Текст книги "The Killing Game "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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She would never get there.

Chapter TWO

Joe and Logan were polite during dinner, but Eve could sense the antagonism between them.

She hated it. She liked everything honest and clear. Watching them was like watching two icebergs drift toward each other and never knowing when they would collide because there was so much hidden beneath the surface.

She couldn't stand it. To hell with dessert.

She jumped to her feet. "Come on, Joe. Let's go for a walk."

"I'm not invited?" Logan murmured. "How rude, and we haven't finished dinner."

"I'm finished." Joe stood up and threw down his napkin. "And, no, you're not invited."

"Oh, well, I'd only be bored. I think I've guessed what you're going to say to Eve." He leaned back in his chair. "Go ahead. Do what you came to do. I'll talk to her when she gets back."

"You wouldn't be bored." Joe strode toward the door. "Hell, you're scared shitless."

Eve hurried after him into the hall. "Dammit, did you have to say that?"

"Yes." He smiled. "It had to come out. I've been too nice all evening. It was giving me indigestion."

"You're in his house."

"That gives me a bellyache too." He headed for the French doors. "Let's go walk on the beach."

She would be glad to get out of the house too. The tension was so thick, she couldn't breathe.

She kicked off her shoes as soon as they reached the terrace and watched Joe take off his shoes and socks and roll up his pant legs. It reminded her of the last time she'd seen him on his speedboat, bare-chested, khakis rolled up to his calves, laughing over his shoulder at Eve and Diane as he weaved the boat across the lake. "Do you still have the lake cottage?"

He nodded. "But I gave the Buckhead house to Diane as part of the settlement."

"Where do you live now?"

"An apartment near the precinct." He followed her down the path toward the beach. "It's fine. I'm not there much anyway."

"I can tell." Her feet sank into the cool, soft sand. This was better. The sound of the surf was calming, and being alone with Joe was soothing too. They knew each other so well, it was almost like being by herself. Well, not really. Joe never let her forget who and what he was. It was just that they . . . meshed. "You're not taking care of yourself. You look tired."

"It's been a rough week." He fell into step with her and walked in silence for a few moments. "Did your mother tell you about Talladega?"

"What?"

"I didn't think she would. It's all over the newspapers but she wouldn't want to tell you anything that might jar you away from here."

She stiffened. "What's happened?"

"Nine skeletons were found on the bluff near the falls. One of them is a little girl. Caucasian."

"How . . . little?"

"Seven or eight."

She drew a deep breath. "How long has she been buried?"

"The first estimate is between eight and twelve years." He paused. "It may not be Bonnie, Eve. The other skeletons are adults, and as far as we know, Fraser killed only children."

"As far as we know. He wouldn't tell us anything." Her voice was uneven. "The bastard only smiled and wouldn't tell us anything. He told us he buried her and then wouldn't tell us a damn–"

"Easy." Joe took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Take it easy, Eve."

"Don't tell me to take it easy. Bonnie might have been found and you expect me to be calm about it?"

"I don't want you to get your hopes up. The kid might be older. The time she was in the ground might be longer or shorter."

"It might be her."

"It's a possibility."

She closed her eyes. Bonnie.

"And it might not."

"I could bring her home," she whispered. "I could bring my baby home."

"Eve, you're not listening. It's far from a sure thing."

"I'm listening. I know that." But she was closer than she'd come all these years. It could be Bonnie. "Can we check dental records?"

He shook his head. "No teeth in any of the skulls."

"What?"

"We think the killer pulled the teeth to prevent identification."

She flinched. Smart move. Brutal but smart. Fraser had been smart. "There's still DNA. Could you get enough samples for tests?"

"We got some from the bone marrow. The lab's processing it. But you know the results could take a while."

"What about using the same private lab we used last time?"

"Teller's not doing DNA profiling any longer. He wasn't pleased with all the publicity his lab got on the job he did for us."

"Then how long?"

"Four weeks minimum."

"No. I'd go crazy. I have to know." She drew a deep breath. "Will they let me reconstruct her face?"

"Are you sure you want to?"

"Of course I want to." Seeing Bonnie's face come to life beneath her hands . . .

"It's going to be traumatic for you."

"I don't care."

"I do," he said roughly. "I don't like to see you bleed."

"I won't bleed."

"The hell you won't. You're bleeding now."

"I have to do it, Joe."

"I know." He looked out at the sea. "That's why I came."

