16 Taking Eve

by Iris Johansen

  “He’d want me to do exactly what I’m doing. Kevin believed in revenge. I can’t tell you how many times that he’d say, ‘We have to go after that one, Dad. The bad have to be punished. They have to learn that we’re the important ones.’”

  Eve felt a chill. “And what did he mean by that?”

  “What he said.” He sadly shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m not explaining it right. Kevin should be here to tell you. It took a little while for me to learn what he meant, but then it was very clear.”

  “It doesn’t sound clear. It sounds sick.”

  “Are you trying to make me angry?” He got to his feet. “Kevin wasn’t sick. He was brilliant and very special. I’m proud to have him for my son.” He glared at her. “Just as you’re proud to have had Bonnie in your life. You shouldn’t speak badly of my son.”

  “If your son was shot, why wasn’t the killer hunted down and captured? It doesn’t sound to me as if Kevin was a victim.”

  “He was a victim. They all wanted him dead.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was special.”

  “You keep saying that. In what way was he special?”

  “In every way.”

  “You mentioned him walking out of a courtroom. What was he doing in court?”

  “I’m through talking about Kevin. You’re not being very understanding.”

  “Because you’re not telling me the entire story, are you?”

  “I’ll tell you … someday. Right now, it might interfere with what you’re doing.” He turned on his heel. “I’m going out to the truck. I need some air.” He looked over his shoulder as he reached the door. His sudden smile warmed his craggy face. “You’ve been very hard, Eve. You mustn’t make us angry. But I forgive you.” The next instant, he’d deactivated the gas jet at the front door and left the house.

  Eve felt herself go limp. She hadn’t known how Doane would respond to that far-from-delicate probing. What she had found out was sketchy at best, but she had gotten a glimpse into a murkiness she didn’t want to explore.

  But she had to explore it. Just as she had to dive deep into this reconstruction, which was beginning to cause her to want to run the other way.

  Okay, assimilate all he had told her and try to put them in some kind of order. It might not be possible, but at least she would have them fresh in her mind to make the connection when she could do it.

  Zander. Who was he? Obviously the murderer of Kevin Doane. Why was Kevin killed? Doane insisted that Kevin was innocent of wrongdoing. But the remark about the courtroom was very suspicious.

  And Doane’s words describing his son’s philosophy had been shocking, with shades of egotism or perhaps even schizophrenia. Doane himself was something of a split personality. One moment he appeared everything warm and kind and fatherly, and the next he was talking about revenge and acting out that revenge on the innocent. Jane, Eve, even Toby, the retriever. Which personality would take over in a crucial situation?

  She looked up at the gas jets overhead. Another sign of Doane’s twisted character. A method of suppression that would keep her from hurting herself and permit him to use her to do the reconstruction. It was supposed to make her think of him in as kindly a light as possible. Instead, it was casting a macabre swirling haze over his actions. That kindliness was like the painted smile of the Joker in that Batman cartoon. She could see no evil, and yet she knew it must be there.

  She mustn’t jump to conclusions. She had to be cool and calmly analytical.

  Screw it, she couldn’t be cool about that man. It’s what he wanted from her. He wanted to fool her into thinking there was goodness and question every doubt she had of him. How could he even think that she would be fooled after what he had done to her?

  Because he had done it so many times before.

  The answer came swiftly out of nowhere. He had played the part and been accepted and smiled and thought that he could do it forever. That warm, guy next door, almost fatherly charisma had become his stock-in-trade. He used it with a skill that was totally disarming. A skill that was all the more dangerous because of what it hid beneath.

  Why was she so sure that was the key to Doane when it was only a guess?

  Because that guess felt … right.

  She felt the muscles of her stomach clench. Don’t be afraid, dammit. He might be more dangerous than she had thought, but he could be handled. He had wanted to talk about his son. He had answered questions. The more she got to know about him, the better chance she had to get out of here.

  She glanced at the door. And this might be an opportunity to see what she could find.

  She moved quickly to the file case across the room. Locked. She went to the beat-up pine desk next to it.

  The middle drawer was unlocked and opened immediately. Paper, pens, nothing of any importance. The drawer on the right was totally empty.

  The drawer on the left was locked.

  The lock wasn’t complicated. A simple tool could probably jimmy it.

  What tool? Doane kept the kitchen utensil drawers locked. She’d have to jimmy that lock to jimmy this one, she thought dryly.

  Find another way.

  What work tools did she have? Most of them were soft, and bendable to work with the clay. But there could be—

  The door of the truck slammed outside in the driveway.

  He was coming!

  She darted across the room, hopped on the stool, and picked up a red marker as the door opened. “You didn’t stay out there very long.” She lowered her head as she carefully placed the marker beneath the orbital cavity. “Did I run you out, Doane?”

  “I came back to say I’m sorry. This is very difficult for you. I realize that you must feel intimidated. You can’t know what a fine boy my Kevin was, and I have to understand that words are the only way you have to fight back.” His voice was gentle. “Just do your work, and I’ll make it easy for you.”

  “I am working.” His voice was so sincere she could almost believe him. “And you’re not intimidating me.”

