Текст книги "The Killing Game "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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"Oh, yes." He slid his arm around her waist. His voice was as uneven as hers had been. "You're damn right I will."

Chapter SIXTEEN

When Spiro called Eve that afternoon, she told him what Dom had told her of his childhood. "Did the technician monitoring the phone trace the call?"

"No, that's been a washout, dammit. But what Dom told you computes with the little we've learned," Spiro said. "We've contacted the schools in Jamison. No school records for the Baldridge boys. But I managed to track down a couple of reports about an official going out to see Reverend Baldridge and inquiring why the boys weren't in school. The reverend claimed his sons were being home-schooled. He didn't think the boys would get a godly education in public schools."

"Anything else?"

"One more thing. The reports were on Ezekiel and Jacob. No mention of Kevin."

"If he never attended the services, maybe they didn't know he existed."

"Judging by the destruction of that hilltop, I'd say he wanted to make his presence known."

"Not necessarily. He went for years and never seemed to need public recognition of his acts. It's only recently that he's changed."

"He was just starting out then. He hadn't learned. He hadn't evolved." Spiro paused. "But even though he's different now, he would still have traits that fit the usual pattern of the organized offender."

"Above average intelligence, for one," Eve said. "But all this talk isn't getting us anywhere. We need to know what he looks like. Where is that photograph?"

"Don't get your hopes up. The photo may not be the answer."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

"We're supposed to be working together. Stop being evasive. Tell me."

Spiro was silent.

Dammit, he was stubborn and FBI through and through. She was getting tired of prying information out of him. He had made a deal, but it was clear he wasn't going to budge on this point. Okay, pin him down at least on the time. "When?"

"Soon."

"When?"

"God, you're persistent. Tomorrow, maybe." He hung up.

THEY DIDN' T GET a duplicate of the photograph until two days later. Spiro came to the house and handed Eve a five-by-seven envelope. "Here it is. You're going to be disappointed."

"Why?"

"Look at it."

Joe moved to stand beside her as she opened the envelope and took out the photograph.

It had obviously been taken in a huge backyard. Two teenage boys sat in the foreground at a picnic table; a third was far in the background, coming down porch steps.

"According to Mrs. Harding, the kid on the steps is Kevin Baldridge," Spiro said. "The two at the picnic table are Ezekiel and Jacob."

Dammit, Kevin Baldridge was not only far away but the photo had been slightly overexposed, and because he was in motion, his figure was blurred and completely unrecognizable.

"No wonder the police didn't take this from the Hardings at the time," Eve said. "He's just a blur. He could be anyone. Joe told me that Charlie was troubled about this photograph. I can see why." She looked at Spiro. "Photo technology has improved enormously in the last twenty-five years. They might not have been able to clarify this photograph then, but you can do it now, can't you?"

"Probably. I've sent another duplicate to Quantico." He paused. "But I wondered if you'd like to take a shot at it yourself. You work with photographs too."

"My specialty is age progression, and that's completely different from what you need here."

"Oh." Spiro was disappointed. "Too bad."

Yes, it was, she thought with frustration.

"Nothing you can do?" Spiro asked.

She thought about it. "Maybe." She stood up and got a phone book. "If there's a film developer in town who does global corrections."

"Global corrections?"

"Air brushing and other kinds of–Here it is." She had found an advertisement in the yellow pages. "Pixmore. Now we'll have to see if they have the equipment and the experts to do the job."

"Glamour shots?" Joe was looking over her shoulder at the ad, which showed a close-up of a beautiful woman. "Not exactly scientific."

"How do you think companies like this make their money? They remove everything from zits and facial wrinkles to dark hair roots on photographs." She looked at the photograph again. "They might be able to do it. Correctors prefer to work with slides, but I'll take this to them, see if they have someone qualified." She put the picture back in the envelope. "These places are usually backed up for weeks. Can you put a little FBI muscle behind me?"

"I'll have Charlie meet you at Pixmore," Spiro said. "How long should it take?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe twenty-four hours. It depends on how good the technician is and what kind of overtime he's willing to put in."

"I'll ask Charlie to stay with him until it's finished."

"Good." She moved toward the door. "That will probably help."

"I'll drive you," Joe said.

"That's not necessary."

He made a face. "At the moment I don't seem able to make any other contribution. I'm feeling the need to be needed."

