Eve Duncan 01 - The Face of Deception Read online

  “Mom, I overslept. Why didn't you—”

  No one was in the kitchen. No smell of bacon, no frying pans on the stove . . . The room appeared the same as it had been at midnight when she'd come in.

  And Sandra hadn't been home when she'd gone to bed. She glanced out the window, and relief rushed through her. Her mother's car was parked in its usual spot in the driveway.

  She'd probably gotten in late and had overslept too. It was Saturday and she didn't have to work.

  Eve would have to be careful not to mention she'd been worried, she thought ruefully. Sandra had noticed Eve's tendency toward overprotection and had a perfect right to resent it.

  She poured a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator, reached for the portable phone on the wall, and dialed Joe at the precinct.

  “Diane says you haven't called her,” he said. “You should be phoning her, not me.”

  “This afternoon, I promise.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “Tell me about John Logan.”

  There was silence at the other end of the line. “He's contacted you?”

  “Last night.”

  “A job?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “I don't know. He's not telling me much.”

  “You must be thinking about it if you're calling me. What did he use as bait?”

  “The Adam Fund.”

  “Christ, has he got your number.”

  “He's smart. I want to know how smart.” She took a sip of orange juice. “And how honest.”

  “Well, he's not in the same category as your Miami drug runner.”

  “That's not very comforting. Has he ever done anything criminal?”

  “Not as far as I know. Not in this country.”

  “Isn't he a U.S. citizen?”

  “Yes, but when he was first establishing his company he spent a number of years in Singapore and Tokyo trying to improve his products and studying marketing strategies.”

  “It seems to have worked. Were you joking when you said he probably left a few bodies by the wayside?”

  “Yes. We don't know much about those years he spent abroad. The people who came in contact with him are tough as hell and they respect him. Does that tell you anything?”

  “That I should be careful.”

  “Right. He has the reputation of being a straight shooter and he inspires loyalty in his employees. But you have to consider that all of that is on the surface.”

  “Can you find out anything more for me?”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything. What's he been doing lately that's unusual? Will you dig a little deeper for me?”

  “You've got it. I'll start right away.” He paused. “But it's not going to come cheap. You call Diane this afternoon and you come down to the lake house with us next weekend.”

  “I don't have time to—” She sighed. “I'll be there.”

  “And without any bones rattling around in your suitcase.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you have to have a good time.”

  “I always have a good time with you and Diane. But I don't know why you put up with me.”

  “It's called friendship. Sound familiar?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Joe.”

  “For digging out the dirt on Logan?”

  “No.” For having been the only one holding back the madness that had clawed at her during all those nights of horror, and for all the years of work and companionship that had followed. She cleared her throat. “Thanks for being my friend.”

  “Well, as your friend, I'd advise you to go very carefully with Mr. Logan.”

  “It's a lot of money for the kids, Joe.”

  “And he knew how to manipulate you.”

  “He didn't manipulate me. I haven't made any decision yet.” She finished her orange juice. “I've got to get to work. You'll let me know?”

  “That I will.”

  She hung up the phone and rinsed out her glass.

  Coffee?

  No, she'd make a pot at the lab. On weekends Mom usually came down in the middle of the morning and had coffee with her. It was a nice break for both of them.

  She took the lab key from the blue bowl on the counter, ran down the porch steps, and started for the lab.

  Stop thinking about Logan. She had work to do. She had Mandy's head to finish and she had to go over that packet the LAPD had sent her last week.

  Logan would call her today or come to the house. She hadn't the slightest doubt. Well, he could talk all he pleased. He wouldn't get an answer from her. She had to find out more about—

  The lab door was ajar.

  She froze on the path.

  She knew she had locked it the previous night as she always did. The key had been in the blue bowl, where she always threw it.

  Mom?

  No, the doorjamb was splintered as if the lock had been jimmied. It had to have been a thief.

  She slowly pushed open the door.

  Blood.

  Sweet Jesus, blood everywhere . . .

  Blood on the walls.

  On the shelves.

  On the desk.

  Bookcases had been hurled to the floor and appeared to have been chopped to pieces. The couch was overturned, the glass on all the picture frames had been shattered.

  And the blood . . .

  Her heart leapt to her throat.

  Mom? Had she come to the lab and surprised the thief?

  She strode forward, panic making her heart race.

  “My God, it's Tom-Tom.”

  Eve whirled to see her mother standing in the doorway. Relief turned her knees weak.

  Her mother was staring at a corner of the room. “Who would do that to a poor little cat?”

  Eve's gaze followed hers and her stomach lurched. The Persian was covered with blood and barely recognizable. Tom-Tom belonged to their neighbor but spent a lot of time in their yard chasing the birds attracted by the honeysuckle.

  “Mrs. Dobbins is going to be heartbroken.” Her mother stepped into the room. “That old cat was the only thing she was close to in the world. Why would—” Her gaze had moved to the floor by the side of the desk. “Oh, Eve, I'm sorry. All your work . . .”

