Текст книги "The Killing Game "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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"Then it's time they did."

Joe sat on the couch and picked up his book. "I'll give you another hour and then you stop to eat. No arguments."

"We'll see."

"No arguments."

She glanced at him. He was giving off the aura of the quintessential immovable object.

What the hell. An immovable object could be very comforting in this volatile world. "Okay. No arguments."

LOGAN CALLED WHILE Eve was at dinner. "I got your two messages. I was running around the island, closing up shop. I'm flying out to Monterey tomorrow."

"You didn't tell me you were leaving the island."

"It's not the same now. Time to get back to the real world." He paused. "Are you working on the skull?"

"Not the little girl. A boy we found."

"You said you were going to work on–Why the hell are you still there?"

"Things happened."

"You're not telling me everything. Hell, you're not telling me anything."

She knew darn well if she told him what had been happening he would be on his way immediately. "I'm going to get the little girl's skull. I have to work on this one first."

Silence.

"I don't like it. There's too much you're not saying. I'm going to fly out to Monterey tonight instead of tomorrow. I'll call you as soon as I arrive."

"Logan, it's wonderful of you to want to help, but you can't do anything this time."

"We'll see." He hung up.

"He's coming here?" Joe asked.

"Not if I can help it. I don't want him near that killer."

He frowned. "You're being a little more protective than I'd like."

"Too bad. Logan's a great guy and my friend. You feel protective toward your friends." She deliberately met his gaze. "Don't you, Joe?"

He grimaced. "Okay, you got me." He changed the subject. "Want some dessert? We've got Rocky Road ice cream."

ANOTHER CALL CAME on Eve's digital phone at eight that evening.

Eve tensed. Her phone, not the cottage phone. It could be her mother. It could be Logan again. It didn't have to be that monster.

Joe picked up her phone, which she'd laid on the coffee table after she'd talked to Logan. "Do you want me to answer?"

She shook her head. "Give it to me." She punched the button. "Hello."

"Bonnie's waiting for you to come and get her."

Her hand tightened on the phone. "Bullshit."

"After all these years of searching for her, you've come so close. It's a pity you're going to fail now. Have you finished with the boy's skull yet?"

"How do you know I'm doing–"

"Oh, I'm keeping close watch over you. After all, I do have a vested interest. Haven't you sensed me standing behind you, looking over your shoulder as you work on the skull?"

"No."

"You should. You will. Which boy is it?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"It doesn't really matter. I only vaguely remember them. They were just two of those frightened little birds. Not like your Bonnie. She was never–"

"You bastard. You probably don't have the guts to kill anyone. You creep around, making anonymous phone calls, threatening and trying to–"

"Anonymous? Is that annoying you? You can call me Dom if you like. But what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as–"

"The only thing that annoys me is that you think you can terrify me with these pitiful tricks."

"And now you're trying to annoy me." He laughed in delight. "And I believe you're succeeding. How refreshing. It only proves how right I was to choose you."

"Did you harass those other poor people at Talladega before you killed them?"

"No, that would have been reckless, and I wasn't at that point yet."

"But you are now?"

"I'm at the point where I'm willing to take a few chances to make life interesting. It was bound to happen sometime."

"Why me?"

"Because I need something to cleanse me. The moment I saw your photograph in the paper I knew you were the one. I looked at your face and I could see all the emotion and torment that's building inside you. It's only a question of making that emotion soar until it breaks through." He paused. "Can you imagine what an explosion that will be for both of us?"

"You're insane."

"Quite possibly. By your standards. Science has made such a study of the mind of the murderer. The causes, the early signs, the way we justify killing."

"How do you justify it?"

"I don't. Pleasure is justification enough. I recently heard that recreational homicide went up twenty-five percent in the last ten years. I started long before that. It seems that society is finally catching up to me, doesn't it? Maybe you're all going mad too, Eve."

"Bullshit."

"Then why let me go on killing? Have you ever considered that perhaps we've never really lost our cave instincts? The bloodlust, the search for power through that final act of violence. Perhaps in your heart of hearts you all wish you could be like me. Haven't you ever wanted to hunt, to prey?"

"No."

"You will. Ask Quinn how it feels. He's a hunter. He has the instinct. Ask him if his heart beats faster when he nears the kill."

"Joe's not like you. No one is like you."