PIXMORE WAS THIRTY minutes from north Phoenix and perched on the summit of a curving mountain road. The one-story building was all glass and stone and gleamed in the sunlight. Charlie Cather pulled into the parking lot right after Joe and Eve.

"I'm glad you think we can get something done with that photo." He shook his head. "I was disappointed. I thought I'd really zeroed in on something."

"You did," Eve said. "It still may be salvageable."

"That's what Spiro said." He nodded at the Toyota driving into the parking lot. "There's Grunard."

"What's he doing here?" Eve asked.

"He was with me at the hotel when Spiro called. He's been bugging the hell out of me." Joe made a face. "But he's not a bad guy."

"Spiro won't like it."

"I cleared it with him. He said give him an appetizer but not the main course. He leaves before they start working on the photo."

Mark was coming toward them, smiling.

"Don't look now, but he appears ready for dessert," Joe said dryly.

"CAN' T YOU GET me a negative?" The technician's name was Billy Sung. He was under twenty-five and definitely not optimistic. "I'm not a miracle worker, you know."

"No negative," Eve said. "Your boss says you're the best technician he has. I'm sure you won't have a problem."

"Don't give me a snow job. I'll have a hell of a problem. This print has multiple errors. One would be easy to correct, but not all of them. You need one of those digital imaging companies in L.A. or a university think tank to enhance those pixels. Pixmore doesn't have the equipment."

"No chance?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. I have a college professor who has a government research grant, and his equipment is way beyond state of the art. He usually lets me use it."

"You're a student?"

"Yeah, I need a degree to get a job with one of those companies on the West Coast. I have to compete with all those whiz kids from UCLA and USC. Those companies are cutting edge. It's incredible what they do with digital computer and software equipment." He looked back at the photograph. "But I do damn well considering what I work with."

"I'm sure you do," Eve said. "Who is this professor and where's his lab?"

"Professor Dunkeil. Ralph Dunkeil. His lab's about five minutes from here on Blue Mountain Drive."

"Could I have it by tomorrow?"

He shook his head.

"Please, it's very important to me."

He looked at her face for a couple of seconds and then slowly nodded. "If you can clear it with Grisby. He's not going to like me putting everything on hold."

"Your boss has already okayed it," Charlie said. "He said that you're ours for the next thirty-six hours."

"That sounds like slave labor." He grimaced. "Though Grisby's pretty much of a slave driver himself. I had to threaten to quit last quarter to make him give me time off to take my finals."

"I'd be grateful if you'll try to hurry it," Eve said. "You'll call me?"

"I'll call you, Eve," Charlie said. "I'll go with Mr. Sung and help."

"I don't need your help." Sung gave Charlie a cool glance. "The government is too much into our business as it is. FBI, CIA, IRS. Now you come in here and try to pressure me."

"Hey, man, I'm only doing my job."

"Yeah, sure," Sung said as he sat down at the bench. "I've heard that before. It's always followed by the crack of the whip."

"Perhaps I could go with you instead." Mark Grunard smiled at Sung. "Do you have any objections to a little publicity? It might help you get that job in California."

Sung looked interested.

"No way," Charlie said firmly. "I told you that you couldn't stay, Grunard."

"But our friend doesn't like you as much as he does me."

Charlie jerked his thumb. "Out."

Grunard sighed. "Maybe I could come back after you've finished your work, Mr. Sung." He handed him a card. "Call me." He left the lab.

"The results are confidential, Mr. Sung," Charlie said.

"Yeah." Sung looked thoughtfully at the card before stuffing it in his pocket. "So were the atomic tests in Nevada that gave everybody cancer."

"Please call me as soon as possible, Mr. Sung," Eve said. "It means a great deal to me."

"I'll let you know."

"WHAT DO YOU think? Can he do it?" Joe asked as he and Eve got into the car.

"Maybe. He seems sharp." She leaned back in the seat. "And I think he likes a challenge. Though Charlie may have a tough time. Sung evidently hates government bureaucrats."

"Maybe you should introduce him to Sarah. So what do we do now?"

"Go home. Wait."

"That won't be easy."

"No." It seemed as if they'd done nothing but sit around and wait lately. "But at least Spiro gave us a chance to hurry the process along."

"He's taking a big risk dealing with us. He's impatient to have it over."

"So am I, Joe." She closed her eyes and tried to relax. "So am I."

IT WAS NEARLY three o'clock in the morning and the lights were still burning in the professor's lab on Blue Mountain Drive.