"Can you get them to let me do it?"

"I've already set it up."

"Thank God."

"It could be the biggest mistake I've ever made."

"No, it's the right thing, the kind thing."

"Bullshit." He started back for the house. "It's probably the single most selfish thing I've done in my life."

"What do you know about the killings?"

"I'll fill you in on the details on the plane. I have tickets for both of us on a flight tomorrow afternoon from Tahiti. Is that too soon?"

"No." Logan. She had to tell Logan. "I'll pack tonight."

"After you tell Logan."

"Yes."

"I could tell him."

"Don't be stupid. Logan deserves to hear it from me."

"Sorry. You're a little overwrought. I only meant to–"

"What a puny word. Southern belles are overwrought. Scarlett O'Hara might be overwrought. I'm not overwrought."

He smiled. "Well, you're better than you were a few minutes ago."

Was she? The dread of facing Logan and telling him she was leaving had superseded other emotions, but as soon as the job was done and she was alone, the pain would come flooding back.

Then face it. Let the pain come. She had faced it for years. She could face it again. She could face anything now.

She had a chance to bring Bonnie home.

Phoenix, Arizona

Dom placed the candle in Debby Jordan's hand and rolled her into the grave he'd dug for her.

He had hurt her. He'd thought he'd evolved beyond the primitive need for the victim's pain. But in the middle of the kill he'd suddenly realized he wasn't feeling enough and he'd panicked. He'd pierced and torn in a frenzy of frustration. If the pleasure of the kill disappeared, what was left for him? How could he go on living?

Smother the panic. It would be all right. He had always known this day would come, and the problem was not unsolvable. He just had to find a way to bring freshness and challenge back to the kill.

Debby Jordan was not a portent of the ultimate boredom and deadness he feared most. It didn't matter that he had hurt her.

DAMMIT, SHE HAD hurt him.

Eve gazed out at the surf gently rushing against the shore. She'd run out to the beach after she'd spoken to Logan hours ago, and she'd been sitting there ever since, trying to regain her composure.

There was already so much pain inflicted by strangers in this world; why did she have to hurt someone she cared about?

"You told him?"

She turned her head to see Joe standing a few yards away. "Yes."

"What did he say?"

"Not much. Not after I told him it might be Bonnie." She smiled sadly. "He said you'd played the one card he couldn't top."

"He's right." Joe sat down beside her. "Bonnie's always the indisputable factor in all our lives."

"Only in mine. You never knew her, Joe."

"I know her. You've told me so much about her that I feel as if she's my child."

"Really? Did I tell you how much she loved life? Every morning she'd come and jump on my bed and ask me what we were going to do, what we were going to see that day. She radiated love. I grew up choking on bitterness and poverty and I used to wonder why I was given a child like Bonnie. I didn't deserve her."

"You deserved her."

"After she came I tried to deserve her." Eve forced a smile. "I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't burden you with this."

"It's no burden."

"Sure it is. It should be only my albatross."

"Not possible. When you're hurting, everyone around you feels it." He picked up a handful of sand and let it slowly sift through his fingers. "Bonnie's still here. For all of us."

"You, Joe?"

"Sure, could it be any different? You and I have been together for a long time."

Since that nightmare time after Bonnie had disappeared. He had been an agent with the FBI then, younger, less cynical, capable of being shocked and horrified. He had tried to comfort her, but there had been no comfort in the world during that hideous period. Yet he had somehow managed to pull her back single-handedly from a nearly fatal depression until she could function on her own. She grimaced. "I don't know why you stick around. I'm a lousy friend. I never think about anything but my work. I'm selfish as hell or I would have known you and Diane were having trouble. Why do you put up with me?"

"I wonder sometimes." He tilted his head, as if considering. "I suppose I'm used to you. It's too much trouble to make new friends, so I guess I'll have to keep you."

"Thank God." She drew up her knees and linked her arms around them. "I hurt him, Joe."

"Logan's tough. He'll get over it. He knew you weren't going to be a sure thing when he lured you here."

"He didn't lure me here. He was trying to help."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe." He stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, I'll walk you back to the house. You've been out here long enough."

"How do you know?"

"I saw you run out. I've been waiting on the terrace."

"All this time?"

He smiled. "I didn't have any other pressing engagements. I figured you needed the time alone, but now you should go to bed."

