Quicksand (11 page)

IT WAS CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT
when Eve's phone rang.

"Did I wake you?" Joe asked when she picked up the phone. "Sorry, I just thought it was important enough to warrant a little loss of sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was working." Her hand tightened on the phone. "You've caught him?"

"No." He paused. "He killed another police officer. According to the medical examiner he believes he was choked to death with a garrote and then hanged from the branches of the tree where we found him."

Eve closed her eyes. "Dear God."

"He had a stake through his heart."

She tensed. "With a note?"

"Yes."

"I don't have to ask what it said, do I?" she asked shakily.

"Same message."

She had known it was coming, but she still felt as if he'd struck her.

She could hear Joe cursing. "Dammit, I didn't want to tell you, but I was afraid someone else would get to you first."

"No, you were right to call me. I had to know." She steadied her voice. "How could it happen?

You said there were so many deputies out there."

"You saw his history. He's trained to kill."

"And those deputies are like sitting ducks."

"I'll get him, Eve."

"Before he kills another man for me?"

"I'll get him," he repeated. "I'm tied up at the scene now, but if you need me, I'll come back right away."

She did need him. Another death . . . Who was the man who'd died in her name? Did he have a family?

"Eve, answer me. Do you need me?"

"I'm all right." What was she supposed to do? Take him away from the search because she was shocked and sad and felt helpless and weak? "Stay. Call me if you find out anything."

"Go to bed and try to sleep. It may take hours. These local forensic boys are doing their best, but they aren't exactly high-tech. I'll let you know if there's anything unexpected." He hung up.

She huddled on the couch and stared at the portfolio Montalvo had brought them this morning. Joe was right, Kistle was trained for guerrilla killing, and ordinary law enforcement officers had little chance in that forest. Even if they had even greater numbers, they could be picked off.

And there would be another killing. Kistle was enjoying proving how superior he was, how he could taunt her. There would be another stake through the heart, another note.
For you, Eve
.

No!

She jerked upright and began to dial.

Montalvo answered on the second ring.

"Another officer was killed," she said. "Joe just called me."

"I know, I heard. I'm on my way there now."

"All those deputies and he's managed to kill three of them. For me, Montalvo. For me."

"No, you know better. He killed because he liked it. You're the excuse."

"I won't be an excuse for murder. It's got to stop. I have to do something." He didn't speak for a moment. "Why did you call? What do you want from me?"

"I want that forest crawling with experienced men who aren't fodder for Kistle. I want the FBI back on the job. I don't want three agents. I want an army. I want them to bring in trackers and forest rangers and men like you and Joe. I want Kistle caught before he kills another man."

"That's a tall order. You know that Quinn doesn't believe we need the FBI."

"I won't see another man killed."

"Quinn is right, the FBI might not be the answer."

"Why are you arguing? You're the one who arranged for them in the first place."

"I'm not arguing. I want them on the job. I just want to be honest. I'm telling you that I'd bet on either Quinn or me getting Kistle. The FBI is just an ace in the hole."
For you, Eve
.

"I want that ace in the hole."

"Then I'll get them for you. It has to be through Venable. You'll come with me tomorrow morning to the riverbank?"

She stiffened. "That psychic? No way."

"Venable set it up. If we go through his nice, safe scenario and come up with nothing, then maybe I can pressure him to forget about his jurisdictional red tape and help us."

"Why do I have to go?"

"You've been through this kind of charade before. Venable will listen to you if you tell him about your experiences and give him comparisons."

Her hand clenched in frustration on the phone. "Damnation, Venable's a smart man. I can't believe he's been taken in like this."

"Will you go?"

She didn't want to go. It would bring back too many hideous memories.

For you, Eve
.

"I'll go." She drew a deep breath. "Pick me up at five. What's this psychic's name?"

"Let me check." He came back on the phone. "Her name is Megan Blair."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MEGAN
, tell him to go to hell," Phillip Blair said. "You don't know what it will do to you."

