Shadow Play

by Iris Johansen

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don’t doubt anything about what she might do. She’s one of a kind, and I’m not certain what kind.” He changed the subject. “How quick can you manage to repair that skull?”

  “I should have her finished by this afternoon.” She paused. “But I want to know what news sources you’re going to go to with the reconstruction.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I didn’t say that. But I lost her once. I don’t want that to happen again. I want to be able to control the distribution of her photo.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised if you’re being proprietary, but might I remind you that I’m the one who sent Jenny to you.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “You didn’t by any chance get a call from Margaret since you’ve been here at the hospital?”

  “What?” She gazed at him in bewilderment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who told Margaret about Joe.”

  He nodded curtly. “Just a thought. Margaret and I haven’t been on the best of terms since we met. You were prepared to trust me before.”

  “Trust has nothing to do with it. I’d just feel better to be involved all the way through the process.”

  “I could confiscate the skull.”

  “Yes, you could. But then you’d have me on your back instead of by your side. You don’t want that.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. “No, I don’t.” He turned away. “Let me know where you’ll be working, and I’ll be there to pick it up this afternoon.”

  She had a thought. “Come here. I’ll try to get permission to do the repairs here in Joe’s room. I want to keep an eye on him, and it might make him a little more complacent if I’m with him, and he feels part of the process.” She added ruefully, “Complacent? That term doesn’t apply to Joe in any sense of the word. Oh, well, I’ll have to do what I can.”

  “And that appears to be pretty impressive.” He paused at the elevator. “I’ll give the hospital administration a call and rattle off your credentials so that they won’t give you trouble about bringing a skull onto the floor. Sometimes they can be a little touchy about things like that.”

  “I can do that myself.”

  “You’re shutting me out again.” He punched the button. “I’m law enforcement. Use me.”

  She shrugged. “I’m accustomed to doing everything for myself. No offense.”

  “None taken.” He got on the elevator. “And I’ll let you tag along with me when I take the skull to a few reporters with whom I’ve had good luck. You might be an asset.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how I appreciate your cooperation,” she said with gentle sarcasm.

  “Now you know how I’ve been feeling.”

  Before she could answer, the elevator doors closed.

  She wrinkled her nose as she turned away. It was clear she hadn’t handled Nalchek with any great degree of diplomacy and had managed to annoy him.

  Too bad. She respected and admired him but she couldn’t please everyone, and the main issue was to get Walsh before he could kill again. But he was right, it was time to use him.

  But not right now. She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. She would call and arrange for her supplies to be sent to the hospital. Then she would beg a bed for the next few hours and sleep before she started to work.

  But first she would go back to Joe and fill him in on the current plan and try to make it as palatable as possible for him. It would not be easy. As she had told Nalchek, Joe did not forgive and forget. He would have planned to go after Walsh even if he had not been shot. Now he would be totally relentless.

  And that’s what she must be until she managed to stop Walsh. She might have only a few days before Joe was on the hunt again, and he was hurt and vulnerable. Yes, she would use Nalchek and anyone else to find Walsh before Joe had to face him again.

  He’s dead, you bitch. And you’ll be dead, too. You can’t stop me.

  The hell I can’t. Watch me.

  * * *

  “Quite a setup.” Nalchek was standing in the doorway of Joe’s room, his gaze on Eve, who was standing at a makeshift stand across the room, working on Jenny’s reconstruction. “Is she much worse for wear? She doesn’t look it. That sketch you drew looks just like her.”

  “Not much damage.” She shook her head at Joe. “He took better care of her than he did himself.”

  “I wasn’t about to let it be destroyed,” Joe said as he glanced at Nalchek. “I suppose I owe you thanks for the way you responded to Eve’s call. You got those police helicopters out to us with amazing speed, considering that they were out of your jurisdiction. I know how difficult it can be bridging the red tape when it’s not your own guys.”

  Nalchek shrugged. “I’ve made it a point since I became sheriff to establish friendly relationships with other police departments both statewide and in close neighboring states. You can never tell when you’re going to need a favor.”

  “You must have done a good job. I was impressed.”

  “But they didn’t snag Walsh.”

  “No, but we’ll get him. That bastard isn’t going to take anything from us ever again.”

  “Sounds good.” Nalchek smiled at Eve. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on both her and the reconstruction.”

  Oh, shit. He couldn’t have said anything that would have made Joe feel his helplessness more. Eve could see the immediate tension that tautened Joe’s body. She said quickly, “Not your job.” She picked up the towel on the worktable and wiped her hands. “But it is your job to take Jenny for her first viewing.” She nodded at the box on the chair. “Pack her up, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Okay.” He moved across the room and carefully took the reconstruction and placed it in the box. “If you still want to go with me.”

  “I told you I did. Which journalist did you place first on the list?”

  “Terry Brandell. She writes a weekly column and has national syndication. But she’s very popular in California and Oregon. She’s helped me out before a couple times.” He closed the box. “Though never with anything quite like this. She’s more into tough, investigative police work than lost and found.”

  “This is definitely investigative police work.”

