Quinn

CHAPTER 2

The Past

Federal Bureau of Investigation

Quantico, Virginia

“I HEAR PACKER GAVE you the Duncan case.” Jenny Rudler smiled as she stopped by Joe’s desk. “I was hoping to get it. There’s been a lot of media attention since the kid was taken. I could use a high-profile case. It would help me break through the glass ceiling. But, no, the fair-haired boy was the chosen one.”

“Does the FBI have a glass ceiling?”

“You’re damn right it does.” She perched on the corner of his desk. “Why not tell Packer you need a partner?”

And Jenny would be stepping all over him trying to break that ceiling. He didn’t need that. “Maybe next time.”

Her smile faded. “Bastard. Damn, you’re cocky. You have it all, don’t you? Rich kid, Harvard grad, hero in the SEALs. Then you decide you want to be an FBI agent. So everyone is supposed to bow down and give you anything you want.”

He held on to his temper. “That’s right. But I’ll make an exception in your case. I’ll settle for you just staying out of my way. I worked for everything I’ve gotten here at the Bureau. Back off, Jenny.”

She hesitated, and suddenly the belligerence was gone. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Her smile was dazzling. “I was really upset. It seems as if I’m not getting anywhere, and I’m frustrated as hell. Forgive me?”

He shrugged.

“No, I mean it. Let me make it up to you. When do you leave for Atlanta?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Then come over tonight, and we’ll have a few drinks.”

Which meant that they’d end up in bed as they had a few times before. For a moment, he was tempted. She wasn’t bad in bed, and he required sex often and varied.

“You were real good,” Jenny murmured. “Maybe the best. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

But he didn’t need the strings that Jenny would attach to any relationship, even the most casual. He didn’t mind paying for sex, but not in the workplace. That could be a big-time headache.

“I’m busy. Sorry.”

Her smile disappeared. “I’m not. Who needs you?” She turned on her heel. “There are a lot of people here who resent you and are just waiting to stab you in the back. You’d be smart to keep the friends you have. Have a good time in Atlanta.”

Translated that meant go to hell, Joe thought, as he watched her walk away. She had a nice ass. Should he change his mind and go after her? He was always more attracted when there was a challenge involved. That was why he had come to work at the FBI. Life had been too flat after his service in the SEALs.

No, curb that recklessness for once. He’d find enough of a challenge in Atlanta. Probably not physical, but definitely mental.

He turned back to the folder on his desk and flipped it open.

Bonnie Duncan.

230 Morningside Drive

Atlanta, Georgia

IT WAS A NICE LITTLE HOUSE in a nice little neighborhood, Joe thought as he got out of the rental car. Inexpensive, but clean and freshly painted. It had a wide front porch, and red-orange geraniums were overflowing from a hanging straw basket.

A car was in the driveway, a gray Ford at least seven or eight years old. It appeared as clean and well taken care of as the house. Every detail of the house and automobile spoke of meager funds but a determination by the occupants to make the best of what they had.

But in Joe’s experience, the obvious didn’t always end up to be the truth.

He rang the doorbell.

No answer.

He waited and rang it again.

No answer.

There were reasons why Eve Duncan would not answer the bell, but he still felt a little annoyed. How the hell could he help her if she shut herself away from him like this? Overcome it. Do your job, he told himself. He had to do the interview before he could dismiss Eve Duncan from his mind and get down to the business of finding her daughter’s killer.

He went around the house to the steps leading to the kitchen screen door. Through the screen, he could see a woman at the stove with her back to him. He wanted to pound impatiently but instead knocked discreetly.

“Ms. Duncan. FBI. I rang the front doorbell, but no one answered. May I come in?”

She looked at him and turned back to the stove. “Yes, I suppose you may.”

He opened the door and entered the kitchen. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to answer the door. I hear the media has been harassing you. I’m Special Agent Joe Quinn. FBI. I wonder if I could have a few words with you.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Questions? I’ve answered millions of questions. It’s all in the ATLPD records. Go ask them.”

