I Can See You

Chapter Eighteen

Wednesday, February 24, 5:30 p.m.

Harvey put his microwave dinner aside when the doorbell rang. Webster was at the police station, so he’d ducked back home to grab some dinner. It had been a long week and Webster had kept some long hours, which meant Harvey had as well.

Startled to see her, he threw the door open to the woman his son had once loved with all his heart. “Katie, honey. What are you doing here?”

Katie came into the living room, her lovely face pale. “We need to talk.”

Harvey helped her to a chair. “I thought you were at your parents’. What’s wrong?”

Katie stared up at him, her eyes glazed with fear. “Where’s Dell?”

Harvey sat next her, apprehension coiling in his gut. “I don’t know. Why?”

“This is unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Did you know what he was up to?”

“I’m not sure anymore. Talk to me.”

She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I knew he was losing it, but I never dreamed he’d… Dell’s in trouble. We need to find him and get him out of town.”

“Why? What has he done?”

“The cops say he’s killed someone.”

Harvey shook his head, this time in denial. “No, my son is not a killer.”

“They said he killed a reporter. Kurt Buckland.”

Harvey frowned. “I know that name.”

“He covered V’s funeral. He comes to this bar named Sal’s.”

Where Webster goes once a week. “I know the place. Dell killed him at Sal’s?”

“No. But the cops that go to Sal’s said Dell’s been harassing the bartender and today he tried to kill her. They said he’s been posing as this Buckland guy all week, but this morning they found Buckland’s apartment covered in blood. Buckland’s missing and they say Dell did it.” She was becoming hysterical, hyperventilating.

“Calm down,” Harvey ordered. “How do you know this?”

She blinked, as if thrown by the question. “I’ve been hanging at Sal’s for three weeks. Kissing up to Jack Phelps so Dell could trap him. It’s part of your plan.”

Harvey stared. “You’re Dell’s Trojan Horse?”

She nodded. “I was supposed to snuggle up to Phelps, watch him from the inside.”

“Drug him to make him sleep,” Harvey said dully.

“That was self-preservation. I couldn’t stand the thought of the man touching me.”

“He hurt you?” Harvey snarled softly.

“No, but he’s a sex addict. He blows off work for it and I’m not the first. Like Dell said, it was just a matter of time before the guy got himself fired. We just sped it up.”

Harvey sat back. “So you’re helping Dell fry Phelps by sleeping with him?”

She flinched. “The bastard deserves it for what he did to V. I’ll do what I have to.”

This is all insane. “Why would Dell kill Buckland? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it does. It makes perfect sense.”

Harvey and Katie swung around to look behind them. Dell stood in the kitchen doorway. He’d come in the back door. “What’s this about, Dell?” Harvey demanded.

Dell’s eyes made Harvey’s blood run cold. “You told. You turned me in.”

It took Harvey a minute, but when he understood, he lurched to his feet. “Are you saying I told the cops you killed Buckland? I didn’t even know about him.”

“No, but you knew about last night. I wasn’t playing by your rules. Stupid rules. You would have sat, waiting and watching those two until you died. You’re pathetic.”

“I didn’t call the cops, Dell.” Harvey took a step back. “Why would I?”

“Because you lost control. I wasn’t your ‘boy’ anymore. You couldn’t stand the fact that your plan wasted a year and mine got results in three fucking weeks.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Harvey warned, but his voice trembled.

Dell laughed bitterly. “I’ll take whatever tone I want. I’ll do whatever I want. And you can’t stop me. Nobody can.”

“Dell,” Katie inserted, “you’ve got to get away. Didn’t you get my messages? I tried to warn you. The cops are passing around a sketch of you at Sal’s.”

“Shut up,” he snarled and swung, hitting her with the back of his fist. Thrown against the sofa, she started to cry. “This is all your fault anyway, you fucking whore.”

Harvey caught Dell’s arm before his son could deliver another blow. “Stop it. Stop this right now. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I will not tolerate hitting a woman.”

Dell made no move to wrest his arm free. They stood, nose to nose, eye to eye, and for the first time, Harvey knew true fear. “No,” Dell said softly. “You just hit little kids. Well, guess what, Pop? I’m not a little kid anymore. And you shouldn’t have told on me.”