  “But that face is … wrenching. Children always evoke an emotional response. She prefers the cool, analytical approach.”

  “No, there’s nothing cool and analytical about anything to do with Jenny.” She moved toward the bed and gave Joe a quick kiss. “I’ll call you.” She headed for the door. “Let’s get this over with, Nalchek. The sooner your reporter gets Jenny’s face in her column the better.”

  * * *

  “I suppose Nalchek told you that this kind of curiosity/human-interest stuff isn’t really my cup of tea?” Terry Brandell asked as she looked down at the box. “I’m surprised he brought this skull to me.”

  “He said you would give it the greatest amount of coverage,” Eve said bluntly. “And this reconstruction is not a curiosity. It’s a little girl who was murdered and needs the justice she never had. If you think that’s a human-interest story, then we disagree. Personally, I believe it’s a terrible tragedy that deserves being exposed and rectified. If you’re willing to do that, then we’ve come to the right place. If not, say it now, and we’ll find someone else. I have no intention of begging you to do the right thing.”

  The journalist blinked. “I can see that.” She glanced at Nalchek. “And I like her honesty. When you called me, I did a little research, and when I checked her credentials, I was thinking of doing an interview. How about a trade?”

  “No,” Eve said. “I’m not the story. This little girl is the story, and I won’t have her cheated or overshadowed.”

  “You heard the lady.” Nalchek was smiling. “I’m open for a deal on future information for your articles, but this one is off the table, Terry.”

  “Interesting.” She tilted her head. “Particularly since this isn’t
exactly what I’d think you’d be involved in, Nalchek.”

  “Yes or no,” Eve said. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

  “You can’t convince me there’s a hurry. She’s been dead eight years.”

  Eve didn’t answer.

  “Or are there new breaks in the case?”

  “How can there be?” Nalchek asked. “We don’t know who she is. That’s how you’re going to help us.”

  “Maybe.”

  Eve shook her head. “Yes or no.”

  Terry shrugged. “Yes. Why not? I always like to have Nalchek owe me.” She reached for the box. “Show me the kid.”

  Eve opened the box and carefully drew out the reconstruction. She put it on the desk in front of the journalist.

  Terry Brandell studied the skull. “Very unusual. Are you sure that you didn’t indulge your creativity a bit on this one, Ms. Duncan?”

  “I’m sure,” Eve said. “When you locate a photo of her, I’d bet that the similarity will be very close, Ms. Brandell.”

  “Terry. If we locate a photo.” Terry’s gaze was fixed on Jenny’s delicate features. “But if someone has seen her, it’s likely she would be remembered.”

  “That’s what we thought,” Eve said. “How soon can you publish the photo?”

  “A few days.”

  Eve shook her head.

  Terry Brandell grimaced. “Pushy. Very pushy.” She turned to Nalchek. “Tomorrow. Give me an hour to get my photographer on it.” She added brusquely, “And I want an exclusive if you come up with the kid’s killer.”

  “Done,” Nalchek said.

  “And you can come back later today to pick up the reconstruction.”

  “No, we’ll wait,” Eve said. “She’s not going to be out of my sight until you’ve taken those photos. Things sometimes get … misplaced.”

  “I don’t imagine skulls are high on that list,” Terry said dryly.

  “You’d be surprised.” Eve sat down in a chair by the door. “I won’t get in your way.”

  “Suit yourself.” She asked curiously, “Are you always this intense?”

  “It depends on the job. This one seems to require it.”

  Terry turned to Nalchek. “I’m beginning to become intrigued. Want to have dinner and discuss it?”

  “No,” Nalchek said. “I’ll take a rain check. Thanks for helping, Terry.”

  “I won’t give up, you know.” Her gaze went back to the reconstruction. “Now that I study it, there’s something familiar…”

  “Someone compared her features to those of a young Audrey Hepburn,” Eve said. “That’s probably what you’re seeing.”

  “Maybe.” She stared for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe not. I’ll think about it.”

  “Why else would she be familiar?” Eve asked. “She’s been buried for eight years, and she was only nine. You said that missing children weren’t your cup of tea.”

  “They’re not. And I’m probably imagining things.” She reached for her telephone. “I’ll get my photographer up here and get those shots. Fill me in on the backstory about where she was found, Nalchek.”

  CHAPTER

  11

  They didn’t leave Terry Brandell’s office for another three hours. By that time, the photographs had been taken and the story written.

  “She’s right,” Nalchek said as he opened the passenger door of the car for Eve. “Pushy. Very pushy. We’re lucky she didn’t tell us to hit the road.”

  “We didn’t have time to be diplomatic.” She settled herself in the seat. “But I wasn’t rude, merely insistent. And I saved you from having to be the one to pressure her. You might need to use her services later. I don’t have to deal with her after she publishes that photo tomorrow.”

  “So you did it out of the kindness of your heart.”

