Текст книги "The Killing Game "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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"You're trying to keep the bodies separated?" she asked Spiro.

"As best as we can. I wouldn't bet on the bones not being mixed up. It looked like the mud slide washed them down."

The stretcher reached the top of the cliff and was settled on the ground. Spiro knelt beside it and opened one blanket. "What do you think?"

"Give me some more light." She knelt next to him. So many bones. Splintered. Broken. Like the bones of an animal after carnivores had–

Get a grip. Do your job. The skull.

She took it in her hands and examined it. No teeth. Joe had told her the other skulls didn't have teeth. Ignore the horrifying image of the murderer pulling them. Concentrate. "It's a child. Preteen male. Caucasian."

"You're sure?" Spiro asked.

"No. Anthropology isn't my specialty, but I'd bet on it. I've done hundreds of reconstructions on children this age." She gently put the skull down and opened the other blanket. It held fewer bones and the skull was staring up at her.

Bring me home.

Lost. So many lost ones.

"Anything wrong?" Spiro asked.

"Leave her alone, Spiro," Joe said.

Could anything be more wrong than a world that could destroy children? "No, nothing's wrong. I was just studying it." She picked up the skull. "Another male. Preteen Caucasian. Maybe a little older than the other." She put the skull down and got to her feet. "You'll have to get a forensic anthropologist to confirm." She turned to Joe. "I'm ready to leave now."

"Hallelujah."

"Wait," Spiro said. "Joe told me about the telephone call. I need to talk to you."

"Then come to my cottage to see her." Joe was already pushing Eve down the cliff. "We're out of here."

"I want to see her now."

Joe looked back over his shoulder. "Don't push it," he said softly. "I won't have it, Spiro."

Spiro hesitated and then shrugged. "I guess it can wait. God knows, I have enough to do here."

EVE SETTLED INTO the passenger seat. "You didn't have to make an issue of it. I could have talked to him."

"Yeah, I know." He stomped on the accelerator. "And you could have stayed up on that ridge, staring at those bones. Or gone back to look at that little girl's grave. How about leaping over tall buildings in a single bound? You don't need any more punishment to prove you're Superwoman."

She leaned back on the headrest. God, she felt tired. "I'm not trying to prove anything."

He was silent a moment. "I know. It would be easier if you were."

"He told me the truth. There were two other children up there. He could have been telling the truth about Bonnie."

"One truth doesn't guarantee another."

"But it makes what he told me more plausible."

Another silence. "Yes."

"And if it's true, then he's been out there all along. Walking, breathing, enjoying life. When Fraser was executed, at least I had the comfort of knowing Bonnie's murderer had been punished. But it was all a lie."

"You're jumping to conclusions."

But she had a terrible feeling she wasn't. "There were two preteen boys Fraser admitted to killing. John Devon and Billy Thompkins."

"Yes, I remember."

"We have to identify only one of them to form a link between Fraser and the caller. I want you to persuade Spiro to give me one of those skulls to reconstruct."

"There may be some red tape. The FBI has their own way of doing things."

"You know Spiro. You were in the FBI. You can get him to cut through the tape."

"I'll try."

"Do it." She smiled mirthlessly. "Or you'll find another skeleton missing. If I can't have Bonnie, I will have one of those boys."

"You're already thinking of her as Bonnie."

"I have to call her something."

"There was another missing girl of about the same age on Fraser's kill list."

"Doreen Parker." She closed her eyes. "Damn you, Joe."

"You want it too much. I won't have you taking that kind of fall if it's not true."

"Just get me a skull."

He muttered a frustrated curse. "I'll get it for you. Spiro should be grateful for any help on this case."

"Then let him be grateful. We're going to need him. He knows about monsters."

"So do you."

Only one monster. The one who had dominated her life since Bonnie had disappeared. She had called the monster Fraser and now she found that might not even be its name. "I don't know enough. But I'm going to have to learn."

"You're so sure he's going to contact you again?"

"He'll call me." Eve smiled bitterly. "As he said, we have a bond."

Chapter FOUR

"Go to bed," Joe said as they stepped inside the cottage. "I'll call Spiro and put in a request for a skull."

Eve glanced at her watch. It was almost four in the morning. "He won't be in a very accommodating mood if you wake him up."

"I doubt he's asleep. He doesn't sleep much when he's on a case. He's pretty driven."