He stiffened as he gazed at her. She wasn’t what he had expected. Eve Duncan was tall and slim, with shoulder-length red-brown hair and hazel eyes. The high cheekbones of her face made it more fascinating than pretty. His report said she was only twenty-three, but she could have been any age. She was… extraordinary.

Usually when meeting a woman, his first impression was of beauty or ugliness, not intelligence and personality. That came later, along with an evaluation of whether he wanted to go to bed with her. But gazing at Eve Duncan, he couldn’t think of single aspects but the woman as a whole being. He was only aware of the tension, the painful restraint, the burning vitality of her. Why couldn’t he look away from her?

Get a grip. What had she said? ATLPD. “I have to make my own report.”

“Red tape. Procedures.” She scooped up the omelet and put it on a plate. “Why didn’t they send someone right after it happened?”

It had only been two weeks, but it had probably seemed a lifetime to her. “We had to wait for a request from the local police.”

“You should have been here. Everyone should have come right away.” Her hand was shaking as she picked up the plate and put it on a tray. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to you. But I have to take this omelet to my mother. She hasn’t gotten out of bed since Bonnie disappeared. I can’t get her to eat.”

“I’ll take it,” he said impulsively as he reached out and took the tray. “Which room?”

“First door at the top of the stairs.”

What was he doing? Joe wondered as he started up the stairs. So much for his philosophy of noninvolvement. He had practically jerked that tray out of her hands. Why?

To help her, ease her, make all that pain go away.

Crazy. He had seen Eve Duncan for only a few minutes. Sympathy, yes. That was natural and right. Not this urgent need to banish the torture she was experiencing in any way possible.

Okay, deliver the omelet to her mother and go back down and interrogate Eve Duncan. No doubt that temporary aberration concerning the woman would have vanished by that time.

He stopped short as he saw a framed sketch on the wall. It had to be a sketch of Bonnie Duncan, but it was extraordinary. The photograph he had in his file was good, but the little girl in this sketch was drawn with such love and skill that it made her come alive.

Who had drawn it? Eve Duncan?

Stop wondering about her and stick to his job.

He knocked, then opened the door. “Mrs. Duncan? I’m Agent Joe Quinn. Your daughter sent you breakfast. May I come in?”

“I suppose…” Sandra Duncan was lying propped up in bed, and her Southern accent was much heavier than her daughter’s. “But I’m not hungry, you know. I haven’t been hungry since Bonnie…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I miss her. Why can’t you find her?”

Eve Duncan’s mother was in her late thirties and prettier than her daughter, but she had none of her strength or that riveting vitality.

“That’s why I’m here.” He carried the tray over to her and put it on her lap. “That’s my job. But you have a job, too. You have to keep up your strength and help your daughter.”

“Eve’s so strong,” she whispered. “I’ve never been strong. Except for Bonnie. I took care of her when Eve worked, and I did a fine job. Eve told me that all the time. But then somebody took her away.”

“But your daughter is still here. She needs you.”

She frowned. “Does she?”

“Yes. I want you to eat that omelet and take a shower, then go downstairs and help her. Will you do that?”

“I’d rather go to sleep.”

“It doesn’t matter. She needs you.” He handed her the fork. “We all have our jobs.” He turned and headed for the door. “It’s time that you did yours, Mrs. Duncan.”

“Sandra. Everyone calls me Sandra.”

He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Pretty name for a pretty lady. My name is Joe. I hope to see you downstairs next time I visit here.”

Sandra smiled tentatively. “You’re strong. I like a strong man. But are you strong enough to help Eve to find our Bonnie?”

“If you’ll all help me.” He closed the door and paused a moment before he went downstairs. Involvement. He should have let Eve Duncan handle her own personal problems. His only duty was to find her daughter’s killer. Yet he hadn’t been able to resist pushing Sandra Duncan to help her. According to his report, Eve Duncan’s mother was a former drug addict who had been rehabilitated at the time of her grandchild’s birth. It wouldn’t take much for Sandra Duncan to slip back into addiction at a traumatic period like this, and that burden would be all Eve Duncan would need on her shoulders.

