Iris Johansen 1998 - The Face of Deception

by The Face of Deception(lit)

  She stood up and moved her shoulders to rid them of stiffness. Shed pack up Bobbys skull, take it and the report to the house, then ship them out the following morning. She never liked to have more than one skull in the lab at the same time. Joe laughed at her, but she felt she couldnt give her full attention to the job she was working on if she could see another skull silently waiting. So shed overnight Bobby Starnes and the re-port to Chicago and the day after tomorrow Bobbys parents would know that their son had come home, that he was no longer one of the lost ones.

  Let it go, Eve.

  Her mother didnt understand that the search for Bonnie had become woven into the fabric of her life and she could no longer tell which thread was Bonnie and which were the other lost ones. That probably made her a hell of a lot more unstable than her mother, she thought ruefully.

  She walked across the room and stood before the shelf bearing the new skull.

  What happened to you? she murmured as she removed the skulls ID tag and tossed it on the work-bench. An accident? Murder? She hoped it wasnt murder, but it usually was in these cases. It hurt her to think of the terror the child had suffered before death.

  The death of a child.

  Someone had held this girl as a baby, had watched her take her first steps. Eve prayed that someone had loved her and given her joy before she had ended up lost in that hole in the forest.

  She gently touched the girls cheekbone. I dont know who you are. Do you mind if I call you Mandy? Ive always liked that name. Jesus, she talked to skeletons and she was worried about her mother going off the deep end? It might be weird, but shed always felt it was disrespectful to treat the skulls as if they had no identity. This girl had lived, laughed, and loved. She deserved more than to be treated impersonally.

  Eve whispered, Just be patient, Mandy. To-morrow Ill measure and soon Ill start sculpting. Ill find you. Ill bring you home.

  MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

  Youre sure shes the best choice? John Logans gaze was fastened on the television screen, where a video of the scene outside the prison facility was playing. She doesnt appear all that stable. Ive got enough problems without having to deal with a woman who doesnt have all her marbles.

  My God, what a kind, caring human being you are, Ken Novak murmured. I think the woman might have cause to appear a little distracted. That was the night the murderer of her little girl was executed.

  Then she should have been dancing with joy and offering to pull the switch. I would have been. In-stead, she pleaded with the governor for a stay.

  Fraser was convicted for the killing of Teddy Simes. He was almost caught in the act and wasnt able to dispose of the boys body. But he confessed to murdering eleven other children including Bonnie Duncan. He gave details that left no doubt he was guilty, but he wouldnt tell where hed disposed of the bodies.

  Why not?

  I dont know. He was a crazy son of a bitch. A last act of malice? The bastard even refused to appeal the death sentence. It drove Eve Duncan frantic. She didnt want him executed until he told them where her daughter was. She was afraid shed never find her.

  And has she?

  No. Novak picked up the remote and froze a frame. Thats Joe Quinn. Rich parents, attended Har-vard. Everyone expected him to go into law, but he joined the FBI instead. He worked the Bonnie Duncan case with the Atlanta P.D., but hes now a de-tective with them. He and Eve Duncan have become friends.

  Quinn appeared to be about twenty-six at the time. Square face, broad mouth, and intelligent, wide-set brown eyes. Only friends?

  He nodded. If shes gone to bed with him, we havent found out about it. She was a witness at his wedding three years ago. Shes had one or two rela-tionships in the past eight years, but nothing serious. Shes a workaholic and that doesnt lend itself to en-riching personal relationships. He looked pointedly at Logan. Now, does it?

  Ignoring the comment, Logan glanced down at the report on the desk. The mothers an addict?

  Not any longer. She got off the stuff years ago.

  What about Eve Duncan?

  She was never on dope. Which was a wonder. Practically everyone else in her neighborhood was sniffing or shooting, including Mama. Her mother was illegitimate and had Eve when she was fifteen. They lived on welfare in one of the worst areas of the city. Eve had Bonnie when she was sixteen.

  Who was the father?

  She didnt list him on the birth certificate. Evi-dently he didnt claim the child. He pressed the button to start the tape again. Theres a picture coming up on the screen of the kid. CNN really wrung the story for all it was worth.

  Bonnie Duncan. The little girl was dressed in a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Her red hair was wildly curly and there was a smattering of freckles on her nose. She was smiling at the camera and her face was alight with joy and mischief.

  Logan felt sick. What kind of world was this in which a monster could kill a kid like that?

  Novaks gaze was fixed on his face. Cute, huh?

  Fast-forward.

  Novak pressed the button and the scene was back outside the prison.

  How old was Duncan when the kid was killed?

  Twenty-three. The little girl was seven. Fraser was executed two years later.

  And the woman went bonkers and became ob-sessed with bones.

  Hell no, Novak said curtly. Why are you being so rough on her?