"Good." She headed for her bedroom. "I believe in driven."

"Tell me something I don't know." He reached for the phone on the table. "Go on, get some rest. I'll get your skull for you."

"Thanks, Joe." She closed the door behind her and moved toward the bathroom. Shower and go to bed. Don't think of Bonnie. Don't think of those two little boys. Don't try to draw conclusions. All that could wait until she was rested and able to conquer the horror and the shock. Tomorrow when she woke she would try to put the pieces together.

"YOU LOOK LIKE hell," Joe told Eve. "Couldn't you sleep?"

"A few hours. My mind wouldn't turn off. Is Spiro going to give me a skull?"

"He wouldn't commit. He said he'd discuss it when he finished talking to you."

"He's coming here?"

"He'll be here by three this afternoon." He checked his watch. "Another thirty minutes. You have time for breakfast or lunch. Which do you want?"

"Just a sandwich." She headed for the refrigerator. "I can't seem to get warm. I borrowed another one of your flannel shirts."

"I noticed. It looks better on you." He sat down at the bar and watched her build a ham and cheese sandwich. "I don't mind sharing with you. I've become accustomed to it over the years. It's kind of comfortable."

She nodded in perfect understanding. Being with Joe was as comfortable as feeling his soft shirt against her body.

"I have something to tell you." Joe shook his head when she looked up in alarm. "It's not that bad, but you have to know."

"Know what?"

"Mark Grunard's found out where you are."

She frowned. "Mark Grunard?"

"TV journalist. He must have spent days digging into records to find this cottage. I had to make a deal. You've heard of him?"

She nodded slowly. "He's on Channel Three. Investigative reporting. I remember him from Fraser's trial." She grimaced. "As well as I can remember anyone or anything except Fraser."

"I told you I had to find a way to draw reporters away from here. I couldn't do it by myself, so I had to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Mark Grunard's spot on the six o'clock news last night was about the search for you. He showed a shot of this cottage and expressed his disappointment that this wasn't the hideaway. However, he had been given a tip about a houseboat off the coast of Florida. After the broadcast he hopped a plane to Jacksonville, and I'd bet half the reporters in the city did too."

"And what did you have to promise him?"

"An exclusive. He keeps quiet until we're ready to release. But you'll have to meet with him here a couple of times."

"When?"

"The first one fairly soon. He's already paid his first installment on the deal. He'll want something in return. Do you have an objection to Grunard?"

She tried to remember Mark Grunard more clearly. Older, graying at the temples, with Peter Jennings's warmth. "No, I guess not." She smiled. "What would you have done if I'd told you I couldn't stand him?"

"Ditched him." He grinned. "But it makes my life easier that I don't have to go back on my word. Finish your sandwich."

"I'm eating." She took another bite. "What made you choose Grunard? Do you know him well?"

"Well enough. We have an occasional drink together at Manuel's. But he really chose me. He was camped out at Georgia State yesterday morning when I went to pick up the skull and made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"And you can trust him?"

"We don't have to trust him. As long as he thinks he's going to get a payoff, I guarantee he'll lay those red herrings all over the South."

"I guess we can't expect more than–"

A knock on the door.

"Spiro." Joe started across the room. "You should have finished your sandwich, dammit."

"Dictator." She pushed the plate away as Joe let Robert Spiro in. He nodded politely. "Ms. Duncan." He turned to Joe. "I've been fending off the media all morning. They want to know how I knew there were two more skeletons in that gorge."

"And what did you tell them?"

"That it was profiler instinct," he said sourly. "Why not? After all we've done to debunk it, they still believe there's something spooky about our unit anyway." Spiro turned to Eve. "Is there anything you have to add to what Joe told me?"

Eve looked at Joe.

He shook his head. "I told him everything."

"Then there's nothing else," Eve said. "Except that he's going to call again."

"Maybe."

"He'll call. And I want you to be ready for him. Can you bug the phone?"

"Hasn't Joe arranged that yet?"

"I was a little busy last night," Joe said dryly. "Besides, getting my department to do the bug will require finesse, because the Atlanta PD is fighting becoming involved."

"Then they're fighting a losing battle if those two boys are who you think they are."

"Let me find out," Eve said. "Give me a skull."

Spiro was silent.

"Give it to me."

"It could be dangerous to involve you any more."

"I couldn't be more involved."

