Body of Lies (24 page)

“You weren’t selfish. If you need to blame someone, blame me.”

“I’m tired of blaming you.”

Joe smiled. “Then I’m not about to urge you to do it. I know when I’ve gotten a break.” His smile faded as his gaze went to the tombstone. “So why did you want me to come up here?”

“Because I wanted to know how I’d feel if I stood here with you.”

He stiffened. “How do you feel?”

“Sad. Regretful. Scarred.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means you made a mistake and it hurt me terribly. It means I probably made a few mistakes myself. It means I have to heal and it will take some time.” Eve met his gaze. “But I don’t want to do it alone. I want you with me. Whether it hurts or not, I can’t imagine life without you.”

“Hallelujah,” he whispered.

“I don’t promise you everything will be the same. But then you said you weren’t sure you wanted it that way.”

“I would have taken it.” Joe moved to stand beside her, but not touching her. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“I want you to have this little girl disinterred. I’m going to do a reconstruction on her. Then I want you to help me find out who she is.”

“Done.”

“And I’m going to find my Bonnie. Will you help me?”

“For God’s sake, of course I will.” He paused. “I’ve never stopped looking. I’ve followed up on every report, every lead, even after I paid to have that DNA report sent to you.”

She went still. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t think you were in the mood to believe me.”

“Maybe I wasn’t. Would you have told me if you’d found her?”

He smiled crookedly. “I asked myself that a thousand times. I think I would. I hope I would. I can’t guarantee it.”

“I hope you would, too. Because I want to trust you again, Joe.”

“You already trust me. You just have to recognize that you do. Why else would you agree to start again?”

“Because I love you so much that life’s not worth a damn without you,” she said simply. “In spite of everything that’s happened, that’s the bottom line.”

Joe drew a deep breath and held out his hand to her. “Yeah, that’s the bottom line.”

Eve hesitated, then slowly reached out and took his hand.

Strength. Comfort. Love. His touch was so familiar, and yet it had an element now that was tentative and entirely new.

Rebirth? Maybe.

Whatever it was, like Joe, she’d take it.

Her hand tightened around his as she turned away from the grave. “We’d better get back to Jane. I think she was worried.”

“I know she was.” Joe walked beside her toward the path. “She was afraid you were going to ditch me. She was probably concerned about who would get custody of Toby.”

“Don’t be silly. Jane would get custody even if she had to run away from home with that dog.” She suddenly stopped to look back over her shoulder at the grave she had called Bonnie’s all these months.

“Okay?” Joe asked gently.

She was beginning to think it would be okay. Hope was a wonderful thing, and they had that great bottom line. “Sure, I was just thinking about that little girl. I want to get to work on the reconstruction right away.” She started down the path again. “I think I’ll call her Sally. . . .”

Epilogue

“I like the name Sally,” Bonnie said. “One of my friends at school was Sally Meyers. Do you remember her, Mama?”

Eve looked over her shoulder to see Bonnie curled up on the window seat. “You had a lot of friends.” She went back to measuring the child’s skull for depth markers. “And if I’d remembered her, I certainly wouldn’t have named this poor kid after her.”

“Why not?” Bonnie giggled. “You’re superstitious. You think it might be bad luck.”

“I’m not superstitious.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’ve just learned not to take chances, brat.”

“Sally’s fine. Her daddy gave her a car and she almost died in an auto accident last year. But she’s getting well.”

“I don’t call that exactly fine.”

“Well, she would have been happier on this side, but she’s still fine.”

“And I can’t relate to your notion of a happy little afterlife, either.”

“I know. It’s out of your realm of experience. That’s why you’re so determined to find me.”

“Don’t be patronizing. I’m still your mother.”

“Yes, you are.” Bonnie smiled lovingly. “And I understand why you want to bring me home. It’s just that I don’t want you to hurt yourself doing it. You almost lost Joe this time.”

“We’re working it out.”

“Yes.” Bonnie leaned her head back against the window. “I can feel it in you.”

“Feel what?”

“A sort of glow, a serenity . . .”

“Oh, give me a break.”

“Have I embarrassed you? Serves you right for being such a cynic.” Her glance shifted to Sally. “I hope you’re able to bring her home. She’s been lost a long time.”

“How long?”

“Longer than me. Have you heard anything from Galen?”

“No, have you?”

“Do you mean, is he dead? I don’t think so.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know why it even bothers me. He’s a law unto himself. I refuse to worry about him.”