Harvey’s heart was pounding too hard. “I didn’t tell. I didn’t. Tell me you didn’t kill anyone and I’ll hide you. Run, and I’ll tell the cops I don’t know where you are.”

“I’m not running because I’m not finished. You,” he barked to Katie, who was edging toward the door. “Get back here. I’m not done with you.” Katie started to run, but Dell grabbed her by the hair and flung her to the sofa. “I said I’m not done with you.”

Harvey took a step forward, but stumbled back when Dell’s fist plowed into his jaw. Then froze when his surviving son pulled a gun with a silencer from one pocket and a pair of handcuffs from another. “I brought my own tools,” Dell sneered. He snapped the cuffs on Katie, turning her facedown on the sofa. “Now you’ll stay put.”

“Dell. Why are you doing this? What has Katie ever done to you?”

Dell’s laugh sent another chill through his blood. “You thought V was innocent, but he wasn’t. He killed that guy. But do you know why he was in that store to begin with?”

“No,” Harvey said, not taking his eyes from the gun in Dell’s hand. “Tell me why.”

“Because he needed the money. Because he wanted to buy more stuff for his fiancée because he was afraid she was steppin’ out on him with another guy. And guess what? He was right. She was just using him, spending his money faster than he could earn it.”

“It’s not true,” Harvey said. “Katie wouldn’t have cheated on VJ. She loved him.”

Dell lifted Katie by the hair again. “Tell him where you were the day VJ died.”

“With you,” Katie whispered, terrified.

Dell shook her. “Louder.”

“With you,” Katie cried. “I was with you. In VJ’s bed. I was with you.”

Harvey couldn’t breathe. “You were sleeping with your brother’s fiancée?”

“She didn’t do much sleeping,” Dell said bitterly and threw Katie down in disgust. “She hasn’t done much sleeping any night for the past three weeks.”

“You were with her?” Harvey asked, faintly. “All these nights?”

“While Phelps slept like the dead in the next room. I know. Sickening, isn’t it?”

But Dell didn’t look sickened. He looked… insane. “How could you, Dell?”

Dell shook his head, slowly. “V was always bigger than life. I can’t count the times he saved me from you, taking the blame for whatever made you mad.” He seemed to have run out of steam and Harvey watched, waiting for the opportunity to take the gun.

“I always wanted to be V,” Dell went on, wistfully. “He got all the girls. When Katie came on to me… I just took what she offered. And I’ve lived with that for the last year.”

“You seduced Dell?” Harvey whispered. “And you’re still sleeping with him?”

Tears ran down Katie’s face. “VJ worked all the time. I was lonely and it just happened one day. I didn’t plan it.”

Stunned, he stared. “But you’re still sleeping with him.”

“He told me he needed me,” Katie sobbed. “He said we could get Phelps together. Make him pay. I wanted to make Phelps pay.”

“Oh, you will,” Dell said. “Don’t worry. You’ll have the starring role.”

Harvey looked up at his son. The crazed light was gone from his eyes, replaced by an amused detachment that was more terrifying. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I got to thinking. Wouldn’t it be great if, after losing his job through gross incompetence, Phelps killed himself? Then I kicked it up. He loves women. Wouldn’t it be even greater if he was discovered dead in his bed next to his newest bimbo who was shot in the head? Think about how that would look on a magazine cover. It would get headlines. The world would see Phelps for who he really is. It would ruin him.”

“You can’t do that,” Harvey blurted.

Dell’s eyes narrowed. “Watch me, old man.”

“No, no,” Harvey backpedaled, stalling for time. On the sofa, Katie was sobbing in fear. “I mean, you can’t just punish Phelps. Webster was there, too. What about him?”

“Oh, I have a plan for him, too. No worries.” Dell took a step forward.

“Why Buckland?” Harvey asked.

Dell smiled, enjoying his fear. “I wanted to be sure the story would get printed.”

“You killed a reporter, posed as him, so that you could take over his column?”

“No. I killed him because he refused to write the story I wanted him to write. Kept whining about professional ethics and corroboration. Turns out I was right.” He took another step forward, pointing his gun at Harvey’s chest. “But I wasn’t close to being finished. I had days of stories left to write. You really shouldn’t have told on me, Pop.”