Eve must be happy she'd found someone passionate enough to work so hard on the photo, Dom thought. Passion could be dangerous.

But it could also be exciting. Every move Eve made was raising the stakes.

He probably should have gotten rid of that photo years ago, but he had moved on and he had not thought it important enough. But what was happening in that lab was important.

Time changed everything. Technology, morals, good, evil. Who would have known how much his needs would change? His priorities were so different now or he would not be sitting outside the lab.

What was happening in there? Were they getting close?

He felt excitement tighten his muscles. Go ahead, Eve. Come closer. Try to find me. . . .

"MORE COFFEE?" C HARLIE asked.

Billy Sung adjusted the computer. "Not right now."

"You didn't eat dinner. I could go out and pick up some fast food."

"No." He was coming close. Screw those L.A. bozos with all their fancy equipment. He was as good as them any day of the week. Just a few more adjustments and he might–

"Are you getting it?"

"You bet I am." He rubbed his eyes and bent forward again over the picture. "I wasn't sure I had a chance, but I'll be able to–" He stiffened. "My God."

"You've got it?"

"Shut up. I have to check the shift." He brought the picture in closer.

The shift was coming in clearer and then clearer still.

There could be no mistake.

THE PHONE RANG on Eve's nightstand.

"We're on our way to see you," Charlie said.

"What?"

"Sung wants to see you. He's all excited."

She sat up in bed. "He did it?"

"Not yet. He says he'll be done any minute. He was muttering about shifts and spectrums and he's bringing you the photo. He won't let me see it while he's working on it, but I'll take possession the minute it's completely finished."

"Why the secrecy?"

"Search me," Charlie said sourly. "He evidently thinks I'm the right arm of Big Brother. He made a phone call and then he said he had to see you right away. He seems to think this is only between you and him, but this is FBI business and he can't fool around with–Where the hell are you going?" He came back on the phone. "I've got to go. Sung must have finished. He just bolted for the front door. We should be there in thirty minutes." He hung up.

"Sung was able to do it?" Joe asked.

"That's what Charlie said, but Sung wants to talk to me." She put down the receiver and swung her feet to the floor. "He'll be here in thirty minutes with the photo. I'm going to get dressed."

Joe sat up in bed. "Why should he want to talk to you?"

"I told you, he doesn't like the government."

"Bad enough to wake you in the middle of the night?"

She headed for the bathroom. "I don't care if Sung comes up here and crawls in bed with us as long as he brings me that photo."

"I'd have a few objections," Joe said. "By all means, let's wait for him downstairs."

"WHERE IS HE?" Eve glanced at her watch again. "It's been forty minutes."

"Maybe they had to go back to the lab for something."

"Wouldn't Charlie have called us?"

"Car trouble?"

"Stop being comforting. Do you have Charlie's digital number?"

Joe nodded and reached for his phone. "No answer." He hung up. "It's time to go looking."

"I'll go with you."

"Stay here. What if all that comforting bullshit is really true and they drive up right after I've left? If they come, give me a call and I'll hotfoot it back."

He was right. She had to stay. But, blast it, it was going to kill her to sit there and wait.

EVE' S PHONE RANG forty-five minutes later.

"There's been a crash," Joe said. "A car went off the road and down into the ravine."

Her hand tightened on the phone. "Is it them?"

"I don't know." He paused. "The car's pretty messed up. It was over a hundred-foot drop."

She closed her eyes. "Christ."

"The medics and rescue team are going down to see if anyone survived. It's not going to be easy. The incline's very steep."

"How could anyone survive a drop like that?"

"It's possible. The car hasn't exploded yet. I have to go now. I'll call you later. I'm going down with the rescue team."

The car hasn't exploded yet.

Fear tore through her. "Let them do their job, Joe. Stay out of it."

"I like Charlie Cather, Eve." He hung up.

She liked Charlie too, but the thought of Joe going near that car terrified her.

She dialed Joe back.

No answer. He was already on his way down to the car.

She headed for the front door.

THE FLASHING RED lights of ambulances, fire trucks, and a half dozen police cars dotted the highway. A quartz spotlight was aimed down into the ravine. Yellow tape cordoned off the right lane.

Joe.

She parked on the side of the highway and jumped out of the car. She fought her way through the crowd, but dammit, she couldn't see anything.

"Eve." Spiro was coming toward her. He nodded to a policeman. "She's all right. Let her through."

She ducked under the tape and ran to the edge of the cliff.

