CHAPTER 1
Goldfork,Colorado
7:35 A.M.
HE WAS READY.
Jim Doane drew a deep breath as he locked the front door
of the small cedar house behind him. All the searching and
planning was at an end, and now it was time to put the plan
into action.
Soon, Kevin. I know it’s been a long time, but I had to be
sure before I moved forward. Everything has to be in place.
He threw his suitcase into the trunk of the car, then carried
his metal toolbox and shoved it on the passenger seat.
Th en he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car.
“Doane, wait.” His neighbor Ralph Hodder was running
toward him across the postage- stamp- sized lawn that separated
their houses. “Did you think you were going to get away
before I saw you?” He was breathing heavily as he stopped
beside Doane’s car. He was overweight, and even the short run
had robbed him of breath. “No way, man.”
“Yeah?” He tensed, then deliberately forced himself to re-
lax. Hodder was no threat. He was overreacting. “Do you
need something, Ralph?”
“Yeah, I need to thank you. My son said that you were going
to be gone for quite a while, and I just wanted you to know
I’d keep an eye on your place.” He clapped him on the back.
“We’ll miss you. You’ve been a good friend to Matt, a real role
model, and Leah and I appreciate it. Raising a teenage kid is
always a headache, but having you next door, helping him work
on that old car, and letting him talk to you has made it easier.”
“No problem. Matt’s a fi ne boy, and I was glad to help. In
the end, the most precious things we have is our children.”
“You’re right there.” His smile faded. “Matt said you were
leaving because you had family trouble. I hope that everything
will be okay.”
“It will be fi ne. But it may take a little while, so I’m grateful
that you’re going to watch the place.” He’d better pretend
to be concerned. It wouldn’t do to let Hodder know he’d been
tempted to burn the place to the ground. “I’ll call you now
and then and check on it if that’s all right.”
“We’ll be glad to hear from you. I’ll have Matt cut your
grass until you get back.” He stepped back from the car. “You’ve
been a great neighbor, Doane. I’ll try to be one, too. Th anks
for being good to my son.”
“Take care of that boy,” Doane said as he backed down the
driveway. “You never realize how much you love them until
you lose them. Believe me, I know.”
But that wasn’t true; he had known how much he had loved
his son from the moment he had been born. It hadn’t taken
loss to drive that truth home. His Kevin had been extraordinary
in every way, and being his father had dominated his life.
Until that bastard had taken away his son.
He controlled the fl are of rage that went through him.
He could not aff ord anger now that the game had begun. Everything
must go according to plan. All the sorrow and rage
must be put away until he had the weapon he needed to
satisfy it.
He checked his GPS, which was already set forAtlanta,
Georgia, and pulled out his address book. He hesitated, then
carefully looked around him before he reached over and unfastened
the large tool chest on the passenger seat and fl ipped
open the lid.
He needed to share this fi rst moment of the journey with
his son. Th ey had both waited far too long. He drew back the
velvet cover he had draped over the silk nest he had built in
the interior of the tool chest. “We’re on our way, Kevin. I’m
keeping my promise.”
Th e empty eyeholes of the burned and blackened skull
gazed up at him.
Pain shot through him. After all these years, you would
have thought he’d become accustomed to the horror, but there
were still moments like this when it hit home. He remembered
what a handsome boy Kevin had been and his sweet smile and
the way he . . . Tears stung his eyes. He reached out and deliberately
touched the skull. “Forgive me. I still love you. I’ll
always love you.” His gaze lifted to the photo of the woman
taped to the lid of the tool chest. “She’ll give you back to me
the way you were.” His lips tightened. “And then she’ll give us
the son of a bitch who did this to you.” He gave one last look
at the skull before he closed the lid. “She can do it all, Kevin.
We’ll see that she makes it happen.”
He reached forward to the GPS and typed in Eve Duncan’s
address.
• • •
DA R K NE S S ! SMO T H E R ING. NO BREATH! Can’t
breathe.
“Hey, wake up.” Joe’s lips brushed Eve’s as he cuddled her
closer in the bed. “Nightmare alert.”
Her eyes fl ew open, and she stared up at him. Joe. Smiling.
Safety. She immediately relaxed and drew a deep breath.