“I didn’t. I swear-” There was a quiet pop and Harvey looked down at his chest in disbelief. Red was spreading across his shirt and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Dell leaned close. “You really shouldn’t have hit us all those years, either, so that was for me and V.” He yanked a sobbing Katie to her feet. “Time to go.”

Wednesday, February 24, 5:30 p.m.

“So is this Buckland imposter connected to the Shadowland killer?” Abbott asked when Noah and Olivia had finished the story. “Could they be the same person?”

Carleton shook his head. “Unlikely. The temperament is completely different. The imposter is reckless and the Shadowland killer is very careful and meticulous. Both dangerous, but not the same person.”

“Considering we know what the imposter looks like, that would have been too good to be true,” Abbott grumbled. “But the timing can be no coincidence.”

“This Hunter,” Micki said. “What exactly did he see?”

“A black SUV,” Olivia said.

“And a ring,” Noah added. He’d told Olivia and she’d already added it to the BOLO. He held up his hand. “Like my college ring, but there are a lot of people with college rings. And most schools use the same ring companies, so the designs are the same.”

Kane held up his right hand. It was ringless, but he wiggled his finger. “I had one.”

Olivia looked up at him, charmed. “I didn’t know that, Kane. What did you study?”

Kane’s smile was slightly embarrassed. “Dance. Helped me play football.”

“I have one, too,” Carleton said, holding up his right hand. “We’re going to have a hard time tracking him down if that’s the only thing we have to go on.”

“I know,” Noah said flatly.

“His prints aren’t in the system,” Olivia said, “but we’ve got a sketch.”

“No sign of Buckland’s body?” Abbott asked.

“So far, none.” Olivia looked grim. “The tech guys are tracing the email he sent to the Mirror’s editor with the article on our dead women, we think from Buckland’s laptop.”

“All right.” Abbott sighed. “So full circle, back to our dead women. No suspects, no forensics, and no idea who he’s going to strike next. I need to decide if we’re going to release the Shadowland element to the press. Pros? Cons?”

“Pro, we warn the people in the study,” Noah said. “We tell participants not to leave their houses to meet strange people they meet online.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Like they should need to be told.”

“Con,” Jack said, “we show him our hand.”

“If you expose the connection,” Carleton said quietly, “he’ll change. He’s stayed a step ahead of us all this time. If he thinks we know his MO, he’ll find a new one.”

“Which is exactly why Eve fought so hard not to be connected to this case,” Noah said. “She didn’t want us to lose that Shadowland advantage.”

“So you’re saying not to tell, Noah?” Abbott asked.

“No, I’m saying she bought us a few days, but the clock is running out for these women. We’re no closer to finding this guy and he’s going to kill again.”

Carleton shrugged. “If women stop leaving their homes, they stop becoming victims. But you also may lose the opportunity to catch him. He’s likely to go somewhere else and start all over. It’s your call, Bruce.”

Abbott folded his hands and pressed them to his mouth, the picture of a man with a terrible choice to make.

“If it were me,” Noah said quietly, “I’d tell. He’s killed five times. I don’t want to find a sixth, and we can’t predict what he’s going to do.”

Abbott raised his brows. “Jack?”

“I agree. What if we’re late again? I have to live with Rachel Ward on my conscience for the rest of my life.” Jack swallowed hard. “No more.”

Abbott nodded. “I think so, too. I’ll get the word out. I hope these women hear it.”

“There are two women at high risk,” Noah said. “We should call them personally.”

“Get me their info,” Abbott said, then sighed when the phone on his desk rang. He hit the speakerphone. “Ian, you’re on speaker. We’re all here. What do you have?”

“The retained blood samples from Amy Millhouse’s autopsy showed ket. According to the autopsy report, the cause of death was strangulation, same as the others. There was something unusual, though. The victim’s fingernails were torn and there were abrasions all over her hands. Luckily the examiner took some photos for the file.”

“Defense wounds?” Jack asked.

“I don’t think so. Based on what I’ve seen before, Amy’s injuries were sustained clawing against something hard.”

“Her worst fear,” Carleton said. “A small space? Being closed in?”

“That makes sense,” Ian said. “That’s all I’ve got. I’ll call you if I get any more.”