Spiro followed her. "You shouldn't be here, Eve. What are you thinking? This place is crawling with highway patrol and–"

"I don't care. Where's the rescue team?"

Spiro pointed at the line of moving lights at the bottom of the ravine. "They're almost at the car."

What car? It appeared to be only a mass of twisted metal. "Joe's down there."

"I know, he called me. But he was already on his way down when I got here."

"Does anyone know what happened?"

Spiro shook his head. "No witnesses. We don't know yet if they were driven off the road or there was brake tampering. We're not even sure if it's Charlie's rental car. The rescue team is going to try to radio back the license number."

"But you think it is?"

"Don't you?"

"Yes." The lights were almost at the car now. "Do they know how long it's going to take?"

"It depends on what they find down there." He paused. "But I have to warn you. The rescue team is already smelling gasoline. Even worse, gas vapor will be hovering over the vehicle. All it would take is a spark."

She went rigid. "Then tell them to get out of there."

"They have to try to rescue whoever's in the car."

"They don't have to get blown up. I've seen burn victims and–"

"I know," Spiro said quietly. "No one wants that to happen. The squad leader will call off the attempt if it gets too dangerous."

"Joe won't listen. He won't take orders from anybody. He'll do what he has to do to get them out of that car." God, she wished she were down there so she could do something.

"Take it easy, Eve. The rescue team isn't going to make any mistakes that will get anyone hurt. They'll disconnect the battery and then steady the vehicle. And they'll use Hurst tools to force their way into the car to avoid sparks."

The lights were moving, weaving in and around the wreckage.

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen minutes.

"Why aren't they coming back? Can't you find out what's happening?" she asked Spiro.

"I'll try." Spiro strode over to the command unit and came back a few minutes later. "They've got one man out. They weren't able to make a positive confirmation, but they think the other man is dead. The squad leader's made the decision to pull his team out."

"Why?"

He hesitated. "The car hood is crushed. They weren't able to get to the battery to disconnect it. They managed to turn off the ignition, but anything could blow the car. The catalytic converter, the wiring . . ."

"And everyone's coming up?"

"Look for yourself."

The lights below were moving faster, away from the wreckage, back toward the incline.

Please let Joe be one of those men running to safety.

Her gaze moved back to the wreckage.

One light still burned in the midst of the twisted tangle of metal.

"Joe."

She had known it. Damn him. Damn him.

"My God, he's crazy," Spiro said.

Joe, get out of there. Please.

One minute passed. Two minutes.

Don't stay. Don't stay. Don't stay.

The wreckage exploded into a fireball.

She screamed.

Joe.

She ran toward the cliff edge.

Spiro caught her.

She struck out at him. "Let me go."

"You can't help him. There's a chance he could be all right."

All right? She had seen that light inside the car when it exploded. "I'm going down there."

"No way." His grasp tightened. "Too many people have been hurt tonight. I'm not going to watch you tumble down that mountain."

She kneed him in the groin and his grasp loosened. She ran, but two highway patrolmen grabbed her and forced her to the ground.

She fought desperately, kicking, frantically striking out.

Joe!

Darkness.

"YOU SON OF a bitch. Did you have to hit her?"

"I didn't hit her," Spiro said. "It was one of Phoenix's finest. They were trying to keep her from sliding down that mountain and killing herself. She's not hurt badly. Only stunned."

"You could have stopped them."

Joe. That was Joe's voice. Her eyes flew open. Joe kneeling beside her. Joe's face, oil-streaked, a cut on his cheekbone–but he was alive. Oh, God, alive.

"How do you feel?" Joe was frowning. "Did they hurt you?"

Alive.

She shook her head.

"You're lying. Why are you crying if you're not hurt?"

She hadn't known she was crying. "I don't know." She sat up and wiped her cheeks. "I'm okay."

"You're not okay. Lie back down."

"Shut up, Joe." Her voice was uneven. "I said I was okay. No credit to you. God, you're stupid. I thought you were dead, you idiot. I saw the light in the car right before it blew up."

"I had to drop the flashlight when I wriggled out of the car."

Stop shaking. He was alive. "You shouldn't have been there."

"I know," he said wearily. "The squad leader is mad as hell at me, but I had to make sure." He glanced at Spiro. "I'm sorry, it was Charlie in the car. I thought he was dead, but I had to be sure."

"And he was dead?"

Joe nodded.

Spiro flinched.