"Yes, you could be, if this man who called you is really the murderer of those people at Talladega. Right now he's looking at you as a passive victim and feeling a wonderful sense of power. That might even be enough for him. But the minute you take aggressive action, he could become angry and desperate to reassert himself."

"It won't be enough for him." She stared him in the eye. "And I won't be a passive victim. That son of a bitch has Bonn–that little girl's bones. He killed her."

"Possibly."

"Probably. He knew about those boys. Can you get enough DNA for an analysis?"

"We're trying. The bones are pretty shattered and–"

"And then there will be another delay while the samples are analyzed. Give me a skull."

Spiro raised his brows and glanced at Joe. "Obstinate."

"You don't know the half of it. Better give her a skull."

"Are you going to be responsible, Quinn? I'm not kidding about any initiative raising the ante."

"I'm the only one responsible for me," Eve said. "Give me a skull."

He smiled faintly. "I'd be tempted to do it if I didn't know what a–"

The phone rang.

Joe started toward the phone by the door.

"Wait." Spiro nodded at Eve. "Pick it up. Is there another extension?"

The phone rang again.

"Kitchen," Joe said.

Spiro ran to the kitchen, and Eve picked up the receiver at his signal. "Hello."

"Listen carefully." The voice was unmistakable. "I know you probably have this phone bugged by now, and I'm not going to stay on the line long. From now on I'll call you on your digital phone." He chuckled. "Did you enjoy your trip to Talladega? Cold night, wasn't it?"

He hung up.

She slowly hung up and turned to Spiro.

"He's using a mechanical voice distorter," Spiro said. "Is that how he sounded before?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

"He knew about my trip to Talladega. He must have followed us."

"Or he's bluffing."

She shivered. "I don't think he's bluffing."

"Neither do I." He shrugged. "I'll give you your skull. It's not going to make any difference. He's going to play out his scenario no matter what we do."

"How can you tell?" Joe asked.

"There are two kinds of serial killers. The disorganized and the organized. A disorganized killer is spontaneous, random, and sloppy. Talladega has some of the marks of an organized killer. Bodies hidden and transported. Weapon and evidence absent. We'll probably find other signs as we go along. Your caller's being very careful not to be recognized. There's nothing sloppy about this man, which fits the usual pattern."

"What's the usual pattern?" Eve asked.

"Average to above-average intelligence, aware of police procedures and may even associate with the police. Owns a car in good condition, travels frequently, usually commits crimes out of his area of residence. He's socially adept, has verbal skills that he uses to–"

"That's enough." Eve shook her head. "You argued with me but you believed this man is the Talladega monster all along, didn't you?"

"My job is to take the supposed truth apart and look at it every way possible." He headed for the door. "When he calls again, write down everything he says the moment you hang up. Digital calls are tough to trace, but I'll arrange for a bug on the house phone. He might decide to call on that line if he can't reach you on your digital."

"How does he even know I have a digital? How will he get my number? It's private. For that matter, Joe's number here is unlisted too."

"There are ways if you're determined enough and smart enough. As I said, one of the characteristics of the organized serial killer is average to above-average intelligence. But you're right. One of the first things I'll do is run a check on the phone companies and see if there's been any detected infiltration into their computer banks." He stopped at the door. "I have a skull in my car. Come out and get it, Joe."

"And what are you going to tell Joe that you don't want me to hear?"

He hesitated and then shrugged. "That I'm sending Charlie down to guard the cottage while you're working on the skull. I have to go back to Talladega to meet with Spalding from the Child Abduction Serial Killer Unit and explain why I'm stepping on his toes by giving you a skull. CASKU might have their own forensic sculptor on tap."

"I don't need Charlie. Joe is here."

"A little more protection won't hurt. A hell of a lot more protection wouldn't be bad. I'll try to arrange it as soon as possible. One of the other marks of the organized killer is that he targets his victim." He frowned. "Though the victim is almost always a stranger. It makes me uneasy that he wants to establish an intimate link with you."

"I'm sure he's sorry to upset your profile," she said ironically. "It could be he's not going to play by your rules."

Spiro's lips tightened grimly. "You'd better hope he does. It may be our only way of catching him."

"When will Charlie be here?"

"A couple of hours. Why?"

"I want Joe to go back to Atlanta and get me photographs of those boys. I'll need to verify after I do the reconstruction."

