Blood Game

THREE

EVE WATCHED THE POLICE CAR with the young officer who had picked up the goblet go down the drive, passing the other police car parked on the road.

“There, it’s gone.” She turned to Jane. “Now will you go to bed and get some sleep?”

“Yep.” Jane gave her a hug and turned toward her bedroom. “It made me uneasy. No, it scared the hell out of me. The thing just reminded me of an Aztec or Mayan sacrificial cup. Not the most soothing thought to lull one to sleep. Now it’s in the hands of the police, and we’re doing something about it. Joe will get to the bottom of it.”

“Yes, we can count on that.” Eve watched Jane go into the bedroom and shut the door. She knew what Jane meant about the uneasiness. She’d had the same reaction when she’d seen the goblet.

Forget it. She couldn’t do anything about it now. There was a guard on duty. The alarm-company inspector would be out in a few hours to make sure the alarm could not be tampered with again. Keep busy. Check the mail. Check her e-mail to see if there were any requests for her to work on any of the children found on the island in the swamp. She reached for the pile of letters on the coffee table.

Her phone rang. Megan, again.

“I’m fine, Megan,” she said as she picked up. “I know you’re concerned, but I’m not experiencing any—”

“What about Joe Quinn?”

Eve froze. “What about him?”

“How much physical contact did he have with me while I was unconscious?”

“You were in shock and ice-cold. On the way back to the dock, he held you in his arms to warm you.”

“Damn.”

“Megan, you were unconscious. According to what you told me, this particular gift doesn’t usually work unless you’re fully aware and in a high emotional state.”

“Usually. I don’t have that much experience with it. I just don’t know. But I told you, I could hear those murdered children even while I was in a coma. That means every part of my mind was still keyed up and functioning. Maybe that facilitation effect was functioning too.”

“If it was working, then maybe Joe and I are immune.”

“God, I hope so. Your Joe isn’t behaving differently?”

“No. He’s working on a case now. I talked to him on the phone a few hours ago.” Eve tried to smother the sudden flash of anxiety that made her hand tighten on the phone. “Okay, he was a little . . . stiff with Jane when she first came. Maybe a little emotional with me. But he’s been through a hell of a lot in the past few days. I’m not willing to ascribe a slight difference in behavior to your voodoo.”

“Would he talk to you if he had a problem that was off the normalcy scope?”

“He talks to me.” But Joe was the ultimate realist. Would he even admit to himself that he was experiencing something neither real nor acceptable to him? And he hadn’t been able to talk to her this morning about what was troubling him.

“But you’re not sure,” Megan said shrewdly. “Not in this case. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame him. None of the usual rules apply. You question your sanity. That’s the first reaction. After that, I imagine it’s up to the individual.”

“Megan.” Eve had to say it. “I believe that you heard those dead children. It was very difficult for me to come to that conclusion. As you said, it breaks all the rules. But I can’t believe in this facilitation business. I know you do, and I respect you, but I think you must be mistaken.”

“You said that very diplomatically,” Megan said. “It’s only what I expected.” She was silent a moment. “We’ve become friends, Eve. I hoped you might trust me in this. It’s lonely carrying this by myself.”

“We are friends. Friends don’t always agree.”

“That’s true.” She added, “But friends also protect each other, and I have to keep trying to do that. I have to protect you, and I have to protect Joe Quinn.” Her voice vibrated with intensity. “Even if I had no personal feelings for you, I have a responsibility. I won’t let either of you be destroyed by something I did, something I am. Promise me that you’ll keep an eye out for anything out of the normal?”

“Of course.”

“And promise you’ll call me. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Good. I know that was hard for you. You prefer to keep things to yourself.”

“And you don’t?”

“Sure. We have a good deal in common. Maybe that’s why I feel so close to you. Good-bye, Eve.” She hung up.

Yes, and that was why she felt close to Megan, Eve thought as she hung up. They both had a past that cast shadows on their present and had fought through nightmare pain. She hadn’t wanted to tell Megan that she doubted her. Megan was her friend, and that friendship was a rare and special thing in Eve’s life. She led a very solitary existence except for Joe, and, of course, Jane. Megan had almost exploded into her life while they were searching for the remains of a little boy, and they had formed bonds that would be hard to break.

Eve went out on the porch and down the steps to the lake path. Why was she fighting Megan so hard in this? Megan had shown her bizarre and chilling things that had rocked her to her core. Yet Eve found she couldn’t take that final step and swallow all that business about her touch releasing latent psychic gifts. She had rejected it almost instinctively. She should have at least—

________

“You were afraid, Mama.”

Bonnie.

