Текст книги "The Face of Deception"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Iris Johansen 1998 – The Face of Deception

Eve Duncan circle – book 1

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My deepest and warmest thanks to N. Eileen Bar-row, Research Associate and Forensic Sculptor with the FACES Laboratory at Louisiana State University. Her generosity with her time, help, and guidance was invaluable in writing this book. Also a very sincere thank-you to Mark Sto-lorow, Director of Operations of Cellmark Diag-nostics Inc., for his patience and kindness in helping me with the technical aspects of DNA profiling and the intricacies of chemiluminescence.

Prologue

DIAGNOSTIC CLASSIFICATION FACILITY

JACKSON, GEORGIA

JANUARY 27

11:55 p.m.

It was going to happen.

Oh, God, don't let it happen.

Lost. She'll be lost.

They'll all be lost.

Come away, Eve. You don't want to be here. It was Joe Quinn standing beside her. His square, boyish face was pale and drawn beneath the shadow of the black umbrella he was holding. There's nothing you can do. He's had two stays of execution already. The governor's not going to do it again. There was too much public outcry the last time.

He's got to do it. Her heart was pounding so hard, it hurt her. But then, at that moment every-thing in the world was hurting her. I want to talk to the warden.

Quinn shook his head. He won't see you.

He saw me before. He called the governor. Ive got to see him. He understood about

Let me take you to your car. Its freezing out here and youre getting soaked.

She shook her head, her gaze fixed desperately on the prison gate. You talk to him. Youre with the FBI. Maybe hell listen to you.

Its too late, Eve. He tried to draw her under his umbrella but she stepped away from him. Jesus, you shouldnt have come.

You came. She gestured to the horde of news-paper and media people gathered at the gate. They came. Who has a better right to be here than me? Sobs were choking her. I have to stop it. I have to make them see that they cant

You crazy bitch.

She was jerked around and found herself facing a man in his early forties. His features were twisted with pain, and tears were running down his cheeks. It took a minute for her to recognize him. Bill Verner. His son was one of the lost ones.

Stay out of it. Verners hands dug into her shoulders. He shook her. Let them kill him. Youve already caused us too much grief and now youre trying to get him off again. Damn you, let them burn the son of a bitch.

I cant do Cant you see? Theyre lost. I have to

You stay out of it, or so help me God Ill make you sorry that you

Leave her alone. Quinn stepped forward and knocked Verners hands away from Eve. Dont you see shes hurting more than you are?

The hell she is. He killed my boy. I wont let her try to get him off again.

Do you think I dont want him to die? she said fiercely. Hes a monster. I want to kill him myself, but I cant let him There was no time for this argument, she thought frantically. There was no time for anything. It must be almost midnight.

They were going to kill him.

And Bonnie would be lost forever.

She whirled away from Verner and ran toward the gate.

Eve!

She pounded on the gate with clenched fists. Let me in! Youve got to let me in. Please dont do this.

Flashbulbs.

The prison guards were coming toward her.

Quinn was trying to pull her away from the gate.

The gate was opening.

Maybe there was a chance.

God, please let there be a chance.

The warden was coming out.

Stop it, she screamed. Youve got to stop

Go home, Ms. Duncan. Its over. He walked past her toward the TV cameras.

Over. It couldnt be over.

The warden was looking soberly into the cameras and his words were brief and to the point. There was no stay of execution. Ralph Andrew Fraser was executed four minutes ago and pronounced dead at 12: A.M.

No.

The scream was full of agony and desolation, as broken and forsaken as the wail of a lost child.

Eve didnt realize the scream came from her.

Quinn caught her as her knees buckled and she slumped forward in a dead faint.

ONE

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

JUNE

EIGHT YEARS LATER

"You look like hell. Its nearly midnight. Dont you ever sleep?

Eve glanced up from the computer to see Joe Quinn leaning against the doorjamb across the room. Sure I do. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. One late night does not a workaholic make. Or something like that. I just had to check those mea-surements before

I know. I know. Joe came into the studio lab and dropped down in the chair beside the desk. Diane said you blew her off for lunch today.

She nodded guiltily. It was the third time that month she had canceled out on Joes wife. I explained that the Chicago P.D. needed the result. Bobby Starness parents were waiting.

Was it a match?

Close enough. I knew it was almost a certainty before I started the superimposition. There were a few teeth missing from the skull, but the dental check was very close.

Then why were you brought in?