  He smiled. “Good.” He turned and headed for the kitchenette. “Now I’ll make us something to eat. At least, our little discord made you a little more lively. You’re not pale any longer. Your cheeks are positively rosy. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  Eve reached up and touched her cheek. The flush to which he was referring had been caused by panic and running full tilt back to the reconstruction worktable from the desk across the room. She still had a touch of nausea, but she felt alive and active and on the move. “Are you? So am I, Doane.” She smiled back at him. “Very glad.”

  Lake Cottage

  “IS IT A GRAVE?” JOE ASKED as he came toward the mound of mud by which Venable was standing. “I thought you might have an answer by the time I got here.”

  “You knew I’d be careful not to disturb the scene. If this is Dukes, I want to nail the son of a bitch who killed him.” Venable’s gaze never left the two men who were carefully digging through the mud. “And he didn’t want Dukes found right away. He took his time. He covered the area with leaves and branches, and he dug deep.”

  One of the men stopped digging and looked at Venable. “I’ve hit something. I see a green tarp, and there’s blood on it. Should we go on?”

  “Yes, just be careful.” Venable took a step closer. “Draw back the tarp. I want to make sure of his ID. After that, I’ll turn this over to forensics. But I have to know.” He looked down at the tarp and watched them draw back the waterproof plastic.

  Joe stepped forward. The dead man was dark-haired, and his gray eyes were wide open and staring into nothingness. His throat was cut from ear to ear. “Dukes?”

  Venable nodded and turned on his heel. “Dukes.” He walked away from the mound. “He had a wife and a kid. I’ll have to call them.”

  “Very fitting.” Joe fell into step with him. “But it would be more fitting for you to zero in on the man who cut his throat. First things first, Venable.�
��

  “I have my own priorities.” Venable gave him a cold glance. “And I do things my own way.”

  “Unless you do them wrong. Putting Eve in jeopardy falls into that category.”

  “I didn’t want her hurt. There was a chance she wouldn’t be in jeopardy. I had to be sure.”

  “You just dug up evidence that should convince you.”

  “Knock it off, Quinn. Nothing you can say is going to influence me more than seeing Dukes with his throat cut. I liked him. He was a good man, and I worked with him for more than four years.”

  Joe attacked from another angle. “Why would you think that Eve wouldn’t be in danger?”

  “Because he wasn’t the one who—” Venable broke off. “Drop it, Quinn. I’m thinking.” He raised his head as they approached the cottage. “There’s Jane on the porch. She looks like hell.”

  “Yes, but I can’t convince her to rest. She won’t stop.” He added deliberately. “She’s not like you. She thinks Eve is in danger. She’s probably going to go after you when she finds out about Dukes.”

  “Did she finish the sketch?”

  “Yes, she brought a copy with her.” He was climbing the steps. “I wanted you to see it.”

  “Joe?” Jane took a step forward. “What about Dukes?”

  “Dead. Throat cut.”

  “Shit.” She had turned paler. She whirled on Venable, and said fiercely, “It could have been Eve. Damn you, Venable. Joe said that you know more about this than you’re telling him. You talk to us.”

  Venable’s face was without expression. “Joe said you have a sketch.”

  She opened her pad and thrust the copy at him.

  He gazed at the sketch for a moment and handed it back to her. “You’re extraordinarily good, Jane.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?” Her gaze was narrowed on his face. “You recognized him, didn’t you?”

  He walked over to the porch rail and stared out at the lake. “I hoped it wouldn’t be him. Everything pointed in his direction, but there was the smallest chance that it could be someone else. Because of her profession, Eve does seem to attract a wide variety of lethal weirdos.”

  “Who is he?” Joe asked hoarsely.

  Venable didn’t answer immediately. Then he shrugged. “His name is James Doane.”

  “More,” Jane said. “Tell us more.”

  Venable shook his head. “Later. I’ve got to call Dukes’s wife, and then start trying to issue a few warnings.”

  “If you know his name, do you know where we can start on finding him?” Jane asked.

  “Right now?” He shook his head. “The last address I have is a house in Goldfork, Colorado, where he lived until last week. There’s no possibility he’d take Eve there. He’d know I’d be having it watched.”

  Joe tensed. “He’s aware you knew his address?”

  “Of course.” He added simply, “I’ve had him under protective custody for the last five years.”

  “What?”

  “I told you, later.” He met Joe’s gaze. “You’re going to get what you want from me, but it’s going to make waves like a tsunami. I have to warn people it’s coming, so I can minimize the damage. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.”

  There was no pushing Venable any more at the moment, Joe thought. It would be useless. Venable had already committed, and he had to give him a little more space. “Not long, Venable.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Doane?”

  “You’re already trying to work it out for yourself. Before you get on the phone and start checking, you’d better have another name other than the one we gave him.” He took out his phone. “Relling. James Herbert Relling.”

  Rio Grande Forest, Colorado

  DOANE WAS ASLEEP AT LAST.

  Eve could hear the steadiness of his breathing. It had taken him over an hour to settle down on his couch and another twenty minutes before she could take the chance that he was sound enough asleep so that she could start to move. Doane must have been as charged as she had been after he had opened up the floodgates about Kevin this afternoon.