"Thank you. I regard that as a compliment. I believe it's time to hang up now. I just wanted to touch base with you. It's important that we get to know each other. You're not one to fear the unknown."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You will be. But it's clear I'll have to work at it a little harder. No problem. I wouldn't have it any other way." He paused. "Bonnie misses you. You should really be together." He hung up.

Pain tore through her. Damn him. He'd had to throw that last jab. She pressed the off button and looked at Joe. "He just wanted to touch base with me. The bastard wants me to be afraid of him."

"Then pretend to be afraid. Don't challenge him."

"Screw that."

Joe smiled faintly. "I thought I'd try. Did you find out anything we can use?"

"He said his name is Dom. He's been killing for more than ten years and does it purely for pleasure. He's analytical about himself and the world in general. He's as smart as we thought he was." She turned back to the pedestal. "Will you write all that down and call it in to Spiro? I have to get back to work."

"It wouldn't hurt for you to take a break."

"Yes, it would," she said fiercely. "I won't let that bastard disturb my concentration. He wants to control me, and I'll be damned if I let him. I won't give him anything he wants."

She stood before the skull. Her hands were shaking a little. Steady them. It was time for the final stage. Nothing must interfere with the sculpting. She had to be cool and detached.

Haven't you sensed me standing behind you, looking over your shoulder as you work on the skull?

She restrained the impulse to turn her head. No one was staring at her back or over her shoulder. No one was behind her but Joe.

If she let Dom influence her by sparking her imagination, then it would be a victory for him. Close him out. Think of the little boy, not of the monster who had killed him.

Bring him home.

With slow, certain strokes she began to mold the child's face.

SHE WAS STRONGER than Dom had thought.

A surge of excitement tingled through him. She was going to stretch him, make him work for every ounce of emotion he drew from her.

It was no real surprise. He had been prepared for it. He welcomed it. It would force him to dig deep to find a way to jar her.

He already had an idea how to do it.

He started the car, backed out of the convenience store parking lot, and headed back to Atlanta.

Chapter FIVE

5:40 A.M.

Finished except for the eyes.

She reached for her eye case on the worktable.

Brown was the most prevalent eye color, and she almost always used brown eyes when reconstructing. She placed the glass eyeballs in the sockets and stepped back.

Is it you, John Devon? Did I do a good enough job to bring you home?

"Do you want the photo now?" Joe asked quietly.

She'd been vaguely aware that he'd been sitting on the couch all through the night, waiting. "Yes."

He stood up and opened the large envelope on the coffee table. He discarded one photo and carried the other to her. "I think this is the one you want."

She stared at the photo without touching it. He was wrong, she didn't want it.

Take it. Bring him home.

She reached out and took the photo. She should have put in blue eyes, she realized dully. Everything else was a match. "It's him. It's John Devon."

"Yes." He took the photo and tossed it on the workbench. "I'll call Spiro right after I get you to bed."

"I'll call him."

"Shut up." He was pulling her across the room and down the hall. "I said I'd do it. You've done your part."

Yes, she'd done her part. John Devon had been found and that meant–

"Stop thinking," Joe said roughly as he pushed her down on the bed. "I knew it would start eating at you the minute you finished. But, dammit, you've got to rest now." He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. He sat down beside her and began wiping the clay from her hands.

"I should take a shower."

"When you wake up." He tossed the washcloth on the nightstand, made her lie down, and covered her with a quilt.

"I was afraid it was going to be him," she whispered. "Half of me wanted it to be John Devon, but I was afraid too."

"I know." He turned out the bathroom light, sat down beside her, and took both her hands in his. "But you wouldn't give up, would you?"

"I couldn't. You know I couldn't."

The slight tightening of his grasp was his only answer.

"Since it was John Devon, that means that monster might have been telling the truth. Fraser might not have killed Bonnie."

"He could still have been the one who killed her. Because Dom killed one of the children Fraser confessed to murdering doesn't mean he killed all of them."

"But the chances are better now that Dom killed her."

"I don't know, Eve," he said wearily. "I just don't know."

"And he might still have her. That little girl could be my Bonnie. It wasn't enough that he killed her; he's keeping her like some kind of trophy."

"He's keeping her as bait."

"I hate the idea of that monster with her. I hate it."

"Shh. Don't think about it."

"And how am I supposed to stop?"

"Hell, how do I know? Just do it." He paused. "This is what he wants from you. Control. Wouldn't he love the idea of you lying here suffering because of something he'd done? Go to sleep and cheat the son of a bitch."

