Blind Alley Read online

  “I think so. There's a chance he may have been killing for a long time. Only not in this area.”

  “When are you going to tell me about her?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “And don't tell me it's confidential. I'm not buying it. You know damn well you can trust me.”

  “We'll talk about it when you finish.” He gestured to Toby. “Come on, boy, I'll let you in Jane's room before you start howling to get in. That's enough to give anyone nightmares.” He started down the hall and then stopped. “You know, I think she had a nightmare last week. I was up doing paperwork and I heard her . . . panting.” He frowned. “Maybe crying? I don't know. When I peeked in, she was sleeping quietly.”

  “If she's having frequent nightmares, maybe she's not as well balanced as you think.”

  “Two isn't frequent.”

  “And how many could she be having that we know nothing about?”

  “All you can do is be there for her if she wants to talk about them. You have nightmares of your own. God knows you don't want to talk about them.”

  Yes, she'd had her share of nightmares and dreams of Bonnie. The nightmares were gone, but the healing dreams remained, thank God. “I asked her about her nightmare and she said she didn't remember. I think she did. Maybe she'll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “I'm not giving her the third degree. If the subject comes up . . .” He shrugged. “But I don't think it will. She's too absorbed in this driving test.”

  She smiled. “She wants to make sure and get a good photo. That's the first sign of vanity I've seen. I was encouraged.”

  “Good. But you'd better be contented with a hint of vanity.” He winked. “Because you'll never get frilly.”

  I got it!” Jane parked the SUV and jumped out of the car and ran up the steps to the porch where Eve was waiting. “It was a pretty easy test, Eve. They should make it harder. I don't like the idea of being on the road with kids who could pass that level of— Get down, Toby.” She hugged his neck and then pushed him down. “But I got it and the photo isn't too bad, is it, Joe?” She handed the license to Eve. “At least, it's better than my learner's license. I hated looking as idiotic as one of the Three Stooges. It wasn't dignified.”

  “Is that why you were so upset? Why didn't you tell us? We could have waited until you had another one taken.”

  “You were in a hurry. It didn't matter.”

  Eve frowned. “And you could have gotten this license last year on your sixteenth birthday. You never mentioned wanting to do it.”

  “You were snowed under all last year. And Joe was in and out of Macon for months on that homicide case. I decided I'd do it on my seventeenth and then we could all enjoy it. Like I said, it didn't matter.” She turned to Joe. “Thanks for taking me. I'll pay you back by fixing dinner for you and Eve.”

  “No, you won't.” Joe got out of the passenger seat and got a sack of groceries out of the back. “This is a celebration and you're the guest of honor. I'll grill some steaks.” He climbed the steps. “And she came out with a perfect score on that ‘easy' test, Eve. Cool as a cucumber.”

  “I didn't expect anything else.” Eve glanced down at the driver's license. The photo was very good. Jane's brown eyes were shining from that triangular face that was more fascinating than pretty. Eve had always thought she looked a little like Audrey Hepburn with those winged brows and high cheekbones but Joe couldn't see it. He said Jane was an original and if she looked like anyone it was Eve. The same red-brown hair color, the same well-shaped mouth, the strong chin. “It's a great photo, Jane.”

  “Yeah, I look like I might have a modicum of intelligence. You finished with Ruth yet?”

  “Getting close.”

  “That's good.” She looked away from Eve as she bent down and patted Toby. “Then don't worry about stopping to have dinner. I'll bring you a sandwich. We'll celebrate some other time.”

  Another delay after Jane had waited a year because it hadn't been “convenient” for Eve and Joe? “No, we won't.” She handed the license back to Jane. “This is an important occasion. Ruth can wait.”

  “Really?” Jane glanced up and a brilliant smile illuminated her face. “You sure? It's not as if—it was a pretty easy test.”

  “I'm sure. I wouldn't miss it. I'm very proud of you.” Eve turned away. “But I'll have to work until supper is ready. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She turned away. “But if you change your mind, I'll understand.” She ran down the steps. “Come on, Toby. Let's go for a run by the lake.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Call me if you need help, Joe.”

  “I think I can manage.” Joe opened the screen door. “You and Toby need to get rid of some of that energy. You may not have been nervous, but you're charged. Don't come back until you're more mellow.”

  Jane laughed but didn't answer as she streaked down the lake path with Toby at her heels.

  “She's happy.” Eve was smiling as she followed Joe into the cottage. “It's good to see her like that.”

  “That's not new. It's not as if she stumbles around with a gloomy puss all the time. She's usually pretty happy. She lives every minute to the hilt.”

  “I know. But this is different. Do you think we should buy her a car?”

  “No, she wouldn't take it. She's already talking about getting a part-time job so that she could earn the money to buy one herself.”

  “It will take forever. Can we give her one for her birthday?”

  Joe gave her a glance. “What do you think?”

  Eve sighed. “That she'd see right through it.”

  “Right.” He started unloading the groceries onto the kitchen counter. “So the best we can do is try to find her the best-paying part-time job in the area and find ways to get her transport.” He unwrapped the steaks. “Now you'd better get back to work. How close are you?”

