The Face of Deception
( Eve Duncan - 1 )
Iris Johansen
Iris Johansen 1998 - The Face of Deception
Eve Duncan circle - book 1
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My deepest and warmest thanks to N. Eileen Bar-row, Research Associate and Forensic Sculptor with the FACES Laboratory at Louisiana State University. Her generosity with her time, help, and guidance was invaluable in writing this book. Also a very sincere thank-you to Mark Sto-lorow, Director of Operations of Cellmark Diag-nostics Inc., for his patience and kindness in helping me with the technical aspects of DNA profiling and the intricacies of chemiluminescence.
Prologue
DIAGNOSTIC CLASSIFICATION FACILITY
JACKSON, GEORGIA
JANUARY 27
11:55 p.m.
It was going to happen.
Oh, God, don't let it happen.
Lost. She'll be lost.
They'll all be lost.
Come away, Eve. You don't want to be here. It was Joe Quinn standing beside her. His square, boyish face was pale and drawn beneath the shadow of the black umbrella he was holding. There's nothing you can do. He's had two stays of execution already. The governor's not going to do it again. There was too much public outcry the last time.
He's got to do it. Her heart was pounding so hard, it hurt her. But then, at that moment every-thing in the world was hurting her. I want to talk to the warden.
Quinn shook his head. He won't see you.
He saw me before. He called the governor. Ive got to see him. He understood about
Let me take you to your car. Its freezing out here and youre getting soaked.
She shook her head, her gaze fixed desperately on the prison gate. You talk to him. Youre with the FBI. Maybe hell listen to you.
Its too late, Eve. He tried to draw her under his umbrella but she stepped away from him. Jesus, you shouldnt have come.
You came. She gestured to the horde of news-paper and media people gathered at the gate. They came. Who has a better right to be here than me? Sobs were choking her. I have to stop it. I have to make them see that they cant
You crazy bitch.
She was jerked around and found herself facing a man in his early forties. His features were twisted with pain, and tears were running down his cheeks. It took a minute for her to recognize him. Bill Verner. His son was one of the lost ones.
Stay out of it. Verners hands dug into her shoulders. He shook her. Let them kill him. Youve already caused us too much grief and now youre trying to get him off again. Damn you, let them burn the son of a bitch.
I cant do Cant you see? Theyre lost. I have to
You stay out of it, or so help me God Ill make you sorry that you
Leave her alone. Quinn stepped forward and knocked Verners hands away from Eve. Dont you see shes hurting more than you are?
The hell she is. He killed my boy. I wont let her try to get him off again.
Do you think I dont want him to die? she said fiercely. Hes a monster. I want to kill him myself, but I cant let him There was no time for this argument, she thought frantically. There was no time for anything. It must be almost midnight.
They were going to kill him.
And Bonnie would be lost forever.
She whirled away from Verner and ran toward the gate.
Eve!
She pounded on the gate with clenched fists. Let me in! Youve got to let me in. Please dont do this.
Flashbulbs.
The prison guards were coming toward her.
Quinn was trying to pull her away from the gate.
The gate was opening.
Maybe there was a chance.
God, please let there be a chance.
The warden was coming out.
Stop it, she screamed. Youve got to stop
Go home, Ms. Duncan. Its over. He walked past her toward the TV cameras.
Over. It couldnt be over.
The warden was looking soberly into the cameras and his words were brief and to the point. There was no stay of execution. Ralph Andrew Fraser was executed four minutes ago and pronounced dead at 12: A.M.
No.
The scream was full of agony and desolation, as broken and forsaken as the wail of a lost child.
Eve didnt realize the scream came from her.
Quinn caught her as her knees buckled and she slumped forward in a dead faint.
ONE
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
JUNE
EIGHT YEARS LATER
"You look like hell. Its nearly midnight. Dont you ever sleep?
Eve glanced up from the computer to see Joe Quinn leaning against the doorjamb across the room. Sure I do. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. One late night does not a workaholic make. Or something like that. I just had to check those mea-surements before
I know. I know. Joe came into the studio lab and dropped down in the chair beside the desk. Diane said you blew her off for lunch today.