Abbott turned off the speaker. “I’ll get a statement to the press. Noah, Jack, talk to Millhouse’s brother, then visit the couple that saw Martha leave the coffee shop.”

“What about Jeremy Lyons?” Noah asked. “We haven’t found him.”

“And his financials didn’t show anything irregular,” Abbott said. “Kane, Lyons is yours. Find him. Olivia, find out if anyone saw our reporter-guy come in or out of Kurt Buckland’s place. Have we notified his next of kin that he’s missing?”

“We did a canvass, but we’ll go back now that we have the sketch. Buckland’s not married, no kids. Sal may know somebody to call. I think the ring won’t be much help.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. Kane, I also want you to go back to the bar Rachel Ward was at last night. Find out if anyone saw anyone loitering, waiting for her. Now I have a meeting upstairs.” Abbott looked grim. “Keep me informed of everything.”

Wednesday, February 24, 6:10 p.m.

Eve jumped in her waiting room chair when someone touched her shoulder. Hunched over her laptop, she jerked up her chin to see Carleton Pierce standing in front of her. She took the earbuds from her ears. “Dr. Pierce. You startled me.”

“I said your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

Eve gestured to her laptop. “I was listening to some music. Trying to pass the time.” In reality she’d been watching video from the local TV news online archive. Several of the crime beat entries were Noah’s cases. But so far, she’d found nothing.

“I understand your friend was hurt. I hope he’s all right.”

“He will be.” Rising, she studied him curiously. People from the bar often looked different when she saw them in another environment, but Pierce looked essentially the same. He wore another expensive suit, gold cufflinks winking at his wrists. “Thank you.”

He took a step back and met her eyes, smiling kindly. “You’ve had a rough few days, Eve. I was on my way home from the police station and thought I’d stop in to see how you are.”

“That’s nice of you.” Which made her suspicious. Which in turn made her ashamed at her paranoia. Get a grip, Eve. “I’m okay. I’ll be more okay when they catch this guy.”

“I got a call from Dean Jacoby today.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed. Jacoby was Donner’s boss. “Why?”

“Well, because he’s my friend,” he said with a tolerant smile. “And because we were talking about my teaching a class next term, because Donner’s retiring.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, then frowned when his words sank in. “Donner’s retiring?”

“Yes. Apparently he gave notice a few weeks ago, but that’s not for public consumption. I trust you’ll be discreet.”

A few weeks ago? “Of course,” Eve murmured.

“At any rate, I didn’t mention you to Jacoby, but he mentioned your study. The college got a request yesterday for all your project files and cooperated fully with the police. He knew I worked with the police and wanted an update. He wanted to know how the police had made the connection to Marshall’s psychology department.”

“And you said?” Eve said calmly.

“That I was not at liberty to disclose elements of an ongoing investigation. I wanted you to know that they’re asking questions. Jacoby asked me and my wife to join him for dinner tonight. If you’d like to join us, it would be an opportunity for you to explain your actions before you’re accused of anything. Once he files anything formal, you’re in the system.” His lips curved ruefully. “Plus, you’ll get to enjoy the best prime rib in the city. If I remember grad school correctly, I ate a lot of bologna sandwiches.”

She made herself smile back. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, sir, but I have to stay here tonight. My friend may need me. I have your card and almost called ten times. But things keep happening.” She gestured to the waiting room. “I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Are you sure, Eve?” he asked, serious now. “The police team just made the decision to take the Shadowland connection public, to warn potential victims. Soon any decisions on what, who, and when you tell will be out of your hands.”

Eve’s shoulders sagged. “I knew this was an eventuality. I-”

“Eve?” Tom had returned, Liza still in tow. Liza looked better but Tom was panicked. He gently pushed his friend into a chair and rushed over. “What’s wrong with David?”

She realized Tom had seen Pierce and gotten the wrong idea. “Nothing. David’s still getting scanned. This isn’t one of his doctors.” She hesitated. “Tom, this is Dr. Pierce. Dr. Pierce, my friend, Tom. Dr. Pierce’s here to talk to me about… school.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tom said, warily.

Pierce gave Tom a polite nod, then turned back to Eve. “Don’t wait too long.”

“What the hell was that about?” Tom demanded when Pierce was gone.

Eve sank into her chair, her head now throbbing. “Long story.”