"And Billy Sung was alive when we got him out of the car, but he died before we reached the top."

Dead. Both dead. Nice Charlie Cather and Billy Sung, with his plans for taking the world by storm. Joe could have died too. Joe . . .

"Eve?" Joe was gazing at her in concern.

"I heard you. They're dead. They're both dead." She wrapped her arms around her body, but she couldn't stop the shaking. "I heard you."

"You're cold." He reached out to her.

"Don't you touch me. I feel fine." Her voice was rising, and she had to stop to control it. "I wasn't down there. I didn't do that stupid–"

"Come on." Joe took her hand to help her to her feet. "I'm taking you home."

She jerked away from him and stood on her own.

"Yeah, get her home," Spiro told Joe. "Those officers may be focused on the wreck, but there's still an APB out on her." He grimaced. "I have to make a telephone call. I'm going to hate this."

Charlie's wife, Eve thought dully. Charlie hadn't survived, and Joe had been so close to not surviving. Oh, God, she was going to throw up. "She's pregnant. Can you get someone to tell her in person?"

"I'll have someone from the field office go out to see her, but I'm the one who has to do the dirty work."

"Come to the house after you've finished," Joe said. "We have something to talk about." He opened his jacket.

Half of a five-by-seven envelope was stuffed into the top of his jeans.

"The photograph?" Spiro asked.

"I haven't had a chance to look at it yet, but it was on the floor of the car beside Charlie. It was caught under the drive shift, and it ripped when I jerked it out and ran for it."

Spiro held out his hand. "Give it to me."

Joe shook his head. "You'll get it after we take a look at it, and I'm not going to stop and do that now. I need to get Eve home. She's not doing well."

"The hell I'm not. I'd have to be dead before I'd wait to see that murderer's face." She tried to steady her hands as she took the envelope. Disappointment surged through her as she drew out the photo. "No."

A third of the photograph was gone. The third with Kevin Baldridge sitting on the porch steps.

Two lives lost. All for nothing.

Spiro was cursing. "Why couldn't it have been the other half that was torn?"

"Murphy's Law," Joe said. "This is just a print, Eve. Can you do anything?"

She tried to think. "Maybe. Sung might have made copies. Or his work might have been saved on his computer."

Joe looked at Spiro. "Get us permission to go into that lab on Blue Mountain Drive."

Spiro nodded. "Meet me there in two hours."

"We'll be there," Eve said.

"Come on." Joe tried to wrap an arm around Eve's waist. "Let's go home."

"I don't need your help." She pushed his hand away and started toward the car. Put one foot in front of the other. Don't look at him. Keep control or you'll disintegrate into a million pieces. "I'll see you back at the house."

"I'm going with you. For God's sake, you just took a knock on the head."

"That doesn't mean I'm not capable of–"

"I'm not letting you drive."

"And what are you supposed to do with your car? Just leave it here?"

"Screw the car." He opened the car door for her.

"No, I don't–"

"Need my help," he finished for her. "But you're still not driving. Now get in."

HE WHIRLED TO face her as soon as they walked into the living room. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me." Except she felt as if she were going to explode any minute. She wanted to scream and pound on him. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

"The hell there's not. You're shaking like a malaria victim."

"I'm fine." She couldn't hold on much longer. "Go wash your face," she snapped. "You have oil all over it. All over your hands and that–"

"I'm sorry it offends you."

"It does offend me." A single light in the wreckage and then the world exploding. "I hate it."

"You don't have to bite my head off."

"Yes, I do." She turned away, her back rigid. "Go away."

"Turn around. I want to see your face."

She didn't move. "Go wash up. We have to go to that lab and see if we can get another print."

"You shouldn't go anywhere in your condition."

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Then look at me."

"I don't want to look at you. I want to go and look at that photograph. It's important, dammit."

"Do you think I don't know that? But there's something else happening here, and it may be more important to me than any picture."

The room seemed to be tilting, exploding beneath her feet.

Like the car had exploded.

Hold on. Don't break down. What had they been talking about? The photograph. "It couldn't be more important. Two men died because of that photograph."

"And I'm sorry as hell, but I'm not to blame." He spun her around to face him. "I did everything I could to help–"

"I know you did. Crawling into that– Stupid, idiotic–" The floodgates broke and tears were again running down her cheeks. "Charlie was already dead, dammit."

"I didn't know that."

"You could have died."

"I didn't die."

"Not for lack of trying."

"Will you please stop crying?"