Bonnie chuckled. “You’ll worry.” She was silent a moment. “I have to leave now. Jane and Toby will be coming up the porch steps in a few minutes. She’s going to show you a trick she taught him.”

“Is that supposed to prove you’re clairvoyant? She teaches him a new trick every other day.”

“Well, I thought I’d try. You’re a tough sell. By the time they come in that door, you’ll have persuaded yourself that you’ve just woken from a nap and started working on Sally again.”

“Which is probably what happened.” She could hear Toby scrambling up the porch steps and then shaking his coat. “He sounds like he’s been in the water. We can’t keep him dry. He refuses to stay out of the lake. The rascal’s full of the devil.”

“He’s full of life. You could learn from him. Let life in, Mama.”

The door was opening, and Eve knew if she glanced at the window seat Bonnie would no longer be there.

“Eve, you’ve got to see this!”

Bonnie was gone, but life was here, joyously bounding into the room with Jane and Toby.

“I can’t wait.” Eve wiped the clay from her hands and went forward to meet it.

About the Author

IRIS JOHANSEN, who has more than eight million copies of her books in print, has won many awards for her achievements in writing. The bestselling author of
The Search, Final Target, The Killing Game, The Face of Deception, And Then You Die,
and
The Ugly Duckling
lives near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is currently at work on a new novel.

BANTAM BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN

No One to Trust

Body of Lies

Final Target

The Search

The Killing Game

The Face of Deception

And Then You Die

Long After Midnight

The Ugly Duckling

Lion’s Bride

Dark Rider

Midnight Warrior

The Beloved Scoundrel

The Magnificent Rogue

The Tiger Prince

Last Bridge Home

The Golden Barbarian

Reap the Wind

Storm Winds

The Wind Dancer

A Main Selection of The Literary Guild,
Doubleday Book Club, and Mystery Guild

Praise for the bestselling novels of

Iris Johansen

BODY OF LIES

“Filled with explosions, trained killers, intrigues within intrigues . . . it all adds up to one exciting thriller.”

—Booklist

“A romantic thriller whose humanity keeps the reader rooting for its heroine every step of the way.”

—Publishers Weekly

“[Johansen] doesn’t let her readers down.”

—The Star-Ledger,
Newark, NJ

“Johansen has come up with another fascinating psychological suspense tale.”

—Abilene Reporter-News

“Another page-turning thriller.”

—Post & Courier,
Charleston, SC

“A taut psychological tale . . . [BODY OF LIES] will keep you pinned to the pages.” —
The Ottawa Citizen

FINAL TARGET

“A winning page-turner that will please old and new fans alike.” —
Booklist

“A compelling tale.” —
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

“Thrilling . . . will have fans of the author ecstatic and bring Ms. Johansen new readers.”

—Bookbrowser

THE SEARCH

“Thoroughly gripping and with a number of shocking plot twists . . . [Johansen] has packed all the right elements into this latest work: intriguing characters; a creepy, crazy villain; a variety of exotic locations.”

—New York Post

“Johansen’s thrillers ooze enough testosterone to suggest she also descends from the house of Robert Ludlum. Johansen pushes the gender boundary in popular fiction, offering up that rarity: a woman’s novel for men.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Fans of Iris Johansen will pounce on
The Search
. And they’ll be rewarded.” —
USA Today

“A spine-tingler.” —
The Miami Herald

“Sabotage, dangerous secrets, and lots of dark action characterize Johansen’s enthralling thriller.”

—Abilene Reporter-News

THE KILLING GAME

“Johansen is at the top of her game . . . An enthralling cat-and-mouse game . . . perfect pacing . . . The suspense holds until the very end.” —
Publishers Weekly

“Most satisfying.” —
Daily News,
New York

“[A] fast-paced, clever suspense novel that kept me intrigued to the end. In fact, I read it in one sitting.”

—The Roanoke Times

“An intense whodunit that will have you gasping for breath.” —
The Tennessean

“For a well-plotted thrill-a-minute read, you can’t go wrong with this one.” —
The Pilot,
Southern Pines, NC

THE FACE OF DECEPTION

“One of her best . . . a fast-paced, nonstop, clever plot in which Johansen mixes political intrigue, murder, and suspense.” —
USA Today

“The book’s twists and turns manage to hold the reader hostage until the denouement, a sure crowd pleaser.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Johansen keeps her story moving at breakneck speed.”

—The Daily Sun,
Chicago

“This is a great mystery with exciting twists and turns.”

—The Sunday Advocate Magazine,
Baton Rouge

AND THEN YOU DIE

“Iris Johansen keeps the reader intrigued with complex characters and plenty of plot twists. The story moves so fast, you’ll be reading the epilogue before you notice.”