His parents didnt want to believe it. I was their last hope.

Bummer.

Yes, but I know about hope. And when they see the way Bobbys features fit the skull, theyll know its over. Theyll accept the fact that their child is dead and it may bring closure. She glanced at the image on her computer screen. Chicago P.D. had given her a skull and a picture of seven-year-old Bobby. Working with visual equipment and her computer, she had su-perimposed Bobbys face on the skull. As she had said, the match was very close. Bobby had looked so alive and sweet in the picture it was enough to break your heart.

They were all heartbreakers, she thought wearily. Are you on your way home?

Yep.

And just dropped by to yell at me?

I feel its one of my primary duties in life.

Liar. Her gaze was on the black leather case in his hands. Is that for me?

We found a skeleton in the woods in North Gwinnett. The rain unearthed it. The animals got at it, so theres not much left, but the skull is intact. He snapped open the case. Its a little girl, Eve.

He always told her right away if it was a girl. She supposed he thought he was shielding her.

She carefully took the skull and studied it. Its not a little girl. Shes a preteen, maybe eleven or twelve. She indicated a lacy crack on the upper jaw. Shes been exposed to the cold of at least one winter. She gently touched the broad nasal cavity. And she was probably black.

That will help. He grimaced. But not much. Youll have to sculpt her. We dont have any idea who she is. No pictures for superimposition. Do you know how many girls run away from home in this town? If she was a slum kid, she might not have even been re-ported missing. The parents are usually more con-cerned with getting their crack than keeping track of their He shook his head. Sorry. I forgot. Open mouth, insert foot.

A habit with you, Joe.

Only around you. I tend to lower my guard.

Should I be honored? Her brow knit with con-centration as she studied the skull. You know Mom hasnt been on crack for years. And there are a lot of things Im ashamed of in my life, but growing up in the slums isnt one of them. I might not have sur-vived if I hadnt had it tough.

Youd have survived.

She wasnt so sure. She had been too close to going under to take either sanity or survival for granted. Want a cup of coffee? We slum kids make great java.

He flinched. Ouch. I said I was sorry.

She smiled. Just thought Id take a jab or two. You deserve it for generalizing. Coffee?

No, I have to get home to Diane. He stood up. Theres no hurry with this one if shes been buried that long. Like I said, we dont even know who were looking for.

I wont hurry. Ill work on her at night.

Yeah, you have so much time. He looked at the pile of textbooks on the table. Your mom said you were studying physical anthropology now.

Only by correspondence. I dont have time to go to classes yet.

For Gods sake, why anthropology? Dont you have enough on your plate?

I thought it might help. Ive tried to find out all I can from the anthropologists Ive worked with, but theres still too much I dont know.

Youre working too hard as it is. Your schedule is booked up for months.

Thats not my fault. She made a face. It was that damn mention your commissioner gave me on 60 Minutes. Why couldnt he keep his mouth shut? I was busy enough without getting all this out-of-town stuff.

Well, just remember who your friends are. Joe headed for the door. Dont go moving away to some highfalutin college.

Dont talk to me about highfalutin, when you went to Harvard.

That was a lifetime ago. Now Im a good ol southern boy. Follow my example and stay where you belong.

Im not going anywhere. She got up and set the skull on the shelf above her workbench. Except to lunch with Diane next Tuesday. If shell have me. Will you ask her?

You ask her. Im not running interference again. I have my own problems. Its not easy for her being a cops wife. He paused at the door. Go to bed, Eve. Theyre dead. Theyre all dead. Its not going to hurt them if you get a little sleep.

Dont be stupid. I know that. You act like Im neurotic or something. Its just not professional to ig-nore a job.

Yeah, sure. He hesitated. You ever been con-tacted by John Logan?

Who?

Logan. Logan Computers. Hes a billionaire racing on the heels of Bill Gates. Hes been all over the news lately because of the Republican fund-raisers hes been throwing out in Hollywood.

She shrugged. You know I barely keep up with the news. But she did recall seeing a picture of Logan, perhaps in the Sunday paper the previous week. He was in his late thirties or early forties with a California tan and close-cut dark hair with a dusting of gray at the temples. He had been smiling down at some blond movie star. Sharon Stone? She couldnt remember. Well, he hasnt been soliciting me for money. I wouldnt give it to him if he did. I vote Inde-pendent. She glanced at her computer. Thats a Logan. He makes a good computer, but thats the closest Ive ever come in contact with the great man. Why?