  “I might be able to finish up tonight. I'll start the final phase as soon as Jane goes to her room.”

  “Good idea.” He picked up the bag of charcoal and carried it out the front door.

  No protests about her overworking. No suggestion that she put off the completion of the job until the next day.

  A tiny frown creased her forehead as she moved across the living room to her studio area. Ruth's features were blank, waiting for the final smoothing and forming to bring them to life.

  Life.

  She glanced out the window at Joe lighting the charcoal in the stone barbecue pit at the side of the cottage. So many small acts made up life. So many hours, so many experiences. Jane had gone through one of those experiences today. . . .

  But Ruth had been cut off before she'd had a chance to experience more than the beginnings of womanhood. Early twenties, Joe had told her the forensic report was guessing. So young.

  “I'm getting close,” she whispered. “Just a little more measuring and we'll go for it. I'll bring you home, Ruth.”

  The woman was damn heavy.

  His chest was laboring as he carried the tarp-wrapped body up the hill.

  She was too heavy. Too voluptuous. He had known it wasn't Cira, but she was similar enough that she had to be eliminated.

  He couldn't take any chances.

  Not with Cira. Never with Cira.

  He grunted as he reached the top of the hill. He dropped the body on the ground and looked down at the sloping bank that dropped into Lake Lanier. The water was deep here and he'd weighted the tarp. She might not be discovered for weeks.

  And if she was found earlier, then it was too bad. It changed nothing but the difficulty.

  He drew a deep breath and then gave a shove that sent the body rolling down the bank. He watched the tarp disappear beneath the water.

  Gone.

  He lifted his head and felt the breeze caress his face. A tingling excitement was coursing through his veins and he felt more alive than he had since that first moment when he had realized what he had to do.

  He was close to her. He could feel it.

  Okay,” Eve murmure
d as she turned the pedestal to the light. “Here we go, Ruth. Measurements only take us so far. Help me out. I can't do this alone.”

  Smooth.

  Start on the cheeks.

  Work fast.

  Don't think.

  Or think about Ruth.

  Think about bringing her home.

  Do the upper lip.

  Smooth.

  A little less?

  No, leave it alone.

  Smooth.

  Her hands moved swiftly, mindlessly.

  Who are you, Ruth?

  Tell me. Help me.

  The middle area between nose and lip. Shorter?

  Yes.

  Smooth.

  Smooth.

  Smooth.

  It was three hours later when her hands fell away from the skull and she closed her eyes. “It's the best I can do,” she whispered. “I hope it's enough, Ruth. Sometimes it is.” She opened her eyes and stepped back from the pedestal. “We'll just have to—My God!”

  “You haven't finished her,” Joe said from the doorway. He came over to her workbench and took out her eye case. “You know which ones to give her.”

  “Damn you, Joe.”

  He took out two glass eyes and handed them to her. “Give her eyes.”

  She jammed them into the sockets and whirled on him. “What the hell are you doing?” Her voice was shaking. “For Christ's sake, why didn't you tell me?”

  “The same reason you never let anyone give you photos of your subjects. It might have influenced you.”

  “Of course it would have influenced me. What the devil is happening?” Her gaze flew back to the skull. The likeness was remarkable. The face was fuller, more mature, the eyes a little closer together, but the features were very similar. Shockingly, frighteningly similar. “It's Jane, damn you.”

  TWO

  I agree she looks like Jane might in ten years or so.” Joe studied the reconstruction. “I was hoping to hell she wouldn't.”

  “Because this woman looks like Jane and she was murdered.” She folded her arms across her chest to ward off the chill. “And you knew what I'd find when I finished this reconstruction. You knew that it would be Jane.”

  “For God's sake, it's not as if I was trying to keep it from you any longer than I had to,” he said roughly. “I did what I had to do.” He took the drop cloth on the worktable and threw it over the skull. “Now it's done and we know.”

  “We don't know anything. At least, I don't.” She whirled and went over to the sink and started to wash the clay from her hands. They were shaking. Don't panic. It couldn't happen again. Not twice. Not after Bonnie. “But I'm going to know, Joe. I'm going to know everything. You tell me what's happening.”

  “I'll tell you what I know now. We'll find out the rest. I promise, Eve.” He went across the room to the coffee table and opened his laptop. “The woman was found in a shallow grave outside Calhoun. Her fingers were burned and her face was just a skull. The rest of the body was intact. Christy said that she'd been warned by Scotland Yard that the perpetrator might be moving into this area after allegedly killing a woman in Birmingham.”

  “Allegedly?”

  “It's not exactly the same MO. The woman was burned to death. And no real attempt was made to hide her identity. Except her face was destroyed.” He pulled up the case history. “She was a prostitute and an illegal alien and they didn't find a snapshot until a few weeks later when the story was on page five. I had to dig to find it.” He swiveled the laptop around toward Eve. “Not as close, but the resemblance is there.”

  Another Jane.

  Thinner, lips not as firm, skin not glowing with youth but similar features.

  “What is this?” Eve whispered.

  He didn't answer, but brought up another screen. “Inspector Mark Trevor's e-mail. Four victims from the U.K.”