Protecting Eve Duncan again. What the hell? The woman hadn’t even said a kind word to him.

It didn’t matter.

And that was more disturbing than anything about this encounter.

Go down and face her, talk to her, and that weird fascination would probably disappear.

He paused in the kitchen doorway. She was standing at the sink, washing the pan. He inhaled sharply. Impact. Strong. Stronger than before.

Ignore it. It will go away.

“She started to eat,” he said as he came back into the room. “Maybe it was the shock of seeing a stranger.”

“Maybe.”

“And how are you eating, Ms. Duncan?”

“I eat enough. I know I can’t afford to lose strength.” She started drying the pan. “What do you want to know, Agent Quinn?”

Yes, she was strong. He could see it, feel it. Like a fragile tree that would bend but never break. It hurt him, somehow. He quickly looked down at his notes. “Your daughter, Bonnie, disappeared at the park over two weeks ago. She went to the refreshment stand to get an ice cream and didn’t return. She was wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t see anyone suspicious loitering anywhere nearby?”

“No one. It was crowded. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be-” She drew a deep breath. “No one suspicious. I told the police that I wondered if maybe someone had seen what a sweet kid my Bonnie was and taken her away.” She stared at his face. “And they only looked at me the way you’re doing and made soothing noises. It could have happened that way.”

“Yes, it could.” He paused. “But the odds are against it. I’m not going to lie to you.”

“I knew that. I’m not a fool. I grew up on the streets, and I know all about the scum who are out there.” She looked wonderingly up at him. “But I have to hope. She’s my baby. I have to bring her home. How can I live if I don’t hope?”

He felt as if he were breaking apart inside. He could feel her pain, and it was becoming his pain. “Then hope.” His voice was hoarse. “And I’ll hope with you. We’ll explore every way we can to find her safe and alive. There’s nothing I won’t do. Just stick with me and give me a little help.”

She hesitated, gazing up at him.

Believe me, he urged her silently. Put your hand in mine, trust me, let me guide you. Something strange is happening here, but it’s not anything bad. I won’t let it hurt you.

She moistened her lips. “Of course I’ll help.” She stood staring at him for a moment. She could feel it, sense what he couldn’t say, he realized. In her pain, she couldn’t define the nature of what she was sensing, but perhaps it would become clear to her later.

As, God help him, it was becoming clear to him.

She glanced away from him as she put the pan in the cupboard. “I’m afraid, you know,” she said unevenly. “I’m afraid all the time. My mother gave up and just went to bed, but I can’t do that. I have to keep fighting. As long as I’m fighting, I have a chance to find Bonnie.”

Tentative trust. It was the first step. Come closer. Let me hold you safe from the storm.

But he could only nod, and say, “Then we’ll fight together. I’ll stay with you until we get through this.” He paused. “If you’ll let me.”

Together. The concept was strange on his lips. He had always been a loner, totally self-ruled, shunning the dependence implied in the word. But he offered it to her.

And Eve didn’t even realize how much it meant.

Or maybe she did. There was something in her expression…

She slowly nodded. “I think that would be very kind.” Her words were oddly formal. “Thank you, Agent Quinn.”

AFTER HE’D LEFT THE HOUSE, Joe sat in the driver’s seat of his car, staring at the sunny front porch of Eve Duncan’s home. There was nothing sunny about anything inside that house, he thought. There was pain and trouble and a woman who was battling just to stay alive after her reason for living had been taken from her. The short time he’d spent with Eve had been full of disturbing images and emotions. Emotions he hadn’t expected and had wanted to reject. His responses had been completely foreign to who he thought himself to be.

What the hell had happened to him?

He had felt like Sir Galahad wanting to fight dragons and lay them at her feet. She had moved him, possessed him, and made him see himself in a different light.