"No."

"Then may I point out that you're being unreasonable."

"Go to hell." She walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness.

"Eve."

She could feel his gaze on her back. "Go away."

"Are you going to tell me why you're so angry with me?"

She didn't answer.

"Tell me."

She whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Oh, yes, you're too mean to get killed. You're going to be around for the next fifty years or so. I don't have to be afraid, do I?"

He went still. "Oh, shit."

"You could have died tonight." The words tumbled over one another. "You had no right. You upset my life, you barged around and made me feel things I never wanted to feel. You said you'd be around for the next fifty years and then you try to get yourself– Don't you touch me." She backed away from him. "Charlie Cather and Billy Sung died tonight, and I hardly thought about them. I didn't care about the photograph. I didn't care about Dom. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"I know how it makes me feel."

"Are you proud of yourself? You lied to me. You lied about–"

He was holding her, pressing her face to his shoulder. "Stop shaking. It's over."

"It's not over. It's going to go on. Because you'll never change. You'll keep on doing stupid, insane things because you have an ego that tells you that you'll live forever even if you–" Her whole body was trembling. "I can't stand it."

"Neither can I. You're turning me inside out."

"You shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have done it."

He was lifting her and carrying her to the couch. "Shh, I'll do anything you say if you'll just stop shaking." He cradled her on his lap. "I thought I was prepared for anything, but I was wrong. I wasn't ready for this. It was always Bonnie who came first with you. I never thought–"

"Because you can't see farther than the tip of your nose."

He was silent a moment. "Are you telling me that you love me?"

"I'm not telling you anything, you bastard."

"It's hard to judge because of the verbal abuse, but I think that's what you're saying. It . . . heartens me."

"It doesn't hearten me."

"I know. It scares you." He was rocking her back and forth. "If you'll just stop shaking, I promise I'll try to live forever."

No one lived forever. His heart pounded strong and steady beneath her ear, but it could have been stilled tonight. Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "Idiot."

"Hush."

"You'll do it again. I know it. You're a cop."

He was silent.

She was silent too. Moments passed and she sat there, listening to the beat of his heart. Lover. Best friend. Center.

She gradually stopped shaking.

He gently pressed his lips to her temple. "Someday will you tell me you love me?"

"Probably not." Her arms tightened around him. "You don't deserve it."

"True." He was silent again. "I won't take chances I don't have to, Eve. I've never wanted to live more than I do at this moment. Okay?"

"It has to be okay, doesn't it? I have to accept it. That's life."

"Yes, that's life. Welcome back." He brushed her hair away from her face. "You're a mess. I've gotten grease all over you."

"It will wash off." But what had happened that night could never be eradicated. Every one of her protective barriers had been stripped away and she'd been forced to face her true feelings for Joe. But they were too intense, almost unbearable. She pushed him away and slowly stood up. "We've got to leave to go to Professor Dunkeil's lab. I'll use the powder room down here. You go upstairs and change. Those clothes are beyond hope."

"I'm on my way."

She watched him leave the room, not wanting to let him out of her sight. Get a grip. There were other things in life to worry about besides Joe Quinn. Two men had died tonight. Probably killed by Dom. He was getting nearer.

But so was she.

You haven't beaten us yet, Dom. I'll still find a way to see your face.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Eve and Joe were waiting across the street from the lab on Blue Mountain Drive when Spiro drove up.

"Professor Dunkeil's waiting for us. He was upset about Sung." Spiro studied Eve's face. "You look better."

"I'm fine. Did you reach Mrs. Cather?"

"Yes." His lips tightened. "I didn't talk to her very long. She broke down. She's only a kid herself."

"I know you were close to Charlie."

"I could have been closer. I thought I had to toughen him up." He shook his head. "Getting Dom is becoming very personal to me."

Eve started across the street. "Join the club."

She felt the tension rise as Joe rang the doorbell of the lab.

Please, don't let those young men have died for no reason. Don't let Dom win this one.

THE IMAGE OF Kevin Baldridge was still blurred. On the computer screen he was almost ghostlike, like a cadaver floating in a sea of light.

But his face was clear enough.

She couldn't breathe.

"Eve?"

"Tell me I'm crazy, Joe."

Joe was gazing at the screen and swore softly.

Spiro inhaled sharply. "Grunard."

Younger, thinner, but the charming, slightly cocky smile was the same.

Eve sank back in the chair, her mind whirling. "No."