“I’m awake. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. You were just panting as if
someone were trying to smother you.” He stood up. “I thought
you should wake up and get back to the real world.”
Smothering. Yes, she vaguely remembered that sensation.
Darkness closing in and something, someone, fi ghting to keep
the smothering suff ocation away from her. “I’m duly grateful.”
She sat up in bed. “Not a pleasant dream.” She tilted her head.
“You’re already dressed. Are you going in to the precinct this
morning? I thought you had a plane to catch. Th atMiami
court case.”
“Later today. Paperwork this morning.” He pulled her
from bed. “Come on. Have coff ee with me before I leave.”
“Gladly. I defi nitely don’t want to go back to sleep.” She
grabbed her robe and followed him out of the bedroom. “And
I have to work on Ryan’s reconstruction anyway. I made a lot
of headway last night, and I might fi nish today.” She passed
the worktable and dais where the little boy’s skull was placed,
waiting for the fi nal forensic sculpting. “It’s going well.”
“Th ey all go well.” He handed her a cup of coff ee. “Th ey
wouldn’t dare not do anything else. You’re the best, aren’t you?”
“One of the best.” She took the coff ee and went out on
the porch. Th e early- morning sunlight was shimmering on the
lake, and the air was cool and clear. “And they do not all go
well. Sometimes things seem to get in the way. Why are you
being so complimentary?”
“What can I say? I’m just a man.” He chuckled as he sat
down in the swing and pulled her into his arms. “I’m encouraging
you to have good thoughts while I’m gone so that I can
look forward to one hell of a homecoming celebration.”
“You’re only going to be gone two days,” she said dryly.
“I’ll hardly have time to miss you.”
“You really know how to hurt a guy.”
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered as she cuddled closer.
Moments like this were precious. Th ey had been together for
so many years, and yet the love kept deepening with the passing
of time. “Maybe. Who knows? I might have another nightmare.”
She gave him a quick kiss. “You’re my hero.”
“It was that bad?”
She wished she hadn’t mentioned that dream even as a joke.
Joe was always fi ghting to keep her safe, but who could fi ght
against a nightmare? But it was a nightmare that was still with
her. She couldn’t seem to shake it.
“It was . . . like a battle. I was being smothered, and someone
was trying to stop it. But they couldn’t do it, and I wasn’t
sure I could either.” She sat up from the swing. “But you came
to the rescue, and everything turned out fi ne. So let’s forget
it.” She fi nished her coff ee and pulled him to his feet. “Now
you get to work, and so will I. If you get back in time, maybe
we’ll have lunch together before you have to go to the airport.”
“I’ll get back in time.” He ran down the steps. “I just wish
I could be here when Jane arrives. I’ll be fl ying out when she’s
fl ying in.”
Jane, their adopted daughter, would be sorry, too. She was
an artist who had been temporarily living inLondonbecause
her work had taken off at light speed in Eu rope, and she needed
to be available for gallery shows. She had called Eve a month
ago and said that enough was enough, and she was coming
home to the people she loved. Joe seldom was called out of
town, and Jane would be disappointed not to see both of them
at the airport. “She’ll still be here when you get back.”
“But I know you were looking forward to family time. We
haven’t been together in a long time.” He frowned. “It’s not as
if we’re the typical normal family. I hate like hell to disappoint
you.”
“You’re not disappointing me. You’re doing what you have to
do. It’s your job. What family is normal except on the sitcoms?”
She smiled as she shook her head. “And today they all defi ne
their own defi nition of normal. And what was normal about our
families when we were growing up? You were a rich boy whose
parents stuck you in snooty boarding schools. I was a slum kid
with a mother who never even knew who my father was and was
high on drugs all through my childhood. I’d say by comparison
we’re doing pretty damn well. We all love each other and guard
each other and give each other freedom. Th at’s awesome, Joe.”
He smiled back at her. “I guess it is. Th anks for reminding
me.”
“You’re welcome. I just have to keep an eye on your penchant
for trying to make everything perfect. Perfect can be
boring.” She watched him open the car door. “Maybe we’ll
have a barbecue the night you fl y in.”
He lifted a wicked brow. “Th at’s not the celebration I had
in mind.”
“So much for family time.” She chuckled. “You’ll enjoy
that one, too. Why not have— Joe?”
