Текст книги "Shadow Play: An Eve Duncan Novel"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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And Margaret might have saved Eve’s life because of that same gift.

“Am I allowed to ask why you want to get in touch with Margaret?” Kendra asked. “And why I can’t help instead?”

She had known this was coming. “You have many talents but not the one I might need. Margaret lived for years in the woods near her home as a child after she ran away from her father. That makes her uniquely qualified since I need someone who is woods savvy.”

“That’s not me. But I’m told I make it up in other ways that are—”

“No,” she said firmly. “This is my problem. I’m grateful, and if I need you, I might call on you. But not unless I run into a blank wall.”

“You just did,” Kendra said.

“Not yet.”

Kendra was silent. “I’ll make a few calls. Margaret made a lot of friends while she was here. She might have mentioned something to someone. How much time do I have?”

“We need her as soon as possible. Joe and I will be arriving in Sonderville tonight.”

“Sonderville. That’s wine country.”

“It’s the woods north of town, not the vineyards that I’m concerned about.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Kendra.”

“Don’t thank me until I find her. Why do you have to have someone who is woods savvy?”

“I need to find something that was lost or hidden in the woods eight years ago.”

“Eight years.” Kendra gave a low whistle. “Definitely not my area of expertise. I don’t even know if it’s Margaret’s.”

“I’m willing to take a chance.” Eve paused. “It may lead me to a killer, and there’s a child’s life on the line. I don’t know where else to start.”

“Start with me. Okay, okay, I know you’re not going to budge. Let me get off the phone and see if I can find Margaret.” She hung up.

Typical Kendra. Eve found herself smiling as she hung up. Sharp, honest, and beneath that brusqueness was a treasure trove of warmth and loyalty. If Margaret could be found, Kendra would locate her.

“You couldn’t reach her?” Joe asked as he came in from the porch. “Then why are you smiling?”

“Kendra.” She shrugged. “She’s being … Kendra. And I’ll bet she’ll find Margaret for me.”

“No bet,” Joe said grimly. “But whether you manage to get hold of Margaret or not, you’re not going to go into those woods without me. I’m pretty woods savvy myself.”

“Yes, you are. But eight years is a long time and you—” She stopped. How could she tell him that it wasn’t his competence but her own fear that she’d be responsible for something happening to him? Joe was like a force of nature when he was on the hunt. “I know this is a long shot, Joe. But Walsh was keeping an eye on Nalchek while he was searching those woods, a deputy died while Walsh was lurking there like some kind of ghoul. Whatever he’s looking for is making him desperate. I’m just reaching out and trying to find something, anything, that I can grab hold of before Walsh gets his hands on another victim. Those woods where Jenny was buried may be a way to do it.” She shook her head. “Or point me in the right direction.”

“You’ve been thinking about this. Anything else?”

“If we find out who Jenny was, we may be able to make a connection that will help us find Walsh. I’ve been going over the things Jenny has said to me since I started the reconstruction. I’ll check with Nalchek and see if I get anywhere with them.” She got to her feet. “And then I’ll pack a bag for both of us and make reservations for San Francisco while you’re checking out Walsh in those databases. I’ll call you to tell you when to meet me at the airport.”

Joe’s brows rose. “We’re in that much of a hurry? You’re not giving me much time to process all those databases. I may have to go international, too. Let’s leave tomorrow morning.”

She shook her head. “Suppose I leave today and check into a hotel and do the preliminary work with Nalchek. That would save some time. You can fly in tomorrow.”

He frowned. “I don’t like your going alone.”

“Joe, it’s one night, and I promise I won’t do anything that doesn’t concern Nalchek.”

He was silent. “Okay, but I still don’t see why you’re in such a hurry.”

“I don’t know, either.” She reached for her phone again. “I’m just not sure how much time we have.”

Or how much time that little girl in Carmel had.

CHAPTER

5

COCONINO NATIONAL FOREST

ARIZONA

Get rid of her. He had to get rid of her.

Walsh could feel the hatred sear through him as he stared at the FedEx box on the seat beside him. He’d built a huge campfire in the woods and was tempted just to throw the damn box into the flames. But he couldn’t do that, he had to be sure. He had to know that Eve Duncan wasn’t just playing Nalchek for a fool.