"I can't tell Venable to go to hell." Megan threw her computer into her duffel and fastened it shut. "He made me an offer I couldn't refuse, Phillip." Should she take her medical bag? She shouldn't be gone more than overnight, but she seldom traveled without it. Why not? She could never tell when it would be needed. Even though she wasn't practicing medicine at the moment, she felt a sense of terrible loss without it. She turned and smiled gently at her uncle.

"Don't worry, Phillip. I'll be fine. I can get through it. I've done it before."

"I've heard how you got through it," Phillip said. "And I could choke Venable for insisting you do this."

That's the way she had felt when she had gotten that phone call from Venable. Not at first—

her initial reaction had been sheer terror followed by the impulse to throw up. "He's not insisting. He just reminded me that he had ignored bud-get concerns in tracking down those kidnapped children from Molino's slavery ring. He promised me at least another year of fighting off the bureaucrats to keep the search going if I did this."

"Charming."

"He's a good man. He must need me."

"And what about you? You may end up in the hospital. Does Grady know?" She shook her head. "Grady's still in Tanzania. He's having problems finding some of the children there." She turned and moved toward him. She could feel his anxiety, and it was hurting her. She laid her head on his chest. "It's only this one time. I'm not going to shatter and blow away."

"It's a little boy, Megan. You love kids. It will tear you apart."

"They don't even know where or if the boy was killed. I may go there and not hear anything."

"Lord, I hope so. I can't talk you out of it?"

"Nope." She brushed her lips on his cheek. "Now I've got to get out of here. Venable's agent will be here to pick me up any minute. I'm supposed to be in Illinois by six." She picked up her duffel and stopped in the hall to get her medical bag. "I'll call you when it's over."

"You'd better. Or I'll be heading to Bloomburg after you."

She could feel his worried gaze on her back as she went out on the porch. She wanted to run back inside to the safe haven her uncle had always given her. Had she been reassuring enough to him? Probably not. He knew her too well not to realize how frightened she was to go to that riverbank.

Please let it not be the place.

Please keep the voices away.

"HERE THEY ARE," MONTALVO SAID
as he caught sight of the sheriff's car pulling up on the side of the road running along the river. "This shouldn't take too long, Eve."

"It might." It was cold on the riverbank. Or maybe it was she who was chilled by the memories of those other times. "How long do we have to put up with her playacting before you call Venable?"

"We'll play it by ear."

Sheriff Dodsworth was opening the door and a young woman was getting out. Megan Blair had glossy dark hair and bright eyes and she radiated vitality.

"She's pretty," Eve said. "The media must love her."

"Venable said she was as media-shy as you are."

"Yeah, sure." She watched the woman walk toward her. Megan Blair wasn't smiling and her hands were jammed into her jacket. "I'll believe that in six weeks if she hasn't given out any interviews."

The sheriff was obviously enamored, hovering next to Megan, smiling and talking. She was nodding absently, her gaze on Eve and Montalvo.

As she drew closer, Eve could see the tightness of her lips and the rigid straightness of her posture. Strange. She found herself studying Megan as the sheriff made the introductions.

"Eve Duncan, Luis Montalvo, this is Dr. Megan Blair. Ms. Duncan is a forensic sculptor, Dr. Blair."

"I know that. I'm from Atlanta and everyone there has heard about her. She's world-famous. How do you do?" Megan took her hand out of her pocket and extended it. Then, before Eve could shake it, she jerked it away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean— I wasn't thinking." She jammed her hand back in her pocket. She turned back to the sheriff. "Where do you want me to go?" Good Lord, the woman was terrified, Eve realized. Or if she wasn't frightened, she was doing a darned good job of pretending.

The sheriff gestured down the bank. "Bobby Joe's tennis shoes and shirt were found by that big sweet gum tree."

"Then let's get it over." She turned and started down the incline.

"Unusual," Montalvo murmured as he took Eve's elbow to help her down the bank. "Why wouldn't she shake your hand?"

Unusual, but that didn't mean honest or not self-serving. "Maybe she has a phobia about germs. Or maybe she's feeling guilty."

They had reached the bank and Eve stopped and watched Megan Blair move toward the tree.