He had stood there in the darkness, silent, strong, waiting patiently until he could help her. She suddenly felt stronger herself, more optimistic. "I'm not going back to the house but you can walk me back to the lab. I have some work to do and then I have to pack."

"Do you need help?"

She shook her head. "I can manage." She headed toward the small house a hundred yards away. "I've just been putting it off."

"Second thoughts?"

"You know better." She opened the door of the lab and turned on the light. "But sad thoughts. Regretful thoughts." She moved toward the computer on the desk. "Go away. I have to finish this age progression. It's been a long time for Libby's mother. She's almost given up hope."

"Nice place." Joe's gaze was wandering around the room, from the beige couch heaped with orange and gold pillows to the framed pictures on the bookcase. "You've made it yours. Where's the sculpture you've been working on?"

She nodded at the pedestal beside the large picture window. "Your bust is a work in progress. But there's a finished one of Mom in the armoire beside the door."

"My bust?" He stared at it. "Good God, it is me."

"Don't be flattered. I didn't have any models, and I know your face almost as well as I do my own."

"Jesus, I can see you do." He touched the bridge of the nose. "I never realized anyone noticed that little bump. I broke it playing football."

"You should have had it taken care of at the time."

He grinned. "But then I would have been too perfect." He paused. "I'd have thought you'd do one of Bonnie."

"I tried. I couldn't do it. I just found myself staring at the clay." She adjusted her glasses and brought up the picture of Libby on the monitor. "Maybe later."

"But you think you can reconstruct the little girl's skull?"

He was being very careful not to refer to it as Bonnie's skull, she noticed. "I have to do it. I can do whatever I have to do. Go away, Joe. I have to work now."

He strolled toward the door. "Try to get some sleep."

"After I finish the progression." She pulled up the photographs of Libby's mother and maternal grandmother. Study them. Don't think about Bonnie. Don't think about Logan. Libby deserved her entire attention. She had to age the eight-year-old girl to fifteen. It wasn't going to be easy. Block everything else out.

Don't think about Bonnie.

"TOO BAD YOUdon't have time to finish Joe," Bonnie said.

Eve turned over on the couch and saw Bonnie standing staring up at Joe's bust. She looked as she always did when she came to Eve: blue jeans, T-shirt, red hair a riot of curls. But she appeared smaller than usual next to the pedestal.

"I have more important work to do now."

Bonnie wrinkled her nose as she glanced at Eve over her shoulder.

"Yeah, you think you've found me. I keep telling you I'm not there anymore. It's just a bunch of bones."

"Your bones?"

"How do I know? I don't remember any of that anymore. You wouldn't want me to remember."

"God, no." She paused. "But I think you know where he buried you. Why won't you tell me? I just want to bring you home."

"Because I want you to forget the way I died." Bonnie moved over to the window and gazed out at the sea. "I only want you to remember me when I was with you and how I am now."

"A dream."

"A ghost," Bonnie corrected. "Someday I'm going to convince you."

"And then they'll lock me up in the nuthouse."

Bonnie giggled. "No way. Joe wouldn't let them."

Eve smiled and nodded. "He'd cause a ruckus. I'd rather avoid the entire scenario if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. It's probably better that you don't tell anyone about me." She tilted her head. "It's kinda nice having these times all to ourselves. Like a very special secret. Remember the secrets we used to have? The time we surprised Grandma on her birthday with that trip to Callaway Gardens. We made her get in the car and then we took off. The flowers were so pretty that spring. Have you gone there since?"

Bonnie running around Callaway Gardens, her face alight with joy and excitement . . . "No."

"Stop that." Bonnie frowned. "The flowers are still beautiful, the sky is still blue. Enjoy them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You say it, but you don't mean it." She gazed back out at the sea. "You're glad to be leaving the island, aren't you?"

"I have a job to do."

"You'd have left the island soon anyway."

"Not necessarily. It's been very peaceful here. I like the sunlight and the tranquillity."

"And you like Logan and didn't want to hurt him."

"I did hurt him."

"He'll be sorry to see you go, but he'll be okay." She paused. "I knew Joe would come for you, but I didn't know–I don't like this, Mama."

"You've never liked the idea of me searching for you."

"No, I mean . . . I have a feeling . . . there's a darkness."

"You're afraid I won't be able to survive working on your skull."

"It's going to be bad for you, but that's not what . . ." She shrugged. "You'll go anyway. You're so stubborn." She leaned against the wall. "Go back to sleep. You have all that packing to do. You did the age progression very well, by the way."

