Quicksand

FIVE

"DO YOU MIND IF I USE YOUR bathroom?" Joe asked Eve after the door had closed behind them. "I need to clean up. You don't want me touching anything in this room. I've been out in the woods all day."

"Go ahead." Eve watched him as he moved across the bedroom. "But I thought it might be your bathroom too. You're not staying with me?"

"I've got a room on the next floor." Joe turned on the water faucet. "It will be more convenient."

Eve stood in the bathroom doorway watching him as he took off his shirt and began to scrub. "Convenient for what?"

"I'll be in and out at all hours of the day and night. I don't want to disturb you."

"What the hell do you mean? I am disturbed. Every minute of the day and night I'm going to be disturbed until Kistle is caught. Do you expect me to sleep peacefully just because you've decided to barricade yourself in your own room?"

"I thought it best." He took the towel and began to dry off. "You're upset enough without me-"

"Bullshit," she said. "Get rid of that towel and talk to me. You've been closing me out since you got on that plane to come here. Disturbed? You're the one who's ready to explode. You can't even look at me."

"Oh, I can look at you." He threw the towel away. "But I don't want to talk. Tell me what I want to do, Eve."

His dark hair was tousled and his brown eyes were glittering in his taut face. He was half naked and his shoulders gleamed under the lights. His body was lean and tough and sleek with muscle. She could feel his tenseness, which was like a bolt of electricity. Lord, it was striking at her, stroking her, readying her. "I'm not sure," she said unevenly. "Sex. But do you want to make love to me or do you want to rape me?"

"When have I ever raped you?"

"Never. But then I've never seen you in a mood like this."

"I've never been in a mood like this." He started toward her. "And I may be rough. I don't know if I can help myself. So if you don't want me, tell me now."

He wasn't touching her, but she could feel the heat move through her. It was a mindless response. They were so far apart emotionally that she should try to ignore it and try to talk to him.

She didn't want to talk. She wanted to be mindless and only move, feel, be close to him. No matter what else lay between whenever they came together, the sex was always fantastic.

He was standing only a few inches away from her. She could feel the warmth of his body flowing, surrounding her. Yet she was still aware of violence held at bay. He looked into her eyes. "Tell me."

She slowly reached out and touched his bare chest. His skin felt fever-hot to her palm.

A shudder went though him. "Eve."

"I do want you." She took a step closer and laid her cheek on his chest. His heart was pounding hard beneath her ear. "I always want you, Joe. Stop worrying about being rough with me. I can take care of myself."

"I don't want you to take care of yourself. I want to be there to meet every need. I've never wanted anything else since the day I met you." His hands were hovering over her shoulders, still not touching her. "And when I can't do it, I go crazy."

She felt an aching deep within her. She couldn't take it. She cleared her throat. "Well, you're driving me crazy now. If you want to address a need, I have one that's very urgent."

He was silent a moment. "Yeah, that's a problem I can usually fix, can't I?" His hovering hands fell to cup her shoulders. "Hooray for sex." He pushed her away from him and she could see the bitterness mixed with the desire in his face. "I may not have killed your dragon for you yet, but I can entertain you."

Dragon? What the hell was he…?

Then she forgot everything as his fingers quickly unbuttoned her shirt and slipped inside to cup her breasts. She arched backward with a low cry.

"Bed," he said thickly. "Now." He was tearing off her clothes. Backing her toward the bed. "I have to-"

He was over her on the bed, shedding the rest of his clothes and recklessly casting them aside.

Beautiful, she thought hazily. She'd always thought Joe was beautiful naked. Lean and muscular and full of repressed energy.

Not repressed any longer.

Fierce. Desperate. And, yes, rough.

To hell with it. It didn't matter. Her nails dug into his back as she pulled him to her. She'd meet fierceness with fierceness, roughness with roughness…

"ARE YOU OKAY?" JOE'S CHEST was lifting and falling with the harshness of his breathing as he looked down at her. "Did I hurt you?"

"I've no idea." She couldn't catch her breath. "If you did, it didn't make an impression through the… " Through what? The maze of wild erotica that was almost animalistic? "I didn't care."