He had to look at that bitch, Jenny’s skull.

Get it over with.

He reluctantly took the box and slowly opened it.

He couldn’t see anything, dammit. The skull was secured to the box. He started to undo the fastenings.

His fingers were tingling, burning.

Imagination.

There, he was finished. He’d take the skull out to the fire and get ready to toss it.

He grabbed the box, got out of the car, and strode over to the fire.

The flames were leaping high, the fiery shadows reflecting off the leaves of the surrounding trees.

One more minute and you burn, bitch.

He grabbed the skull and pulled it out of the box and held it high so that he could look at it.

Only it wasn’t a skull.

It was her.

He felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

Same pointed chin, same winged eyebrows.

And those green eyes, blazing at him, as bold as they had been the night he had put her in that grave. She had been afraid, he’d known she was afraid, and yet she wouldn’t admit it to him. That night was suddenly right here before him.

*   *   *

“You’re going to die, little girl.” He cradled his bleeding hand where the little viper had bitten him. “Die, then I’m going to throw you in the ground where no one will ever find you.”

“They’ll find me.” Her eyes were glittering in her pale face. “Because you’re stupid and cruel, and they’ll want to take you and throw you in a jail where they put people like you.”

“Stupid?” He lifted his hand and struck her in the face. Her head jerked back from the blow, but when she lifted it, there was still no fear in her eyes. It filled him with rage. “You bit my hand. Let’s see how you like to have your hands hurt.”

Fear. For the first time he saw fear in her. “Not my hands. I can’t let you—” She lifted her chin defiantly, and the fear was gone. “It won’t matter. They’ll fix them.”

“They won’t bother. You’ll be dead.” He took her hand and bent back the first finger. “Tell me what I want to know. Tell me where they are. If you do, I’ll stop the pain.” He pressed the finger back until he knew it was agony. “Tell me.”

She whimpered.

Why didn’t she scream?

She had never screamed.

Not even when he’d lost his temper and taken the crowbar and struck her on the temple.

*   *   *

He couldn’t see that wound on her temple on this damn reconstruction now. Duncan had carefully erased it. He held the skull higher.

It was as if the blow had never happened.

And those green eyes were blazing with defiance at him as they had when he’d broken her fingers.

No, they weren’t. Glass eyes. They were only glass eyes. But how had Duncan known that little girl had green eyes? How had she known about that pointed chin, those eyebrows?

Guess work. It was only a lucky guess.

And in another moment, all her work would be devoured in these flames.

“No, they won’t. I won’t let you.”

He froze.

Her voice.

His eyes widened in shock, his gaze locked with the green eyes of the skull’s reconstruction.

Ignore it.

He was hearing things.

He had been concentrating so hard on that long-ago night that he had only thought he’d heard Jenny speaking to him.

Hallucination.

As soon as he got rid of the skull, he’d be fine.

“No. I told you that you were stupid. You’ll never get rid of me.”

The voice wasn’t coming from that skull. It was coming from his left, over in the trees.

Don’t look.

“Are you afraid of me? I’m not afraid of you. You can’t do anything to me that you haven’t already done. But I’m only learning everything I can do to you. Look at me, Walsh.”

His head slowly turned.

And then he saw her.

White dress, black, patent-leather shoes, and those eyes as green as the glass ones in this damn skull.

Those eyes that had wept but never held fear.

He could feel his heart pounding and the cold sweat break out. “I’m looking at you, bitch. You’re not real. You’re dead. You’re only a damn hallucination. Once I settle this, I’ll forget you just like I did before.”

“And go on and kill that little girl in Carmel? Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”

“I’ll do what I please. And you don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Then how did I know about the little girl? What’s her name, Walsh?”

“See, I told you that you didn’t know anything. If you were Jenny, you’d know. Go away.”

“So you can toss my skull into that fire? I can’t let you do that.” She took at few steps closer. “I haven’t decided what I’m meant to do with you, but I won’t let you destroy Eve’s work.”

“Let me? What can you do about it?”