He was standing ramrod straight, his head lifted, looking
out at the lake, the smile completely gone.
“Joe, what’s wrong?”
He jerked his gaze back to her. “Nothing. Just a— I don’t
know.” He opened the car door. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She watched the car go down the road and around the
curve before she slowly turned and went in the house. Th ose
last few minutes had made her uneasy, and it was diffi cult to
dismiss them.
But she would dismiss them. It was time to forget nightmares
and unexplained uneasiness. Th e sun was shining, and she had
to get on with her life. It was a good life, with purpose and
people she loved. Th at was what was important. She moved
quickly back to the bedroom to dress and get ready to work on
Ryan.
Vancouver,Canada
“ V E N A B L E P H O N E D , ” H O W A R D S TA N G said when Lee Zander
walked into the house after his gym workout. “He called on my
cell. He wasn’t happy when he couldn’t reach you. He should
know by now that you change your phones every week or so.”
“Venable is always unhappy when things don’t go like
clockwork. Th at’s his CIA mind- set. He takes it as a personal
insult.” Zander dropped down in the chair in front of the fi re.
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“For you to call him back.” He grimaced. “Venable doesn’t
confi de in me. Not that I’d want him to. I prefer to stay out of
the CIA’s sphere of infl uence.”
“So do I.”
“It’s not the same. I’m intimidated, and you just choose to
avoid.” Stang studied Zander as he watched him reach for his
phone. Lee Zander was a tall, muscular man with white hair
cropped short and a bone structure that was both craggy and
bold. His brown eyes were sunk deep in his tan face beneath a
slash of dark brows. Stang had no idea how old he was . . . fi fties?
Sixties? It didn’t matter. He appeared ageless, and he had seen
Zander take down men who must have been half his age. He
kept that powerful body exercised and his mind razor- sharp.
Stang could not imagine Zander being infl uenced or intimidated
by anyone, even a power player like Venable. Stang had
been working for him for the last three years as his personal assistant
and accountant, and he had never lost his respect . . . or
his fear . . . of Zander. At times, he wondered why he stayed with
him when the comfort level was always being jeopardized by
the uncertainty of how Zander would respond to any given situation.
But those moments were rare; when he subdued the panic,
he knew exactly why he stayed with him. He’d made a decision
years ago when he’d sworn on his brother’s grave that he’d never
leave Zander until the day he died. “Venable sounded urgent.”
“He never calls me unless it’s urgent.” He gazed at him as
he punched in the number. “I’ll probably need to talk to you
after I fi nish with him.”
“Why?” Stang unconsciously tensed. “Is something wrong?
Did I—”
“Why do you always think that something is wrong?” His
lips twisted. “You’re brilliant. Everything you touch turns to
gold. You give me choices.”
“Th en what do you—”
“Venable?” Zander held up his hand and gestured for Stang
to go out on the terrace. “What’s the problem?”
Stang had already reached the French doors and was opening
them. It was standard operating procedure. Zander never
permitted him to be in the room when he was dealing with
anyone. For his part, he wanted no part of knowing anything
about Zander’s lethal business. It could either make him an accessory
or a danger to Zander or his client. Neither prospect
was appealing.
He strolled over to the balcony and gazed out at the mountains.
It was a glorious view from this magnifi cent house. Stay
out of hearing range and just stand here and wait for Zander
to fi nish with Venable and get to him.
And hope to hell he hadn’t screwed up.
“ YOU T O OK YOUR T IME about calling me back,” Venable
growled. “Or was it that Stang took his time about telling you
I called?”
“I was working out in the gym. He has orders not to disturb
me unless he knows that it’s important.”
“And he was too scared to make a mistake. I don’t know
why he stays with you. He’s smart as a whip and makes you
richer than you deserve to be. He could be one of the fairhaired
boys on Wall Street if he walked away.”
“It’s complicated. We have a history. I don’t think Stang
can decide whether or not to slip arsenic into my brandy. I’m
curious to see if he whips up enough courage to do it. You did
impress him enough that he told me the minute I walked into
the house.” He paused. “But evidently it wasn’t that urgent if
you’re choosing to growl at me instead of telling me what the
matter is. I’ll give you two minutes, then I’ll—”
“Doane has taken off .”