Joe got off her and rolled over to the other side of the bed. He tucked his arm beneath his head. "I care. I lost control. I knew it would happen."

"If I hadn't wanted it, I'd have walked away." Eve pulled up the sheet. "Now come over here and cuddle me. I'm not having this separate-sides-of-the-bed business. That's not the way we do it and we're not going to start now."

"I should go up to my room and unpack."

"Bullshit." She rolled over and pressed her body against him. "Hold me."

He hesitated and then put his arm around her and drew her close. "It could happen again."

"Good. But not right now. I want to get my breath before the next storm." She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Why are you fighting me, Joe?" she whispered. "You held me like this not four days ago. I thought everything was getting all right between us."

"Did you? I didn't. I knew that it was only a matter of time before it blew up in our faces." He brushed his lips over her forehead. "It was only a question of when I got word about Kistle. I knew that would be the trigger."

"It wouldn't have made any difference if you'd just not closed me out. We would have worked through it together. That's what we've done all these years."

He shook his head. "I can't do that any longer."

She stiffened and then sat up and looked down at him. "That sounds final. Are you trying tell me something, Joe?"

"I'm trying to tell you that I've changed and the way I'll react will be different."

"I see." She swung her legs to the floor and stood up. "Then I'd better find out what to expect, hadn't I?" She slipped on her terry robe and sat down in the easy chair across the room. She drew a deep breath. "Was it Colombia, Joe?"

"You mean Montalvo? He brought a few things to a head. But it's been going on long before you went to Colombia. We both knew you were slipping away from me. I couldn't seem to stop it. I didn't even know why it was happening." He stood up and started putting on his clothes. "I blamed it on you. Then I blamed it on Montalvo."

"I never slept with Montalvo, Joe. I'd never be unfaithful to you."

"But you told me you wanted to do it."

"You asked me, I'd never lie to you. I don't know why he had that effect on me. I felt close to him because he'd suffered the same loss and then it just became…" She wearily shook her head. "You know I haven't had much experience with that kind of sexual attraction. The kid who got me pregnant with Bonnie when I was sixteen and then disappeared? I believe you're the love of my life, but evidently that doesn't mean that I'm totally immune to feeling something for others." She stared him in the eye. "But I'm not going to apologize. I didn't do anything to hurt you but tell you the truth. I treated our relationship with honor."

"I know that." He smiled crookedly. "And I don't blame Montalvo for trying to snatch the gold ring. I'd do the same thing. But it doesn't stop me from hating his guts. I'm too primitive to do anything else." He shrugged into his jacket. "But blame is something else. The only reason I blamed either of you was that I didn't want to blame the person who rules our lives. I knew my chances weren't good of ever being able to fight Bonnie."

She stared at him. "You don't have to fight Bonnie. We only have to find her."

"I'm doing my damnedest. But what if it isn't Kistle? What if we don't find Bonnie? I don't know how many more times I can stand by and watch you be disappointed. Every time it makes me die a little." He paused. "And sometimes it makes me wish Bonnie had never been born."

She recoiled as if he'd struck her. "No."

"I realize that's a terrible sin to you. I can't help it. You love her. You know her. But she died before I met you. Maybe if I'd gotten to know her I wouldn't feel this bitterness. I used to try to feel some of the affection you feel for her because she was part of you. I thought it would help me go on with this hellish search. But I can't feel anything for her but pity." His lips tightened. "And lately when I see what's happening to you, I can't even feel that."

"How can you feel like that? She's innocent. She's the victim, Joe…"

"See, I'm hurting you again. God, I don't want to do that. I'm trying to work it out, but it's hard. I just hope to God it was Kistle who killed Bonnie. We have to put an end to this."

"You could put an end to it," she said unsteadily. "You're worried about hurting me? My God, how I'm hurting you. I told you once I was damaged and obsessed and you should leave me. Maybe you're beginning to realize that."

"No way." He headed for the door. "I can't leave you. You're my center. We just have to find a way to survive."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to my room, shower, and get a few hours' sleep. Then I'm going to go back to Clayborne Forest. I'd bet Montalvo's already there."