  “I did it because I have to get this wrapped up before Joe gets out of the hospital.” She fastened her seat belt. “And before Walsh decides to move on that little girl in Carmel. That child must have parents or guardians, and I’ll bet that the photo will look like their child. All of the other victims bore a definite resemblance to Jenny. Maybe seeing the article will cause something to click. Or it could be that they’ll make some kind of connection with Jenny.” She wearily shook her head. “If they just see it, and it scares them about the possibility of something like that happening to their own child. If it makes them a little more careful, I’ll take that, too.”

  “So would I,” Nalchek said grimly. “And if we don’t hear anything in a week after Terry’s article, we’ll go to another reporter.”

  “Old news,” Eve said. “It will be harder the second time.”

  “I’ll get it done.”

  Eve could imagine he would. There wasn’t much that Nalchek wouldn’t be able to accomplish if he put his mind to it. “Let’s hope Terry’s article will do what it’s supposed to do.” She paused. “She said that she looked familiar. She’s a journalist, is it possible that—” She broke off. “Not likely. I’m reaching … I’m just hoping that something is going to go right for a change.”

  “Maybe someone else will think she looks familiar,” he said quietly. “That’s what this is all about.” He started his car. “Where do you want to go? Back to the hospital?”

  “Not yet. I’ve made reservations at the Fairmont Hotel. I want to check in and have a shower and change of clothes before I go back to the hospital.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. Anything else I can do?”

  “Yes, you can bring Margaret to see me. Ask her to stop in my room at the inn and get my other suitcase.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, it will take an hour or so.”

  “Whatever. It will give me a little time to myself.”

  “Then you’d better call her and tell her to make herself available.” His lips twisted. “She’s probably back in the forest communing with that coyote.”

  “I don’t like her being there alone. That’s not what I meant to happen when I asked for her help.”

  “I can’t keep an armed guard on her constantly. I’ve told her not to go into the forest, but she’s not listening.”

  “She’s listening. But probably not to us.” She shook her head. “And I’m the one who set her to trying to find out what was happening in that forest. But now it scares me.”

  “Me, too.”

  Eve looked at him. “You?”

  “I don’t give a damn about the fact that she thinks she talks to— Hell, maybe she does. Or maybe she’s just nuts. I don’t care. I don’t want her running around that forest and getting herself killed. That’s my county, my town.” He said fiercely, “Keep her out.”

  “I’ll try,” she said. “I’ll tell her I want her to leave the area. Okay?”

  “If she listens to you.”

  “I don’t know if she will,” Eve said ruefully. “And, if I tell her to go, I don’t know where that will be. She seems to drift from place to place. She makes friends, but Kendra Michaels, who found her and sent her here, and my adopted daughter, Jane, are the only ones who appear to be close to her. I don’t know how much they even know about her.”

  “I’ll find out before this is over.”

  “You haven’t yet.” She waved a dismissive hand as she saw him frown. “It’s not important. I only want to keep her safe and make sure that she’s not collateral damage from our going after Walsh.”

  “She wasn’t the target in Tahoe. You were the one Walsh wanted to lure to your death. Joe Quinn was the one who took the bullet, but it could have been you. Didn’t you tell me that he said he had orders to take you out?”

  She nodded. “I was getting in his way. I was too close.” She shivered. “God, I hope I’m close. I don’t seem to know anything.” They had pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel, and the doorman opened her car door. “That’s got to change, Nalchek.” She got out and nodded at the reconstruction she’d placed on the bac
kseat. “Take good care of that skull. I hope we don’t need to use it again. Tomorrow will tell the tale, won’t it?”

  “I hope so,” Nalchek said soberly. “There’s something I should tell you. I’ve persuaded the SFOPD to assign an officer to keep an eye on you while you’re at the hotel or hospital. If you go anywhere else, call me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe. Don’t be alarmed. We both know that Margaret isn’t the only one who is at risk.” He smiled faintly. “I’m sure Quinn would approve.”

  “Without a doubt.” She added, “I won’t argue. Anything to get Walsh.” She turned and headed for the front entrance. “I’ll call Margaret and have her ready for you.”

  “You can try,” he said dryly. “So far, I’ve found that she’s not only ready, she’s a step ahead.”

  “Then I’ll tell her to be kind to you.” Eve wrinkled her nose at him. “Poor Nalchek, so put upon…”

  SONDERVILLE FOREST

  Margaret felt a chill as she closed her eyes and tried to delve through the confusion she was sensing in the coyote’s mind. It was difficult. She had been struggling to understand what Sajan was trying to communicate since she had made contact over an hour ago.

  “He’s coming.”

  “Why are you afraid of him, Sajan?”

  “Same as the other one. Rage. Violence. Just like the other one.”

  “What other one?” she asked patiently.

  “The grave.”

  The chill was spreading. “The one who put the little girl in the grave?”

  “Shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have killed. His fault I have to be here.”

  “Whose fault?”

  “Shouldn’t have done it. Don’t like any of this. Why should I be here?”

  “I have no idea. Talk to me. Maybe we can figure it out. Whose fault? I need—”

  “Coming now! Hide!”

  He was gone.

  And she was left alone in the darkness of the forest.

  Coming.

  Who was coming? Walsh?

  Or the other one Sajan said was the same.

  “Margaret?”

  The other one.

  Nalchek.