She glanced at the tall pine tree beneath which Bonnie was sitting cross-legged. Same Bugs Bunny T-shirt, her mop of red curls was shining in the sunlight, and her smile was warm and bright. Eve felt a rush of love so intense that she couldn’t speak for a moment. “And how do you know that?” she asked lightly. “There aren’t many things that I’m afraid of, Bonnie.”

“Because you’re not afraid of being hurt or dying. Because you think you’d be happier with me.” She shook her head. “But I keep telling you that can’t happen. We will be together but not for a long time. You have to stay and take care of Joe and Jane. They need you.”

“Lecture number fifty-six.”

Bonnie chuckled. “More than that. You just don’t listen, Mama.”

“You’re either a ghost or a dream. Why should I listen?”

“Because you love me. Because you know I’m right.”

Yes, she loved her. From the moment she had given birth to her, Bonnie had been the center of her life. When her little girl had been taken from her, she had thought her life was over. Then these dreams of Bonnie had begun to come to Eve about a year after she had disappeared. Dream or spirit? During those first years, telling herself these appearances were only dreams was a safety net and kept her certain of her own sanity. Nowadays, she didn’t really care whether her daughter was a dream or a ghost. She was real to her, she was here. “You always think you’re right, young lady.”

“Because I am. Especially where you’re concerned, Mama.”

“And why do you think I’m afraid?”

“Because of Joe. You’re afraid for Joe.” The tiniest frown wrinkled her brow. “I’m afraid, too.”

“Why?”

“He’s not like you. I love Joe. I was so happy . . . But he’s not like you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bonnie looked at her. “You’re afraid because Joe may be different. Megan scared you.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Joe is like an anchor for you. He is what he is. You don’t want him to be changed.”

“Everybody changes. That’s what life’s all about. You learn to love the changes too.”

“What if Joe doesn’t love the changes? I went away, but I don’t think she will.”

“Megan? Look, Bonnie, this psychic thing is completely without—” Her cell phone rang and she reached in her pocket. “It’s Montalvo.”

BONNIE DIDN’T ANSWER.

Eve didn’t have to glance at the pine tree to know that Bonnie would no longer be there. Disappointment sharpened her voice as she answered the phone. “What do you want, Montalvo?”

“In what order?” Montalvo asked. “No, I can tell by your tone that you’re not about to indulge me that way. I called to tell you that there was another credit slip for Kevin Jelak issued at a gas station in Calhoun, Georgia.”

Calhoun. That was a town not too far from Chattanooga. “He’s coming closer. What was the date on the slip?”

“Yesterday.”

“He’s leaving a trail. It’s stupid of him to use a credit card that can be traced.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know that we know about him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he wants us to know he’s heading this way.” She gazed out at the lake. “Why now, Montalvo? It’s strange that he should appear right on the heels of Kistle’s death. All these years, and we heard nothing from Jelak. Did those investigators of yours stir him into action?”

“Possibly. I’m expecting a report on him later today. They’re tracing his background through the credit-card application. I’ll let you know.” He paused. “Is everything all right with you?”

A gold goblet stained with blood.

“Everything is fine.”

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll let it go. I’ll call you when I have anything of interest to you.” He hung up.

It didn’t surprise her that Montalvo would sense her disturbance. He knew her very well. Too well.

She turned and moved back toward the cottage. She would finish going through her e-mail, then maybe take a nap while Jane was still asleep. She’d had only a few hours’ sleep before she’d had to go pick up Jane at the airport.

As if she’d be able to relax, she thought ruefully. Her mind was skipping from Jelak to Megan’s worried questions about Joe, to that damn goblet. Everything was swirling around her, leaping closer, like a tornado, hovering, then touching down.

And Bonnie was the eye of the tornado, calm, loving, a shimmering orb that vanished as the storm overtook them.

She glanced back at the pine tree where Bonnie had been sitting and remembered those last cryptic words.

I went away, but I don’t think she will.

Uneasiness, again.

She impulsively reached in her pocket for her phone and dialed Joe. She wanted to reach out, touch him.

“I was just going to call you.” His tone was curt. “I’ve been busy as hell. This crime scene is a media circus. We have to cordon off the entire area to keep the journalists from sneaking past the tapes.”

“Why?”

“That’s right, I didn’t tell you. The victim is Nancy Jo Norris. Her father is Ed Norris. He’s flying down from Washington now, and we have to get the forensic investigation done and Nancy Jo moved to the morgue before we have him coming here and causing more uproar from the media. I’ll be late getting home.” He paused. “After I leave here, I want to stop by the precinct and take a look at that goblet. We should have a preliminary report on the blood by that time.”