"He's supposed to be here tomorrow morning, you said."

He nodded. "But he won't be wasting time. He has his eye on the prize."

"You mean Kistle?"

"Kistle's no prize, he's the target." He opened the door. "I'll see you in the morning, Eve."

She had to blink back stinging tears as the door shut behind him. So much raw pain had been in his expression when he had spoken about Bonnie. She had never wanted to cause Joe pain. He had been her rock, her lover, and her friend. He didn't deserve to be unhappy. She had been shocked by his bitterness about Bonnie, but she couldn't condemn it. Of course he couldn't love a child he'd never known. It was a wonderful thing that he'd fought so hard with Eve all these years to find her.

Yet she felt a twinge of loneliness that she couldn't share with him the love she felt for Bonnie.

And a sudden fear that she would have to choose between them or watch him walk out of her life.

Panic surged through her and she instantly rejected the thought.

Not yet. They could still work their way through this. The only positive thing was that they had both been totally honest with each other. Joe had given her hints of what he was feeling, but she had never believed him to be this close to a blowup. It had been Kistle who had set him off. But it could also be Kistle who saved them.

If Kistle had killed Bonnie. If they could catch him. If he could be forced to tell where she was.

Too damn many ifs.

IT WAS QUINN STANDING across the little clearing, Kistle realized.

Quinn was in the shadow of the huge sweet gum tree. As soon as Kistle saw him, he was gone, vanished.

He had thought Joe Quinn would be coming after him, and he was glad that he hadn't been disappointed. Quinn knew what he was doing in the forest and would be an interesting challenge.

He could no longer see him and Quinn was making no sound. Silence and stealth. Kistle would have to be very careful. He knew Joe Quinn's background and respected it. It was good that he was going to be challenged by the best of the best. These other yokels would be a piece of cake and bore him in no time. But Quinn would not bore him.

And neither would the hunter who'd crossed his path earlier in the evening. He'd been bigger, more muscular, but just as silent. Kistle had barely caught a glimpse of him, but he'd had the same phantom elusiveness as Quinn.

A tracker they'd brought in to find him?

Possible. At any rate, someone to keep Kistle interested… until he chose to kill him.

Should he go after Quinn now? Excitement tingled through him at the thought. What a magnificently effective blow that would be to Eve. But devastation should be paced, build, until the final eruption.

He sighed as he reluctantly prepared to leave. No, he'd move away from the danger that was Joe Quinn and keep to his original plan.

What are you doing tonight, Eve? Are you waiting for me? You won't wait for long. I won't let you. You'll have to come after me yourself.

And then I'll wait for you.

"YOU'RE JANE? I'M LUIS Montalvo." Montalvo smiled as she opened the door. "Of course you're Jane. Miguel told me how beautiful you are. He's very disappointed that you won't let him sweep you off your feet."

"He'll recover. I think you're the only one he takes seriously." She stepped aside to let him enter. "Eve will be right out. Sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Please. Black." He sat down on the couch. "Where is Quinn?"

"He'll be here. He was at the forest all night." She handed him the cup. "You were there too, weren't you? I'm surprised you didn't run into each other."

"It's a big area." His gaze went to the reconstruction on the desk. "Another child?"

"Yes. Eve calls her Carrie. She couldn't bear not to try to finish her if she got the chance."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I can see it. Food for the soul."

"What?"

"It keeps her going. Perhaps subconsciously she thinks of each child as a stepstone to get to her Bonnie. If she does enough good works, then someday she'll be rewarded by finding her daughter."

Oh, yes, Jane could see how Eve could have been drawn to Montalvo. Those high cheekbones and dark eyes were totally arresting and he radiated confidence and vitality. Looks, charisma, and what was more dangerous, intelligence.

"I never thought of it quite like that," she said slowly. "I think it's probably much simpler. She's a good woman trying to save others from pain."

He nodded. "You could be right. I have a tendency to overanalyze at times. Particularly when I need to know how someone is going to react. It's important to me to know how Eve thinks." He lifted his cup to his lips. "I bought a painting of yours a month ago."

Her brows lifted. "Why? You don't have to know how I think."