—People

“Fans of Mary Higgins Clark will enjoy Iris Johansen’s latest, a supercharged thriller. There’s peril, romance, and suspense aplenty as the good guys face the clock to stop the villains.” —
Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine

“A well-crafted romance thriller.” —
Kirkus Reviews

“From the first page, the reader is pulled into a realm of danger, intrigue, and suspense with a touch of romance and enough twists and turns to gladden the hearts of all of her readers.” —
Library Journal

LONG AFTER MIDNIGHT

“Iris Johansen is incomparable.”

—
Tami Hoag,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Dark Horse

“One of the most thrilling books I have curled up with in a long time.”

—
Michael Palmer,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Silent Treatment
and
Critical Judgment

“You’ll be racing through to the last page.”

—
Catherine Coulter,
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Maze

“Flesh-and-blood characters, crackling dialogue and lean, suspenseful plotting.” —
Publishers Weekly

“A lively, engrossing ride by a strong new voice in the romantic suspense genre.” —
Kirkus Reviews

THE UGLY DUCKLING

“Outstanding. A real page-turner. Many will add [Iris Johansen’s] name to their list of favorite authors.”

—
Associated Press

If you love Iris Johansen’s brand of suspense, don’t miss her latest hardcover

No One to Trust

Trained by the military as an assassin, Elena Kyler has always relied on herself to survive—until now. On the run from a terrifying killer, her desperation leads her to seek help from Sean Galen—the most dangerous man she knows. And in order to saver her own life, she must learn to trust for the first time and find an ally in the most unsuspected place.

On sale now!

1

Arapahoe Junction, Colorado
October 15

“I know I’m late, dammit.” Alex Graham’s hand clenched on her cell phone. “I’ll get those pictures to you as soon as I can.”

“You’d get them to me sooner if you’d stop working in the rubble and start taking pictures of those rescue workers whose job it is to do it,” Jim Karak said sarcastically. “Old news is no news, Alex. That dam broke almost a week ago and the magazine goes to press in two days.”

“They’re still digging survivors from the landslide caused by the dam break.”

“Then you should be taking warm, heroic pictures instead of manning a shovel. You’re breaking one of the cardinal rules. You’re becoming part of the story.”

“There may be people alive beneath that—” It was no use. Karak had one priority and that was the story. “You’ll get the pictures.” She hung up and leaned back against the wall and rubbed her temple. God, she was tired. She’d be lucky if Karak didn’t call her back and tell her to find another magazine to publish her work. She wasn’t being fair and certainly not professional. If she hadn’t had a decent track record before this, Karak would have dumped her days ago.

“Problems?” Sarah Logan and her dog, Monty, were standing in the doorway of the trailer.

“A few.” She grimaced as she rose to her feet. “It seems I’m not doing my job. I’m not focusing on what’s important.”

“You could have fooled me.” Sarah filled Monty’s bowl with water and sat down on the floor beside him while he drank. “We found a baby alive in that hellhole this morning. I’d say that was pretty important.”

“Me too.” Alex smiled. “Screw Karak.”

Sarah didn’t return her smile. “I don’t want you to lose your job, Alex. I know how much your work means to you. There are other volunteers out there helping to dig.”

Alex lifted her brows. “Oh, then you have too much help?”

“You know there’s no such thing in a disaster like this. We have to work fast or—okay, we need you. I just don’t want you to be hurt. God knows there’s enough pain in this world.”

And Sarah Logan witnessed a good deal of it, Alex thought. She and her golden retriever, Monty, were in a canine search-and-rescue team, and Alex had run across her on half a dozen disaster sites during the last five years. In the horror of natural and manmade tragedies, a strong bond of friendship had been forged. “I’ll be okay.”

“Your editor is right. This isn’t your job.” She shook her head. “Look at you. You’re covered in dirt from head to toe. Your hands are bleeding from that shovel and you haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”

“Have you?”

Sarah ignored the question. “And it’s more than your hands that are bleeding. Take a step back, Alex. It will break you if you get too close to it. Believe me, I know.”

“It’s not as though I haven’t been to other disaster sites.”

“But then you weren’t as involved. You were taking photographs and helping in the first-aid tent. You weren’t uncovering the bodies of people you hoped would be alive.”

She didn’t want to think of those bodies. There had been too many in the last few days. “Yet you do it all the time. You could stay home and live soft and yet, every time there’s a call, you and Monty are off and running. I’m surprised your husband doesn’t raise hell.”

