Eve Duncan 01 - The Face of Deception Read online

  “Let it go, Eve.”

  Her mother didn't understand that the search for Bonnie had become woven into the fabric of her life and she could no longer tell which thread was Bonnie and which were the other lost ones. That probably made her a hell of a lot more unstable than her mother, she thought ruefully.

  She walked across the room and stood before the shelf bearing the new skull.

  “What happened to you?” she murmured as she removed the skull's ID tag and tossed it on the work-bench. “An accident? Murder?” She hoped it wasn't murder, but it usually was in these cases. It hurt her to think of the terror the child had suffered before death.

  The death of a child.

  Someone had held this girl as a baby, had watched her take her first steps. Eve prayed that someone had loved her and given her joy before she had ended up lost in that hole in the forest.

  She gently touched the girl's cheekbone. “I don't know who you are. Do you mind if I call you Mandy? I've always liked that name.” Jesus, she talked to skeletons and she was worried about her mother going off the deep end? It might be weird, but she'd always felt it was disrespectful to treat the skulls as if they had no identity. This girl had lived, laughed, and loved. She deserved more than to be treated impersonally.

  Eve whispered, “Just be patient, Mandy. Tomorrow I'll measure and soon I'll start sculpting. I'll find you. I'll bring you home.”

  MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

  “You're sure she's the best choice?” John Logan's gaze was fastened on the television screen, where a video of the scene outside the prison facility was playing. “She doesn't appear all that stable. I've got enough problems without having to deal with a woman who doesn't have all her marbles.”

  “My God, what a kind, caring human being you are,” Ken Novak murmured. “I think the woman might have cause to appear a little distracted. That was the night the murderer of her little girl was executed.”

  “Then she should have been dancing with joy and offering to pull the switch. I would have been. Instead, she pleaded with the governor for a stay.”

  “Fraser was convicted for the killing of Teddy Simes. He was almost caught in the act and wasn't able to dispose of the boy's body. But he confessed to murdering eleven other children including Bonnie Duncan. He gave details that left no doubt he was guilty, but he wouldn't tell where he'd disposed of the bodies.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don't know. He was a crazy son of a bitch. A last act of malice? The bastard even refused to appeal the death sentence. It drove Eve Duncan frantic. She didn't want him executed until he told them where her daughter was. She was afraid she'd never find her.”

  “And has she?”

  “No.” Novak picked up the remote and froze a frame. “That's Joe Quinn. Rich parents, attended Harvard. Everyone expected him to go into law, but he joined the FBI instead. He worked the Bonnie Duncan case with the Atlanta P.D., but he's now a detective with them. He and Eve Duncan have become friends.”

  Quinn appeared to be about twenty-six at the time. Square face, broad mouth, and intelligent, wide-set brown eyes. “Only friends?”

  He nodded. “If she's gone to bed with him, we haven't found out about it. She was a witness at his wedding three years ago. She's had one or two relationships in the past eight years, but nothing serious. She's a workaholic and that doesn't lend itself to enriching personal relationships.” He looked pointedly at Logan. “Now, does it?”

  Ignoring the comment, Logan glanced down at the report on the desk. “The mother's an addict?”

  “Not any longer. She got off the stuff years ago.”

  “What about Eve Duncan?”

  “She was never on dope. Which was a wonder. Practically everyone else in her neighborhood was sniffing or shooting, including Mama. Her mother was illegitimate and had Eve when she was fifteen. They lived on welfare in one of the worst areas of the city. Eve had Bonnie when she was sixteen.”

  “Who was the father?”

  “She didn't list him on the birth certificate. Evidently he didn't claim the child.” He pressed the button to start the tape again. “There's a picture coming up on the screen of the kid. CNN really wrung the story for all it was worth.”

  Bonnie Duncan. The little girl was dressed in a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Her red hair was wildly curly and there was a smattering of freckles on her nose. She was smiling at the camera and her face was alight with joy and mischief.

  Logan felt sick. What kind of world was this in which a monster could kill a kid like that?

  Novak's gaze was fixed on his face. “Cute, huh?”

  “Fast-forward.”

  Novak pressed the button and the scene was back outside the prison.

  “How old was Duncan when the kid was killed?”

  “Twenty-three. The little girl was seven. Fraser was executed two years later.”

  “And the woman went bonkers and became obsessed with bones.”

  “Hell no,” Novak said curtly. “Why are you being so rough on her?”

  Logan turned to look at him. “Why are you being so defensive?”

  “Because she's not—She's got guts, dammit.”

  “You admire her?”

  “From her head right down to her toes,” Novak said. “She could have given up the kid for adoption or gotten an abortion. She kept her instead. She could have gone on welfare like her mother and repeated the pattern. She kept the baby in a United Fund nursery during the day while she worked and did correspondence courses at night. She was almost finished with college when Bonnie disappeared.” He looked at Eve Duncan on the screen. “That should have killed her or sent her spiraling back where she came from, but it didn't. She returned to school and made something of her life. She has a degree in fine arts from Georgia State and is certified as a computer age progression specialist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Arlington, Virginia. She also received advanced certification for clay facial reconstruction after training with two of the nation's foremost reconstruction artists.”