He was right, she was doing exactly what Dom wanted her to do. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart. I must be tired."

"Now, I wonder why?"

"I'm confused. It's difficult not to–I wanted to bring her home but not like–"

"Face it after you've slept for a while."

"You have to call Spiro."

"It will wait. I'll stay here until you go to sleep."

"You haven't slept either."

"How do you know? I doubt you were aware I was on the planet while you were working on that boy."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"I always know you're there. It's like–" It was hard to explain. "It's like having an old oak tree in your garden. Even if you don't pay attention to it, you never really forget it's there."

"I believe I've been insulted. A tree? Are you trying to call me a knothead?"

No, if he was like a tree, it was because he gave shelter and strength and endurance. "Smart man. I should have known I couldn't fool you."

"And I'm not that old."

"Old enough." She was smiling, she realized. A moment before she had been in pain, but she felt better now. Joe always made it better. "I'm okay. You don't have to stay with me."

"I'll stick around. You've got to be hysterical if you're calling me an oak tree. The only way you'll get rid of me is by going to sleep."

She was already getting drowsy. It was safe to let everything go for now. Joe was there, holding back the darkness. "This reminds me of when we were on Cumberland Island after Fraser was executed. Remember? You held my hands like this and made me talk and talk. . . ."

"Now I'm trying to shut you up. Go to sleep."

She was silent a moment. "He's beginning to scare me, Joe."

"There's nothing to be scared about. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I didn't think I'd be afraid. I was only angry at first, but he's smart, and killing me isn't his main priority. He has to make me feel . . . he has to hurt me. He needs it."

"Yes."

A sudden thought exploded through her. "Mom."

"She's under guard. I made sure he can't touch her."

Relief surged through her. "You did?"

"It was the logical move. Not bad for a knothead."

"Not too bad." If Mom was safe, a prime weapon was taken away from Dom. He couldn't hurt Eve through someone she loved.

The hell he couldn't. He still had Bonnie.

But Bonnie was dead. Eve might be sick with horror at the thought of him having Bonnie, but he could no longer hurt her daughter. Eve was the only one who could be hurt, and she would hide that hurt from him.

"It's okay. I told you, your mom's safe," Joe said. "There's no reason to be uneasy."

She was uneasy. Trust Joe to sense it. Not about her mother. If Joe said she was safe, she was safe. She was just . . .

Forget about it. Go to sleep and when she woke they would find a way to catch the bastard and bring Bonnie home. He wasn't invincible. He had made a mistake when he contacted Eve. There wasn't any way he could really hurt her.

She had no reason to be uneasy.

HER NAME WAS Jane MacGuire and she was ten years old.

Dom had seen her a few days before when he was cruising the public housing developments on the south side. He had first been attracted by her red hair and then by her air of independence and defiance. She walked down the street as if daring the world to get in her way. No docile little bird here.

Too defiant to appeal to Eve Duncan? Her own daughter had been completely different. But then, Bonnie Duncan had not been brought up in four foster homes like Jane MacGuire. She'd had no need to learn to be streetwise.

He cruised slowly behind the kid. She was going somewhere. She had a purpose.

She suddenly darted into an alley. Should he go after her and risk having her see him? The danger wasn't that great. As usual when he was on the hunt, he'd taken the precaution of a disguise.

He parked the car and got out. She was too good a prospect. He had to make sure.

SON OF A bitch. The creep was following her again.

Well, let him, Jane thought crossly. He was just another dirty old man like the ones who hung out at the school yard and drove away fast if Jane screamed for the teacher. She knew this alley and could run faster than him if she needed to get away. She had noticed him following her yesterday and kept to the public streets.

She couldn't do that today.

"I'm here, Jane."

She saw Mike crouched inside a big cardboard box against the brick wall. He looked cold. He'd probably slept in the box last night. He usually did when his father came home. Bad luck the bastard had decided to wander back in January, when it was so cold.

She reached into a jacket pocket and handed him the sandwich she'd stolen from Fay's refrigerator that morning. "Breakfast. It's pretty stale. I couldn't get anything else."

She watched him gobble down the food, then shot a glance behind her.

The creep had ducked into the shadows of a garbage dump. Good place for him.

"Come on. Time to go to school," she told Mike.

"I ain't going."

"Sure you are. You want to grow up stupid like your father?"

"I ain't going."

She played her trump card. "It's warm there."

Mike thought about it and then got to his feet. "Maybe I'll go just today."