It was insane. She was only a woman and one who would bring him only trouble. Dammit, he couldn’t even think of sex in connection with her. She was wounded and might remain that way for a long time. Sir Galahad? There was nothing pure about Joe. He was earthy and sexual, and he had always leaned toward being more like wicked Mordred, or maybe Lancelot, who enjoyed toying with a married Guinevere.

Okay, it was temporary insanity. If he couldn’t have her, then what he was feeling would surely pass. That was his nature where women were concerned.

But sex hadn’t been the force that drove him toward Eve Duncan. It might have been a light shimmering in the background, but he hadn’t been aware of wanting her sexually. And that was a first for him. Maybe it had been there, and he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

No, it was something else, powerful, protective, completely without precedent in his experience.

And he wouldn’t put a name to it.

If he didn’t recognize it, then it might go away. Much better for him. Much better for her. Because he wasn’t a man who could let go. Even now he was thinking, planning, how he would keep his promise to her. Yeah, try to walk away from her. Find her kid’s killer. Help her to come to terms with reality when she learned her little girl was never coming back.

But don’t put a name to this strange feeling that was beginning to disturb him.

Time to stop thinking about Eve Duncan on this level and begin working constructively on her daughter’s case.

He drove to the nearest drugstore and placed a call to his contact with the ATLPD, Detective Ralph Slindak. He was glad they’d given him Slindak. He was a good man, and he and Joe had a history. They’d been in the SEALs together though Slindak had left the service two years earlier than Joe. “Joe Quinn. I’m in Atlanta.”

“I heard they were sending a hotshot down to shape us up,” Slindak said. “The other detectives in the squad were a little pissed. But I told them they had nothing to worry about. Nothing hot about Joe Quinn I told them. He’s cold as ice unless he gets annoyed. They didn’t like that either.”

“I can always count on your support,” he said dryly. “I’ve just interviewed Eve Duncan. You’ve been handling the case?”

“Or it’s been handling us,” Slindak said sourly. “The media thinks that we’re blowing it. That’s why the captain asked for help. We need to share the blame.”

“Great attitude,” Joe said. “Suppose we forget the media and just try to find the kid’s killer?” He paused. “If there is a killer. You’re sure that she won’t be found alive?”

“I wish I didn’t think that Bonnie Duncan was a victim. Sweet kid. Did you see her photo?”

“Yes.” It was in the file, and he could see why the photo was one of the reasons the media were being so tenacious. The child’s smile seemed to light up the world, and it had completely touched and captivated the public. “I know that cases like this almost always end with a corpse. But do you have anything concrete?”

“No. Except that there have been several similar disappearances over the last few years in this area. We found one child’s body six months ago, a little boy. Butchered.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. That’s what we thought. And the killings have gotten enough media attention so that Eve Duncan must know about them. She has to be trying to close her eyes and block them out.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No question. I have a four-year-old boy myself, and I nearly threw up when we found that murdered kid.”

“You have a boy? Are you married?”

“No, you know me and commitment. But it may end up that way. She’s a nice woman, and we all get lonely.” He added, “Except you, Joe. You never needed anyone, did you?”

Not until now. Not until I walked into that house and saw her.

He didn’t answer the question. “No clues? No info? He didn’t leave any evidence?”

“Oh, we have evidence. He was pretty careless with the disposal of the body, or we wouldn’t have found it. But we can’t connect it to anyone to make it work for us. We think he’s a local since he’s been working exclusively in the Atlanta area. We’ve checked nearby cities, and they have no similar cases during the time span of the Atlanta kidnappings.”

“But a big city is better hunting grounds for predators. If he lived in a small town, he wouldn’t necessarily do his killing there. Not if he was smart.”

“You think he commuted to do his kills?”

“I’m just not ruling it out. I’m not ruling anything out. What about a killer close to the family? Bonnie’s father?”

“She was illegitimate, and Eve Duncan never put his name on the birth certificate. She said the father was a John Gallo, who was killed while he was in the Army. It all checked out. Her mother was a possibility since she was into drugs for years, but she was with Bonnie’s mother when the little girl was taken.”