She nodded guiltily. It was the third time that month she had canceled out on Joes wife. I explained that the Chicago P.D. needed the result. Bobby Starness parents were waiting.
Was it a match?
Close enough. I knew it was almost a certainty before I started the superimposition. There were a few teeth missing from the skull, but the dental check was very close.
Then why were you brought in?
His parents didnt want to believe it. I was their last hope.
Bummer.
Yes, but I know about hope. And when they see the way Bobbys features fit the skull, theyll know its over. Theyll accept the fact that their child is dead and it may bring closure. She glanced at the image on her computer screen. Chicago P.D. had given her a skull and a picture of seven-year-old Bobby. Working with visual equipment and her computer, she had su-perimposed Bobbys face on the skull. As she had said, the match was very close. Bobby had looked so alive and sweet in the picture it was enough to break your heart.
They were all heartbreakers, she thought wearily. Are you on your way home?
Yep.
And just dropped by to yell at me?
I feel its one of my primary duties in life.
Liar. Her gaze was on the black leather case in his hands. Is that for me?
We found a skeleton in the woods in North Gwinnett. The rain unearthed it. The animals got at it, so theres not much left, but the skull is intact. He snapped open the case. Its a little girl, Eve.
He always told her right away if it was a girl. She supposed he thought he was shielding her.
She carefully took the skull and studied it. Its not a little girl. Shes a preteen, maybe eleven or twelve. She indicated a lacy crack on the upper jaw. Shes been exposed to the cold of at least one winter. She gently touched the broad nasal cavity. And she was probably black.
That will help. He grimaced. But not much. Youll have to sculpt her. We dont have any idea who she is. No pictures for superimposition. Do you know how many girls run away from home in this town? If she was a slum kid, she might not have even been re-ported missing. The parents are usually more con-cerned with getting their crack than keeping track of their He shook his head. Sorry. I forgot. Open mouth, insert foot.
A habit with you, Joe.
Only around you. I tend to lower my guard.
Should I be honored? Her brow knit with con-centration as she studied the skull. You know Mom hasnt been on crack for years. And there are a lot of things Im ashamed of in my life, but growing up in the slums isnt one of them. I might not have sur-vived if I hadnt had it tough.
Youd have survived.
She wasnt so sure. She had been too close to going under to take either sanity or
survival for granted. Want a cup of coffee? We slum kids make great java.
He flinched. Ouch. I said I was sorry.
She smiled. Just thought Id take a jab or two. You deserve it for generalizing. Coffee?
No, I have to get home to Diane. He stood up. Theres no hurry with this one if shes been buried that long. Like I said, we dont even know who were looking for.
I wont hurry. Ill work on her at night.
Yeah, you have so much time. He looked at the pile of textbooks on the table. Your mom said you were studying physical anthropology now.
Only by correspondence. I dont have time to go to classes yet.
For Gods sake, why anthropology? Dont you have enough on your plate?
I thought it might help. Ive tried to find out all I can from the anthropologists Ive worked with, but theres still too much I dont know.
Youre working too hard as it is. Your schedule is booked up for months.
Thats not my fault. She made a face. It was that damn mention your commissioner gave me on 60 Minutes. Why couldnt he keep his mouth shut? I was busy enough without getting all this out-of-town stuff.
Well, just remember who your friends are. Joe headed for the door. Dont go moving away to some highfalutin college.
Dont talk to me about highfalutin, when you went to Harvard.
That was a lifetime ago. Now Im a good ol southern boy. Follow my example and stay where you belong.
Im not going anywhere. She got up and set the skull on the shelf above her workbench. Except to lunch with Diane next Tuesday. If shell have me. Will you ask her?
You ask her. Im not running interference again. I have my own problems. Its not easy for her being a cops wife. He paused at the door. Go to bed, Eve. Theyre dead. Theyre all dead. Its not going to hurt them if you get a little sleep.
Dont be stupid. I know that. You act like Im neurotic or something. Its just not professional to ig-nore a job.