  She gazed up at the socket in the ceiling over the bed.

  Two more minutes, and she’d start moving. She just hoped there was still gas in that line. She had opened that nozzle four times, and the last time it had not seemed to have a very powerful effect on her. That could mean that she was not getting enough gas or that she was becoming partially immune to it. She hoped it was the latter. Perhaps this time she’d leave it open a little longer and find which was true.

  It would be a risk.

  Hell, everything she did was a risk. This was a way out, possibly the only way out. She had to know if it was working or if she had to search out another path. Joe would say it was reckless, and she should wait for him to come for her. He had tried to free her to make a move, but she knew he didn’t want her to make that move without him.

  Joe.

  She closed her eyes and let the thought of him surround her. His tea-colored eyes, the way he moved, the quiet that hid all the leashed fierceness, the intelligence that was both a challenge and source of pride to her. Thinking about him soothed her, and she wanted to cling to it.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t rely on him. He was her friend and her lover, but this was her battle. She had to make her own decisions.

  I’m sorry, Joe. Run toward me. I’ll run toward you. One way or another, we’ll come together. That’s the way it’s always been.

  She opened her eyes.

  Two minutes had passed. Doane’s breathing had stayed even and perhaps had deepened. Time to move.

  She slipped from the bed and began to fold it up in the middle.

  No sound.

  Slowly.

  She knew the drill now and it took her less than a minute to climb up on the bed and reach for the nozzle to unscrew it.

  She drew a deep breath and opened the line.

  Carnations.

  She started to close the line.

  Wait. A little more. Test it.

  Carnations.

  Dizziness.

  Blackness, closing in.

  She frantically turned the screw.

  Too much. Too much.

  Get down.

  No noise.

  Hold on.

  Don’t black out.

  Hurry. Get down. You’ll ruin everything if he finds out what you’ve been doing.

  She reached the floor, staggered, and fell to her knees.

  Carnations.

  Had she left that line open or was the smell just still in her nostrils?

  If she’d left it open, she had to go back up and close it.

  Not now. She wouldn’t be able to manage yet. Too weak. Much too weak.

  She curled up in a ball on the floor.

  Dizzy.

  Darkness …

  * * *

  STUPID. SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN sure that gas line was closed. She could vaguely remember hurriedly turning the screw but maybe—

  “Stop worrying, Mama. You closed it.”

  Bonnie?

  She opened her eyes to see Bonnie leaning against the folded bed a few yards away. Her daughter was dressed as always in her Bugs Bunny T-shirt and jeans, and her curly red hair gleamed even in the dimness of the room. So little, so beautiful, so beloved.

  Bonnie suddenly chuckled. “Don’t be sappy, Mama. I was never beautiful except to you. Red hair and freckles on my nose?”

  “Don’t make fun of me. You were—you are beautiful. It’s spirit that makes beauty.”

  “Then I guess I should be beautiful because I’m most certainly a spirit.” Her smile faded. “You shouldn’t have doubled that dose of gas, Mama. You scared me. I was worried about you. I was afraid you were going to fall.”

  “I had to make sure that I was—”

  “I know why you were doing it,” Bonnie interrupted. “But you shouldn’t have done it. It was working. Your body is becoming accustomed to the gas.”

  “You should
have come and told me that before the fact,” Eve said tartly. “It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

  “I couldn’t come to you. I’ve been trying. There’s too much darkness holding me away. He doesn’t want me near you. Sometimes it’s easier to use dreams, but that didn’t work either. I wouldn’t have been able to come this time if the gas hadn’t knocked you out. You’re deep enough so that I could slip in.”

  So it was a dream. Sometimes she couldn’t tell the difference with Bonnie. “Ben said that he’d dreamed about you.”

  “I had to find a way to warn you. I was helpless. He wouldn’t let me near you.”

  “Doane?”

  “No, the other one.”

  “What other one?”

  “Kevin.”

  Eve felt a chill stiffen every muscle. “Kevin is dead.”

  “Not as long as Doane is alive. Kevin won’t let go. There’s some … connection. Just as there is with you and me.”

  “Bonnie.”

  “I didn’t want to scare you, but you have to know.” She shook her head as she looked at Eve. “Mama, you know there are things that do go bump in the night. Not many that are evil. Occasionally, something slips, or there’s a force that carries over. Those are usually taken care of by the natural order. But there’s something helping from your side. Very strong, very powerful.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t know very much myself. I learn more every day I’m here. It made me afraid when I could see all that darkness heading toward you and couldn’t see any way to help you. I couldn’t even reach Joe. He was too close to you.”

  “You might not have reached him, but you managed to make him extremely nervous, didn’t you?”

  “Part of that was me, but most of it was Joe’s instincts. He’s lived with darkness for a long time. He can sense it coming.”

  “Yes, he can. But neither one of us could see that Jane would be pulled into this nightmare.” She met Bonnie’s eyes. “Did you, baby?”

  She shook her head. “Jane closes me out. I can’t connect with her either.”