"Thank you," she said mockingly. "Talk about self-praise."

"I can't compliment you about anything," Bonnie said plaintively. "You think you're doing it yourself."

"Since you're a dream, that's the logical conclusion." She was silent a moment. "Libby's father was supposed to be a violent man. He took her as a revenge kidnapping. Is Libby still alive? She's not with you?"

Bonnie lifted her brows. "In your dreams or the other side? You can't have it both ways, Mama."

"Forget it."

A smile illuminated Bonnie's face. "She's not here with me. You have a chance of bringing her home."

"I knew that." Eve turned over on her side and closed her eyes. "I wouldn't have done all that work if I hadn't known there was a good chance."

"A logical supposition?"

"Exactly."

"Not instinct?"

"Sorry, I hate to pop your bubble, but these dreams of you are the only foolishness I'll lay claim to." She paused. "Are you coming with me?"

"I'm always with you." A silence and then haltingly, "But it may be difficult for me to get through. The darkness . . ."

"Is that skeleton you, baby?" Eve whispered. "Please. Tell me."

"I'm not sure. I can't tell if the darkness is for you or for me. . . ."

WHEN EVE WOKE, the palest glimmer lightened the horizon. She stayed in bed for another twenty minutes, watching the dawn creep over the ocean. Strange, she didn't feel as rested as she usually did after dreaming of Bonnie. She was a little uneasy. A psychiatrist would say the dreams were a catharsis, a way of handling her loss without going insane–and he'd probably be right. The dreams had started about a year after Fraser was executed, and their effect was positive. So she'd be damned if she'd go to some shrink to try to rid herself of them. A memory of love never did anyone any harm.

She swung her legs to the floor. Time to stop brooding and get moving. She had to pack and meet Joe at the house at eight.

And say a final good-bye to Logan.

"YOU LOOK LIKE you're visiting a dying friend." Logan was coming down the stairs when she reached the hall. "Are you ready to go?"

She braced herself. "Yes."

"Where's Quinn?"

"Waiting in the Jeep. Logan, I never–"

"I know." He waved dismissively. "Come on, let's get going."

"You're coming with us?"

"Don't look so wary. Only as far as the heliport." He took her elbow and nudged her toward the door. "I won't be left here like a forlorn lover. That's bullshit. I'm hereby kicking you off my island. Don't ever come back." He smiled crookedly. "Unless it's tomorrow, or next month or next year. Come to think of it, I might accept you if you hurry back in the next decade. Otherwise, forget it."

She smiled with relief. "Thanks, Logan."

"For making it easy for you? Hell, there's no way I'd taint your memory of our time here. We were too good together." He opened the front door. "You're a special woman, Eve. I don't want to lose you. If you don't want me as a lover, I'll be your friend. It will take a little while for me to adjust, but it will happen. I'll make it happen."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. "You're already my friend. I was a mess when I came here with you. No one could have been more generous or done more for me than you during this last year."

He looked down at her and smiled. "I haven't given up, you know. I want a hell of a lot more. This is just the first stage of a sneak attack."

"You never give up. That's one of the things that's so wonderful about you."

"See, you're already appreciative of my sterling qualities. I intend to capitalize on that and move forward." He pushed her toward the Jeep, where Joe waited. "Come on, you'll miss your helicopter."

THE HELICOPTER WAS already sitting on the tarmac when Joe pulled into the heliport.

"May I speak to you a moment, Quinn?" Logan asked politely.

Joe had been expecting it. "Get on board and buckle up, Eve. I'll be right with you."

She gave them both a wary glance but didn't interfere.

When she was in the helicopter Logan asked, "It's not Bonnie, is it?"

"It could be."

"You son of a bitch."

Joe didn't respond.

"Do you know how much this is going to hurt her?"

"Yes."

"But you don't care. You wanted her to come back and you used Bonnie to do it."

"She wouldn't have thanked me if I hadn't told her about the skeleton."

"I could break your neck."

"I know. But it wouldn't be the intelligent thing to do. You've done a good job of making Eve grateful as well as sad. The last thing you want is for her to leave on a sour note. That would make it much more difficult to draw her back."

Logan drew a deep breath. "I'll be coming back to my office in Monterey next week."

"I thought that would be the next move."

"I'm keeping an eye on you. You won't be able to blink without me knowing it. If this reconstruction does any damage to Eve, I'll decimate you."