  “Tough lady,” Logan murmured.

  “And smart. She does forensic sculpting and age progression as well as computer and video super-imposition. Not many people in her profession are experts in all those areas. You saw the clip from 60 Minutes on how she rebuilt the face of that kid who was found in the Florida swamps.”

  He nodded. “It was incredible.” His gaze returned to the video. Eve Duncan's tall, thin body was clothed in jeans and a raincoat and appeared terribly fragile. Her shoulder-length red-brown hair was soaking wet and framed a pale, oval face that held agony and desperation. The brown eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses reflected the same desolation and pain. He looked away from the screen. “Can we find anyone else as good?”

  Novak shook his head. “You asked for the best. She's the best. But you may have trouble getting her. She's pretty busy and she prefers to work on lost-children cases. I don't suppose this has anything to do with a child?”

  Logan didn't answer. “Money is usually pretty persuasive.”

  “But it may not mean that much to her. She could be making a lot more money if she took a university appointment instead of working freelance. She lives in a rented house in Morningside, an area close to downtown Atlanta, and she has a lab in a renovated garage in the back.”

  “Maybe a university hasn't made her an offer she couldn't refuse.”

  “Maybe. They're not in your league.” He raised his brows. “I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what you need her to do?”

  “No.” Novak had a reputation for integrity and was probably trustworthy, but there was no way Logan could risk confiding in him. “You're sure she's the only one?”

  “She's the best. I told you that she—What's bothering you?”

  “Nothing.” It wasn't the truth. The whole damn prospect of having to choose Eve Duncan bothered him. She was a victim already. She didn't need to be put at risk again.

  Why wa
s he hesitating? No matter who got hurt, he had to go through with it. The decision was already made. Hell, the woman herself had made it for him when she'd become tops in her field. He had to have the best.

  Even if it killed her.

  Ken Novak tossed his briefcase on the passenger seat of his convertible and started the car. He waited until he was past the long driveway and out the front gates before he picked up the car phone and placed the call to the private number at the Treasury Department.

  While he waited to be put through to Timwick, his gaze wandered to the Pacific. Someday he was going to have a house like Logan's out on the Seventeen Mile Drive. His house in Carmel was sleek and modern but nothing like the mansions here. The people who owned them were the elite, the kings of business and finance, the movers and shakers. That future wasn't out of Novak's grasp. Logan had started out with a tiny company and built it into a giant. All it had taken was hard work and the ruthlessness to forge ahead no matter what the odds. Now he had it all. Novak had worked for Logan for the past three years, and he admired him tremendously. Sometimes he even liked him. Logan could turn on the charm when he—

  “Novak?” Timwick was on the line.

  “I've just come from Logan's house. I think he's settled on Eve Duncan.”

  “Think? Don't you know?”

  “I asked if he wanted me to contact her. He said he'd do it himself. Unless he changes his mind, she's a lock-in.”

  “But he won't tell you why he needs her?”

  “No way.”

  “Not even if it's a personal matter?”

  Novak's interest was piqued. “It has to be personal, doesn't it?”

  “We don't know. According to your reports, the things he wanted investigated are a mixed bag. Some of them may have been red herrings to throw you off.”

  “Possibly. But you thought enough of them to pay me a princely sum to find out more.”

  “And you'll be paid even more generously if you give us something we can use against him. He's raised too much money for the Republican Party in the last six months and the election is only five months away.”

  “At least you have a Democratic president. Ben Chadbourne's popularity numbers are up again this month. You think Logan wants to make sure the Republicans take Congress again? They may do it anyway.”

  “And they may not. We could take it all next time. We need Logan stopped in his tracks.”

  “Sic the IRS on him. That's always a good way to discredit.”

  “He's clean.”

  Novak had suspected he would be. Logan was too smart to fall in that trap. “Then I guess you have to rely on me, don't you?”

  “Not necessarily. We do have other sources.”

  “But none as close to him as I am.”

  “I said you'd be well paid.”

  “I've been thinking about the money. I think I'd rather trade in favors. I've been considering running for lieutenant governor.”

  “You know we're backing Danford.”

  “But he's not being as helpful to you as I am.”

  There was a silence. “Bring me the information I need and I'll consider it.”

  “I'll work on it.” Novak hung up the phone. Nudging Timwick had been easier than he'd thought. He must really be worried about the upcoming presidential election. Democrat or Republican, all those political insiders were the same. Once they got a taste of power, they became addicted, and the smart man used that addiction to move himself up the ladder to a place on the Seventeen Mile Drive.

  He followed a curve in the road, and Logan's Spanish palace on the hill was once again in view. Logan wasn't an insider; he was that rare commodity, a true patriot. He was a Republican, but Novak had even heard him praise the Democratic president on that negotiation with Jordan three years earlier.

  But patriots were often unpredictable and could be dangerous.