Yeah, sure. He hesitated. You ever been con-tacted by John Logan?
Who?
Logan. Logan Computers. Hes a billionaire racing on the heels of Bill Gates. Hes been all over the news lately because of the Republican fund-raisers hes been throwing out in Hollywood.
She shrugged. You know I barely keep up with the news. But she did recall seeing a picture of Logan, perhaps in the Sunday paper the previous week. He was in his late thirties or early forties with a California tan and close-cut dark hair with a dusting of gray at the temples. He had been smiling down at some blond movie star. Sharon Stone? She couldnt remember. Well, he hasnt been soliciting me for money. I wouldnt give it to him if he did. I vote Inde-pendent. She glanced at her computer. Thats a Logan. He makes a good computer, but thats the closest Ive ever come in contact with the great man. Why?
Hes been making inquiries about you.
What?
Not personally. Hes going through a high-powered West Coast lawyer, Ken Novak. When they told me down at the precinct, I did some checking and Im almost sure Logans behind it.
I dont think so. She smiled slyly as she punned, It doesnt compute.
Youve handled private inquiries before. He grinned. A man in his position has to have left a trail of bodies on his way to the top. Maybe he forgot where he buried one of them.
Very funny. She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. Did his lawyer get his report?
What the hell do you think? We know how to protect our own. Tell me if he gets hold of your pri-vate number and bothers you. See you. The door shut behind him.
Yes, Joe would protect her just as hed always done, and no one could do it better. He was different from when they had first met years before. Time had hammered every trace of boyishness out of him. Shortly after Frasers execution, he had resigned from his job as an agent in the FBI and joined the At-lanta ED. He was now a lieutenant detective. Hed never really told her why he had made the move. She had asked, but his answerthat hed wanted to jet-tison the pressure of the bureauhad never satisfied her. Joe could be a very private person, and she hadnt probed. All she knew was that he had always been there for her.
Even that night at the prison when she had felt more alone than ever.
She didnt want to think about that night. The despair and pain were still as raw as
So think about it anyway. She had learned the only way to survive the pain was to meet it head-on.
Fraser was dead.
Bonnie was lost.
She closed her eyes and let the agony wash over her. When it eased, she opened her eyes and moved toward the computer. Work always helped. Bonnie might be lost and never be found, but there were others
Youve got another one? Sandra Duncan stood in the doorway, dressed in pajamas and her favorite pink chenille robe. Her gaze was focused on the skull across the room. I thought I heard someone in the driveway. Youd think Joe would leave you alone.
I dont want to be left alone. Eve sat down at the desk. No problem. Its not a rush job. Go back to bed, Mom.
You go to bed. Sandra Duncan walked over to the skull. Is it a little girl?
Preadolescent.
She was silent a moment. Youre never going to find her, you know. Bonnies gone. Let it go, Eve.
I have let it go. I just do my job.
Bullshit.
Eve smiled. Go to bed.
Can I help? Make you a snack?
I have more respect for my digestive system than to let you sabotage it.
I do try. Sandra made a face. Some people werent meant to cook.
You have other talents.
Her mother nodded. Im a good court reporter and I nag damn well. Will you go to bed, or do I have to demonstrate?
Fifteen minutes more.
I guess Ill allow you that much slack. She moved toward the door. But Ill be listening to hear your bedroom door close. She paused and then said awkwardly, Im not coming home right away after work tomorrow night. Im going out to dinner.
Eve looked up in surprise. With whom?
Ron Fitzgerald. I told you about him. Hes a lawyer in the district attorneys office. I like him. Her tone was almost defiant. He makes me laugh.
Good. Id like to meet him.
Im not like you. Its been a long time since Ive been out with a man, and I need people. Im not a nun. For Gods sake, Im not even fifty. My life cant stop just because
Why are you acting so guilty? Have I ever said I wanted you to stay home? You have a right to do whatever you want to do.
Im acting guilty because I feel guilty. Sandra scowled. You could make it easier for me if you werent so hard on yourself. Youre the one whos a nun.
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