Hes been making inquiries about you.

What?

Not personally. Hes going through a high-powered West Coast lawyer, Ken Novak. When they told me down at the precinct, I did some checking and Im almost sure Logans behind it.

I dont think so. She smiled slyly as she punned, It doesnt compute.

Youve handled private inquiries before. He grinned. A man in his position has to have left a trail of bodies on his way to the top. Maybe he forgot where he buried one of them.

Very funny. She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. Did his lawyer get his report?

What the hell do you think? We know how to protect our own. Tell me if he gets hold of your pri-vate number and bothers you. See you. The door shut behind him.

Yes, Joe would protect her just as hed always done, and no one could do it better. He was different from when they had first met years before. Time had hammered every trace of boyishness out of him. Shortly after Frasers execution, he had resigned from his job as an agent in the FBI and joined the At-lanta ED. He was now a lieutenant detective. Hed never really told her why he had made the move. She had asked, but his answerthat hed wanted to jet-tison the pressure of the bureauhad never satisfied her. Joe could be a very private person, and she hadnt probed. All she knew was that he had always been there for her.

Even that night at the prison when she had felt more alone than ever.

She didnt want to think about that night. The despair and pain were still as raw as

So think about it anyway. She had learned the only way to survive the pain was to meet it head-on.

Fraser was dead.

Bonnie was lost.

She closed her eyes and let the agony wash over her. When it eased, she opened her eyes and moved toward the computer. Work always helped. Bonnie might be lost and never be found, but there were others

Youve got another one? Sandra Duncan stood in the doorway, dressed in pajamas and her favorite pink chenille robe. Her gaze was focused on the skull across the room. I thought I heard someone in the driveway. Youd think Joe would leave you alone.

I dont want to be left alone. Eve sat down at the desk. No problem. Its not a rush job. Go back to bed, Mom.

You go to bed. Sandra Duncan walked over to the skull. Is it a little girl?

Preadolescent.

She was silent a moment. Youre never going to find her, you know. Bonnies gone. Let it go, Eve.

I have let it go. I just do my job.

Bullshit.

Eve smiled. Go to bed.

Can I help? Make you a snack?

I have more respect for my digestive system than to let you sabotage it.

I do try. Sandra made a face. Some people werent meant to cook.

You have other talents.

Her mother nodded. Im a good court reporter and I nag damn well. Will you go to bed, or do I have to demonstrate?

Fifteen minutes more.

I guess Ill allow you that much slack. She moved toward the door. But Ill be listening to hear your bedroom door close. She paused and then said awkwardly, Im not coming home right away after work tomorrow night. Im going out to dinner.

Eve looked up in surprise. With whom?

Ron Fitzgerald. I told you about him. Hes a lawyer in the district attorneys office. I like him. Her tone was almost defiant. He makes me laugh.

Good. Id like to meet him.

Im not like you. Its been a long time since Ive been out with a man, and I need people. Im not a nun. For Gods sake, Im not even fifty. My life cant stop just because

Why are you acting so guilty? Have I ever said I wanted you to stay home? You have a right to do whatever you want to do.

Im acting guilty because I feel guilty. Sandra scowled. You could make it easier for me if you werent so hard on yourself. Youre the one whos a nun.

God, she wished her mother hadnt decided to go into this tonight. She was too tired to cope. Ive had a few relationships.

Until they got in the way of your work. Two weeks tops.

Mom.

Okay, okay. I just think its time for you to live a normal life again.

Whats normal for one person isnt always normal for another. She looked down at her com-puter screen. Now, scat. I want to finish this before I go to bed. Be sure you drop in tomorrow night and tell me all about your dinner.

So you can live vicariously? Sandra asked tartly. I may or may not.

You will.

Yeah, I will. Her mother sighed. Good night, Eve.

Good night, Mom.

Eve leaned back in her chair. She should have no-ticed her mother was becoming restless and unhappy. Emotional instability was always dangerous for a re-covering addict. But, dammit, Mom had been clean since Bonnies second birthday. Another gift that Bonnie had brought when she came into their lives.

She was probably exaggerating the problem. Growing up with an addict had made her deeply suspicious. Surely her mothers restlessness was both typical and healthy. The best thing that could happen to her was a solid, loving relationship.

So let Sandra run with it, but watch the situation closely.