Zander’s hand tightened on the phone. “Really? When?”
“He leftGoldfork,Colorado, at seven this morning according
to his neighbor.”
“According to his neighbor?” Zander’s tone was icy. “Weren’t
you supposed to have him under surveillance? Wasn’t that our
agreement?”
“We’ve been watching him for fi ve years. Naturally, you
tend to relax when there’s been no change in the status quo in
that time.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, our agent screwed up.”
“Yes, he did. Do you have any idea where he was going?”
“He said family emergency.”
“He has no family. He’s coming after me.”
“You don’t know that. He has no idea that it was you who
did the killing.”
“Doane is obsessed, and he’s had fi ve years to hunt for
answers. I would have found those answers long ago. I’d bet
he’s only been waiting for his chance.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you think? We had a deal. I told you I’d leave
Doane alone as long as it was safe for me. You screwed up. I’m
not going to wait around for him to come knocking on my
door. I’ll get rid of him in the most con ve nient and safe way
for me.”
“Let us try to fi nd him fi rst.”
“No. I trusted you once. It was a mistake. I won’t do it again.”
Venable muttered a curse. “You cold son of a bitch. What
kind of monster are you?”
“You know what kind of monster. You’ve used me on
occasion . . . when the game was rich enough.” He paused.
“Th e world is overrun with monsters. I’m just the one who
doesn’t make excuses.”
“Two days. Give me two days. I’m having an agent break into
his house and see if he can fi nd the disk or a way to trace him.”
“I don’t give a damn about the disk. Give it up. Why does
it matter to you if he lives or dies?”
“I made a promise. Th is isn’t only about you. I do give a
damn about the disk and several lives that are more important
than yours. After all these years of keeping him contained,
I’m not going to let Doane ruin everything for us.” He added
sarcastically, “I know that sounds bizarre to you that anyone
would care to keep his word.”
“Why? I always keep my word,” Zander said. “I told you
exactly what would happen if you lost track of Doane.”
“Two days.”
Zander thought about it. It would take him one day to
wind up things here, and now that he was alerted, he could
aff ord to give Venable the time he wanted. “Two days. But I
want to know what your agent fi nds out. If you don’t gather
Doane in, I’ll be right on top of him. No second chance.” He
paused. “And fi nd out if he knows about Eve Duncan.”
“Th ere’s been no sign that he’s even been looking for her.”
“But then you’ve obviously been taking Doane for granted
all these years. How would you know if he’s gone after her?”
Silence. “And would you care?”
“You know me better than that. I just have to know which
way the bastard is going to dodge.” He hung up and headed
for the desk across the room.
He was surprised he’d had to nudge Venable to explore the
Eve Duncan possibility. Th e CIA agent not only knewDuncan
but liked her. Perhaps he was rejecting the idea because he did
care about her and didn’t want to accept the blame for turning
Doane loose on her. Foolish. You couldn’t ever allow feelings
to interfere if you wanted to stay alive.
He opened the drawer of the desk, drew out the folder he
always kept handy, and fl ipped it open. Eve Duncan’s photo
and dossier were front and center. Th e dossier was short and
concise.Duncanwas illegitimate and raised in the slums of
Atlanta,Georgia. She’d been raised by a mother who hadn’t
known or cared who Eve’s father could be and been hooked
on drugs for most of Eve’s childhood. Th at hadn’t stopped
Eve from becoming one of the foremost forensic sculptors in
the world and in demand by every law- enforcement authority
in theU.S.Her career had been motivated by the kidnapping
and murder of her daughter, Bonnie, when the child was only
seven years old. She had only recently discovered the child’s
body and the person responsible for her abduction and death.
And Zander could see in her face the pain and endurance
that had been the result of that agonizing search. Eve Duncan
was not a beautiful woman, but her features were interesting,
and her hazel eyes gazed out of the photo with directness and
boldness as if to challenge the world.
But she did not have to fi ght that world alone. She might
be queen of her par tic u lar world, but she had two knights who
were always on guard.
He had placed two other photos and brief dossiers on either
side of Eve Duncan’s. Joe Quinn, her lover, whose square
face and tea- colored eyes refl ected both strength and intelligence,
and Jane MacGuire, Eve’s adopted daughter, who was
far more beautiful than Eve and reputedly just as strong. It was
always Zander’s procedure to surround the target with the
paths to get to them so that he could study the possibilities. In
this case, Quinn and MacGuire could be either the guardians
to protect Eve Duncan or Doane’s means to the end.