“Nancy Jo Norris.” Eve felt sick. “I saw a photo of her in the newspaper last month. She was playing soccer in some tournament. She was smiling, and she looked positively radiant.”

“That’s one of the reasons the media is hyped. A 4.0 student, popular, good at sports, on the student council . . . and a daddy who might run for president someday.”

“Poor girl. Everything to live for . . .” She shook her head. “I’d be out there on top of you too. Any clues as to who did it?”

“One.” He paused. “Schindler thinks it may be a ritual killing.”

“What do you think?”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to you about it when I get home tonight. Do me a favor. You and Jane stick close to the cottage today. Is the squad car there?”

“Yes, he’s parked down the road.” She was silent a moment. “I thought I might be overreacting. You’re really worried about that goblet.”

“Damn right. And you’re not overreacting, Eve. Just stay close to the house, okay?”

“Okay. Jane and I have some catching up to do anyway.”

“I’ll be home soon as I can. By the way, why did you phone me?”

Joe was so blessedly normal Eve felt foolish that she had yielded to the temptation to call him. “I just wanted to talk to you. Is everything all right with you?”

He didn’t answer directly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“No reason. I’ll see you tonight.” She hung up. Lord, she was relieved. He sounded much better than he had earlier. She had told Megan that she and Joe talked, but she had slid away from telling Joe about Megan’s call. He would have just laughed and made some kind of derogatory comment about Megan’s voodoo.

You were afraid, Mama.

But there’s nothing to be afraid of, baby. Joe is doing just fine.

“I’M ON MY WAY BACK TO THE precinct,” Schindler said as he watched the M.E. vehicle pulling away from the curb carrying Nancy Jo Norris to the morgue. “You too?”

Joe nodded. “Right away. I want to take a look at that goblet they pulled from her hand.” He was moving toward Johnson, who had placed the goblet in a clear plastic bag and was sealing it. “I won’t be long.”

“Better not. They’re going to want our reports in a hurry. Everything is going to have to be in a hurry. The captain will need answers.”

“She’s not going to get them. Forensics is swearing that the killer didn’t leave much for them to work with. He cleaned up the site.

“Except maybe that goblet . . .” Joe took the plastic bag from Johnson and held it up to the light. The sun was going down, but the rays pierced the plastic, and he could make out the carving. It looked like an ancient dining hall, a long table at which sat several men. All the men had goblets sitting in front of them, and one man was standing with a goblet raised in his hand.

“I’ve got to get that to the lab, Quinn,” Johnson said. “My boss has been on my ass for the last hour.”

“I know. The big push.” Joe handed the bag back to him. “I’m pushing too. Get it done fast, Johnson.” He turned away. “And I want a report every step of the way.”

He started for his car, then turned and looked back at the place by the river where they’d found Nancy Jo Norris. The chalk outline gleamed in the fading light. Too neat for a murder—

What?

See.

Hear.

Open.

He stiffened. What the hell?

There were four uniformed officers guarding the taped-off crime scene. Forensics had gone. Two TV trucks were down the street. The words hadn’t come from there.

See. Hear. Open.

He moved slowly toward the trees beyond the place where Nancy Jo Norris had been murdered.

See. Hear. Open.

He was now in the twilight shadows cast by the trees. He stood still, listening, waiting for it to come again.

“I don’t like it here. It scares me.”

He whirled to the left and saw her.

She was standing only a few yards away. Long blond hair, jeans, red University of Georgia sweatshirt, a face that he’d been staring at all day, blue eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked hoarsely.

“I’m Nancy Jo. Who are you?”

Joe felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. He could feel the small hairs rise on the back of his neck. Get a grip. There had to be an explanation.

“You’re some relation to the dead girl? A sister?”

“I don’t have a sister. Dead girl.” She whispered, “You’re talking about me, aren’t you? I don’t understand. How can that be? Why?”

“How did you get here? Why didn’t the policeman on duty stop you at the tape?”

“I’ve been here all day, watching you.” She shuddered. “You kept talking about that girl as if she was me. She’s not me. She used to be, but that was before he—”

He had to stop this craziness. Get everything back to reality. “You’re saying that she’s not Nancy Jo Norris? Then who is the victim?”

“Victim.” She closed her eyes. “Yes, I was a victim. I’ve been trying to run away from it. But he made me a victim. He took away my life. And my blood. He took my blood.” Her lids lifted to reveal blue eyes glittering with tears. “Why? It’s not right. It shouldn’t have happened. Not to me. I didn’t do anything bad.”

Either he was crazy, or this girl was a crackpot. He hoped to God it wasn’t him. Regardless, he had to respond to the situation as if he was thinking and acting normally. It was his only salvation. “I think you’d better come along with me. We’ll need to question you about your relationship with the deceased and how you came to be here.”