"Fine. Are you finished now?"

He started the Jeep. "I'm just beginning."

Joe watched him drive away. Logan was a tough bastard, but he genuinely cared about Eve. He had many qualities Joe admired–intelligence, fairness, loyalty. If things were different, if he weren't an obstacle, Joe might have liked him.

Too bad.

He was an obstacle and Joe had learned when he was in the SEALs that there were three things you could do about an obstacle. You could jump over it. You could go around it.

Or you could pound it into the ground until it didn't exist.

THE PLANE FROM Tahiti had scarcely reached optimum altitude when Eve asked Joe about Talladega. "I want to know everything." She grimaced. "And don't tell me I'm overwrought again, or I'll sock you."

"No, I believe I'll avoid that word in the future," Joe murmured.

"You said she was the only child?"

"Unless they've found more bodies while I've been gone. But I doubt it. They scoured the area pretty thoroughly."

She shuddered. Nine lives gone. Nine human beings buried in the earth and abandoned. "Have you been able to identify any of them?"

"Not yet. We don't even know if they're native to Rabun County. We're combing missing persons records statewide. Then we'll see if any of the DNA profiles on our possibles match our skeletons. It's doubtful that they were all buried at the same time. It looks like someone was using the bluff as his own private cemetery."

"Fraser," she whispered.

"Eight adults, one child," he reminded her. "Fraser confessed to killing twelve children. He never mentioned any adults, and he had nothing to lose after he was convicted."

"That doesn't mean anything. Who the hell knows what he did? He would never tell us anything that might help the parents find those children. He wanted us to suffer. He wanted the whole world to suffer."

"It's a long shot. You've got to be prepared to find out this is another killer."

"I'm prepared. No clues?"

"The rib cages of three victims showed signs the deaths were probably caused by knife wounds. We're not sure about the others. But the killer might have left a signature. There was wax residue in the right hands of all the skeletons."

"Wax? What kind of wax?"

He shrugged. "They're analyzing it."

"They should be done by now. Why are they moving so slowly?"

"Politics. The mayor doesn't want another serial killer to make Atlanta look bad and Chief Maxwell doesn't want to take the flak. The city's already had Wayne Williams and Fraser. The chief would just as soon keep this case in Rabun County. Unfortunately, Rabun doesn't have our facilities and she's having to offer limited assistance. The FBI Behavioral Science Unit is also lending a hand. They're already at Talladega to examine the site and the skeletons."

"Then how did you get permission for me to do the reconstruction?"

"Well, actually, I had to twist a few arms. The chief's afraid there'll be a media circus if they find out you've been brought in."

"God, I hope not." She had fled thousands of miles to escape the publicity, and now she was confronted with it again.

"We'll keep them away. I've set up a lab for you at the lake house."

"They'll still find us. There are always leaks."

He smiled. "I have a few ideas on how to circumvent them. Trust me."

She couldn't do anything else. She leaned back in the seat and tried to relax. It was going to be a long flight, and she had to rest to be ready for the work that lay ahead.

A child's skull to bring to life.

Bonnie?

"COME ON." JOE grabbed her arm after they'd cleared Customs. "We can't go out in the waiting area. There's a mob of reporters out there." He smiled at the red-coated customer service representative beside him. "Right, Don?"

"Enough to cause you a big problem. This way." He led them toward an emergency exit. "A skycap will bring the bags."

"Where are we going?" Eve asked as they went down a stairway.

"Employees entrance leading outside the North Terminal," Joe answered. "I thought there would be a leak and called Don to help us." Don ushered them through a long hall and out into the street in front of the terminal. "Thanks, Don."

"No problem." Don waved over the skycap who had just come out the door. "I owed you a favor, Joe."

Eve watched Don disappear back into the terminal. "Okay, now that we're away from–What are you doing?"

Joe was in the middle of the street. "Hailing your own personal cab."

A gray Oldsmobile pulled to a stop beside them. A woman was at the wheel.

"Mom?"

Sandra Duncan smiled. "I feel like an undercover agent or something. Were there reporters at Customs?"

"So I was told," Joe said as he and the skycap loaded the luggage into the trunk.

"I thought there would be when I saw the newspaper this morning."

Joe tipped the skycap. Eve jumped in the front seat and Joe got in the back. A few seconds later her mother was driving down the street toward the airport exit.