If Doane had searched deep enough to fi nd Eve Duncan.
Th ere was a possibility he was wrong, and Doane hadn’t
made the connection. He might be coming direct to him. Oh
well, it was possible he would know as soon as Venable got into
Doane’s house and looked around. If Doane was on the move,
he must have a plan, and he might deliberately leave clues to
taunt him. No one could say Doane was entirely sane, but then
neither was he. Madness was all in the eye of the beholder.
He stared thoughtfully at the glimpse of mountains he
could see beyond the French doors. It would be a long time before
he’d see those mountains again. Perhaps never. Th e Doane
problem might make it unsafe for him to chance staying here
any longer. He had a twinge of regret before he shrugged it off .
He had been here too long anyway. It would only have been a
matter of weeks or months before it was time for him to move
on. Doane’s fl it had only escalated the action. He had a keen
sense of self- preservation, and it was never safe for him to forget
who and what he was. He had only stayed alive this long by
recognizing that he was always a target. Someday, he would
grow tired and no longer care, but that day had not yet come.
He got to his feet and moved toward the door. “Stang. Pack
up all the rec ords and destroy the computers. Move the money
to the alternate bank accounts. I want it done by the end of
the day. I’m leavingCanada.”
“What?” Stang whirled to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just time I faded away . . . and cut all ties.
Do it.”
Stang opened his lips to protest, then closed them again.
“Yes, sir. What ever you say.” He left the library.
Zander strolled back to the desk as the door closed behind
Stang. He looked down at the faces on the dossiers. Th e premonition
was growing stronger by the moment that Doane
might have probed deep enough to reveal a possible vulnerability
in Eve Duncan.
No proof.
But he would have been a dead man a dozen times over if
he had relied on proof instead of instinct.
Joe Quinn and Jane MacGuire. Th ey were the guardians
at the gates of the castle that was Eve Duncan. Strong and
competent guardians. Joe Quinn was particularly formidable,
a detective with the Atlanta Police Department, ex- SEAL, ex-
FBI. Totally devoted to Eve. Jane MacGuire was an up- andcoming
artist, but she had been trained by Joe Quinn, and
she, too, was devoted to Eve, who was more best friend than
parent to her. She had been a street kid until she was ten years
old, and she and Eve had found each other. Th e reports on
her were that ingrained toughness was still present and had
become a force with which to be reckoned since she had left
college.
Yes, Quinn and MacGuire should be able to keep Eve Duncan
safe.
As long as those guardians at the gates stayed close, alert,
and on guard.
LakeCottage
Atlanta,Georgia
“ I ’ L L B E B A C K I N T WO D AY S . ” Joe brought Eve close and
kissed her, hard. “I have to testify tomorrow afternoon in
Miami, a cross- examination the next morning, then I’m out
of there. I promise.”
“Maybe.” Eve made a face. “How many times have you
been tripped up by lawyers? Th ey might bring in another witness
and put you on hold.” She kissed him again and stepped
back. He was frowning, and she had sensed an edginess since
he’d walked into the cottage for lunch. “It’s okay, Joe. It’s not
as if I won’t have company. You know that Jane will be fl ying
in fromLondonto night.”
“Yeah, I know. It makes me feel better but I should—”
“You should do exactly what you’re doing. Jane and I can
handle everything here on the home front. I’ll miss you like
crazy, but I know better than to fi ght the system. And I don’t
like drug dealers. I wantMartinezto be put away for a long
time.”
“Me, too. We’ve been working on pinning this drug deal
on him for two years. And hopefully he’ll run into a rival drug
king in jail who will stick a knife in him and save the prison
system trouble and money,” Joe said grimly. “What time does
Jane come in?”
“Eight.” She opened the door and walked out with him on
to the porch. “And she says this is going to be a long, long
visit, so you won’t miss her. We’ll both meet your plane when
you come back.” She kissed him again. “So hurry and get
through withMartinez, dammit.”
He started down the stairs, then stopped and turned back
to look at her. “I don’t want to do this.”