"I found it fascinating. I went to the gallery because I was curious about Eve's daughter and found myself caught."

"Which painting?"

"It's one of Quinn's lake cottage. Very serene. I tried to buy another one, but they told me it wasn't for sale. It was the portrait of a man. You titled it Guilty. There was a world of torment in that face. Guilty of what, Jane?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "He doesn't exist. I just started sketching his face one night. It wouldn't leave me alone, so I thought if I did a portrait it would be a catharsis. It didn't work. I still paint him."

"Interesting. Perhaps it's not a person; it's the face of guilt."

"It could be true. We all have reason to be guilty in some area." She met his gaze. "But some of us aren't tormented by it."

He chuckled. "You're talking about me. You're right, I've developed a thick skin over the years. But I don't believe you're talking about my past. You're more personally involved."

"Very personally. I love Joe. Eve has a right to do what she wants to do. I'll back her all the way. But don't you make trouble for her."

His smile faded. "That's the last thing I want to do. I want her to be happy and at peace. I'm the one who can do that for her, Jane."

He was almost making her believe it. She shook her head. "She's happy with Joe."

"Is she?" He finished his coffee and set the cup on the coffee table. "There are degrees of happiness, just as there are degrees of guilt. As you said, Eve should do what she wants."

And he would do everything he could to make sure what Eve wanted was what he wanted, Jane thought. Persuasive as Satan, and yet she believed he meant every word he said. What a lethal combination.

He shook his head as he studied her expression. "Don't worry," he said gently. "I only want to give her what she-"

"Hello, Montalvo," Eve said as she opened the door. "I've just been on the phone with Joe. He'll be right down."

"Oh, that's right. Miguel told me he had another room." Montalvo rose to his feet. "Very wise. He doesn't need distractions." He smiled. "Hello, Eve. I've been getting to know your Jane. I feel as if I've run a gauntlet. She's very like you."

"I take that as a compliment."

Eve was tense, but Jane could sense the odd familiarity that was almost a bond between her and Montalvo.

He knows me, Eve had said.

Yes, he did, and that would be the most dangerous weapon Montalvo had in his possession.

"Would you like coffee, Eve? Or how about orange juice? It's pretty-" Jane's cell phone rang and she took it out of her pocket and checked the ID. "It's my agent, Eve. I can have him call back."

"No, go take the call. I'm not letting you put your life on hold for me." She went to the sideboard and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Shoo."

Jane hesitated. She was probably being idiotically protective. Eve wouldn't accept hovering from anyone. She punched the button on her phone as she headed for her bedroom. "If you need me, give a shout."

"IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU, EVE," Montalvo said quietly. "They say anticipation makes pleasure more intense. I could do without the anticipation. I don't like doing without you."

"You never had me." She stared at him over the rim of the cup as she lifted it to her lips. She had hoped that when she saw him again he'd be less than she remembered him. He was the same Montalvo, dark eyes that gazed out at the world with intelligence and boldness, dark hair, full well-shaped lips, and a strength and vibrance that was like a living force. "I told you that I didn't want you involved in this, Montalvo. I want you out of my life."

"I'm not interfering. I felt duty-bound to have Miguel guard you, otherwise I've stayed in the background. Have I approached you?" He smiled. "After all, Quinn invited me here."

"Because you have information we need. Do you think I don't know Joe wouldn't have-" There was a knock on the door. "That must be Joe." She set down her cup and moved toward the door.

"What a polite knock," Montalvo murmured. "I approve."

Dammit, he was enjoying the fact that Joe wasn't staying with her. She threw open the door. "Did Jane forget to give you your key?" She took her own key from the chest by the door and handed it to him. "Montalvo's already here."

"So I see." Joe came into the room and shut the door. "Let's get to it."

"Certainly." He opened the portfolio he'd placed on the coffee table. "First, tell me what you've found out, Quinn."

"Not much. I was able to trace him by a credit card slip he used at the local Wal-Mart. I was surprised he hadn't changed his name when he left Detroit."