  She knew what she'd see but it still came as a shock. “They all look like Jane.”

  “Not entirely. They're not identical, but close enough to be sisters.”

  And they were all dead. She moistened her lips. “Same serial killer?”

  He nodded. “In every case he destroyed the face. By fire, by peeling it off, once it was done by some undetermined chemical.”

  “To hide their identity?”

  “That didn't seem the purpose except in the last case.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “Then he did it because he hated the way they looked. And that's why he's targeting them.”

  “It seems the logical conclusion.”

  “Logical? I don't feel logical. I'm scared to death.” Her voice was uneven. “Calhoun is just down the highway and if he peeled off her fingerprints he was trying to make it look like the work of a different killer, with a different MO. He didn't want anyone to know he was in this area. Why?”

  “Maybe he didn't want the women in this city to be on the alert.”

  “But not all of them have Jane's face.” Her hands clenched into fists. “And that's what that crazy is looking for. He's trying to destroy everyone who looks like Jane.”

  “He doesn't know about Jane.”

  “Then someone who looks like an old girlfriend or his mother. Someone with Jane's face.”

  “It would follow the serial killer profile.”

  “Oh, yes, I know all about those profiles,” she said jerkily. “I did a lot of studying after Bonnie was murdered, until I almost drowned in them. Well, he's not going to substitute Jane in any of his sicko fantasies. That's not going to happen again.”

  “No, it's not,” Joe said quietly. “I won't let it. Do you think you're the only one who cares about Jane?”

  No, of course he loved Jane. But he hadn't lost a daughter. He didn't know the constant terror of it happening again.

  “I know.” Joe was studying her expression. “You should realize I know how you're feeling. Who knows you better?”

  No one. And she wasn't being fair. Fear was clouding her judgment. “I'm sorry. You're as worried as I am. Now what do we do?”

  “Contact Trevor and find out all we can about what they know about this creep. His e-mail was scanty at best. I called his cell phone at three this afternoon and got his voice mail. I told him to call me back.” He glanced at his watch. “It's after midnight. We may not hear from him for a few hours. It's only five A.M. there.”

  “Call him again. I don't care if we wake him up.”

  He nodded. “And we do need to know how they knew the killer moved across the Atlantic if they couldn't put a name to him. The Yard has to have some theories if they've been working on this case for the last three years. We have to know reasons before we can anticipate his movements.”

  “They only have to look at those photos to know why he's doing this.” But she didn't want to look at those photos any longer. They frightened her too much. She turned away. “I'm going to check on Jane.”

  “She's okay, Eve. We're right here in the next room.”

  “That's probably what those parents of that little girl in California said before that murderer came into their home and took her.”

  “Jane's not a little girl. She's a tough, smart kid and anyone who messes with her had better look out.”

  “No one's going to mess with her. No one's going to hurt her,” she said fiercely. “I'm not going to let that happen. Not again. You just call that Trevor and pump him dry. We're going to find that bastard before he finds Jane.”

  Jane was sleeping peacefully.

  No dreams tonight, Eve thought as she looked at her. Or, if there were dreams, they were good. Or were they? She couldn't remember Jane ever telling her about her dreams. Perhaps she should have asked before this. Jane had fit so effortlessly into their lives that it had been easy to take her for granted. It was odd since Jane's personality was as strong as her own. But Jane had never wanted to challenge her. She'd given them both affection, worked hard for her place in their family, and never asked for anything.

  What a wonder of a person she was.


  And no one was going to destroy that wonder.

  She turned and left the room. The next moment she was passing Joe, who was on the phone, presumably with Trevor, and went out onto the porch. She sat down on the top step and leaned her head against the post. The air was clear and cold and the lake was still tonight. It was all beautiful and familiar and home.

  But home could become a place of desolation and terror. Who could know better than she that no one was really safe?

  “No one, Mama. But you shouldn't worry until there's something definite to worry about. Life's too short.”

  She turned her head and saw Bonnie sitting in the porch swing. Her legs crossed, dressed in jeans and the usual Bugs Bunny T-shirt. “That's what Joe says. I'm not listening to either one of you. He's too damn logical and you're a dream. I think I have a hell of a lot to worry about.”

  Bonnie sighed. “I'm not a dream, I'm a ghost. Deep down you know that's true.”

  “I don't know any such thing. I probably invented you when I was so depressed that I had to have a way to cope or kill myself.”

  “Yeah, that's why I first came to you.” A smile illuminated her face. “And because I missed you.”

  Eve felt her throat tighten. “I miss you, too, baby.”

  “You'd miss me less if you let Joe come closer. I thought for a while that you were going to be okay but you pushed him away.”

  “You know why I did that.”

  She sighed. “Me, again. It was a mistake but he did it because he loved you.”

  “I know all that. We're working on it.” She looked back at the lake. “Why are you here? You haven't come to me for months.”

  “You need me. I'll always be here when you need me.”

  Why was she looking at the lake when she could look at Bonnie? It didn't matter if she was a ghost or a dream, she was Bonnie. She turned and gazed hungrily at her. “I do need you. Every minute of every day.”

  “I can't be here all the time. And you have other people who love you. Joe. Jane.”