Think like a professional. Stop trying to protect her. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe they were in it together and protecting each other. Neither one of them has to be a monster. It could have happened in a moment of anger, when the child was struck, and it ended in death. Then they had to scurry to make up a story to keep themselves from being charged.”

Slindak was silent. “You think that’s likely?”

Hell, no, everything within him was rejecting the scenario he had put forward. “I’m just saying nothing should be ruled out.”

“I think you’d have ruled it out if you’d seen Eve Duncan after the kid was taken. I was one of the detectives who came to the park where the kid disappeared that day. Eve Duncan was terrified. And angry. And ready to take on the world to get her daughter back.”

“Then maybe we’ll be able to erase her name from the suspect list after we investigate a little further. You’ve made inquiries of neighbors and teachers?”

“The kid was bright and friendly and loved the whole damn world. Everyone said that Eve Duncan was totally dedicated to Bonnie. She was respected, even admired, by everyone we questioned. She worked two jobs, was finishing college with a 4.0 average, and still managed to be a great mother.” He paused. “I like her, Joe. Though she’s given our department nothing but grief since her daughter was kidnapped. Who could blame her? I’d do the same. Don’t give her a hard time.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her. I generally don’t like to become involved with the families of victims.” That was the truth. “And I can see why you’d admire her and want to protect her.” And God knows that was the truth. “If everything checks out, we’ll assume that we have a serial killer. I’ll check into a hotel, then come down to the precinct and go over the case files on the missing children.”

“I’ll be here,” Slindak said. “We’re all working extra hours on this case.” He hung up.

Joe stood there for an instant longer after he’d replaced the receiver, thinking about what Slindak had said. Everything that Slindak had recounted about Eve had been exactly what his own senses had told him. She was a victim who refused to be a victim. How could you help but want to come to her rescue? Slindak had obviously had that same response to her.

No, it hadn’t been the same for him. No one but Joe could have had this crazy, wild reaction when he’d seen Eve Duncan. It was too bizarre. He remembered what Slindak had said about him.

Cold as ice?

Never in this world. Not where Eve Duncan was concerned.

Two Weeks Later

“YOU SAID YOU’D HELP me,” Eve said, when Joe picked up the phone. “All those fine words, and you’re not doing a damn thing. Why haven’t I heard from you?”

Because he’d been trying to forget that first interview, divorce himself from his reaction to Eve herself, and concentrate on the case. He wasn’t about to tell her that concentration had been centered on going through all the files of known child molesters in the Southeast. “I haven’t had anything to report to you.”

“Well, I have something to report to you. Come and see me.”

He stared at the phone after she’d hung up. He could send Slindak.

But he knew he wasn’t going to do it.

He pushed back from the desk and stood up. He was feeling alive, eagerness mixed with a low, simmering excitement. This was what he had been waiting for no matter what he had been telling himself.

It was starting…

EVE THREW OPEN THE DOOR before he could ring the bell. “You took your time. Come in.” She turned her back and strode toward the kitchen. “I have something to show you.”

She was the same and yet not the same, he thought as he followed her. She was dressed in khaki slacks and a loose white shirt. The fragile restraint that was so difficult to watch was still there, but she was more forceful. The vitality that had so drawn him was burning high. She was not even quite as pale.

“What are you looking at?” She had turned at the kitchen table.

“You,” he said quietly. “You look better. You’re still too thin, but you appear to have been eating. That’s good.”

“I told you that I wouldn’t neglect myself. And I’m always thin.” She raised her brows. “You probably don’t like skinny women. Most men don’t. They like boobs and ass.”

He was surprised at her bluntness. “I find that thin women usually have a grace and elegance that’s appealing.”

“Very tactful. Very polite. But I understand that your tastes are definitely on the voluptuous side. So don’t be tactful. All I want is the truth from you.”

“About boobs and ass?” His brows rose. “And just how do you understand anything that intimate about me?”

