones of the skull shone in the glow of the overhead light. Eve moved toward the hall leading to their bedroom, then impulsively stopped and looked back at the reconstruction.

  She looked … lonely.

  Imagination.

  It was a skull, for Pete’s sake. Eve had worked on hundreds of reconstructions, and she had never had that feeling with one before. Was she transferring her own sadness about Jane’s departure to the death of this little girl? It was possible, but she wasn’t going to look for psychological excuses for the strange feeling she’d had since she’d seen Jenny’s skull.

  Jenny.

  I … think … my name is Jenny.

  The phrasing was very odd.

  Forget it.

  She turned and started down the hall.

  “Good night, Jenny,” she said gently.

  No answer from the darkness.

  Of course there wasn’t.

  No answers.

  No loneliness.

  Not for the dead whose life had been snatched away.

  That was for the people left behind.

  She was suddenly filled with anger and rebellion and a desire to hold close to everything that life meant.

  She opened the bedroom door. “Joe?”

  “Present and accounted for.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”

  “I have every intention.” She was shedding her clothes as she crossed the room. “And you’d better account yourself well.” She slipped into bed and wrapped her arms around him. “I need you.” She kissed him and buried her fingers in his hair. “I really need you tonight, Joe.”

  “You’ve got me.” He kissed her again and then moved over her. “Forever…”

  * * *

  “Good night … Eve.”

  The words were soft, hesitant, drifting to her in the darkness.

  She was sleeping so hard after their hours of erotic lovemaking that she was barely conscious of the words. She was still half-asleep yet she knew she had to answer. “Good night…”

  Joe kissed the tip of her nose. “I thought we’d said our good nights, sleepy head.”

  “Not you…”

  “No? Who then?”

  “N
o one really.” She cuddled closer as sleep overcame her. “Only Jenny…”

  * * *

  “I don’t like this,” Ron said bluntly, as Nalchek parked the squad car at the edge of the forest. “I don’t want to go blundering through those woods. You’re being too damn— You’re acting weird as hell, and they’re going to tote you off to the funny farm. You’re not going to find anything out there in the forest that forensics didn’t find.”

  “Then why did you come along?” Nalchek grinned as he got out of the vehicle. “It’s because you know I’m sharp, and I sometimes notice stuff that others don’t. You wanted to be with me, so that I wouldn’t be able to say I told you so later.”

  “I came along because for some reason I want to keep you from making an ass of yourself,” Ron said sourly. “Imagine that.”

  “I’ll try,” Nalchek said. “But we’ve been together a long time, and you haven’t seen me make an ass of myself yet.” He grimaced. “Of course, there’s always a first time. But I don’t believe it’s going to be here.” He hesitated. “Look, you said you don’t want to go with me to that crime scene. Why don’t you stay here and keep an eye out for reporters and other folks who might think I’m as nuts as you do?”

  “I don’t think you’re nuts,” Ron growled as he got out. “I just think you’ve got this … thing about that poor kid, and you’re not thinking straight.”

  “So stay here.” He moved toward the trees. He smiled back at Ron. “It’s okay. Keep yourself busy looking over those dossiers you brought with you. I’ll be right back. Ten minutes. No more.” He disappeared into the woods.

  Ron got out of the car and moved to stand in front of the patrol car. Then he moved to the edge of the forest and gazed uncertainly down the trail. Maybe he should have gone with him, he thought. Not that he could have helped. Not that there was any more evidence to gather. But Nalchek was his buddy, and cops supported cops.

  Hell, too late now. He’d wait and try to smooth over any feathers he might have ruffled when Nalchek got back. Maybe they’d go down to that bar down the highway and have a couple beers and he’d try to talk sense into—

  Pain.

  So intense that he didn’t know where it came from.