“Try it.” She took a step closer, her eyes glaring into his own. “You can’t let it go. You remember when I bit your hand? I didn’t. Not until it all came rushing back to you, then I remembered. There are all kinds of things I don’t remember yet. But I think it will all come back to me. Except the pain. I may not ever remember that entirely. But I can make you remember your pain. Your hand will start to hurt just as it did that night, only the pain won’t go away until you take the skull back to the car.”

“I will drop it.” He started to release the skull into the flames.

Pain!

He screamed.

He backed away from the fire.

The pain lessened but didn’t go away.

“No, Walsh, I won’t let you destroy me all over again.”

Green eyes staring at him, golden skin gleaming in the firelight, lips tight.

He was cursing. “It’s not you. You’re not real. I’ll get over this; and then I’ll burn this skull. Then I’ll find wherever they’ve put your skeleton and burn every bit of you until you’re ashes.” His hands were shaking as he shoved the skull back in the FedEx box. “And then I’ll throw them into the ocean for the fish to eat.”

“You won’t get over it. Every time you try to burn this reconstruction, I’ll be there. It will get worse and worse.” Her voice followed him. “And maybe by that time, I’ll find out what I have to do with you. How you have to be punished…”

“You’re not real.” He didn’t look over his shoulder as he jumped into the car and threw the box with the reconstruction on the floor of the backseat. But he couldn’t resist one last glance after he started the car and pressed the accelerator.

She was still standing there by the fire.

Her dark hair shining in the firelight, her eyes staring at him with that fearless boldness that made him want to kill her all over again.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

But his hand still throbbed and hurt the way it had when she’d bitten him.

He had to get away from her.

His foot stomped on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. He wanted to throw the damn reconstruction out the window, but he couldn’t do it. Too dangerous. It mustn’t ever be found.

Get rid of it later.

Get away.

He’d show her.

But maybe not tonight.

*   *   *

“At last,” Eve said impatiently, as Nalchek finally picked up her call four hours later. She hadn’t been able to get past Nalchek’s voice mail until now, when she was on her way to the airport. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Sorry. I was in a town meeting trying to soothe down a bunch of very nervous citizens. In this town, everyone knows everyone else, and Ron Carstairs’s death sent everybody into a tailspin.”

“I can see how it would. First, you find a murdered little girl, then a deputy is killed. Any developments?”

“No,” he said tersely. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to tell you that Joe and I are going to be on our way out to Sonderville today.”

Silence. “Why?” he asked warily. “You can’t do anything that I can’t.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself since I started the reconstruction. It’s not working for me any longer.”

“It’s true. You did your job, and it’s not your fault that you lost that reconstruction.”

“Well, then why does it feel like my fault?” she asked fiercely. “I should have been able to do something. I shouldn’t have just waved good-bye to that FedEx truck and thought everything would work out. I was uneasy when I did it, and I should have paid attention to instinct.”

“And I’m paying attention to instinct, and everyone in town thinks I’m nuts,” he said dryly. “I know my job, Ms. Duncan. I don’t need you wandering around my town and searching for that bastard who killed Ron. You stay where you are and let me do it.”

“Too late. I’m on the way to the airport.” She paused. “You’re afraid I’ll get in your way.”

“You’re damn right.”

“I won’t do that. I’ll be careful not to step on your toes. I’m bringing Joe Quinn, and he has a tendency to take over, but I won’t let that happen. However, you must have some knowledge of Joe’s capabilities. He’d be an asset to you.”

“I don’t need a big-city detective to barge in—” He stopped. “I sound like a belligerent ass. I guess I’m being defensive.” He was silent. “Yeah, he’d be an asset as long as he doesn’t try to pull rank.”

“It’s your town, Sheriff. And you might find I could be an asset, too.”

A very skeptical silence. “Not without a skull to re-create that little girl’s face.”

“That’s still a possibility. We don’t know that the killer destroyed the reconstruction.”

“If he took it, he destroyed it,” he said flatly. “Nothing else makes sense.”

“Killers aren’t always sensible or logical.” She added bluntly, “And we need to work together if we’re going to blow him out of the water. I have a couple things to ask you about Jenny’s body.”

“Her body?”

“I saw the wound on her temple; did she have any other wounds or signs of torture?”

