“I hope not.”
“We have to find her. We have to find that little girl.”
“She may not even exist,” Joe said.
“She exists.”
“If she did exist, he may already have killed her.”
She shook her head. She wouldn't believe that. “I don't think so.”
Spiro said, “I'll rush the analysis of the contents of that box and get back to you.” He turned to Joe. “I want to know how Dom got that close to the house.”
“Don't you think I've asked myself the same question a million times? It shouldn't have happened. But it did. Eve needs more guards.”
“This lake curves around like a snake. There's nothing to stop anyone from taking a canoe into one of the inlets and making his way to the cabin. I'd have to set up a two-mile chain of agents to monitor all that lakefront.”
“At least get a truckload of equipment out here and trace his calls to Eve.”
“I don't know how much good it will do,” Spiro said. “But I agree that—”
“No,” Eve said.
They both looked at her.
“If he finds out we're trying to trace the calls, he may not call again. I have to talk to him.”
Joe muttered a curse.
“You know I have to do it, Joe.”
“Oh, yes, he's got you, dammit.”
“And what if he doesn't call you?” Spiro asked.
“He'll call again. Soon.” She lifted her head. “He wants me to know who the girl is.”
“You know who she is. He already told you her name and her age.”
“That was just a tease. Enough to make me worry but not enough for me to find her. We have to find her.”
“Then it's your responsibility to convince Dom to tell you more,” Spiro said.
Her responsibility. That was what Dom wanted, for her to be responsible for the life of that child. For her to try to save a little girl she didn't even know.
Her name is Jane.
And she was only ten years old. Too young to know how to fight the monster stalking her.
Just a little girl. She'd be helpless. . . .
JANE'S FIST LANDED squarely on Chang's nose and blood spurted. “Give it back.”
Chang screamed and clutched his nose. “Fay, Janie hit me. I didn't do nothing and Janie hit me.”
“Jane, stop it,” Fay called from the kitchen. “And, Chang, quit tattling.”
“Give it back,” Jane said through gritted teeth.
“Thief. Crook.” Chang backed away. “I'm going to tell Fay and she'll have you put in jail.”
“Give—it—back.” She punched him in the stomach and then grabbed the apple that dropped from his hand. She was halfway across the room when Fay said, “Stop right there, Jane.”
Sighing, she stopped in her tracks. Bad luck. A few seconds more and she would have been out the front door.
“She stole an apple from the fridge. She's been stealing stuff for the last two days.” Chang smiled maliciously. “You gonna have her arrested, Fay?”
“What kind of stuff?” Fay asked.
“Food. I saw her put a sandwich in her schoolbag yesterday.”
“Is that true, Jane?”
Jane didn't answer.
“And she punched me.”
“Be quiet, Chang. For heaven's sake, you're two inches taller than she is.”
“You said I shouldn't fight,” he said, sulking.
“I also said you shouldn't tattle, but you do it.” Fay dug into her pocket and handed him a tissue. “Go on. You'll be late for school.”
Chang wiped his nose. “Jane was late yesterday.”
“Jane's never late for school.”
“She was late yest—” He met Jane's warning gaze and backed toward the door. “Ask her.” He bolted out of the house.
Fay crossed her arms over her chest. “So I'm asking you.”
“I was late.”
“Why?”
“I had something to do.”
“What?”
Jane was silent.
“Have you been stealing food?”
“Not much.”
“You know I have a tough time stretching the food budget for the three of you.”
“I won't eat tomorrow.”
“You don't eat enough now. It's Chang and Raoul who are always hungry. Which brings me to ask why you stole food, when half the time I can't get you to eat my dinners.”
Jane didn't answer.
“When I was in the fourth grade there was a bully who made me give him my lunch every day. I'd understand if you—”
“No one made me do it.”
Fay smiled faintly. “And if they tried, you'd punch them in the nose.”
Jane nodded.
“If you have a problem, it might help if you talk to me.”
“I don't have a problem.”
“And you wouldn't tell me if you did. Why do I even try?” Fay wearily brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Go on. You'll be late.”
Jane hesitated. It would be harder to get food now. Could she trust Fay? “May I keep the apple?”
“If you tell me why.”
“Someone needs it.”
“Who?”
“He can't go home right now. His father's there.”
“Who?”
“Could I bring him here?”
“A child? Jane, you know I can't accept any more children. But if he's having trouble at home, we can call Family Services and see if they can intercede with his parents.”
She should have known Fay wouldn't understand. “They won't help. They'll go see them and then they'll leave and make a report. It would make it worse for him.”
“Who is this? Tell me.”
Jane started for the door.
“Jane, I want to help you. Trust me. You're going to get into trouble.”
“I'll be okay. I won't be late for school again.”
“That's not what I mean.” Fay was looking helplessly at her. “I want to be your friend. Why can't I get through to you? Why do you keep everything bottled up inside?”
“Could I have the apple?”
“I shouldn't let you—Oh, go ahead, take it. But I don't want you punching Chang again.”