"Joe should stay here," Spiro said. "I'll have the Bureau fax me the photographs to Talladega and I'll bring them to you myself."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I should tell you to leave this place and go to the city. You're too isolated here."

"I need the isolation to work on that skull."

"And I need to get my hands on that killer." He shrugged. "So I guess I'm willing to risk your neck to get him."

"Nice," Joe said.

"Don't give me that." Spiro suddenly whirled on him. "I warned you both of the danger of working on a skull, and you wouldn't listen. Well, don't blame me for doing anything I can to get that asshole. I've just spent a week staring at those nine graves. God knows how many more he's killed. Can you guess how many serial killers are out there? We probably catch only one in thirty. The dumb ones. The ones who make mistakes. The smart ones walk away and kill and kill again. This is one of the smart ones. But this time we have a chance. I don't know why, but he's giving us a shot at him, and I'm damn well going to take it."

"Okay. Okay." Joe lifted his hands in surrender. "But don't expect me to let you use Eve as bait."

"Sorry." Spiro struggled for control. "I didn't mean to–Maybe I need a vacation."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Joe said.

"Hell, I'm in good shape. Half the profilers in my department need therapy. Just be careful. I don't like this. There's something . . ." He shook his head. "Come on and get your damned skull."

Eve crossed to the window and watched Spiro open his trunk, pull out a small cloth-wrapped bundle, and give it to Joe. He lifted his head as if feeling her gaze on him and smiled sardonically at her. He raised his hand in farewell and slammed the trunk shut.

What had Charlie said about him?

A man who stares at monsters.

She knew how close to the edge that could push you. She'd been there.

Joe came into the cottage and shut the door. "Well, you've got it. I suppose you're going to want to start right away?"

She nodded. "Put it on the pedestal. Be careful. I don't know how much damage it's already sustained."

He unwrapped the cloth and placed the skull on the pedestal.

"It's the younger boy," she said. "What's his name?"

"John Devon. If he is one of Fraser's vic–"

"Don't give me ifs right now, Joe. I know what you're trying to do, but it's just getting in my way." She stepped closer to the pedestal and stared at the small, fragile skull. Poor child. Lost child. "John Devon," she whispered.

Bring me home.

God, I'll try, John.

She straightened her glasses and turned to the worktable. "It's getting dark. Will you turn on the lights? I've got to start measuring."

SPIRO CAME TO the cottage the next morning shortly before noon. He waved the manila envelope in his hand. "Got the photos. Do you want to see them?"

"No." Eve wiped her hands on a towel. "I never look at the photos until I'm finished. They might influence me."

He studied the skull. "Neither of those kids looked like that. Those little sticks sticking out all over make him look like a torture victim from the Spanish Inquisition. What are they?"

"Tissue-depth markers. I measure the skull and cut each marker to the proper depth and then glue it on its specific point on the face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known tissue depths."

"Then what?"

"I take strips of plasticine and apply them between the markers and build up to all of the tissue-depth points. When that's done, I start the smoothing and filling-in process."

"It's incredible that you can come as close as you do with just measurements."

"Measurements go only so far. Then technique and instinct have to take over."

He smiled. "I'm sure they do." He turned to her. "Have you gotten any more calls?"

"No."

He glanced around the cottage. "Where's Quinn?"

"Outside somewhere."

"He shouldn't have left you alone."

"He hasn't left me alone more than five minutes in the past twenty-four hours. I told him to go take a walk."

"He shouldn't have listened to you. It's not–"

"Where's Charlie?" she interrupted. "Joe's been trying to reach him since last night. He called Talladega and was told he'd left there, but he didn't show up here."

"Sorry if you were nervous. I knew Quinn was guarding you and I had a car patrolling the area. I sent Charlie to take a report on Talladega to Quantico. He'll be here tonight."

"I was too busy to be nervous. It was Joe who was anxious. But I'd think you'd make the reports yourself."

"There are some advantages to being a senior agent. I try to avoid Quantico. I'd rather be in the field." He smiled. "And Quinn is usually more than adequate. The Bureau was very sorry to lose him." His gaze shifted back to the skull. "When will you be finished?"

"Tomorrow, maybe. I don't know."

"You look tired."

"I'm okay." She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "My eyes sting a little. That's always the worst of it."

"It won't be before tomorrow?"

She looked at him in surprise. "What difference does it make? I had to persuade you to even let me do the reconstruction."