She'd thought he would. The cold and an empty belly were enemies. She'd spent a lot of nights in alleys herself when she'd been staying with the Carbonis. That was the foster home before Fay's and it was there she'd learned that if she caused enough trouble, not even the welfare money would make foster parents keep her. Welfare was always ready to give them another kid if one didn't work out.

Fay was much better. She was always tired and often crabby, but sometimes Jane thought she might grow to like her . . . if she stayed long enough.

She glanced back at the creep. Still hiding behind the dump. "I think maybe you should find another place to sleep tonight. There's a place near the Union Mission. I'll show you."

"Okay. You goin' to school now?" Mike asked. "Maybe I could walk along with you."

He was lonely. He was only six and hadn't learned how to ignore the emptiness yet. "Sure. Why not?"

She smiled at him.

DOM HADN' T BEEN sure until he'd seen her smile.

The smile was warm and sweet. All the more appealing because of the kid's usual air of wariness and toughness. Without that streak of softness he wouldn't have been sure. But now he was convinced.

Little Jane MacGuire was perfect.

"YOU' RE SURE HE' S the Devon boy?" Spiro asked when Joe opened the door later that afternoon.

"It's close enough." Joe gestured to the pedestal. "The picture's on the worktable. See for yourself."

"I'll do that." He crossed the room. "Where's Ms. Duncan?"

"Still sleeping."

"Wake her up. I need to talk to her."

"Screw you. She's exhausted. Talk to me."

"I have to–" He gave a low whistle as he compared the reconstruction with the photo. "Damn, she's good."

"Yes."

He tossed the photo back on the worktable. "I almost wish it wasn't him. You realize what this means?"

"Yes, and so does Eve."

"I'm going to have to use her, Quinn."

"No one uses Eve."

"Unless she wants to be used," Eve said from the doorway. She came toward them. She'd obviously just gotten out of bed; her hair was tousled, her clothing rumpled. "And the fact that he's John Devon doesn't make that much difference to you, Spiro. You would have tried to use me anyway."

Spiro glanced back at the skull. "He could be telling the truth about Fraser taking credit for his kills."

"Some of his kills," Joe corrected Spiro. "All we have are the two boys."

"Aren't they enough?" Spiro turned to Eve. "Are you going to help me?"

"No, I'm going to help me. You and Joe keep my mom safe and I'll let you use me as bait."

"The hell you will," Joe said.

She ignored him and asked Spiro, "He's been watching me, hasn't he?"

"Quinn told you?"

"No, but Dom knew about our trip to Talladega." She glanced at Joe. "What else?"

"Someone's been keeping an eye on the cottage. I had Spiro send a forensic team yesterday to go through the bushes where he'd been standing, watching."

"Thanks for telling me."

"I'm telling you now. You were a little busy before." He smiled. "I don't think he'll be back with Charlie and those other guards patrolling outside and me inside."

"Don't be too sure. He's bored or he wouldn't have taken so many chances."

His smile faded. "You think he's that unbalanced?"

"I believe he's desperate for some reason. But I don't think he'll try to kill me yet. Not until he gets what he wants."

"And when he does, we'll be here," Spiro said.

"Will you?" she said wearily. "Why would he attack if he knows there's a chance he'll be caught? If he's as smart as you believe, he'd find a way to get to me and elude you. Did your team find any evidence in the stuff they collected yesterday?"

"We're still sifting through–" Spiro shook his head. "We don't think so."

She shrugged. "I rest my case."

"And what do you suggest?"

"That we go after him, not wait for him to come after me."

"It's much safer for you to–"

A knock on the door.

Charlie smiled apologetically. "Sorry to bother you, but I wondered if my call had come through. It's taken a lot longer than I thought it would."

"No call," Joe said.

"Why not ask me?" Spiro said dryly. "Did it occur to you that as your superior, I'm the one they would contact?"

Charlie eyed him warily. "Did they?"

"Last night. They're faxing the full report to me at Talladega. They were surprised I knew nothing about your request that they call you directly."

Charlie grimaced. "Sorry. I guess I was being a hot dog."

"Well, eagerness is better than apathy."

"Did they find any cases that matched?" Joe asked.

"Two possibles. Two skeletons were found three months ago in San Luz, a suburb of Phoenix. No teeth. Wax sediment in the right hands."

"Children?" Eve asked.

Spiro shook his head. "Adults. One man. One woman."