"He wasn't under suspicion there and had no reason to change it. He had no idea we were after him." Montalvo spread documents and photos on the coffee table. "My investigator was able to gather quite a bit of information, but there's still a lot we don't know." He tapped a photograph. "This is the latest photo we have of Henry Kistle, Eve. It was taken two years ago at a barbecue given by his employer, Chad Pelham."

The photo was of a man sitting in a striped lounge chair holding a can of Budweiser. He was fortyish, well built, with large brown eyes and a thick shock of gray-brown hair. He was smiling into the camera. It seemed impossible to Eve that this was the man who had called her and spat out that poison.

"His employer?" Joe said. "What work did Kistle do?"

"He was a personal trainer. Pelham owned a gym and Kistle worked for him for over a year. His coworkers said that Kistle was very popular with the ladies. But there was no hint of indiscreet conduct with any of them. Then Pelham decided to cut Kistle's commission, but he didn't give him an argument. Two weeks later Kistle said he had another job, resigned, and took off." He pulled a newspaper clipping out of the pile. "Pelham died in a car accident six weeks later. The brakes on his car failed him. No sign of tampering." Montalvo shrugged. "But then, the authorities weren't suspecting that he'd been murdered."

"How do you know he was?" Eve asked.

"Kistle doesn't like authority. He tolerates it because a loner is always suspect and it would interfere with his main goal."

"And what is that?"

Montalvo drew out three pictures and spread them out on the report. "Three children were reported missing in the year Kistle worked for Pelham. He didn't dirty his own backyard. The kids all lived in surrounding towns."

"They were killed?"

"They're still missing. No bodies. Evidently Kistle is clever and very careful. No bodies, no evidence."

Eve slowly picked up the photo on the top. The little girl was nine or ten, with blond hair in a ponytail. She was laughing into the camera.

Do you know how many pretty little girls I've killed since your Bonnie?

"Eve," Joe said quietly.

"It's okay." She dropped the photo back on the coffee table. "Go on, Montalvo."

"Kistle dropped out of sight for those two years. My bet is that he just settled somewhere else for a while and used fake ID. Only God knows how many killings he committed during those two years. Then, when he thought enough time had passed, he went back to Detroit and used the Henry Kistle name again."

"And why did he leave Detroit for Bloomburg?"

He threw another photo down. "Kevin Jacobs. He didn't show up from school one day. He lived in a suburb and again there was no body found. But he was a cute little kid and the media had a circus. Kistle probably felt safer exiting the scene again."

"God," Eve whispered.

"He probably gets fake ID every time he's forced to leave a town," Joe said.

Montalvo shrugged. "And he's been doing this for years. He's probably an expert at forging documents. I told you, he's very clever."

"And how do you know that?" Eve asked. "It wasn't clever of him to call me and run the risk I'd act fast enough to catch him."

"Maybe he didn't intend to talk to you until he heard your name. Then he couldn't resist." He gazed down at the photo of Kistle. "And he evidently likes to take chances. Not with the child killings. He probably realizes how crimes against children arouse the public and he's extremely careful with them. It's part of the joke he has on the world. As long as there are no bodies found, there's no crime and he can go on doing what he wants to do. But he didn't have to go back and kill his former boss, Pelham. It was petty. Why take the chance?"

"Revenge," Joe said. "And it made him feel superior."

"Good guess."

"It goes along with the profile on serial killers. In most cases it's all about power. Even the sexual abuse is a power play."

"Then Kistle follows the profile," Montalvo said. "He has to be best."

"You seem certain," Eve said. "You can't know what he thinks from these cases you told me about."

"No, there's something else." Joe's gaze was narrowed on Montalvo's face. "What?"

"I had my investigator go back to Murdock, the man who first tipped him that Kistle had told him that he'd killed Bonnie Duncan. He spent three days going over every detail of the time Murdock had spent with Kistle. He came up with a tiny bit of information. Kistle liked to go hunting. He boasted that he'd been dropped into a jungle and survived six months. What does that sound like to you, Quinn?"

"SEALS or Rangers."

"He was in the Rangers. My investigators spent a week trying to get permission to go through records and ended up using bribery. They had a photograph, or they would never had identified him. He was nineteen when he joined the Army under the name of Tim Hathaway. He later qualified for training to be a Ranger."