“He brought me here, you idiot.” The tears were suddenly gone, and her fists were clenched at her sides. “He attacked me from behind in that parking garage at Perimeter Mall and stuffed a handkerchief over my face. It smelled . . . sweet. Like the anesthetic I had when they took out my appendix. I went out like a light. Then he brought me here and slit my throat. Now what are you going to do about it? You’re a cop, aren’t you?”

“I’m Detective Joe Quinn.” He paused. “And you’re obviously having delusions. You need help. Will you come with me?”

“You’re saying I’m crazy, dammit. I’m not crazy. He was crazy. Do you think this is easy for me? I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do. They keep telling me I have to come away, but I think they’re wrong. I do need help. But I don’t need it from you. I’ll find my father or maybe one of those policemen over there.”

“By all means.” He turned. “I’ll go and send an officer to you. Stay here.” He walked quickly away. Not too quickly. He wasn’t running away, he assured himself. He was just resolving a difficult situation. He glanced over his shoulder. She was still standing there, waiting.

Shit. Admit it. Of course he was running away. Not only from Nancy Jo Norris but what it said about his sanity that he was seeing her.

He stopped as he reached the officer standing at the tape. “Would you go and take that woman into custody, Officer Millbran? We need her for questioning.”

“Yes, sir. Which woman?”

“Who do you think?” He nodded. “The woman over there in the red sweatshirt.”

“Right. I’ll go find her.” Officer Millbran sprinted toward the trees.

Find her? She was standing there in full view waiting for him.

The officer ran right past her into the trees.

A shudder went through Joe’s spine. He hadn’t seen her, he realized. Millbran had been only a few feet from her, and he hadn’t seen her.

She was looking as bewildered as Joe felt. But she couldn’t be feeling the same panic. Because he was imagining it all. She wasn’t real. Another hallucination.

He tore his gaze away from her. He turned on his heel and strode blindly toward his car.

What the hell was happening to him?

JOE KEPT HIS GAZE AWAY FROM the trees, staring straight ahead, his hands clenched on the steering wheel. He wouldn’t wait for Officer Millbran to come back and tell him that there had been no woman in a red sweatshirt. He had no desire to see the young man’s confusion or hear his excuses. And he most certainly didn’t want to have to lie to him. He would deal with this problem himself, as he did everything else.

But he had never had a problem like this, one that could affect every facet of his life. If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself in a straitjacket in the booby hatch. One episode he could lay to stress. This second occurrence was a sign that he was definitely off-kilter.

No! He would not accept that as truth while he was functioning perfectly normally in every other way.

He started the car and pulled away from the curb. He would continue on as if nothing had happened until he could figure out what he was going through. In the meantime, he would stop at the precinct and take a look at the goblet Eve had discovered in the refrigerator and compare it with the goblet found in the hand of Nancy Jo Norris.

Then he would go home to Eve and Jane. It seemed strange that this morning he had only wanted to get away from them. After what had happened in the woods, he supposed he should be even more afraid that they would notice something wrong with him. Somehow that wasn’t the case. He was willing to risk them tearing down his protective barriers in exchange for the love and comfort he knew they’d give him.

In the end, pride and ego didn’t mean a damn. Love was the only thing that mattered.

“PATTY AVERY’S ON HER WAY over with Toby,” Jane said as she came out of the bedroom. “She called me on my cell and told me to stay put. She said that she never got to see me anymore, and she was going to make damn sure that she at least had a cup of coffee with me before I took off again.”

“It’s true,” Eve said as she put the coffee in the coffeemaker. “Joe and I see more of Patty than you do. She’s a godsend when we need someone to take care of Toby when we have to leave on a trip. She’s been a good friend to us as well as to you.”

“She was my best friend in high school, and I thought that we’d drift apart, but she wouldn’t let that happen,” Jane said as she got the cups down from the cabinet. “Patty is a virtual steamroller. She told me once that she didn’t have that many friends, and she couldn’t afford to lose one.” She frowned. “Heaven knows she has enough on her plate without taking care of Toby. How is her grandfather doing?”

“Not well. He’s always been a bastard and his physical condition is deteriorating and he takes it out on Patty. She can’t do anything that pleases him. That’s why she keeps herself busy doing anything that will keep her close to home. She cooks, studies the stock market, repairs cars. Toby is a blessing. She said she wishes she could keep him permanently.”

“He’s a sweet boy. I miss him.” Jane smiled. “After I finish this Parisian exhibit, I’m going to take him home. I like to leave him here because he can get more exercise but he’s no spring chicken. We need to be together.”