"Arizona," Joe repeated. "That's a long way."

"Who says Dom is a local boy?" Spiro said.

"He was here ten years ago," Eve said. "He's here now."

"It's a mobile society, and organized serial killers are known to be particularly mobile." Spiro turned toward the door. "At any rate, I'll send a man to Phoenix to see if he can find out anything more from the local PD. We'll probably have to organize an interstate task force now."

"Could I go?" Charlie asked.

"No, you may not," Spiro said. "You stay here and guard Ms. Duncan. I don't want you out of sight of the cabin, and you make sure those other perimeter guards are on their toes."

"Eve," she said dryly. "Formality is pretty silly under the circumstances."

"Eve." Spiro smiled. "I suppose you're right. We all may become more intimate than we'd like before this is over. Good-bye. I'll let you know if I find out anything else." He paused at the door. "Stay inside, Eve. I evidently have more faith in my guys and your friend Quinn than you do."

As soon as the door closed behind Spiro, Charlie grinned. "I'd better get outside. I could see Spiro wasn't pleased with me for going over his head. It will take a little groveling and strict obedience for me to redeem myself."

She smiled back, then returned to her bedroom to shower.

Phoenix, Arizona. Two bodies.

Eleven at Talladega. Two in Phoenix. How many more had Dom killed? How could a man murder that many people and remain human?

Was he human? How much evil could he commit without his soul becoming twisted and–

She was cold and starting to shake. Stop it. It didn't matter what manner of monster Dom had become. All that was important was that they catch him and keep him from murdering again.

The hot water poured out of the showerhead onto her body.

But it didn't banish the chill.

"FOR HEAVEN' S SAKE, stop prowling, Joe," Eve said. "It's after midnight. Why don't you go to bed?"

"You go to bed. I'm a little tense, okay?"

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

"Yes, I do. It's one of the few things that I'm allowed. There's damn few of them that I can–" He stopped. "Sorry. Maybe I'm getting cabin fever waiting for something to happen."

So was she, and she didn't feel like being sweet and generous about Joe's nerves. "If you won't go to bed, make yourself useful and go out and give Charlie a cup of coffee."

"Maybe I will."

She drew a deep breath as the front door shut behind him a few minutes later. She had never seen Joe this explosive. Ever since that afternoon he'd been–

Her phone rang.

"Did I wake you?" Dom asked.

Her heart was pounding. "No, I wasn't asleep."

"Oh, yes, you must have slept after you finished working on little Johnny Devon. It was him, wasn't it?"

"I told you I wouldn't tell you anything."

"Defiant. That means I guessed right. I knew you'd do a fine job. You take great pride in your work."

"Why are you calling me?"

"It's important that I stay in touch with you, that we get to know each other better. I'm sure that's what Agent Spiro told you. Draw the bastard out. Find out everything you can for the FBI profile. Isn't that right?"

"Something like that."

"I'll cooperate. But you have to give me something too. I want a profile on you, Eve."

"You already seem to know a great deal about me."

"Not enough. For instance, do you believe in reincarnation?"

"What?"

"Reincarnation. Millions of people do, you know. Such a comforting belief." He chuckled. "As long as you don't come back as a cockroach."

"What are you talking about?"

"But I don't think God would let your Bonnie come back as a cockroach, do you?"

"Shut up."

"That hurt, didn't it? I could almost feel it myself. Pretty little Bonnie . . ."

It had hurt. The bizarre idea had stabbed her. Stupid to let him hurt her. Even stupider to let him know he'd hurt her. "It didn't bother me. Why should it? I don't believe in reincarnation."

"You should consider it. As I said, it could be very comforting. I've been thinking a lot about it lately. Are you familiar with the Bible?"

"Some."

"It's not my favorite tome, but there are some unique ideas in it. I found one particularly amusing. Genesis 2:22."

"I don't know what that is."

"I'll tell you. But first go to the front door and get my present."

"Present?"

"It's on the left edge of the porch. I couldn't just come up to the front door and leave it with that FBI agent watching you so closely."

She moistened her lips. "What kind of present?"

"Go get it, Eve. I'll hang on."

"I'd be dumb to go outside just because you tell me to. You could be waiting for me."

"You know better. You know I'm not going to hurt you yet." He paused. "But I won't promise not to hurt Quinn if you call him. This is just between us. Go get the present."