  Her computer had been smashed, and beside it lay Mandy's skull, shattered and destroyed with the same cruelty and efficiency that had been used on everything else in the room.

  She fell to her knees beside the pieces of the skull. It would take a miracle to put it together again.

  Mandy . . . lost. Maybe forever.

  “Was anything taken?” Sandra asked.

  “Not that I can tell.” She closed her eyes. Mandy . . . “They just destroyed everything.”

  “Vandals? But we've got such nice kids in the neighborhood. They wouldn't—”

  “No.” She opened her eyes. “Will you go call Joe, Mom? Ask him to come right away.” She looked at the cat, and tears rose to her eyes. He was almost nineteen and deserved to have a kinder death. “And get a little box and a sheet. While we're waiting, we'll take Tom-Tom to Mrs. Dobbins and help her bury him. We'll tell her he was run over by a car. It's kinder than telling her that some mindless savage did this.”

  “Right.” Sandra hurried outside.

  Mindless savage.

  The destruction was savage, but it was neither mindless nor random. Instead, it was thorough and systematic. Whoever had done this had wanted to shock and hurt her.

  She gently stroked a piece of Mandy's skull. Violence had touched the girl even in death. It shouldn't have happened to her any more than brutality should have ended the life of that poor little cat. Both were wrong. So wrong.

  She carefully gathered up the skull pieces, but there was no place to put them. The pedestal across the room was smashed like everything else. She laid the pieces on the blood-smeared desk.

  But why was the skull on this side of the room? she wondered suddenly. The vandal had deliberately carried it over before smashing it. Why?

  Then the thought flew out of her mind as she saw the blood dripping from the top drawer of the desk.

  Oh, God, more?

  She didn't want to open the drawer. She wouldn't open it.

  She did.

  She screamed and jumped back.

  A river of blood inside and, in the middle of the sticky pool, a dead rat.

  She slammed the drawer shut.

  “I've got the box and sheet.” Her mother had reappeared. “Do you want me to do it?”

  Eve shook her head. Sandra looked as squeamish as Eve felt. “I'll do it. Is Joe coming?”

  “Right away.”

  Eve took the sheet, braced herself, and then moved toward the cat.

  It's all right, Tom-Tom. We're taking you home.

  Joe met her on the doorstep of the lab two hours later. He took one look and handed her his handkerchief. “There's a smudge on your cheek.”

  “We just buried Tom-Tom.” She wiped her tear-stained cheeks. “Mom's still with Mrs. Dobbins. She loved that cat. It was her child.”

  “I'd want to kill someone if they did anything to my retriever.” He shook his head. “We dusted but didn't come up with any prints. He probably wore gloves. We did find partial footprints in the blood. Big, probably belongs to a man, and only one set, so I'd bet it was a single perpetrator. Is there anything missing?”

  “Not that I can tell. Just . . . destroyed.”

  “I don't like it.” Joe glanced back over his shoulder at the wreckage. “Someone took a long time to do that thorough a job. It was pretty vicious and it doesn't look random to me.”

  “I didn't think so either. Someone wanted to hurt me.”

  “Any kids in the neighborhood?”

  “None I'd suspect. This was too cold.”

  “Have you called the insurance company?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Better do it.”

  She nodded. Only the day before she'd told Logan she wasn't worried about leaving the lab unlocked. She hadn't imagined anything like this could happen. “I feel sick, Joe.”

  “I know.” He took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “I'll have a black and white keep an eye on the house. Or how about you and your mom coming to my place for a few days?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay.” He hesitated. “I should get back to the precinct. I want to check records, see if there's been any similar crimes in the area lately. You going to be all right?”

  “I'll be fine. Thanks for coming, Joe.”

  “I wish I could do more. We'll question your neighbors and see if we come up with anything.”

  She nodded. “Except for Mrs. Dobbins. Don't send anyone to her house.”

  “Right. If you need me, just call.”

  She watched him walk away and then turned back to the lab. She didn't want to go inside. She didn't want to see that violence and ugliness again.

  She had to do it. She had to make sure nothing was missing and then call the insurance company. She braced herself and then walked in. Again, the blood struck her like a blow. God, she had been so frightened when she had thought that blood might be her mother's.

  Dead cats and butchered rats and blood. So much blood.

  No.

  She ran out the door and sank down on the doorstep. Cold. She was so cold. She clasped her arms around her body in a futile attempt to banish the chill.

  “There's a police car parked outside. Are you all right?”

  She looked up to see Logan standing a few feet away. She couldn't deal with him now. “Go away.”

  “What's wrong?”

  “Go away.”

  He looked behind her at the doorway. “Something happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “I'll be right back.” He went past her into the lab. He was back beside her in a few minutes. “Very nasty.”

  “They killed my neighbor's cat. They smashed Mandy.”

  “I saw the shattered bones on the desk.” He paused. “Was that where you found them?”

  She shook her head. “On the floor beside it.”

  “But you and your mother weren't hurt?”

  Lord, she wished she could stop shivering. “Go away, I don't want to talk to you.”