“Why do you ask?”

“What does it matter? Is there any reason why her hands would hurt?”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes. The bones on the fingers of her right hand were all broken. The pathologist said that they’d been bent back until they snapped.”

Dear God, poor Jenny. Eve felt sick. “Bastard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He paused. “How did you know?”

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have had to ask.” She wasn’t about to tell him about that moment when Jenny had told her about the pain to her hand. He might believe in instinct, but that was entirely different from embracing the concept of ghosts. “Maybe you have a leak.”

“And maybe I don’t.”

She changed the subject. “You said you’ve spent a lot time looking for any clues in those woods where Jenny was found. Have you found anything at all?”

“No.”

“Then why keep looking?”

“Sheer frustration,” he said. “I told you I felt like she was calling to me. I interviewed everyone in the neighborhood about that killing that took place over eight years ago. Nothing. No one missing a child, no one who even remembers a nine-year-old child in the neighborhood who wasn’t fully accounted for. The only things I had left were you and the crime scene.”

“And I failed you,” Eve said. “I’ll make it up, Nalchek.”

“Bullshit. I told you that I didn’t expect more of you than you gave me. What were you supposed to do? Hand-carry the skull out here?”

She chuckled. “You’re right. And I won’t make it up to you, I’ll make it up to me.” Her smile faded. “But your friend was killed near that crime scene, and that means that the killer was watching it. Have you found any signs of anyone besides you wandering around that area?”

“No, if there was anyone, he was damn good about covering his tracks. I grew up in those woods, and I know them like my right hand. I was in the Special Forces, and I’ve been trained to observe. I saw signs of my men and the forensic crew. Nothing else.”

She hesitated. “Maybe you need a fresh eye.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t doubt that your Special Forces training made you very savvy, but there are all kinds of other people with specialized talents that might prove valuable.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Maybe.” She went on quickly, “Isn’t there just a possibility that you might not see—”

“If there was something there, I would have seen it.” His voice was cool. “Is that all?”

“Just one other thing. What clothes was Jenny wearing when you took her out of that grave?”

“What? Why do you want to know that?” He went on impatiently, “Never mind. Everything she had on was in such tatters that it was hard to tell, but we decided that she was wearing a long white dress. Black, patent-leather shoes. Kind of dressy. She looked like she might have come from church. But I sent men around to all the churches within a hundred-mile radius, and they came up with zilch.”

Eve felt a surge of disappointment. Nalchek had already covered the only lead that she had thought might be a possibility. Which only proved how sharp and competent he was. “If not a church, where else would a little girl wear a fancy dress? A party?”

“Search me. I’m still looking.”

The music.

“I have a suggestion. Little children sometimes have musical recitals. They dress up for them.”

“That’s reaching. But I’ll check it out.”

“You’re obviously not going to give up.” She was turning into the airport. “Neither will I, Nalchek. I have to hang up now. I’ll call you when I arrive in San Francisco and have picked up our rental car. Can you give me the name of a decent hotel in your area?”

“Sonderville doesn’t have more than a few hotels. Martello’s Vineyard is pretty nice.” He sighed. “If you’re still set on coming, I’ll make your reservations.”

“I’m still set on coming. Thanks, Nalchek.” She hung up and drove into long-term parking.

The call had not been entirely satisfying, but she knew what she had to face now. Nalchek would cooperate but might be surly. He didn’t want to have anyone getting in his way. She could deal with it. It didn’t matter as long as he was committed, and he was certainly that.

And she had confirmed that the dress in which Jenny had appeared to her was the one she’d worn the night she’d been killed or taken. Where had she gone that night?

And Jenny had suffered that night. Dear heaven, what pain she must have gone through when that monster had broken her fingers.

She drew a deep breath and tried to fight down the anger that was searing through her. Jenny hadn’t remembered the deathblow, but she’d remembered the pain of her hand. Even in the great beyond, that memory had lingered.

Forget it, Jenny. If you can, let it go.

But I won’t let it go. I’ll remember what you went through.

I promise you.

SONDERVILLE, CALIFORNIA

1:05 A.M.

It was damn chilly in the woods tonight. There might be frost by morning.