She moved toward the door.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, let's see. They say that the souls of victims of violence are troubled and return to earth as soon as possible. So Bonnie would have been reincarnated immediately."

"Bull."

"I killed her ten years ago, didn't I? That means we're looking for a ten-year-old child. Either a boy or a girl." He chuckled. "Since we've ruled out cockroaches. Are you at the front door yet?"

"Yes."

"Check the window and you'll probably see your stalwart guard sitting in his car by the lake. That's where he was when I left your package a few hours ago."

She glanced out the window. Charlie wasn't in the car, he was standing by the front fender, talking to Joe.

"Are you on the porch yet?"

"No."

"Are you afraid of me, Eve? Don't you want to know what's in the package?"

"I'm not afraid of you." She opened the door. She was wearing only an old T-shirt, and the cold wind struck her bare legs. "I'm on the porch. Where's the damn package?"

"You'll see it."

She did see it, a small brown cardboard box on the very left edge of the porch.

"Quinn would say you're foolish to go near it. It might be a bomb or maybe I put some kind of gas or poison in the box. But you know I don't want you injured or dead."

She did know it. She moved toward the box.

"Or maybe I do. I could be waiting in the shadow of the porch right now. Do you see any suspicious shadows, Eve?"

"No, where are you?"

"But it's so dark on the porch you can't see shadows, can you?"

She stopped in front of the box.

"Eve?" Joe had turned away from Charlie and had seen her.

"Or I might be in my car, miles away. Which do you think is true?"

She knelt beside the box.

"Eve!"

She opened the box.

Something hard and white gleamed inside.

Dom's voice was soft in her ear. "'And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from the man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.' Genesis 2:22."

"What the hell are you doing?" Joe was beside her, trying to draw her away from the box.

She shoved him. "Leave me alone."

"God and I have a lot in common. If you believe in reincarnation, then by killing your Bonnie I, like God, created a brand-new human being. Though I didn't actually create her from Bonnie's rib, I thought you'd appreciate the symbolism." He paused. "By the way, her name is Jane." He hung up.

The phone dropped from her hand. She stared down into the box.

"Don't touch it," Joe said.

"I'll call Spiro and get a team down here to check it out." Charlie ran down the steps toward his car.

"Dom?" Joe asked.

She nodded.

"Did he tell you what this is?"

She nodded again.

So small . . .

She reached down and touched it with one finger. Smooth . . .

Tears began to run down her cheeks.

"Eve."

"It's Bonnie. It's Bonnie's rib."

"Shit." Joe picked her up and carried her inside. "Son of a bitch. Bastard."

"Bonnie."

"Shh." He sat down on the couch and rocked her. "Dammit, why didn't you call me?"

"Bonnie's rib."

"It could be an animal bone. He could have lied to you."

She shook her head. "Bonnie."

"Listen to me. He wanted to hurt you."

And he had succeeded. God, how he had succeeded. Pain was searing through her. She had told herself only last night that he had no real weapon against her, that she could control–Dammit, she couldn't stop crying.

And she couldn't stop thinking of that little fragment of Bonnie in that box.

"Go bring it in."

"What?"

"It's . . . cold out there."

"Eve," Joe said gently. "It's evidence. We can't move–"

"Do you think he'd leave any evidence? Go get it."

"Even if it's Bonnie, she can't feel–"

"I know I'm not being reasonable. I just don't want her out in the cold if I can help it. It . . . hurts me. Bring her in."

Joe muttered a curse and got to his feet. A moment later he came back with the box. "You're not looking at it again." He crossed the room and slid the box into a drawer of her worktable. "And it's going to the lab for analysis."

"Okay."

"And stop crying, dammit."

She nodded.

"Oh, shit." He dropped down beside her and gathered her in his arms. "You're killing me. Please. Stop crying."

"I'm sorry. I'm trying. It was the shock. I didn't expect–" She swallowed. "He got the response he wanted from me, didn't he?"

"What did he say?"

She shook her head. "Not now. Give me a minute."

His arms tightened around her. "Take all the time you need. I'll give you ten years if you need them. Why not? Hell, I've already given you one decade."

What was he talking about? She didn't have a decade. She might not have any time at all. She buried her head in his shoulder, trying to get past the horror of the box and face an even greater horror. "He said that–" She couldn't go on. Not yet.

Her name is Jane.

"IT' S ALL BULLSHIT," Joe said flatly. "Reincarnation?"

"Did he sound as if he believed in it?" Spiro asked Eve.