Eve nodded. “He’s been with us a long time. When Sarah Logan first gave him to you as a pup, I had my doubts about a dog that was half golden retriever and half wolf, but he’s very affectionate.” She tilted her head. “And I think I hear Toby and Patty in the driveway. There’s no missing the sound of that souped-up engine she put in her Camaro. I’m surprised she doesn’t get a ticket.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have Joe try to fix it?” Jane asked teasingly.

“You know better than that. He’d never fix a ticket.” She grinned. “Though he might ask the officer just to give her a warning. He says she’s a wonder. He admires her mechanical ability tremendously.” She added soberly, “And her strength and endurance.”

“Yes, he would be able to recognize those qualities. He sees them every day.” Jane headed for the door to the porch. “Did you talk to Joe while I was napping?”

“Yes. He sounded . . . better. But he said he might be late.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She opened the door. “Patty! It’s about time you—” She staggered backward as Toby launched himself at her. “Okay, boy.” She hugged him fiercely. “I missed you too. I think your face is a little whiter. But it’s very becoming.” She pushed him down as she turned to Patty. “And you look gorgeous.” She gave her a hug. “That long black braid looks very exotic and Old World.”

“It keeps the hair out of my face,” Patty said. “I’d cut it but my grandfather would have a tantrum and I like to keep the peace. That’s the name of the game right now.” She came into the cottage. “Hi, Eve. Wonderful to see you.” She turned back to Jane and flipped her single braid back over her shoulder. “Now give me a cup of coffee and tell me what’s happening to you in the real world. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

JANE MACGUIRE WAS YOUNG, Jelak thought.

Perhaps not quite as young as Nancy Jo Norris, but all the vigor and bloom of youth was there in the strength and lithe beauty of her body as she hugged her friend. Young, but fully a woman in contrast to the petite woman she was greeting, whose round baby face made her look almost childlike.

Jelak lowered his binoculars. He had hoped to get a glimpse of Eve Duncan, but she hadn’t come out to greet the woman who had obviously delivered the big dog to them. He was planning to get here earlier, but he had slept too deeply after he had taken Nancy Jo’s gift. The blood first made him dizzy, then drugged, and, when he woke, strong as thunder, strong as Samson. He could feel that strength soar through him now, along with a faint regret. He’d wanted to see Eve’s face, dammit. He had seen her only in newspaper photos and on TV since he had left Atlanta all those years ago.

Instead he had been given a bonus he hadn’t expected. Jane MacGuire. There was no question that she would be a beacon to draw Eve Duncan. He would probably need it. That police car parked down the road would keep him from getting near her. Well, not keep him from acting but make it more difficult.

She must have found the goblet he had given her.

Did it frighten you, Eve? I hope it did. Fear is good. It conditions you mentally and makes the blood run faster . . . and sweeter.

It had been a risk to give her the goblet before the act, but she was very special. She had to anticipate, to know it was coming toward her. But now he had to deal with the difficulties that the warning brought. He had no problem with overcoming complications. He always found them interesting. He might just have to swerve around them and go another route to get to Eve.

A route called Jane MacGuire.

________

“DETECTIVE QUINN.”

Joe turned as he was walking into the precinct to see a tall, handsome man in his early fifties hurrying toward him from the captain’s office. He recognized that broad, intelligent face though it was now haggard and ravaged with pain. “My sincere sympathy, Senator Norris. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that—”

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want to know what you’re doing about finding my little girl’s murderer.” His lips tightened with pain. “Though she’s not a little girl, is she? But that was all I could think about when I was looking down at her in that morgue. My little girl . . .”

“We’re doing everything we can. I just came back from Allatoona. I’m going to check the preliminary reports now.”

“Your captain says you’re the best,” Norris said. “I hope she’s right. I’ll find a way to crucify you if you drag your feet. I lost my wife six years ago. It’s just been me and Nancy Jo since then. Now she’s gone too.” He turned away. “I’m going out to Allatoona now. I want to see the place where she was killed.”

I’ll find my father.

The words of that imaginary woman in the woods came back to him. Now Nancy Jo’s father was trying to seek a connection with his daughter by seeing where her life had ended. “I have to warn you, the media is still camped out there.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

Joe watched him stride out of the precinct. Poor bastard. You never knew what was going to come out of the fog and hit you. Norris had everything a man could hope to possess: money, a brilliant career, a child he loved. Take away the one most important ingredient, and he’d found out how empty the rest could be.

Like Eve and her Bonnie.

Don’t think about Bonnie. He had enough of a nightmare being forced to come to terms with Nancy Jo Norris.

He turned and strode down the hall toward forensics.