Nalchek zipped up his leather jacket and moved a little faster down the trail toward the grave site. He could hear the leaves crackle under his feet, Hell, why was he even here at this hour? He hadn’t been able to sleep and had given up after a couple hours of turning and twisting in his bed.

And it was Eve Duncan’s fault. She had made him doubt his ability, and he’d been drawn back here to make sure that he was right, and she was wrong. It had been hard for him to give her the politeness she deserved when he was so frustrated. He didn’t need to begin thinking he might be making mistakes. He had learned in Afghanistan that that could lead to disaster. You just barreled ahead after you decided on a course and went after the objective.

If you knew the objective. It was only a vague—

Movement.

Up ahead.

He stopped.

A light step but not an animal. Two-footed. And the rhythm was different.

And he was headed for the grave site.

Nalchek glided forward, listening.

Not much to hear. That step was very light, and the brush was scarcely moving as he passed.

And then the movement stopped.

He had reached the grave.

Nalchek stopped, too.

No sound.

What was the bastard doing?

He glided forward until he could see the grave beyond the trees.

A figure in jeans and a dark hoodie was kneeling by the grave, reaching, digging through the dirt.

Shit!

“Halt.” He barreled through the trees and dove down in a low tackle. “You’re under—” He stopped as a fist crashed into his lower lip. To hell with it. Read him his rights later.

Just take him down.

He grappled him over on his stomach and grabbed his wrists to cuff him.

Him?

He stiffened. Those wrists were too delicate, that body he was straddling was not—

A woman? Either that or a teenage boy. He’d bet on its being a woman.

He finished the cuffing and flipped her over on her back.

He shined his flashlight down on her face.

Maybe not quite a woman. A girl not over nineteen or twenty.

Her sun-streaked hair had tumbled from beneath the hoodie, and she had glowing, healthy skin, and her blue eyes were very wary.

“I’m not a threat to you.” She moistened her lips. “Are you a threat to me?”

“Maybe. It depends on what you tell me in the next few minutes.”

“I can’t see you. It sounded like you were starting to say I was under arrest before you got rough with me.”

“I didn’t get rough with you. You would have known it if I had.”

“You have on a leather jacket. I felt it when I was struggling with you. It had some kind of insignia on it. Cop?”

“I could be one of the Hell’s Angels.”

“Yeah. I’m hoping for cop. Let me see you.”

He turned the beam on himself. “You might be better off with the motorcycle gang. I don’t like people messing around my crime scenes. Are you some college kid who’s hazing for a sorority?”

“No.” She was studying him with narrowed eyes, her gaze going from his broad shoulders sheathed in the black leather jacket to his muscular body garbed in the tan uniform and down to his black boots. Then it traveled up to his close-cut dark hair, to his craggy cheekbones, square, defined chin, and deep-set blue eyes. “I think maybe you’re right. You look … formidable. I might be better off with a Hell’s Angel.”

“Now that we agree on that score, let’s find out who the hell you are. You’re not a college kid. Curiosity seeker? Do you belong to one of those phony witch covens and are trying to get ritual dirt for one of your spells?”

“You do have an imagination. Why don’t you just let me answer you?” She tilted her head. “You’re the local sheriff? What’s your name?”

“John Nalchek.” He pulled her to a sitting position. “And I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. My next question was going to be what you had to do with the killer who murdered the little girl who was buried in that grave.”

“Nothing. I was just examining the grave and seeing if I could tell if—” She studied his face. “You’re very tough and you’re not ready for explanations yet.” She suddenly gave him a luminous smile. “But maybe you could take these handcuffs off me. Then you could take me to the diner I saw down the road and give me a cup of coffee until you are ready.”

He started to pat her down for weapons. “Or you could tell me your name, and I’ll phone it in and get your record.”

“My name is Margaret Douglas.” She made a face. “And my way is better for all of us. Do you know anything about me?”

“No, but I will after I phone it in. Give me your driver’s license.”

“That’s kind of difficult. I don’t have one.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“I hitchhiked from San Francisco, then walked the rest of the way after I reached Sonderville. You’ve never heard of me?”

“Why should I have heard of you?”