"I want to know. If it is John Devon, it will give me somewhere to start. That's more than I have now." He paused. "This is a real nasty can of worms," he muttered. "And I've got a feeling . . ."

She smiled. "One of those 'spooky' profiler instincts?"

"So I get hunches occasionally. Nothing spooky about that."

"I guess not."

He walked over to the window and gazed out. "I'm worried about this killer. Those bodies were buried years ago and he was very careful even then. What's he been doing since that time? What did he do before Talladega? How long has it gone on?"

She shook her head.

"You know, I've often wondered what killers become if they're permitted to go on for a long time. Do they change? How often can you kill before you change from monster to super monster?"

"Super monster? It sounds like something out of a comic book."

"I don't think you'll find him funny if you ever have to confront him."

"You mean a killer becomes smarter over the years."

"Smarter, more experienced, more arrogant, more determined, more calloused."

"Have you ever dealt with one of these super monsters?"

"Not that I know about." He turned to look at her. "But then, wouldn't a super monster take on the coloration of everything around him? You'd pass him on the street and never suspect him. If he'd been allowed to go on long enough, Bundy might have become a super monster. He had the fundamentals but he was too reckless."

"How can you be this clinical?"

"If you let in emotion, you're at an immediate disadvantage. The man who called you wouldn't allow himself to become emotional if it got in his way. But he'd prey on your every emotion. It's part of the power trip." He shook his head. "Don't let him feel your fear. He'll feed on it."

"I'm not afraid of him."

He studied her. "I believe you're telling the truth. Why aren't you afraid? You should be. Everyone's afraid to die."

She didn't answer.

"But maybe you're not," he said slowly.

"I have the same sense of self-preservation everyone does."

"I hope you do." His lips tightened. "Listen to me, don't underestimate this man. He knows too much. He could be anyone. He could be a clerk who works for the phone company or the cop who stops you for speeding or a lawyer with access to court records. Remember, he's been at this a long time."

"How could I forget?" Her gaze shifted to the skull. "I have to go back to work now."

"I guess that's my exit cue." Spiro headed for the door. "Let me know when you finish."

"I will." She had already closed him out as she began to join the markers.

JOE QUINN WAS waiting beside Spiro's car. "Come on, I want to show you something."

"I didn't think you'd go very far." Spiro followed him around the house. "You shouldn't have left her alone."

"I didn't leave her alone. I was never out of sight of the cottage." He left the driveway and moved into the shrubs. He knelt down. "See these marks? Someone was here."

"That's not a foot imprint."

"No, he cleaned the area. But the grass is bent. He tried to comb it, but he was in a hurry."

"Very good." Spiro should have known Quinn would pick up on any anomaly. He was sharp, and his SEAL training made him particularly formidable. "You think it was our man?"

"I don't know anyone else who would try to disguise his being here."

"He's watching her?"

Quinn raised his head, his gaze on the woods. "Not now. No one's out there."

"You'd sense it?" Spiro said mockingly. "ESP?"

"Something like that." He smiled crookedly. "Maybe it's my Cherokee blood. My grandfather was a half-breed."

And maybe it was that SEAL training again. Search and destroy. "You must have expected to find this or you wouldn't have gone looking."

"He was ugly to her. He wanted to hurt her. I thought he might want to see her pain." He stood up and moved back a step. "Or maybe he wanted to make sure he knew where she was. Either way, he'd come. Get a forensic team out here to see if they can collect any evidence."

"Listen, we've got our hands full at Talladega. Get your own people to do it."

"They won't do anything until they're sure they have to be involved, and they won't know that until Eve finishes the reconstruction. They won't dare not jump in at that point because of Eve's reputation."

"But until then I guess you have to rely on me. In which case, it would behoove you to ask instead of order."

"Please," Joe bit out.

Spiro smiled. "You gave in too easily. I would have had a team out here anyway."

"Bastard."

"You needed taking down a notch." He turned away. "Charlie will be here by dark. I understand you've been worried."

Joe's gaze narrowed on his face. "You wanted me to worry. When I couldn't reach Cather, I called you. When you didn't answer your digital, I phoned the command site and Sheriff Bosworth said you were too busy to take the call."

"He was right. It turned out that no aerial shots had been taken of the grave sites to determine if there's a pattern. It kept me pretty busy coordinating the photography."

"Too busy for a two-minute phone call? You wanted to make me sweat."