She frowned. “Joe, you’re being weird. What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to leave
you.”
“And that’s all?”
He shrugged. “I had a call from Venable about an hour
ago.”
“And?”
“Nothing. He said that he heard about theMartinezcase
and was glad that we were going to nail the bastard at last.”
“Did he have something to do with the case?”
“He’s CIA. Not DEA. Marginally, perhaps. Nothing direct.”
“So why did he call?”
“Th at’s what I’m asking myself. After he fi nished talking
about theMartinezcase, he asked about me and you and
Jane. It was more like a casual social call.” He added grimly,
“And Venable is never either casual or social. He always has
a reason.”
“But this time it appears to have more to do with you and
Martinezthan me. So why be worried about me? Venable may
be showing up at the court house down atMiami.”
“I doubt it. It sounded . . . like an excuse. I may call him
back.”
“Joe.”
“Okay, I’m going. Since you’re obviously trying to get rid
of me.”
“Because it’s your job.” She smiled. “And you’d only get in
my way. I’ve got to try to fi nish Ryan’s reconstruction before I
go pick up Jane. Heaven knows, I won’t have time once she
gets here. She’s already set up visits with half her friends from
school, and it seems I’m included in those plans.”
“Of course you are. You’re her best friend.”
“Yeah.” She smiled brilliantly. “Nice, isn’t it?”
“When it doesn’t get in the way of your work.”
“I can live with it. She can be pretty obsessive about her
own work. She jokes about being a starving artist, but she’d
never be anything else. It’s usually a good balance.” She watched
him walk down the steps. “Are you sure you don’t want me to
take you to the airport?”
“No, I’m meeting the captain at the precinct, and she’s
giving me a fi nal briefi ng. I’ll leave the car at the airport.” He
grinned. “But I’ll still expect my two favorite women to meet
that plane. I’ll get someone to pick up the car.”
“We’ll be there.” She watched him get into the jeep. “Call
me when you get settled.”
He nodded as he started the car. “I’ll probably be able to
talk to Jane by that time. It will—” He broke off , his expression
suddenly serious. “Be careful.”
“Joe . . .” She shook her head. “You’re the one taking a trip
to face the big bad drug mogul. Jane and I are going to stay
here and catch up on what we’ve missed.”
“Yeah, I know.” He started to back out of the driveway.
“Just . . . be careful.”
“Right.” She watched him drive down the road until he
went around the bend. She didn’t want to let him go. She had
made fun of his unusual concern, but neither of them ever
took the love between them for granted. Maybe he sensed
something wrong, something that would endanger that bond.
You couldn’t live your life worrying because you felt things
weren’t right. Th at wouldn’t be logical or smart. Yet you
couldn’t ignore those feelings either.
She shivered suddenly and turned to go back into the
house. Had Joe’s uneasiness been contagious, or was she feeling
that same sense of something . . . not right?
Forget it. She had work to do.
She strode over to the dais, where her current reconstruction
was displayed.
“We have to fi nish you right away, Ryan. Jane is coming,”
she murmured. She always gave her skulls a name so that she
could maintain a connection that would help her with the reconstruction.
Her hands moved gently, sculpting, smoothing.
She felt the same calming, closeness as she usually did when
working at bringing these lost ones back to the world that had
abandoned them. It was as if their souls were trying to reach
her, tell her, help her. “No disrespect. We did the big work last
night and this morning. Just a little tidying up, then I’ll add
the eyes . . .”
She had no idea who this little boy, who had been sent to
her by the Bloomington Police Department, actually was. She
estimated he was nine years old. He had been unearthed in a
grave in a construction site, and no one had been able to off er
a clue to his identity. Hopefully, once the photos were taken of
the completed reconstruction, he would be identifi ed.
And so would his murderer.
Ryan would go home.
And hopefully the person who had shoved him into that
grave would go straight to hell.
“Brown eyes, Ryan . . .” She always used brown because
they were more common than lighter shades. She carefully
put the glass eyes into the orbits. “What a handsome little boy
you are . . .”
Birmingham,Alabama
“WE’RE GETTING CLOSE, KEVIN,” Doane murmured, turning on his
lights as he got on the freeway. “Th e next state. I’ll have to
stop once we’re over the border and steal a license plate. Venable
will know that I’ve leftColoradoby now. It wouldn’t be
smart to let him know where we’re heading, would it? You’d
have probably changed the plate before now. And once we
reach the lake cottage, I’ll defi nitely have to change cars. Or
maybe a truck . . . You were always better at this than I was.”