"Joe called you?" Eve asked.

"Somebody had to do it." Sandra grinned at her. "Since my own daughter didn't see fit to let me know."

"I would have called you once we were settled."

"But now I have you to myself until we get to Joe's place." She gave her an appraising glance. "You look good. You may have put on a pound or two."

"Maybe."

"And you have freckles."

"That's what Joe said."

"You should have worn your sunscreen."

"Joe said that too."

"Joe has good sense."

"You look wonderful." It was true. Her mother looked young, chic, and glowing with health and vitality. "How's Ron?"

"As good as can be expected." Her eyes were twinkling. "He says I exhaust him. I do lead him a pretty strenuous dance. But what the hell. Life's too short not to enjoy it."

"How's your job?"

"Fine."

"This is a weekday. Am I making you miss work?"

"Yep, but they were glad I didn't come in. After the story in the paper this morning, they knew reporters would be all over the courthouse if I showed up."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"It doesn't matter. I'm the best court reporter they have, and they know it. All this uproar will die down again just like it did the last time." She glanced over her shoulder at Joe. "I'm heading up north toward your cottage. Do you want to stop anywhere?"

Joe shook his head. "No, but I want you to drive around the city a little to make sure we're not followed."

"Right." Sandra glanced at Eve, her expression sobering. "Joe says the chances aren't good, Eve. It may not be Bonnie."

"A lousy chance is better than none at all." She smiled. "And stop fretting, Mom. It's going to be okay. Whatever happens, I can handle it."

"You know I don't approve of this. You've got to let her go before you tear yourself apart. I loved Bonnie too, but I had to come to terms with reality."

What Sandra had done was come to terms with her view of reality, and it was obviously bringing her happiness. Well, more power to her. Eve ignored the tiny flicker of envy and said, "I'm not avoiding reality. I'm just trying to find my daughter and put her to rest."

Sandra sighed. "Okay, do what you have to do. Call me if I can help."

"You know I will." Sandra was frowning, so Eve reached over and affectionately squeezed her arm. "It's not going to be that bad. The reconstruction will take only a few days, and then I'll know."

Sandra grimaced. "A few days can sometimes seem like a century."

EVE DUNCAN.

Dom studied her photograph in the newspaper. Curly red-brown hair framed a face that was more fascinating than pretty. Hazel eyes gazed at the world from behind round gold-rimmed glasses. He remembered seeing this picture in the paper last year and thinking how she had changed from that desperate woman at the Fraser trial. The older Eve Duncan looked stronger, more confident. A woman whose determination could move mountains and topple governments.

And now she was turning that determination in his direction. Of course, she didn't know it was his direction. She wanted only to find her child–which made her just as vulnerable as she had been all those years before.

He had actually considered her as a kill back then but had dismissed the idea almost immediately because of the notoriety of the Fraser trial. She had been too visible and there were enough satisfying, less risky kills.

But the satisfaction was waning.

He could correct that problem now, he thought with relief. Eve Duncan was strong enough to challenge and purge him. He would tread carefully with her, inject each moment with every possible drop of emotion, build slowly so the final explosion would be strong enough to clear away all the deadness and debris inside him.

He had a strong belief in fate and was beginning to think Eve Duncan had been put at this place and time just for him. It was lucky he had ignored temptation when she first passed through his life. Then she would have been only an ordinary kill, no more important than any other.

Now she could be his salvation.

Chapter THREE

"Nice." Sandra's gaze traveled over the cottage and then down to the boat dock. "I like this, Joe."

"Then why didn't you come here all the times I invited you?" Joe started unloading luggage from the trunk.

"You know I'm city born and bred." Sandra drew a deep breath. "But I could tolerate this. Eve should have told me about that beautiful view of the lake."

"I did," Eve said. "You wouldn't have any of it."

"Well, it is pretty isolated. Aren't there any other houses on the lake?"

"No, Joe bought the lake and surrounding acreage and won't sell any of it."

Sandra grinned at Joe. "How unfriendly of you."

"I like privacy when I'm up here." He closed the trunk. "I get enough of people when I'm in the city. I kept the title in the name of my trust and no one knows I own this place. Not even the department." He smiled at Eve. "Except a few chosen friends."

"Well, at least the cottage looks nice and friendly," Sandra said.

Eve had always liked the A-frame. It was small and cozy and had plenty of windows that welcomed the sun and the outdoors. "Come on in and see the inside."