"Aren't you going to ask the sheriff any questions? Won't it help you 'sense' what happened to him?"

"No." She looked over her shoulder at Eve. "Why are you so bitter? Do you think I like doing this?"

"You wouldn't do it if you didn't. What kind of doctor are you? Ph.D.?"

"Medical. I was in the ER at St. Andrew's."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "Is this some kind of weird hobby?"

"It's weird. It's not a hobby." She moistened her lips. "Now back off. I'm upset enough. I don't know why you're angry and I don't care. I just have to make it through this so I can go home."

"Am I interfering with your concentration?"

"I'd bless you if you could interfere. Why do you—" She broke off and her eyes widened.

"Oh, my God, your little girl. I'm not here for her, am I? Venable told me it was a little boy." Eve vehemently shook her head. "Do you think I'd have another phony psychic spitting out garbage about her?"

"I'm sorry," Megan said gently. "Of course you would have tried even that, wouldn't you?

You wouldn't have been able to help yourself."

There was such understanding and pity in her expression that Eve couldn't stand it. "Don't pretend. Don't talk about her. Just put on your show for the sheriff and get out of here." Megan nodded. "I don't blame you." She drew a deep breath. "I'm even grateful to you for distracting me. I was so scared I felt like throwing up." She started for the tree where Montalvo and the sheriff were waiting. "And I've no intention of putting on a show. I'd rather you all go away."

Eve followed her. "So that you can have a séance? Or do you need something that belonged to the boy so you can tell us where he is?"

"Knock it off," Megan said. "Good Lord, those vultures really did a number on you. I can see why you're such a skeptic. A few months ago I would have agreed with you right down the line." She didn't take her eyes from the tree. "Okay, do you want me to tell you what I do? I don't need any objects to tell me where Bobby Joe is. Someone who does that is called a Finder, and I have no talent in that direction. I'm a Listener. I hear voices. Whenever I'm in a place where something highly stressful or tragic happened, I can hear what took place, the conversations, the emotions . . . Oh, yes, definitely the emotions. I hear the complete echo."

"I've never heard anything like that."

"Good, then at least I won't remind you of one of the psychics who tried to cash in on your daughter's death."

"You're still bogus."

"I hope you'll be going away saying that." She went up to the sheriff. "This is the spot?"

"Yes, ma'am. Is there anything else I can do?"

She shook her head. "Why don't you all go back to the cars? I'll come up when I've finished."

"We'll stay," Montalvo said. "I find I'm very interested in all this." She drew a deep breath. "Look, I've only done this once before and I don't even know if I'll draw a blank."

"But you're acting as if you hope you do," Eve said.

"You may not believe anything else I say or do, but believe that," Megan said.

"Only once?" Montalvo said. "Why would Venable trust you to—"

"Go away." Megan's hands were opening and closing at her sides. "Just leave me alone." The fear was back, Eve could see it, feel it. "We'll wait for you on the slope."

"Whatever." She went to the tree and sank down on the ground.

"Do you mind if I go back to the car and check in with my deputies?" the sheriff asked as they started toward the slope. "I came straight from the forest to meet Dr. Blair and I need to see if there are any more developments."

Developments. Did he mean more bodies? Eve thought. "Go ahead. We'll call you if she suddenly comes up with something."

The sheriff glanced back at Megan. "She doesn't seem to be doing anything right now. I've never dealt with a psychic before. The sheriff in the next county invited one to a crime scene once, but nothing came of it."

"Imagine that," Eve murmured.

"I hope no one finds out about this. The guys will never stop rubbing it in. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." The sheriff took off up the hill.

She dropped down on the ground. "This is far enough. Too bad if our vibrations bother her from this distance."

Montalvo sat down beside her. "She didn't mention any vibrations."

"No, I was being sarcastic."

"I noticed. She took it well."

Yes, she had, Eve thought. So she was a class act. It was still a charade.

"She's not moving. What is she doing?" Montalvo asked, his gaze on Megan.

"Why, she'll tell you she's listening. She hears voices, you know."
SEVEN