"That requires a hell of a lot of discipline," Joe said. "And if he made it, then his instability must have occurred later. Acceptance of discipline isn't in his profile."

"No, he was as sick then as he is now. He was just able to become what his officers wanted him to become. He showed that same talent later. He wanted that training and he would have done anything to get it."

"You mean he wanted to learn how to kill in the most efficient way possible," Eve said.

"And he liked proving he could survive when no one else could. He was superb during the survival tests in the jungle. He was strong and smart and never quit. His reports were glowing when he went on missions. He was polite and obedient and lethal. What else could the Army want?"

"He made it through his hitch?" Joe asked.

Montalvo nodded. "Honorably discharged." His lips twisted. "But curiously enough, three weeks later an Apache helicopter blew up carrying his commanding officer and two of the men Kistle served with. No evidence of anything but an accident, of course. Kistle was an expert by that time. I'd judge that he was releasing some pent-up malice. Maybe one of them was a little too good. As I said, Kistle had to be best."

"No other killings during that period?" Eve asked.

"Not at or near the base. Perhaps he was getting enough killing on his missions."

"Where did he go from there?"

"He disappeared from view again for a few years." He paused. "The next time he surfaced he was running drugs in Atlanta. He was on drugs himself for a while and I doubt if he would have boasted about killing Bonnie if he'd been clean. At first, Murdock thought he was just fascinated by the case. He read everything he could, talked about it a lot. His attitude was… weird. Feverish, bitter, obsessed. Bonnie was such an appealing little girl that the media wouldn't drop the story. Every time a mention came up, Kistle was glued to the TV set. He kept telling Murdock that everyone in the country knew about the man who killed Bonnie Duncan, recognized his power, and they'd made him a superstar. Then one night when he was stoned, he told Murdock he'd been the one who'd killed her."

Eve moistened her lips. "How? Where?"

Montalvo shook his head. "Do you think I wouldn't have told you? Murdock said he didn't tell him any more, and after he came down from the drugs he never mentioned it again. He might not even remember he told him."

"Murdock probably wouldn't be alive if he had," Joe said.

"I agree," Montalvo said. "Unless Kistle wanted Murdock to tell someone about Bonnie. Murdock said Kistle was totally fascinated by the case. Maybe he wanted to go back in time and revisit it."

"He said Bonnie was his inspiration," Eve said numbly. "A burning arrow in the dark."

"Anything else?" Joe asked Montalvo curtly. "She's been through enough."

Montalvo shook his head. "She can take it." He rose to his feet. "But that's it. I'll leave the reports and photos here with you, Eve."

"No bodies," she said slowly. "All those years and no bodies. And no hint of a crime except those officers here in Bloomburg. It seems incredible."

"He may not have been as tidy about cleaning up in other parts of the country," Joe said. "But we can concentrate on that later. Now we've got him in our sights."

"Not yet," Montalvo said. "And considering his experience, it won't be easy." He turned to Eve and said quietly, "But we'll get him this time." He didn't wait for an answer but headed for the door. "I'll be in touch."

Joe turned to her when the door shut behind him. "Don't get your hopes up. It still might not be Kistle, Eve."

"Don't tell me that," she said with sudden fierceness. "I'm going to keep on hoping. I have to hope." She sat down on the couch. "And right now I'm going through these reports and see if I can find anything to use against the bastard. All we know is that he has to be the best and he was some kind of Rambo." She looked down at the picture of Kistle. "And that he's been alive and laughing and killing all these years my Bonnie's been dead." She tried to steady her voice. "Can you get that FBI agent to check under the Hathaway name and see if he can come up with anything else? He might have used that name again later."

"Cassidy's bowing out of the case." He lifted his hand as he saw her open her lips. "It's okay. We don't need him. He could get in the way. I can still request the information from the national database at Quantico." He moved toward the door. "I'll get right on it." He paused to look back at her. "How are you? Should I stay?"

She shook her head. "This is no real surprise. I knew he was a monster. I just didn't know he was such a clever one." She looked back down at the report. "Go on. Talk to Quantico."