Tom sat next to Eve. “I’ve got time, Evie.”

“Your friend looks better,” Eve said.

“Yeah, and now you look like shit,” Tom shot back. “Who was that guy?”

“Tom, I… I’ve done something that could get me kicked out of school.”

He stared at her. “What the hell is this?”

“You know the women who’ve been murdered recently? The ones that looked like suicides? They were all participants in my Shadow-land study.”

“Shit. But how could they possibly blame you for that?”

“They can’t. But I know the victims’ identities because I looked at files I shouldn’t have. It’s cheating and I could get expelled.”

Tom’s face fell. “No way. You’ve worked so hard… Oh, Evie.”

She patted his hand. “I know. But if it makes it any easier, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It’ll be all right, however it turns out. I’ll find my feet again.”

“You always find your feet,” he said quietly. “I’ve always admired that about you.”

Eve’s throat tightened. “Thank you. I needed that.”

He slid his arm around her in a hard, brotherly hug. “I always thought it would be Mom or Dana getting busted for breaking the rules. Never thought it would be you.”

Eve’s laugh was shaky. “Go bug David. He’s probably done getting scanned.”

“I wanna meet your date. Got to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

Too good for me, she thought sadly. “I’ll introduce you before I leave. Now be gone.”

She watched Tom go, shaken. Dean Jacoby asking questions… The Shadowland connection soon all over the news… Buckland missing and probably dead…

Don’t think about that. She tried to draw her mind away from the fear, pulling her computer to her lap out of habit. Think. Buckland was missing. She’d been searching articles on Noah, but Kurt Buckland had also been a victim. She’d been so unnerved last night that she hadn’t dug very deep into Buckland’s articles.

Kurt Buckland, she typed into the search screen, and started reading the results.

Wednesday, February 24, 6:10 p.m.

Millhouse’s lawyer stood up when Noah and Jack entered the interview room. “This is outrageous,” he began. “My client-”

“Is free to go,” Noah said. “But we’d appreciate answers to some questions first.”

“My sister committed suicide. I don’t understand why I’m here like a criminal.”

Noah sat next to him. “Your sister did not commit suicide, sir.”

Larry Millhouse’s mouth fell open. “Are you saying my sister was murdered?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “That’s exactly what we’re saying. We need you to tell us exactly how you found the scene, before you cut your sister down and changed her clothes.”

Millhouse looked away. “She was dressed like a whore, in a low-cut red dress, and this… makeup. Amy never dressed like that. And her eyes… they were open. Glued.”

“What about shoes?” Jack asked.

“High heels. Red. Amy never in a million years would wear shoes like that.”

“And the window?” Noah asked.

“Wide open.”

“Was there a note?” Jack finished and Millhouse shook his head.

“No,” he said miserably. “So I wrote one. My mother was so upset, I just wanted to make her see that Amy really had loved her.”

Jack looked at Millhouse sternly. “All of those elements are common to five murders. By altering the scene, you made it harder for us to realize what was going on before four more women lost their lives.”

Millhouse glanced nervously at his attorney. “Am I in trouble?”

“The powers that be say no,” Jack said. “So you’re free to go.”

But Millhouse didn’t move from his chair. His eyes had closed, his face still pale. “Somebody killed my sister,” he murmured, as if it was just sinking in. “Why?”

“We don’t know why,” Noah said, “but we do know that he’s targeted his victims through an online computer game. Shadowland.”

Larry Millhouse visibly flinched. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve heard of the game?” Jack asked.

Millhouse nodded, a bare movement. “I showed it to her. Then she was sucked in.”

“She played a lot?” Noah asked.

“She was making money at it, amazingly. I played for fun. Amy played for keeps.”

“How did she make money?” Noah asked.

“She gambled in the casino. Poker, blackjack, all the games. She won, a lot. Took her winnings, bought and sold real estate in the better neighborhoods. She converted the Shadowbucks into real-world money. She was about to quit her day job.”

“So she spent time in the casino. Did she mention meeting anyone there?”

“If she did, she didn’t tell me. We’d been arguing about her spending so much time in the online world. I was stunned, frankly. She’d become this wheeler-dealer, a person I didn’t know. When I found her hanging there…” His voice broke. “Like that…”

“So you took her down and changed her clothes,” Jack said quietly.