“He doesn’t like it, but he understands.” She frowned. “But we’re not talking about me. I’ve watched you work and there’s no one more dedicated. You love what you do and you’ve told me a dozen times that your job is to tell the story. Don’t get sidetracked.”

“I’m not sidetracked. I’ll get it done.” She bent down and stroked Monty’s soft fur. “I just can’t—I’ll get it done.”

Sarah stared at her, troubled. “I don’t think you should accept assignments like this anymore. I’ve seen it coming since Ground Zero, but it’s getting worse. You’ve . . . changed.”

Steel and concrete and that stinging smoke that seemed to cover the world like a shroud. “Ground Zero changed all of us.” Sarah and Monty crawling among the ruins while Alex watched helplessly. Sarah and Alex holding desperately to each other while the tears poured down both their faces.

Sarah nodded. “But I had someone to go home to while I healed. I should have made you come with me.”

“Life had to go on. I had to go on.” She shrugged. “And if I took some baggage with me, then that’s the way it had to be. I’m usually okay. This one was rough. It brought back too many memories.”

“But it’s not the same,” Sarah said gently. “We’ve found survivors here, Alex. Seventy-two so far.”

“That’s not enough,” she whispered. “It’s never enough. I can’t stand by and let—” She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Is it your rest time?”

Sarah shook her head. “I just had to get Monty some water. My canteen was empty. We still have a few hours to work until dark. It’s less dangerous for Monty if he can see clearly what’s out there.” She paused. “But we’ve just had two bits of good news. The President is coming here next week.”

“It’s about time. Vice President Shepard was here the day after the dam broke.”

“Yeah, I was impressed. But it’s when the President shows up that FEMA and all the aid organizations get a boost.”

“That’s good.” She made a face. “Maybe I can convince Karak I was only waiting for Andreas to show up so that I could give him a really big story.” She shook her head. “Nah, I’m no good at lying. Besides, security is so tight around the President right now that I wouldn’t get within a mile of him.”

“I’m surprised he’s coming at all. There was a bombing at the embassy in Mexico City last night.”

“The same terrorist group?”

Sarah nodded. “Matanza claimed it. And an effigy of Andreas was left burning on the lawn.”

“Bastards.” It was the third embassy attack by the Guatemalan terrorist group in the last six months. If it wasn’t the Middle East, it was Guatemala or Venezuela. Juan Cordoba and his Matanza group had always been rabid revolutionaries in their own country, but now—fueled by drug money and Al Qaeda support—they had grown powerful enough to take aim at Andreas and the administration that was trying to stabilize the party in power. It seemed impossible to Alex that there had ever been a time when this country hadn’t been surrounded by terror and ugliness and threats. Yet she could remember a childhood filled with trust and innocence and the belief that nothing really bad could come knocking on her door. The memory filled her with frustration and anger and immense sadness. “I hope your second bit of good news is better than your first.”

“Hey, you have to take the bitter with the sweet. At least Andreas isn’t letting anyone scare him into ignoring people who need him. He should be safe enough visiting this site. All the evidence points to a natural disaster here.” She smiled. “And the preliminary report on the ground on the other side of the dam says it appears to be fairly stable. They’re sending some teams up there tomorrow morning to do a final check. When a landslide buried this area, they were afraid the ground on the other side might be compromised.”

“Jesus. That’s all these poor people need. Another landslide.”

“They tried to evacuate everyone from that area just for safety’s sake. But it looks like they can go back home.” Sarah stroked Monty’s head. “Time to go back to work, boy.” She stood up and headed for the door. “And it’s a good time for you to take some photographs.”

“How bossy can you get?” Alex followed her and stood at the doorway, gazing out at the disaster site. Every time she looked at the devastation it made her sick. The Arapahoe Dam had broken five days ago and the water had rushed down into the valley below, killing over a hundred twenty people. But the series of landslides caused by the explosive force of the water on either side of the valley was the horror they were dealing with now. The rock slides had covered the homes and businesses of Arapahoe Junction under tons of rock, and the area was still so unstable the rescue had to be done painstakingly by hand, not machine. Her glance shifted across the jagged wreck of the dam to the hills on the other side. The rocky terrain looked blessedly sturdy in a shaky world.

Christ, she was glad there wasn’t going to be another horror piled on top of this one.

“Stop looking at it,” Sarah called back to her. “Take those photos.”

Sure, take the pictures. Ignore the fact that there might be more people alive under those rocks.