  Logan turned to look at him. Why are you being so defensive?

  Because shes not Shes got guts, dammit.

  You admire her?

  From her head right down to her toes, Novak said. She could have given up the kid for adoption or gotten an abortion. She kept her instead. She could have gone on welfare like her mother and repeated the pattern. She kept the baby in a United Fund nursery during the day while she worked and did cor-respondence courses at night. She was almost fin-ished with college when Bonnie disappeared. He looked at Eve Duncan on the screen. That should have killed her or sent her spiraling back where she came from, but it didnt. She returned to school and made something of her life. She has a degree in fine arts from Georgia State and is certified as a computer age progression specialist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Arlington, Vir-ginia. She also received advanced certification for clay facial reconstruction after training with two of the nations foremost reconstruction artists.

  Tough lady, Logan murmured.

  And smart. She does forensic sculpting and age progression as well as computer and video super-imposition. Not many people in her profession are experts in all those areas. You saw the clip from 60 Minutes on how she rebuilt the face of that kid who was found in the Florida swamps.

  He nodded. It was incredible. His gaze re-turned to the video. Eve Duncans tall, thin body was clothed in jeans and a raincoat and appeared terribly fragile. Her shoulder-length red-brown hair was soaking wet and framed a pale, oval face that held agony and desperation. The brown eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses reflected the same desolation and pain. He looked away from the screen. Can we find anyone else as good?

  Novak shook his head. You asked for the best. Shes the best. But you may have trouble getting her. Shes pretty busy and she prefers to work on lost-children cases. I dont suppose this has anything to do with a child?

  Logan didnt answer. Money is usually pretty persuasive.

  But it may not mean that much to her. She could be making a lot more money if she took a university appointment instead of working freelance. She lives in a rented house in Morningside, an area close to downtown Atlanta, and she has a lab in a renovated garage in the back.

  Maybe a university hasnt made her an offer she couldnt refuse.

  Maybe. Theyre not in your league. He raised his brows. I dont suppose youd like to tell me what you need her to do?

  No. Novak had a reputation for integrity and was probably trustworthy, but there was no way Logan could risk confiding in him. Youre sure shes the only one?

  Shes the best. I told you that she
Whats bothering you?

  Nothing. It wasnt the truth. The whole damn prospect of having to choose Eve Duncan bothered him. She was a victim already. She didnt need to be put at risk again.

  Why was he hesitating? No matter who got hurt, he had to go through with it. The decision was al-ready made. Hell, the woman herself had made it for him when shed become tops in her field. He had to have the best.

  Even if it killed her.

  Ken Novak tossed his briefcase on the passenger seat of his convertible and started the car. He waited until he was past the long driveway and out the front gates before he picked up the car phone and placed the call to the private number at the Treasury Department.

  While he waited to be put through to Timwick, his gaze wandered to the Pacific. Someday he was going to have a house like Logans out on the Seven-teen Mile Drive. His house in Carmel was sleek and modern but nothing like the mansions here. The people who owned them were the elite, the kings of business and finance, the movers and shakers. That fu-ture wasnt out of Novaks grasp. Logan had started out with a tiny company and built it into a giant. All it had taken was hard work and the ruthlessness to forge ahead no matter what the odds. Now he had it all. Novak had worked for Logan for the past three years, and he admired him tremendously. Sometimes he even liked him. Logan could turn on the charm when he

  Novak? Timwick was on the line.

  Ive just come from Logans house. I think hes settled on Eve Duncan.

  Think? Dont you know?

  I asked if he wanted me to contact her. He said hed do it himself. Unless he changes his mind, shes a lock-in.

  But he wont tell you why he needs her?

  No way.

  Not even if its a personal matter?

  Novaks interest was piqued. It has to be per-sonal, doesnt it?

  We dont know. According to your reports, the things he wanted investigated are a mixed bag. Some of them may have been red herrings to throw you off.

  Possibly. But you thought enough of them to pay me a princely sum to find out more.

  And youll be paid even more generously if you give us something we can use against him. Hes raised too much money for the Republican Party in the last six months and the election is only five months away.

  At least you have a Democratic president. Ben Chadbournes popularity numbers are up again this month. You think Logan wants to make sure the Republicans take Congress again? They may do it anyway.

  And they may not. We could take it all next time. We need Logan stopped in his tracks.

  Sic the IRS on him. Thats always a good way to discredit.

  Hes clean.

  Novak had suspected he would be. Logan was too smart to fall in that trap. Then I guess you have to rely on me, dont you?

  Not necessarily. We do have other sources.

  But none as close to him as I am.

  I said youd be well paid.

  Ive been thinking about the money. I think Id rather trade in favors. Ive been considering running for lieutenant governor.

  You know were backing Danford.

  But hes not being as helpful to you as I am.

  There was a silence. Bring me the information I need and Ill consider it.