“Yes.” Millhouse dropped his head to his hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried. “She was my little sister, dammit. I showed her the game. It was my fault.”

His lawyer patted his shoulder. “Can he go now?”

“In a minute,” Noah said, as kindly as he could. “Mr. Millhouse, this killer has taken the computers of the other victims. Did you notice anything different about the computer at your sister’s apartment after her death?”

Millhouse scraped his hands down his face, struggling for control. “I don’t know. We were just in… autopilot, you know? My mother was having chest pains and I couldn’t stand the guilt. I… burned the dress. I told my wife to get rid of everything else.”

Of course. Not that this guy would have left anything behind anyway, Noah thought bitterly, then stood. “Thank you, Mr. Millhouse.”

“Do you have any leads?”

Not a one. “Yes,” Noah said. “We’ll call when we have news.”

Noah waited for Jack in the hallway, closing the door behind them. “We know one new thing,” Noah said. “Martha and Christy spent their time at Ninth Circle. Rachel divided her time between the bar and the casino. Amy Millhouse hung at the casino.”

“So we know two places he hunts his victims. So how does that help?”

“I don’t know yet.” But Noah knew who to ask. He checked his watch. “I’ve got plans for dinner. Let’s break and meet at the Bolyards’ house at 8:30.”

Jack put on his hat. “I had to cancel Katie. Maybe I can still catch up with her.”

“Good luck,” Noah said, and meant it.

Jack’s smile was flat. “You, too.”

Wednesday, February 24, 6:40 p.m.

“Eve?” Her chin jerked up when hands squeezed her knees and she met Noah’s eyes over her laptop. He was crouching, looking panicked. As well he should.

“I tried to call you a couple of times, but you didn’t answer.”

She fished her cell from her bag. “I had it on vibrate and forgot to change it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you again.”

The panic had left his eyes, leaving concern and an anticipation that made her own skin tingle despite her own jumble of emotion. “How is David?”

“Better. Tom’s in with him now. Noah, I think I found him.”

“Who?”

“The man who hates you. Sit and look.” He did, sliding one arm across her back and leaning closer. Which put his face right next to hers, throwing her pulse into overdrive. Which, she suspected, was his intent. Keeping her eyes straight ahead she pointed to the picture she’d downloaded. The man had a dark beard threaded with silver, a hard mouth, and harder eyes. “Do you recognize him?” she asked, her voice a little huskier.

“No.” Then he turned his head, bringing his mouth inches from hers. “Should I?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Pay attention, Noah.”

“I am.” But instead of backing away, he came closer and there was nothing hard about his mouth when he brushed it over hers. There was instead sweetness and heat. Her eyes slid closed and she leaned into him, lifting one hand to tentatively touch his face, deepening the kiss until it was slow and unhurried, making it all the more devastating. It was sumptuous, rich and full. And right.

That rightness would make it that much harder to lose later.

She pulled away, as slowly as they’d come together, her palm still cupping his cheek. His eyes searched hers while she fought the tears that rose in her throat. It had been a hell of a day. Anyone’s emotions would be on the edge.

“Sometimes,” he murmured, “when you’re behind the bar, you watch everyone and your eyes grow so sad. I always wondered what you saw. I’m wondering that right now.”

The tears rose a little higher and she swallowed them back. “Why didn’t you ask?”

Regret flickered in his eyes. “If you only knew how many times I wanted to. But I watched you and knew you were… fragile. Vulnerable.”

“I’m not,” she protested.

“You are. So am I.” He hesitated. “Eve, my mother was an alcoholic when I was a kid, out of control. I never wanted to be like her. I craved discipline and prided myself on not being weak. I joined the army, did a tour, came back determined to be a cop like my dad. He died when I was five, line of duty. That started my mother drinking.”

“You got married,” she said and he nodded. “But she died,” she added. “How?”

“Car accident,” he said briefly. “Which… started me drinking.”

He hadn’t moved, his face still hovered inches from her own. “Who saved you?”

“My cousin, Brock, at first. I spent more time at his house than mine growing up because my mom was always drunk. When I hit rock bottom, I called him, begged him to help. He took me to my first AA meeting, stood by my side while I dried out. My mom had joined AA a million times, but always fell off the wagon. I was determined not to, but it was, it is hard. Mom saw me fighting the booze, she saw me following in her footsteps and that pushed her to change. We did AA together.”