He turned on his computer on the seat beside him. “But I’m
trying, Kevin. I worked it all out. I won’t let you down.” He
typed in a quick e-mail to Blick on the computer. “In place?”
No answer.
Doane could feel a trace of panic surge through him. “It
will be okay, Kevin. It takes time. Blick won’t let us down.
We’ve been planning this for months. I’ve told him exactly
what to do.”
His computer suddenly pinged. Blick.
“In place.”
Relief fl ooded Doane. “You see, I told you. He’s steady.
He’ll do the job,” he murmured as he got on the freeway. “I
just have to keep him from killing her . . .”
LakeCottage
E V E G L A NC E D AT T HE C L O C K across the room— 6:10
p.m.
Time to shower and head for the airport.
She wiped the clay from her hands on the cloth she kept
on the worktable beside the reconstruction. “Okay, Ryan. Th at’s
as good as I can do. No, as good as we can do. You helped a lot.”
Coff ee, fi rst. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since
lunch, and she didn’t know how long it would be before Jane
got out of Customs.
She popped in a Southern Pecan K-cup in her Keurig. She
didn’t need anything stronger, and she liked the smell of the
brew. Th ese single- cup coff eemakers were a miracle on the par
with—
Her cell phone rang. Jane.
“Don’t tell me your fl ight got in early. I haven’t left the
cottage yet.”
“No, I’m inSan Juan.”
Eve stiff ened with shock. “What?”
“I know. I meant to call you earlier, but there was an emergency,
and I had to arrange to leaveLondon. I got a lift on a
private jet.”
“Why on Earth?”
“Toby. My dog’s sick, Eve.” Her voice was shaking. “Th e
vet inLondondidn’t know what was wrong. Toby’s just getting
weaker and weaker. Th e vet can’t pin it down, and nothing
he’s tried has helped. None of the tests are conclusive. He
suggested I put him to sleep. I told him to go to hell.”
“I can see you doing that.” Toby was Jane’s beloved pet,
half- dog, half- wolf and totally endearing. Eve had taken care
of Toby herself when Jane had been unable to have her dog
with her, and she loved him almost as much as Jane did.
“Couldn’t you go to another vet?”
“Eldridge is the best. He’s just giving up too easily. I won’t
give up. So we practically smuggled Toby out ofLondonto
avoid all the red tape and took off .”
“Toby’s not a young dog any longer, Jane,” she said gently.
“You’ve had him since you were just a kid yourself.”
“Th at doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have his chance.” Jane
paused. “We’re on our way toSummerIsland. I’m taking him
to Sarah Logan. I just hope he’s alive when I get there.”
“You’re taking him to the island? Did you call Sarah?”
“Yes, she said that she couldn’t promise miracles, but they
have some terrifi c vets and a few extraordinary con sul tants
who might be able to help.” She added, “Miracles. You know
me, Eve. I’m not one to trust in miracles, and I had a hard time
believing that the experimental research center Sarah and her
husband set up on that island could be all that she said it
promised to be.”
“Sarah always tells the truth.”
“But dogs that are able to heal and extend life to an undetermined
span? Th at’s pretty hard to swallow.”
“Sarah had trouble herself until she saw the eff ects on her
golden retriever, Monty. She said he acts like a fi ve- year- old,
and he’s Toby’s father.”
“I don’t care about any sudden rejuvenation. I only want to
keep Toby alive and with me for a little while longer. If Sarah’s
started a clinic on that island, it’s got to be a great one.”
“And you’re willing to close your eyes to what doesn’t strike
you as reasonable and let Toby have his chance.”
“I love him. And Toby’s so full of love. Dogs like him
should live forever.” She cleared her throat. “Do you know that
Sarah said that they call the dogs that they have on the island
the dogs of summer? She said that dogs should always live in
the summer of life. Toby is heading toward his winter, but he’s
not there yet. Maybe I can hold him back.”
“Maybe you can. Do you need me? I’ll hop on a plane and
be there tomorrow.”