She was staring blindly at the screen. She had done enough tonight. There could be little doubt the skull belonged to little Bobby Starnes.

She noticed the Logan insignia as she logged out and turned off the computer. Funny how you never paid any attention to things like that. Why the hell would Logan be asking questions about her? He probably wasnt. More than likely it was a mistake. Her life and Logans were at opposite ends of the spectrum.

She stood up and moved her shoulders to rid them of stiffness. Shed pack up Bobbys skull, take it and the report to the house, then ship them out the following morning. She never liked to have more than one skull in the lab at the same time. Joe laughed at her, but she felt she couldnt give her full attention to the job she was working on if she could see another skull silently waiting. So shed overnight Bobby Starnes and the re-port to Chicago and the day after tomorrow Bobbys parents would know that their son had come home, that he was no longer one of the lost ones.

Let it go, Eve.

Her mother didnt understand that the search for Bonnie had become woven into the fabric of her life and she could no longer tell which thread was Bonnie and which were the other lost ones. That probably made her a hell of a lot more unstable than her mother, she thought ruefully.

She walked across the room and stood before the shelf bearing the new skull.

What happened to you? she murmured as she removed the skulls ID tag and tossed it on the work-bench. An accident? Murder? She hoped it wasnt murder, but it usually was in these cases. It hurt her to think of the terror the child had suffered before death.

The death of a child.

Someone had held this girl as a baby, had watched her take her first steps. Eve prayed that someone had loved her and given her joy before she had ended up lost in that hole in the forest.

She gently touched the girls cheekbone. I dont know who you are. Do you mind if I call you Mandy? Ive always liked that name. Jesus, she talked to skeletons and she was worried about her mother going off the deep end? It might be weird, but shed always felt it was disrespectful to treat the skulls as if they had no identity. This girl had lived, laughed, and loved. She deserved more than to be treated impersonally.

Eve whispered, Just be patient, Mandy. To-morrow Ill measure and soon Ill start sculpting. Ill find you. Ill bring you home.

MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

Youre sure shes the best choice? John Logans gaze was fastened on the television screen, where a video of the scene outside the prison facility was playing. She doesnt appear all that stable. Ive got enough problems without having to deal with a woman who doesnt have all her marbles.

My God, what a kind, caring human being you are, Ken Novak murmured. I think the woman might have cause to appear a little distracted. That was the night the murderer of her little girl was executed.

Then she should have been dancing with joy and offering to pull the switch. I would have been. In-stead, she pleaded with the governor for a stay.

Fraser was convicted for the killing of Teddy Simes. He was almost caught in the act and wasnt able to dispose of the boys body. But he confessed to murdering eleven other children including Bonnie Duncan. He gave details that left no doubt he was guilty, but he wouldnt tell where hed disposed of the bodies.

Why not?

I dont know. He was a crazy son of a bitch. A last act of malice? The bastard even refused to appeal the death sentence. It drove Eve Duncan frantic. She didnt want him executed until he told them where her daughter was. She was afraid shed never find her.

And has she?

No. Novak picked up the remote and froze a frame. Thats Joe Quinn. Rich parents, attended Har-vard. Everyone expected him to go into law, but he joined the FBI instead. He worked the Bonnie Duncan case with the Atlanta P.D., but hes now a de-tective with them. He and Eve Duncan have become friends.

Quinn appeared to be about twenty-six at the time. Square face, broad mouth, and intelligent, wide-set brown eyes. Only friends?

He nodded. If shes gone to bed with him, we havent found out about it. She was a witness at his wedding three years ago. Shes had one or two rela-tionships in the past eight years, but nothing serious. Shes a workaholic and that doesnt lend itself to en-riching personal relationships. He looked pointedly at Logan. Now, does it?

Ignoring the comment, Logan glanced down at the report on the desk. The mothers an addict?

Not any longer. She got off the stuff years ago.

What about Eve Duncan?

She was never on dope. Which was a wonder. Practically everyone else in her neighborhood was sniffing or shooting, including Mama. Her mother was illegitimate and had Eve when she was fifteen. They lived on welfare in one of the worst areas of the city. Eve had Bonnie when she was sixteen.

Who was the father?

She didnt list him on the birth certificate. Evi-dently he didnt claim the child. He pressed the button to start the tape again. Theres a picture coming up on the screen of the kid. CNN really wrung the story for all it was worth.