“And she’s still sober?”

“Ten years later we both are. She’s down south now. Comes back for the summer.”

“You love her,” Eve said quietly, a little enviously. “I’m glad.” And she was.

“Me, too. Eve, I grew up with chaos. Discipline, or the illusion of it, is important to me. I sat in the bar, watched you, and was pretty damn proud of myself for not talking to you, not saddling you with my demons. But I think I was just afraid. That if I let you in, I’d lose what control I’ve managed to keep. So I kept my distance.”

“For a whole year?”

“You didn’t help,” he countered dryly. “You wouldn’t even look at me. Why?”

He’d been honest. She could be no less. “Because I wanted to,” she said. “I wanted you. And it scared me. It still does.”

“I know it does,” he said softly. “But we have time to deal with that.” He returned his attention to the man on her screen. “Why should I recognize him?”

She forced her eyes away from Noah’s face and her mind back to the work at hand. “This is the father of a man you and Jack almost arrested about a year ago. His name is Harvey Farmer. His son was Harvey Farmer, Jr., but folks called him V.”

Noah nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. I remember V Farmer. He robbed a convenience store and killed the owner, shot him in the face. We found V hiding in a friend’s house. He ran, we pursued. Jack chased him and V ran across a highway to escape.”

“At night, in the snow,” Eve said, recalling the Buckland article she’d finally found after pages of search results. “The truck that hit him tried to stop, but couldn’t.”

“Right. V was dead at the scene and we closed the case. How do you know this?”

“Kurt Buckland covered V’s funeral. In the Metro section.” She toggled to the article. “ ‘Harvey Farmer, Jr., known as V to his friends, was buried today. He is survived by his father, Harvey Farmer, Sr., and his brother, Dell Farmer.’ Who you’ve met.”

“The reporter? How do you know?”

“I’ll show you. The father was at V’s funeral and Buckland snapped this picture of him for the piece.” She clicked on a picture showing the bearded man standing at a graveside. “I think that’s Dell standing next to him, but you can’t see his face.”

Eve brought up her favorite design software into which she’d already imported Farmer Sr.’s face, enlarged and grainy, but usable. “Take away the beard, the gray in his hair, a few wrinkles, and make his eyes a little closer together…” She worked steadily as she talked. “And voila. One faux reporter. Dell Farmer.”

Noah blinked and stared. “Wow. That’s amazing. I never would have seen the resemblance based on that little picture. It’s not obvious at all. How did you see it?”

His praise warmed her. “I study faces. You know, what makes people trust one face and not another. Which features make us comfortable and which make us afraid.”

“And you used that when you started up your avatar design shop in Shadowland.”

She shrugged. “Might as well get some semipractical use out of it.”

He was studying her again. “You trusted him,” he said quietly. “Rob Winters.”

She flinched. “Yes. I was young and stupid.”

“And you’ll never let that happen again.”

“I’ll never be that young again and I pray I’ll never be that stupid again.”

His eyes never left her face. “And you’ll never trust a man again?”

“That’s not it. I trust you. I never would have gotten into a car with you otherwise.”

“You don’t trust yourself, then. You don’t trust your judgment that you trust me.”

She nodded, both relieved and sad that he finally understood. “Convoluted, I know.”

He rose. “I’ll get Olivia this information.”

“You’re not going after him yourself?”

“It’s Olivia’s case. If she needs my help, she’ll ask for it.”

“Of course.” Eve busied herself putting her laptop away. “If you could take me back to the station, I’ll get David’s truck. Callie’s working tonight, so I’ll just hang out at Sal’s. I’m sure one of the off-duty officers will see us home, so it’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Eve.” His eyes glittered with determination, but his voice was gentle. “Let’s go to dinner. Then you can decide where you’ll stay. Give me your bag. I’ll carry it for you.”

He understood, but he wasn’t walking away. “My friend, Tom… wants to meet you.”

Noah’s eyes lit up. “The ballplayer? Sweet.” He put his arm around her shoulders, possessively. “Is this like being brought home to meet the family?”

“Yes. I guess it is.”