“I called your office at Quantico. I told them I wanted to know everything there was to know about you. They tried to put me off and sidetrack me, but I kept at them. I called five times and got different agents. I finally found one who gave me what I wanted.”

“And why did you do that?”

“Because you made me believe you.” She stared him in the eye. “And I had to be sure there was something to believe in.”

“I see. And what did they tell you?”

“More than I thought they would. The person I talked to didn’t give me much of an argument. He seemed to be taking a kind of malicious enjoyment from telling me about you. I don’t think he was your friend.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Who was it?”

“An Agent Rick Donald.” She saw his expression. “He doesn’t like you?”

“We’ve been in competition a few times.” And Donald had not come out on top. “No one can please everyone. What did he tell you?”

“Part of it was okay. That you’ve only been with the Bureau for a few years and have already solved three difficult cases. That you were a SEAL and decorated twice. Harvard graduate. Rich boy. Parents dead. You inherited a potload of money and don’t need to work.” She paused. “I didn’t like that. I have no use for a dabbler. But they said when you were on a case that you were totally dedicated. So I guess that’s all right.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to divest myself of all worldly goods,” he said mockingly.

“This isn’t funny,” she said. “I have to have someone who will take Bonnie seriously. You talk the talk, but I have to know.”

“And you evidently had to know about my private life as well. I’m not surprised he told you everything you wanted to know about me. He was probably as amused as hell. I’m just surprised you thought it important.”

“It’s important. You’re good-looking, you’re tough, you have a sort of virile magnetism that would be appealing to women. If you liked them too much, then they’d distract you.” Her lips tightened. “I grew up in the projects, and I know all about vices. Sex can be as addictive and distracting as any drug. I don’t want you screwing around when I need you. When Bonnie needs you.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “My God, I feel as if I’m applying for a Secret Service job.”

“And you’re probably pissed. I can’t help that. I have to do whatever needs doing. If you don’t like it, go back to Quantico and have them send me someone else.”

“I don’t like it,” he said coolly. “But I’m not pissed. I’m considering the source. But stay out of my private business, or I’ll start delving into yours.”

She looked surprised. “Really?” Then she shrugged. “But my private business couldn’t be more boring. Delve away.”

“I’ll do that. So I assume I’ve passed muster if you called me here to chew me out.”

“That’s not why I wanted you here. I just had to be honest with you.” She moistened her lips. “And I had to be sure you’ll be honest with me. The police won’t tell me the truth. They just make soothing noises and look away. And you said you’d help, but then you disappeared and pretended I wasn’t there.”

“Oh, I knew you were there.” Every minute. Though he’d tried his best to block her out. Now he realized there would be no blocking her out, and they would just have to learn to deal with each other. But this bolder, blunter Eve Duncan was easier to accept than the woman who had touched him so deeply that he’d wanted to scoop her up and heal every wound. He could handle this woman, and it was better for him to keep this aspect of her in the forefront. “I was busy.” He added with deliberate rudeness, “I didn’t know I was supposed to be here to hold your hand.”

She instantly flared. “I never asked you to-I don’t want pity. I want help.”

“Then tell me how you want me to start. Isn’t that why I’m here?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She drew a deep breath, obviously struggling to control herself. She looked down at the box of papers and envelopes on the table. “I need you to look at these. I want every one of them to be investigated.”

“What are they?”

“Letters. I’ve received a lot of letters since Bonnie was taken.” She tapped one pile. “These are the ones that are from people who say they’ve seen her alive and well in different locations.” She tapped the next pile. “These are the sick ones. Some of them say I’m to blame and should go to hell for letting Bonnie be taken.” She moistened her lips. “Some of them are from people who say they took Bonnie and describe what they did to her before they killed her. There are only three of those. Two of them I got the first week, and I turned them over to the police. They checked them out and said that they were nutcases and actually had alibis for the day that Bonnie was kidnapped. The last one I received yesterday. I held it to give to you. I was careful about fingerprints.” She gestured to the box. “Take them all.”