“I thought Eve might have paved the way. I guess she wasn’t sure that I’d show up.”

He stiffened. “Eve?”

“Eve Duncan. She sent word through a friend that she needed me.”

“Why?”

“She thought I might be able to help.” She added simply, “I know pretty much about woods and animals and stuff like this.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“You’re upset. That’s why she didn’t tell you about me. I’m kind of hard to explain.”

“Because you’re a kid who looks like she’s barely out of high school and supposed to be better at tracking and recovery than I am? Yeah, that’s damn hard to explain.”

“And your pride is hurt?” She studied him. “I wouldn’t think that your ego was that fragile.”

He finished searching her. “You don’t know anything about me, Margaret Douglas.”

“No, but I think I’d like to. You’re very interesting. But you can see I’m not much of a danger to you. That patdown was very intimate, and you have to know I don’t have any weapons.”

“Not while I have you down and under control. You could have stashed them somewhere in the woods. You might look like the girl next door, but that doesn’t mean anything. When I was in Afghanistan, a young woman not much older than you came running toward my unit screaming for us to save her. When she was close enough to do damage, she pressed a button and blew herself to pieces, together with four of my buddies.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That must have been terrible for you. No wonder you frisked me down so thoroughly.” She sighed. “Now why don’t you call Eve and tell her that you’ve captured and cuffed me and see what she says. If you don’t trust me, you’ll trust her. Everyone always trusts Eve.”

“Because she’s not a flighty kid wandering around the woods and sniffing the soil around graves.”

“She would if it was part of her job. I imagine she does lots of things that would scare most people off. Call her. I could use that cup of coffee.”

He hesitated. “She’s not going to appreciate a call in the middle of the night. She probably just checked into her hotel.” He started dialing. “What the hell. She’s the one who sent you and started all of us spinning in circles.”

“Spinning? That’s a good word. Yes, she did, didn’t she?” She crossed her legs Indian fashion. “Tell her that I would have called her, but I wanted to have something to tell her before I made contact.”

“Tell her yourself.” He spoke into the phone as Eve answered. “John Nalchek. I apprehended a young woman in the woods tonight at the crime scene. She identified herself as Margaret Douglas. I assume you’re familiar with her?”

“Margaret?” Eve repeated. “I didn’t know she was on her way. Apprehended? That sounds … is she okay?”

“Do you mean did I hurt her? No, but it could have happened when I caught her snooping around that grave.” He added deliberately, “She had no business there.”

“Where is she now?”

“We’re still in the woods.”

“Tell her to bring coffee,” Margaret said, “I’m freezing.”

“She wants coffee,” Nalchek said sarcastically. “I guess she expects you to provide it.”

“I’ll be right there.” Eve hung up.

“She verified your identity,” Nalchek said as he hung up. “So now we sit and wait.”

“You could take me to your car. It would be warmer.”

“No, I think that we’re fine here. You shouldn’t be trekking through the woods in nothing but that hoodie if you’re worried about the cold.”

“Punishment?” She shrugged. “Fine. But I thought that I’d be moving around and be able to keep warm.” She got to her knees. “Will you take off the cuffs and let me do that? I’m not going to run away.”

“How do I know—” He muttered a curse and reached behind her and unlocked the cuffs. “Stay close. I’ll be with you every step.”

“Okay.” She moved toward the grave and fell to her knees. “Just keep out of my way.” She picked up the soil and began to sniff it. She put out her tongue and delicately tasted it.

“What are—”

“Hush.” Then she got to her feet and moved into the surrounding brush. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to escape the unfriendly arms of the law. You can come along.”

“Thank you.” His eyes were narrowed on her. “But I can’t ask questions?”

“You’re not ready. And you disturb my concentration.” She finally stopped beside a huge oak tree. “Here. He likes it here.”

“Who?” Nalchek snapped.

“I don’t know his name or if he has one.” She sat down beneath the tree. “If you’ll be quiet, maybe I can find out.”

Nalchek opened his lips to speak, then closed them again.

Watch.

Listen.

Collate all information.

She might be a screwball. She might be some kind of con artist. But he wouldn’t know if he didn’t stop protesting and start analyzing.

He dropped down beside her and focused on her every move.