Bonnie Duncan. The little girl was dressed in a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Her red hair was wildly curly and there was a smattering of freckles on her nose. She was smiling at the camera and her face was alight with joy and mischief.

Logan felt sick. What kind of world was this in which a monster could kill a kid like that?

Novaks gaze was fixed on his face. Cute, huh?

Fast-forward.

Novak pressed the button and the scene was back outside the prison.

How old was Duncan when the kid was killed?

Twenty-three. The little girl was seven. Fraser was executed two years later.

And the woman went bonkers and became ob-sessed with bones.

Hell no, Novak said curtly. Why are you being so rough on her?

Logan turned to look at him. Why are you being so defensive?

Because shes not Shes got guts, dammit.

You admire her?

From her head right down to her toes, Novak said. She could have given up the kid for adoption or gotten an abortion. She kept her instead. She could have gone on welfare like her mother and repeated the pattern. She kept the baby in a United Fund nursery during the day while she worked and did cor-respondence courses at night. She was almost fin-ished with college when Bonnie disappeared. He looked at Eve Duncan on the screen. That should have killed her or sent her spiraling back where she came from, but it didnt. She returned to school and made something of her life. She has a degree in fine arts from Georgia State and is certified as a computer age progression specialist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Arlington, Vir-ginia. She also received advanced certification for clay facial reconstruction after training with two of the nations foremost reconstruction artists.

Tough lady, Logan murmured.

And smart. She does forensic sculpting and age progression as well as computer and video super-imposition. Not many people in her profession are experts in all those areas. You saw the clip from 60 Minutes on how she rebuilt the face of that kid who was found in the Florida swamps.

He nodded. It was incredible. His gaze re-turned to the video. Eve Duncans tall, thin body was clothed in jeans and a raincoat and appeared terribly fragile. Her shoulder-length red-brown hair was soaking wet and framed a pale, oval face that held agony and desperation. The brown eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses reflected the same desolation and pain. He looked away from the screen. Can we find anyone else as good?

Novak shook his head. You asked for the best. Shes the best. But you may have trouble getting her. Shes pretty busy and she prefers to work on lost-children cases. I dont suppose this has anything to do with a child?

Logan didnt answer. Money is usually pretty persuasive.

But it may not mean that much to her. She could be making a lot more money if she took a university appointment instead of working freelance. She lives in a rented house in Morningside, an area close to downtown Atlanta, and she has a lab in a renovated garage in the back.

Maybe a university hasnt made her an offer she couldnt refuse.

Maybe. Theyre not in your league. He raised his brows. I dont suppose youd like to tell me what you need her to do?

No. Novak had a reputation for integrity and was probably trustworthy, but there was no way Logan could risk confiding in him. Youre sure shes the only one?

Shes the best. I told you that she Whats bothering you?

Nothing. It wasnt the truth. The whole damn prospect of having to choose Eve Duncan bothered him. She was a victim already. She didnt need to be put at risk again.

Why was he hesitating? No matter who got hurt, he had to go through with it. The decision was al-ready made. Hell, the woman herself had made it for him when shed become tops in her field. He had to have the best.

Even if it killed her.

Ken Novak tossed his briefcase on the passenger seat of his convertible and started the car. He waited until he was past the long driveway and out the front gates before he picked up the car phone and placed the call to the private number at the Treasury Department.

While he waited to be put through to Timwick, his gaze wandered to the Pacific. Someday he was going to have a house like Logans out on the Seven-teen Mile Drive. His house in Carmel was sleek and modern but nothing like the mansions here. The people who owned them were the elite, the kings of business and finance, the movers and shakers. That fu-ture wasnt out of Novaks grasp. Logan had started out with a tiny company and built it into a giant. All it had taken was hard work and the ruthlessness to forge ahead no matter what the odds. Now he had it all. Novak had worked for Logan for the past three years, and he admired him tremendously. Sometimes he even liked him. Logan could turn on the charm when he

Novak? Timwick was on the line.

Ive just come from Logans house. I think hes settled on Eve Duncan.

Think? Dont you know?

I asked if he wanted me to contact her. He said hed do it himself. Unless he changes his mind, shes a lock-in.

But he wont tell you why he needs her?

No way.

Not even if its a personal matter?

Novaks interest was piqued. It has to be per-sonal, doesnt it?

We dont know. According to your reports, the things he wanted investigated are a mixed bag. Some of them may have been red herrings to throw you off.

Possibly. But you thought enough of them to pay me a princely sum to find out more.