“You said that you’d told the police about them? The ones where Bonnie had been sighted?”

“Of course, I did,” she said harshly. “They said that they’d checked those out, too. I don’t trust them. I want you to do it again.”

He carefully opened the last letter she had received yesterday and was scanning it. Incredibly ugly. Sickeningly explicit. It must have been pure torture for Eve to read it. “Didn’t Detective Slindak tell you to just give the unopened letters to him?”

“Yes. I couldn’t do it. They were addressed to me. She’s my daughter. I had to be part of what happened to her.”

“These aren’t part of what happened to her. These are just a bunch of hyenas crawling out of the woodwork and trying to tear you apart. I’ve seen it before in these cases.”

“Have you? Well, I haven’t. It’s all new to me. So I have to treat everything that comes my way as if it had never happened to anyone else before. Maybe you and the police are taking it too much for granted because you don’t have the same perspective as I do. Maybe you’re not careful enough.”

“I’m careful.” He carefully put the letter back in the box. “I’ll check these out again for you.”

“Particularly the ones where Bonnie was seen alive.”

“Particularly those,” he said gently.

“I want to go with you.”

“That’s not procedure.”

“To hell with procedure. You said we’d search for Bonnie together. Was that bullshit?”

“No, but I didn’t think you’d be this proactive.”

“I was supposed to sit here and wait for you all to do everything according to ‘procedure’?” Her eyes were glittering fiercely, her hands clenched. “I can’t do that. I’ve waited for her to come home. I’ve waited for you to tell me you’ve found her.” Her voice was uneven. “I’ve waited for you to tell me my baby is… dead. I can’t wait any longer. I have to find out for myself.” She took a step closer to him. “Can’t you see that? I won’t behave like some hysterical female. I won’t get in the way. But I have to help bring her home.”

She was tearing him apart. What she was asking was strictly against the rules and procedures. He’d be handed a reprimand and could even be taken off the case.

To hell with it. He couldn’t deny her the chance she wanted.

He turned away. “I’ll drop this last letter off at ATLPD for processing. Then I’ll come back and pick you up, and we’ll go interview those four people who say they’ve actually seen your Bonnie.”

“I could go with you now,” she said eagerly. “I’ll just get my-” She slowly nodded. “You don’t want to be seen with me while you’re investigating. You’ll get in trouble. I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“I won’t lose my job. I just want to avoid difficulties.” He smiled faintly. “But what would you do if you thought that I would?”

“You’ve got plenty of money. It wouldn’t hurt you like it would some people. Still, it wouldn’t be good.” She hesitated. “But it wouldn’t change what I had to do. I’d just call your boss and tell him that I’d go to the media and tell them how uncooperative the FBI was being with a bereaved mother. I don’t think they’d like that.”

He chuckled. “Lord, you’re tough.”

“I told you, I grew up in the projects. I had to fight every day of my life in one battle or another.” She turned away. “Go to the precinct and see if they can start the process of finding out anything from that poison-pen letter. I can wait.” She sat down at the table and opened one of the envelopes. “I’ve gone over these letters dozens of times to see if I could find anything in them that would offer me any hope or insight as to where Bonnie might be.” Her hands were shaking as she spread out the first letter. “It won’t hurt me to go over them again. Maybe I’ll notice something more this time. Then I’ll phone the people who wrote the letters and ask them for permission to come to see them.”

She was sitting very straight, her lips tight, and her gaze fixed on the letter. Her concentration reminded Joe of a painting he’d once seen of Anne Boleyn in a London museum, staring at the sword that was going to take her head. The same fascination, the same resolution, the same tortured bewilderment. It was incredibly painful for him to stand there and watch her. He wanted to reach out and touch her, ease that terrible tension.

She glanced up at him. “What are you waiting for? Go on. We need to get started checking these right away.”

And the chances that they’d come up with anything new were poor at best. The sad thing about that knowledge was that in her heart, Eve knew it as well. But he’d be damned if he’d voice it. He turned away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll call you if I get delayed.”