“You’ll do a good job,” Joe said. “But not if you get so tired you lose judgment.” He headed for the kitchen. “Did you eat dinner?”
“I think so…I don’t remember.”
“Then we’ll assume that you didn’t. I’ll warm up the beef stew in the refrigerator and put some garlic bread in the oven. That means you have fifteen minutes to clean up your studio and wash up.”
“I can catch something later.”
“Now.” He opened the refrigerator. “Scoot.”
She hesitated. Montalvo. She’d meant to tell him about the call from Montalvo as soon as he came in but it didn’t seem important now. As she’d worked on the skull, everything had faded but the reality of the work itself. Marty was important. The other lost children were important. She’d tell Joe about Montalvo later. “I should finish tonight. I want to do the computer three-D image before we leave for Phoenix.”
“According to forensics, the boy’s been dead for five years. He can wait a little while longer.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “No arguments, Eve. I let you wear yourself into the ground because you give me no choice, but not this time. You’ll have a fight on your hands. I’d bet you’ve lost five pounds this week.”
“I don’t think—” She wearily shook her head. Maybe he was right. She was exhausted and she probably had lost weight. This case had been particularly painful. She should be used to dealing with the cruelty of the monsters who killed innocent children after all these years of forensic sculpting. Yet the mindless brutality of the violence visited on this small boy had ripped aside the scar tissue. “I want to bring him home, Joe.” Her lips tightened. “And I want to kill the son of a bitch who did that to him.”
“I know,” he said. “Give me a chance and I’ll do the job for you. For that poor kid and for what his killer is doing to you.” He slammed the refrigerator door. “I was hoping this damn obsession was lessening but along comes a nasty case and you’re right back where you were.”
She stiffened. “This is what I do. This is what I am. Why are you so angry about it now?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “Because I’m tired. Because sometimes I can’t stand to see you in pain. Because the years pass and I think the miracle will happen and it never does.”
He was talking about Bonnie. She felt a ripple of shock. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken about her daughter. Yet Bonnie was always there, a silent presence. “I’ll find her someday.”
“A miracle,” he repeated. “After all these years that’s what it would take.” He turned his back on her and moved to the stove. “Go get cleaned up. If I upset you any more, you won’t eat and I’ll be defeating my purpose.”
She studied him. Something was definitely wrong. His motions were jerky and that remark about Bonnie was an instant tip-off. She would have noticed earlier if she hadn’t been distracted by both her work and the aftereffects of that call from Montalvo. “I’m not the only one who’s upset. What the devil is wrong with you?” She crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from shaking. “And don’t tell me that you’re just fed up with living here with me. If you don’t want to stay with me, no one is forcing you.”
“Particularly not you.”
“Shut up.” She tried to steady her voice. “I don’t have any right to ask you to stay. I’m an emotional cripple. As you said, I’m obsessed and I’ll probably remain that way for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder why you haven’t left me before this.”
He didn’t look at her. “You know why.”
“Joe.”
“I have my own obsession. Now get your ass in gear. We need to get some food down you.” He shot her a glance. “It’s okay. I’m over it. It just had to come out.”
“Why now?”
“Why not?”
She hesitated, gazing at him. It wasn’t over. She could sense the turbulence, the reckless energy whirling below the surface.
“You’re down to ten minutes.”
She tried to smile. “You used up five telling me what an obsessive wacko I am.”
“Takes one to know one.” He turned on the oven. “And you’re my wacko.”
She felt a sudden surge of warmth. He was the only man she’d ever known who could make her flit from emotion to emotion in the space of a heartbeat. She’d been angry, upset, defensive, and yet now she was feeling this powerful surge of affection. She turned away and headed down the hall. “Wackos of the world, unite.”
“I only want to unite with one wacko and I fully intend to do it later tonight. After I feed you and stoke up your energy level.”
“Promises, promises.”
She was still smiling as she stepped into the shower a few minutes later. She could feel a tingle of sexual anticipation and excitement start within her. Jesus, you’d think after all these years with Joe that sex wouldn’t be this urgent. Wasn’t it supposed to become merely comfortable after a while? Their coming together was just as wild and passionate as that first time. Her body was tensing, readying at the thought.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as the water flowed over her. She’d tell Joe about Montalvo’s call over dinner but right now she wanted to relax and forget about everything but Joe….
BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN
A Summer Smile
Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea
Stalemate
An Unexpected Song
Killer Dreams
On the Run
Countdown
Blind Alley
Firestorm
Fatal Tide
Dead Aim
No One to Trust
Body of Lies
Final Target
The Search
The Killing Game
The Face of Deception
And Then You Die
Long After Midnight
The Ugly Duckling
Lion’s Bride
Dark Rider
Midnight Warrior
The Beloved Scoundrel
The Magnificent Rogue
The Tiger Prince
Last Bridge Home
The Golden Barbarian
Reap the Wind
Storm Winds
The Wind Dancer
CAPTURE THE RAINBOW
A Bantam Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam Loveswept mass market edition published August 1984
Bantam reissue / February 2008
Published by Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 1984 by Iris Johansen
* * *
Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
* * *
www.bantamdell.com
eISBN: 978-0-553-90552-6
v3.0
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