And youll be paid even more generously if you give us something we can use against him. Hes raised too much money for the Republican Party in the last six months and the election is only five months away.

At least you have a Democratic president. Ben Chadbournes popularity numbers are up again this month. You think Logan wants to make sure the Republicans take Congress again? They may do it anyway.

And they may not. We could take it all next time. We need Logan stopped in his tracks.

Sic the IRS on him. Thats always a good way to discredit.

Hes clean.

Novak had suspected he would be. Logan was too smart to fall in that trap. Then I guess you have to rely on me, dont you?

Not necessarily. We do have other sources.

But none as close to him as I am.

I said youd be well paid.

Ive been thinking about the money. I think Id rather trade in favors. Ive been considering running for lieutenant governor.

You know were backing Danford.

But hes not being as helpful to you as I am.

There was a silence. Bring me the information I need and Ill consider it.

Ill work on it. Novak hung up the phone. Nudging Timwick had been easier than hed thought. He must really be worried about the upcoming presi-dential election. Democrat or Republican, all those political insiders were the same. Once they got a taste of power, they became addicted, and the smart man used that addiction to move himself up the ladder to a place on the Seventeen Mile Drive.

He followed a curve in the road, and Logans Spanish palace on the hill was once again in view. Logan wasnt an insider; he was that rare commodity, a true patriot. He was a Republican, but Novak had even heard him praise the Democratic president on that negotiation with Jordan three years earlier.

But patriots were often unpredictable and could be dangerous.

Timwick wanted him brought down and, if he worked it right, Novak could parlay that need to the governors mansion. He had little doubt that what-ever task Logan wanted Eve Duncan to do, it was personal. He had been too secretive and on edge. Se-crets regarding skeletal remains were usually a pretty fair sign of guilt. Murder? Maybe. He had led a pretty rough life during the early days when he was trying to build his empire. It appeared that some-time in Logans checkered past, he had stubbed his toe big-time. He hadnt lied about his admiration for Eve Duncan. Hed always liked tough, take-charge women.

He hoped he wouldnt have to bring her down with Logan. Hell, maybe by bringing Logan down, he might be doing the woman a favor. Logan was plan-ning on aiming that characteristic ruthless intensity on her, and she could be trampled.

He chuckled as he realized how hed rationalized betrayal into gallantry. Damn, he was a good lawyer.

But lawyers served the royalty that lived along this drive, they werent royalty themselves. He had to move up from the station of adviser to the throne.

It would be nice to be king.

TWO

"You look beautiful, Eve said. Where are you going tonight?

Im meeting Ron at Anthonys. He likes the food there. Sandra leaned forward and checked her mas-cara in the hall mirror, then straightened the shoul-ders of her dress. Damn these shoulder pads. They keep shifting around.

Take them out.

We all dont have broad shoulders like you. I need them.

Do you like the food there?

No, its a little too fancy for me. Id rather go to the Cheesecake Factory.

Then tell him.

Next time. Maybe I should like it. Maybe its a learning type thing. She grinned at Eve in the mirror. Youre big on learning new things.

I like Anthonys, but I still like to pig out at Mc-Donalds when Im in the mood. She handed Sandra her jacket. And Id fight anyone who tried to tell me I shouldnt do it.

Ron doesnt tell me She shrugged. I like him. He comes from a nice family in Charlotte. I dont know if hed understand about the way we lived before I just dont know.

I want to meet him.

Next time. Youd give him that cool once-over and Id feel like a high school kid bringing home my first date.

Eve chuckled and gave her a hug. Youre crazy. I just want to make sure hes good enough for you.

See? Sandra headed for the door. Definitely first-date syndrome. Im late. Ill see you later.

Eve went to the window and watched her mother back out of the driveway. She hadnt seen her mother this excited and happy in years.

Not since Bonnie was alive.

Well, there was no use staring wistfully out the window. She was glad her mother had a new ro-mance, but she wouldnt trade places with her. She wouldnt know what to do with a man in her life. She wasnt good at one-night stands, and anything else re-quired a commitment she couldnt afford.

She went out the back door and down the kitchen steps. The honeysuckle was in bloom and the heady scent surrounded her as she walked down the path to the lab. The aroma always seemed stronger at twilight and early morning. Bonnie used to love the honeysuckle and was always picking it off the fence, where the bees constantly buzzed. Eve had been at her wits end trying to stop her before she got stung.