  Timwick wanted him brought down and, if he worked it right, Novak could parlay that need to the governor's mansion. He had little doubt that whatever task Logan wanted Eve Duncan to do, it was personal. He had been too secretive and on edge. Secrets regarding skeletal remains were usually a pretty fair sign of guilt. Murder? Maybe. He had led a pretty rough life during the early days when he was trying to build his empire. It appeared that sometime in Logan's checkered past, he had stubbed his toe big-time.

  He hadn't lied about his admiration for Eve Duncan. He'd always liked tough, take-charge women. He hoped he wouldn't have to bring her down with Logan. Hell, maybe by bringing Logan down, he might be doing the woman a favor. Logan was planning on aiming that characteristic ruthless intensity on her, and she could be trampled.

  He chuckled as he realized how he'd rationalized betrayal into gallantry. Damn, he was a good lawyer.

  But lawyers served the royalty that lived along this drive, they weren't royalty themselves. He had to move up from the station of adviser to the throne.

  It would be nice to be king.

  TWO

  “You look beautiful,” Eve said. “Where are you going tonight?”

  “I'm meeting Ron at Anthony's. He likes the food there.” Sandra leaned forward and checked her mascara in the hall mirror, then straightened the shoulders of her dress. “Damn these shoulder pads. They keep shifting around.”

  “Take them out.”

  “We all don't have broad shoulders like you. I need them.”

  “Do you like the food there?”

  “No, it's a little too fancy for me. I'd rather go to the Cheesecake Factory.”

  “Then tell him.”

  “Next time. Maybe I should like it. Maybe it's a learning type thing.” She grinned at Eve in the mirror. “You're big on learning new things.”

  “I like Anthony's, but I still like to pig out at McDonald's when I'm in the mood.” She handed Sandra her jacket. “And I'd fight anyone who tried to tell me I shouldn't do it.”

  “Ron doesn't tell me—” She shrugged. “I like him. He comes from a nice family in Charlotte. I don't know if he'd understand about the way we lived before—I just don't know.”

  “I want to meet him.”

  “Next time. You'd give him that cool once-over and I'd feel like a high school kid bringing home my first date.”

  Eve chuckled and gave her a hug. “You're crazy. I just want to make sure he's good enough for you.”

  “See?” Sandra headed for the door. “Definitely first-date syndrome. I'm late. I'll see you later.”

  Eve went to the window and watched her mother back out of the driveway. She hadn't seen her mother this excited and happy in years.

  Not since Bonnie was alive.

  Well, there was no use staring wistfully out the window. She was glad her mother had a new romance, but she wouldn't trade places with her. She wouldn't know what to do with a man in her life. She wasn't good at one-night stands, and anything else required a commitment she couldn't afford.

  She went out the back door and down the kitchen steps. The honeysuckle was in bloom and the heady scent surrounded her as she walked down the path to the lab. The aroma always seemed stronger at twilight and early morning. Bonnie used to love the honeysuckle and was always picking it off the fence, where the bees constantly buzzed. Eve had been at her wit's end trying to stop her before she got stung.

  She smiled at the recollection. It had taken her a long time to be able to separate the good memories from the bad. At first she had tried to save herself from pain by closing out all thoughts of Bonnie. Then she had come to understand that that would be forgetting Bonnie and all the joy she had brought into her and Sandra's lives. Bonnie deserved more than—

  “Ms. Duncan.”

  She stiffened, then whirled around.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm John Logan. I wonder if I could speak to you?”

  John Logan. If he hadn't introduced himself she would have recognized him from the photo. How could she miss that California tan? she thought sardonically. And in that gray Armani suit and Guc
ci loafers, he looked as out of place in her small backyard as a peacock. “You didn't frighten me. You startled me.”

  “I rang the doorbell.” He smiled as he walked toward her. There was not an ounce of fat on his body, and he exuded confidence and charm. She had never liked charming men; charm could hide too much. “I guess you didn't hear me.”

  “No.” She had the sudden desire to shake his confidence. “Do you always trespass, Mr. Logan?”

  The sarcasm didn't faze him. “Only when I really want to see someone. Could we go somewhere and talk?” His gaze went to the door of her lab. “That's where you work, isn't it? I'd like to see it.”

  “How did you know it's where I work?”

  “Not from your friends at the Atlanta P.D. I understand they were very protective of your privacy.” He strolled forward and stood beside the door. He smiled. “Please?”

  He was obviously accustomed to instant acquiescence, and annoyance surged through her again. “No.”

  His smile faded a little. “I may have a proposition for you.”

  “I know. Why else would you be here? But I'm too busy to take on any more work. You should have phoned first.”

  “I wanted to see you in person.” He glanced at the lab. “We should go in there and talk.”

  “Why?”

  “It will tell me a few things about you that I need to know.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “I'm not applying for a position with one of your companies, Mr. Logan. I don't have to go through a personnel check. I think it's time you left.”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  “No, I have work to do. Good-bye, Mr. Logan.”

  “John.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Logan.”