  “Where's your mother?”

  “At Mrs. Dobbins's. Her cat—Go away.”

  “Not until someone's here to take care of you.” He pulled her to her feet. “Come on, we're going to the house.”

  “I don't need anyone to take care—” He was half tugging her down the path. “Let me go. Don't touch me.”

  “As soon as I get you to the house and get something hot inside you.”

  She pulled her arm away from him. “I don't have time to sit around having coffee. I have to call the insurance company.”

  “I'll do it.” He nudged her gently up the steps and into the kitchen. “I'll handle everything.”

  “I don't want you to handle everything. I want you to go away.”

  “Then be quiet and let me get you something to drink.” He pushed her down into a chair at the table. “It's the quickest way to get rid of me.”

  “I don't want to sit—” She gave up. She was in no shape to do battle just then. “Hurry up.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He turned toward the cabinet. “Where's the coffee?”

  “In the blue canister on the counter.”

  He ran water into the carafe. “When did it happen?”

  “Last night. Sometime after midnight.”

  “You locked the lab?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Easy.” He measured coffee into the coffeemaker. “You didn't hear anything?”

  “No.”

  “I'm surprised, with all that damage.”

  “Joe said he knew exactly what he was doing.”

  He turned on the coffeepot. “Any idea who did it?”

  She shook her head. “No fingerprints. Gloves maybe.”

  He took a cardigan from a hook on the laundry room door. “Gloves. Then it wasn't done by amateurs.”

  “I told you that.”

  He draped the sweater over her shoulders. “So you did.”

  “And this is my mother's sweater.”

  “You need it. I don't think she'd mind.”

  She did need it. She couldn't stop shivering.

  He picked up the phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I'm calling my personal assistant, Margaret Wilson. What's the name of your insurance company?”

  “Security America, but you don't—”

  “Hello, Margaret. John,” he said into the phone. “I need you to—Yes, I know it's a Saturday.” He listened patiently. “Yes, Margaret. It's a terrible imposition. I'm duly grateful for your forbearance. Now, will you shut up and let me tell you what I need?”

  Eve stared at him in surprise. Whatever she had expected, it was not Logan browbeaten by one of his employees.

  He grimaced at Eve, still listening. “Now?” he repeated into the phone.

  Evidently this time the answer was an affirmative, because he said, “Make a report to Security America for Eve Duncan.” He spelled the last name. “Break-in, vandalism, and possible theft. If you need details or verification, call Joe Quinn, Atlanta P.D. I want a claims investigator out here right away, and arrange for a cleaning crew. I want that lab spic-and-span by midnight.” He sighed. “No, I don't want you to fly out here and do it yourself, Margaret. Sarcasm isn't necessary. Just take care of it. I don't want Eve Duncan bothered with anything more than signing her name to a claim report. I also want a security force out here protecting the property and Eve and Sandra Duncan. Call me if you run into any trouble. No, I'm not doubting your efficiency, I just—” He listened a moment more and then said gently but firmly, “Good-bye, Margaret.” He hung up, then reached into the cabinet for a cup. “Margaret will take care of it.”

  “She doesn't want to.”

  “She just wants to make sure I never take her for granted. If I'd done it myself, she would have accused me of not trusting her to take care of it.” He poured hot coffee into the cup. “Cream or sugar?”

  “Black. Has she been with you a long time?”

  “Nine years.” He set the coffee down in front of her. “We need to go back out there and collect anything that you don't want the insurance investigator going through.”

  “I don't think I need to hurry.” She took a sip of coffee. “I've never seen an insurance company work that fast.”

  “Trust Margaret. Someone will be here soon.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. “She'll regard it as a challenge.”

  “I don't know Margaret, so I can't trust her. Just as I can't trust you.” She met his gaze. “And I don't need any private security force out here. Joe's going to have a police car keep an eye on us.”

  “Good. But a few extra precautions never hurt anybody. They won't get in your way.” He studied her as he took a swallow of his coffee. “Your color is better. I thought you were going to flip out.”

  She did feel better. The shaking had eased a little. “Don't be stupid. I wasn't going to faint. I deal with horror stories every day. I was just upset.”

  “You had a right to be, and this particular horror story hit very close to home. That makes a difference.”

  Yes, her private life had been serene and free from violence since that night at the prison. She hadn't been ready to have this ugliness erupt. “It's more than that. It makes me feel like a victim. I swore I'd never be—I hate it.”

  “I can see that you do.”

  She finished her coffee and stood up. “If you really think someone from the insurance company will be coming out right away, I'd better go back and finish checking out the lab.”

  “Take a little more time. Like you said, there's no hurry.”

  “I want to get it over with.” She moved toward the door. “My mother will be coming home soon and I don't want her to feel that she has to do it with me.”

  “You're very protective of your mother.” He followed her down the steps. “You're close?”

  “Yes. We didn't used to be, but now we're good friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “Well, she's only sixteen years older than I am. We sort of grew up together.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You don't have to go with me, you know.”