“No, we’re just refueling and checking our fl ight plan. I
want to get Toby to the island as soon as possible. Th e island is
only a tiny speck in the middle of the Ca rib be an, and you’d
have to fl y private, too.”
“And your point is?”
“Th at I can handle this myself. With any luck, Toby and I
will be at the lake house in no time.”
“I hope so.” She had a sudden thought. “You said we smuggled.
Who helped you get Toby out of the country?”
Silence. “Seth Caleb.”
Eve’s hand tightened on the phone. “And?”
“Nothing. No pound of fl esh. He just showed up after I’d
had the bad news from the vet and off ered his ser vices.”
“Just out of the blue. I’m wondering how he so con ve niently
found out about Toby. Knowing Seth Caleb, that makes me
very uneasy.”
“But you’re always uneasy around Caleb. You’ve been that
way since the day you met him.”
“And realized he . . . wasn’t like other people. For God’s
sake, Jane. I watched him kill a man by controlling the blood
fl ow to his heart.”
“Th e forensic team never confi rmed that happened. And
he saved Joe, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but he . . . I don’t like him around you.”
“You’re talking as if he’s some kind of vampire. He’s no
such thing. He just has a kind of . . . talent.”
“And you fi nd him fascinating.”
“So do you.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t deny it. “But it’s like watching a cobra
weave back and forth.”
Jane chuckled. “Th ere’s nothing snakelike about Seth.
He’s more in the panther line. Yes, if I ever do a sketch of him,
I’d make him a black panther.”
“But you’re trusting that panther to take your Toby to
safety.” Th ere was no use arguing with her. Eve had watched
Seth Caleb’s eff ect on Jane, and it was both complicated and
reckless. Most of the time, Jane realized how dangerous he
could be to her and kept him at a distance. In the end, Jane
would have to deal with him in her own way.
And if that deal did not turn out happily, Eve would have
to go after Caleb and take care of him herself.
“Call me as soon as you reach the island and meet Sarah.
I’ll be worried until I know about our Toby.”
“It will be all right.” Jane’s voice had a note of desperation.
“It has to be fi ne. I won’t have it any other way. I’ll bring him
to you. Bye, Eve. I love you.” She hung up.
Eve slowly pressed the disconnect. Lord, she wanted to be
there with Jane. Toby was very important to her, and this
might be a tragic ending for her old friend. Jane had grown up
on the streets and in foster homes and had never allowed herself
to trust anyone but Eve and Joe. Th e closest she had come
was that zany half- wolf who had bounded into their hearts
and lives and stayed there.
Until now.
Maybe it would be okay. Unlike Jane, Eve did believe in
miracles. Th ey weren’t always on the horizon, but there was a
balance between horror and wonder. Miracles as well as disasters
could happen. Sometimes it seemed impossible when you
faced the tragedy of little boys like Ryan, but she had to believe
because of Bonnie.
Bonnie, who had been taken from her in the most horrible
way possible, kidnapped and dying when she was only seven.
Yet she had been permitted to come back to comfort Eve and
help her through life. Eve had fi rst thought she was a dream,
and only after years had she admitted that Bonnie was a spirit
and accepted her presence in her life.
Accepted her with joy and gratitude.
Yes, there were miracles in this world.
Maybe Ryan would be someone’s miracle. “I hope so,
Ryan.” She turned and picked up her cup of coff ee. “I guess
there’s no hurry about drinking this. Jane may be a few days.
I’ll go out on the porch and sit down and enjoy the sunset.”
But the sun was already down when she went out on the
porch. Th e dusk had fallen, and the lake looked silver- cold.
She shivered and took a sip of coffee.
It didn’t warm her.
She felt suddenly very alone. No Joe. No Jane.
She was being ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been
alone before. So what if the only entity she had to talk with at
the moment was the skull of a dead child?
She turned quickly and went back into the house and
slammed the door and locked it. “I’m heading for a long, hot
shower, Ryan. Th en I’ll come out and pack you in your FedEx
box to be picked up tomorrow. Joe should be calling soon, and
I’ll have to tell him about poor Toby. I’m sorry Jane won’t get
a chance to see you. She’s an artist, and she might have made
a wonderful sketch of you that could have led to everyone’s
knowing who you are. But we’ll get there anyway . . .