“Promise me,” Sarah said.

“I promise. I’ll take the damn photos. I’ll get them and send them out today.” She grabbed her shovel that was leaning against the trailer. But as Sarah had said, there was still light and the job on this side of the gorge was monumental. “But not now. I can’t do it now. . . .”

It was late afternoon when Alex stopped working and went back to the trailer to get her camera.

She’d cut it close and she’d have to work fast to get the photos before dark. Well, if she didn’t get all she needed she’d improvise.

A helicopter was descending at the first-aid tent a few hundred yards away from the trailer and she waved at Ken Nader, the pilot, as he got out of the aircraft.

He waved back and called, “I brought you that special lens to replace the one you said you damaged.”

“Thanks. I don’t need it right now. I’ll be over later to get it.” She turned and started up the hill.

The hillside was still crawling with men and women carefully picking away at the rocks. She’d gotten to know a few of them this week as they’d worked side by side. Janet Delsey was a resident of the town that had been buried beneath the landslide. She’d been in Denver when the tragedy happened. She had worked in the local library, and her parents had not been found yet.

Alex focused and took the picture.

Bill Adams was a truck driver who had been passing through when he’d heard about the dam. He’d parked his rig and volunteered to help.

She snapped the picture.

Carey Melway was a college student, full of idealism and hope, who had come down from Salt Lake City. Alex had watched him change from a kid to an adult in these last few days.

She took the picture.

She took four rolls of film in the next hour. The volunteers, the canine rescue teams, the flooded gorge.

“You left it a little late.” Sarah was carefully making her way down the side of the mountain, followed by Monty. “Are you going to have enough material?”

“Too much.” She looked at Janet Delsey again. “Do you think she has any chance of finding her parents alive?”

“A chance, if we can get to them in time. At least this isn’t a mud slide. There are pockets of air beneath those rocks.” She motioned for Monty. “I have to get down and feed him his dinner and vitamins. Are you almost finished?”

Alex shook her head. “I’ve got most of the human-interest shots, but I need a photograph that tells the big story, the scope of the rescue operation.”

She waved her hand. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Sarah was right. It was difficult to encompass the full depth of a tragedy when you were on top of it.

On top of it.

Her gaze flew across the gorge. The terrain was higher there and it probably afforded a view of both the flooded valley and the workers laboring on the landslide. Sarah had said they were ninety percent sure the ground over there was safe.

If she could get across the gorge.

She couldn’t walk across it or swim across it. Which led to only one other means of transportation.

She turned and hurried down the slope toward the first-aid tent.

The helicopter circled and then dipped closer to the trees. “If that ground looks even a little wobbly, I’m not leaving you here,” Ken Nader told Alex grimly. “You got the aerial shots. That should be enough for you. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

“Because you’re a good guy and you knew I had to have these pictures. And you can see it’s safe here. The worst that can happen to me is if I fall down that slope into the floodwaters.” She grinned as she stowed her camera in her backpack. “And if I’m that clumsy, then I deserve to drown. Just go back to the first-aid tent in case they have an emergency and pick me up in an hour.”

“You’d better be here.” He set down in a glade in the trees. “I don’t like this, Alex.”

“It will be fine. I’m not stupid. I don’t take chances.” She jumped out of the helicopter. “Thanks, Ken.” She adjusted her backpack with her equipment, waved, and turned away. “One hour . . .”

It took her fifteen minutes before she could get out of the forest and start climbing the hill toward the huge red rock on the pinnacle she’d seen from the other side of the gorge.

The sun was going down and twilight was hovering.

Hurry. Get up there before it’s fully dark.

She was quickly loading and adjusting her camera in the last few minutes before she reached the pinnacle.

Now, if she had enough light . . .

Oh, my God.

The entire valley was spread before her. The tops of houses drowned in the floodwaters below. Moving lanterns and floodlights dotted the site of the landslide. Men and women looking small and helpless as ants trying to stop the death and destruction.

She drew a deep, shaky breath, raised the camera, and took the picture.

Then she took another and another.

She didn’t stop until it was fully dark and she could see only the lanterns and floodlights.

How long had she been here? she wondered as she repacked her equipment and started down the hill. Probably too long, but she hadn’t heard Ken’s helicopter, so she still had time to get to the glade. He’d wait anyway. In spite of his threat, he wouldn’t leave her here.

Her pace quickened as she heard the rotors of the helicopter. Strange, she hadn’t seen the aircraft lights when she’d been looking out over the gorge. She supposed it could have been circling and come in from the east, but she couldn’t—