  Ill work on it. Novak hung up the phone. Nudging Timwick had been easier than hed thought. He must really be worried about the upcoming presi-dential election. Democrat or Republican, all those political insiders were the same. Once they got a taste of power, they became addicted, and the smart man used that addiction to move himself up the ladder to a place on the Seventeen Mile Drive.

  He followed a curve in the road, and Logans Spanish palace on the hill was once again in view. Logan wasnt an insider; he was that rare commodity, a true patriot. He was a Republican, but Novak had even heard him praise the Democratic president on that negotiation with Jordan three years earlier.

  But patriots were often unpredictable and could be dangerous.

  Timwick wanted him brought down and, if he worked it right, Novak could parlay that need to the governors mansion. He had little doubt that what-ever task Logan wanted Eve Duncan to do, it was personal. He had been too secretive and on edge. Se-crets regarding skeletal remains were usually a pretty fair sign of guilt. Murder? Maybe. He had led a pretty rough life during the early days when he was trying to build his empire. It appeared that some-time in Logans checkered past, he had stubbed his toe big-time. He hadnt lied about his admiration for Eve Duncan. Hed always liked tough, take-charge women.

  He hoped he wouldnt have to bring her down with Logan. Hell, maybe by bringing Logan down, he might be doing the woman a favor. Logan was plan-ning on aiming that characteristic ruthless intensity on her, and she could be trampled.

  He chuckled as he realized how hed rationalized betrayal into gallantry. Damn, he was a good lawyer.

  But lawyers served the royalty that lived along this drive, they werent royalty themselves. He had to move up from the station of adviser to the throne.

  It would be nice to be king.

  TWO

  "You look beautiful, Eve said. Where are you going tonight?

  Im meeting Ron at Anthonys. He likes the food there. Sandra leaned forward and checked her mas-cara in the hall mirror, then straightened the shoul-ders of her dress. Damn these shoulder pads. They keep shifting around.

  Take them out.

  We all dont have broad shoulders like you. I need them.

  Do you like the food there?

  No, its a little too fancy for me. Id rather go to the Cheesecake Factory.

  Then tell him.

  Next time. Maybe I should like it. Maybe its a learning type thing. She grinned at Eve in the mirror. Youre big on learning new things.

  I like Anthonys, but I still like to pig out at Mc-Donalds when Im in the mood. She handed Sandra her jacket. And Id fight anyone who tried to tell me I shouldnt do it.

  Ron doesnt tell me She shrugged. I like him. He comes from a nice family in Charlotte. I dont know if hed understand about the way we lived before I just dont know.

  I want to meet him.

  Next time. Youd give him that cool once-over and Id feel like a high school kid bringing home my first date.

  Eve chuckled and gave her a hug. Youre crazy. I just want to make sure hes good enough for you.

  See? Sandra headed for the door. Definitely first-date syndrome. Im late. Ill see you later.

  Eve went to the window and watched her mother back out of the driveway. She hadnt seen her mother this excited and happy in years.

  Not since Bonnie was alive.

  Well, there was no use staring wistfully out the window. She was glad her mother had a new ro-mance, but she wouldnt trade places with her. She wouldnt know what to do with a man in her life. She wasnt good at one-night stands, and anything else re-quired a commitment she couldnt afford.

  She went out the back door and down the kitchen steps. The honeysuckle was in bloom and the heady scent surrounded her as she walked down the path to the lab. The aroma always seemed stronger at twilight and early morning. Bonnie used to love the honeysuckle and was always picking it off the fence, where the bees constantly buzzed. Eve had been at her wits end trying to stop her before she got stung.

  She smiled at the recollection. It had taken her a long time to be able to separate the good memories from the bad. At first she had tried to save herself from pain by closing out all thoughts of Bonnie. Then she had come to understand that that would be forgetting Bonnie and all the joy she had brought into her and Sandras lives. Bonnie deserved more than

  Ms. Duncan.

  She stiffened, then whirled around.

  Im sorry, I didnt mean to frighten you. Im John Logan. I wonder if I could speak to you?

  John Logan. If he hadnt introduced himself she would have recognized him from the photo. How could she miss that California tan? she thought sar-donically. And in that gray Armani suit and Gucci loafers, he looked as out of place in her small back-yard as a peacock. You didnt frighten me. You star-tled me
.

  I rang the doorbell. He smiled as he walked toward her. There was not an ounce of fat on his body, and he exuded confidence and charm. She had never liked charming men; charm could hide too much. I guess you didnt hear me.

  No. She had the sudden desire to shake his con-fidence. Do you always trespass, Mr. Logan?

  The sarcasm didnt faze him. Only when I really want to see someone. Could we go somewhere and talk? His gaze went to the door of her lab. Thats where you work, isnt it? Id like to see it.

  How did you know its where I work?