"Worry keeps a man sharp. You're going to need to be sharp."

"And I'm not sure Cather's the agent to guard Eve. He doesn't impress me."

"He's not standard FBI, if that's what you mean. He's not cynical and he's eager instead of methodical. I had a hell of a time getting him approved for the unit, but that doesn't mean he's not fully qualified. And a fresh eye sees things a jaded one doesn't. He'll do a good job. Besides, I've given orders for three other agents to do sentry duty and patrol the woods around the cottage. They'll report to Charlie. Satisfied?"

"Hell, no."

"No, you want a battalion."

"The fewer the guards, the more likely that maniac will come calling."

Spiro looked him directly in the eye. "That's right. I'll supply enough men to keep her safe, but I don't want to discourage him."

"You'd rather she run the risk?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She's valuable. She may be our only lead."

"Answer me."

"I have to catch this one, Quinn. I can't take a chance on him slipping away. You can laugh, but after these days at Talladega, staring at those graves, I sometimes feel–" He stopped and then shrugged. "He's mine."

"And Eve?"

"She's only one woman. There's no telling how many more people he'll kill if we don't get him now."

"You bastard."

"Yes, but if you want that killer, I'm your best bet. I'll keep on going until I have him." He started to walk away but stopped. "You know, I don't like Eve Duncan's attitude."

"Too bad. She's working her butt off to get an identification on that skull."

"No, that's not what I–" A frown creased Spiro's forehead. "She's not afraid of him. He's not going to like that. It will make him angry and more determined to break her. If he can't reach her, he'll try for someone close to her."

"I twisted a few arms over the phone last night and got a twenty-four-hour guard on her mother."

"Good."

"But I didn't tell Eve and I'm not going to tell her about anyone watching the cottage. So make sure your forensic guys don't plod around here like elephants. She's working so hard, I doubt she'd notice if they did, but she's got enough to worry about."

"You're very protective."

"You'd better believe it. You might think about that, Spiro. Because if that asshole gets to her and it's your fault, she won't be the only victim."

CHARLIE CATHER ARRIVED at the cottage four hours later. "Sorry to be late." He grimaced. "I meant to get here an hour ago, but I got a late start from Quantico. I hoped I'd get the analysis before I left, but they hadn't finished."

Eve glanced up from the skull. "What analysis?"

"From VICAP. Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. It's a nationwide database that allows us to type in all the facts of a violent crime and then does a search for similar modi operandi on reported crimes during a given period."

"I didn't know Spiro had authorized one," Joe said.

"Oh, he did, and we've been giving VICAP the reports on the bodies to narrow their search. They've been waiting for the last report, but it got lost in a damn paper shuffle. I found it only right before I left Talladega, so I took it myself to Quantico."

"And what given period did you tell the computer?" Eve asked.

"Thirty years. Just to be safe."

She stared at him, stunned. Thirty years?

Charlie turned to Joe. "I told them to call me here with the results. I'll be outside in my car. Will you tell me when it comes?"

"Why not wait here?" Eve asked.

Charlie shook his head. "Spiro told me to be on guard duty outside. He wouldn't appreciate having me warming my tush inside." He grinned. "I could have told them to call me on my digital, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to use the phone call to get me inside to defrost." He walked over to the pedestal. "You've made a lot of progress, haven't you? How much longer?"

She shrugged. "It depends on how it goes."

"They do a lot of computer imaging and stuff at Quantico, but this is kind of . . . personal."

"Yes."

"He looks so fragile. Poor little kid. God, it makes me sad. I don't know how you take it."

"The same way you stand what you do. It's my job."

"It makes you scared to bring a kid into this world, doesn't it? You know, some of the guys at the unit won't let their kids out of their sight. They've seen too much of what goes on to ever feel safe. I'll probably feel the same way after my baby is–"

"I'll let you know when you get your call," Joe interrupted. "Eve has to get back to work now."

The dismissal was pointed. Charlie's words had been thoughtless and Joe was stepping between her and possible hurt, Eve realized.

"Yeah, sure." Charlie headed out the door. "I'd appreciate it. See you later."

"You didn't have to toss him out," Eve told Joe. "He didn't mean any harm."

"He talks too much."

"He's just young. I like him." She turned back to the pedestal. "They probably won't find anything through the VICAP search. They haven't caught the bastard in over ten years."