“Okay.” Jane opened the door and ran down the steps. That she had made Fay unhappy made her feel bad. For a moment she had thought Fay would understand and help her, but she should have known better. You couldn't count on anyone to help you. You had to do it yourself.
At least Fay had not made her give up the apple the way some grown-ups would have. But there would be no more food for Mike from Fay's refrigerator. She would have to find it somewhere else.
Her forehead creased in a frown as she began to consider how she would do it.
C H A P T E R
SIX
Dom made Eve wait over forty-eight hours before he called again.
“Did you like my gift?” he asked.
“I hated it. You knew I would.”
“But how could you hate your own flesh and blood? Oops, slip of the tongue. No flesh, no blood, just bone.”
“Who is she?”
“I told you, it's your Bonnie.”
“No, you know who I mean. Who is this Jane?”
“Well, she may be your Bonnie too. Have you thought about the possibility of—”
“What's her last name?”
“She's not as pretty but she has the same red hair. Unfortunately, she's had a rougher time this go-around than when she was your Bonnie. Four foster homes.” He clucked regretfully. “So sad.”
“Where is she?”
“You'd recognize the place.”
She felt a sudden chill. A grave? “Is she alive?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have her?”
“No, so far I've only been observing her. I find her very interesting. You will too, Eve.”
“Tell me her last name. Dammit, I know you want me to know.”
>
“But you have to earn it. It's part of the game. Don't try to bring the police into it or I'll be very unhappy. I'm sure your maternal instincts will lead you to little Jane. Find her, Eve. Before I become impatient.” He hung up.
She punched the end button.
“No luck?” Joe asked.
She stood up. “We're going to Atlanta.”
“What the hell?”
“He said I'd recognize the place where she can be found. I know Atlanta better than any other place. Do you have contacts with child welfare?”
He shook his head.
“Do you know anyone else who can help us? He said she'd been in four foster homes. There have to be records.”
“We can try Mark Grunard. I don't know anyone who's better at digging out information, and he has contacts everywhere.”
“Will you call him?”
“Look, the Atlanta PD will help now. They have no choice, not after the Devon ID.”
“He doesn't want me to bring in the police. He wants me to find her. It's like some kind of game to him.”
“Will you stay here and let me go and look for her?”
“I told you, that's not what he wants. He wants me to search for her. It has to be me.”
“Then don't give the bastard what he wants.”
“And have him send me her head in a box?” she asked unevenly. “I can't risk that. I have to find her and find her quick.”
“Okay, but I'm going with you.” He reached for the phone. “Go pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes. I'll call Mark and tell him what we need so he can get started on it.”
“Set up a meeting with him. Dom's got to see me making the effort to find her. He'll be watching me.”
“That's no problem. I told you I'd promised Mark you'd see him as soon as possible. I'll have him meet us at my apartment in the city.”
JOE'S APARTMENT WAS in a luxury high-rise across the street from Piedmont Park. He drove down into the secured gated parking garage and they took the elevator to the seventh floor.
“It's about time, Joe. I've been waiting almost an hour.” Mark Grunard grinned at them. “Don't you realize I'm an important man in this town?” He extended his hand to Eve. “I'm glad to see you again, Ms. Duncan. Though I'm sorry it's in these circumstances.”
“So am I.” She shook his hand. He appeared almost the same as she remembered him—tall, fit, with a charming smile. Perhaps in his early fifties, he showed the years with a few more laugh lines around his blue eyes. “But I'm glad you've agreed to help us.”
“I'd be an idiot otherwise. This is big stuff. It's not often I get a chance at an exclusive that could net me an Emmy.”
“What about your fellow reporters?” Joe asked. “Are we going to be safe here?”
“I think so. I laid a false trail to Daytona Beach in the newscast last night. Just don't be stupid.” He frowned. “I contacted Barbara Eisley about our problem. She's head of Child and Family Services. It's not going to be easy. She says all files are private.”
Red tape, Eve thought with frustration. A child could be murdered while they dithered about blasted rules. “Can't you persuade her?”
“Barbara Eisley's a tough nut. She'd make a great drill sergeant. Can you get a court order?”
Joe shook his head. “We can't go through the system. Eve's afraid Dom will move on the little girl if we do.”
“Barbara Eisley has got to help,” Eve said.
“I said it's not going to be easy, I didn't say impossible,” Grunard said. “We just have to use a little persuasion.”
“Could I see Ms. Eisley?”
Grunard nodded. “I thought you'd feel like that. We're taking her to dinner tonight.” He held up his hand as Joe opened his mouth to protest. “I know, Eve can't go where she'll be recognized. I have a friend who owns an Italian restaurant on the Chattahoochee just outside the city. He'll give us good pasta and complete privacy. Okay?”
“Okay.” Joe unlocked his apartment door. “Pick us up across the street, inside the park, at six.”
“I'll be there.”
Eve watched Grunard walk toward the elevators before she followed Joe into the apartment. “He appears very”—she searched for the word—“solid.”
“That's why he's so popular.” He locked the door and Eve looked around the apartment.
“Good God, you could have done better than this, Joe. It looks like a hotel room.”
He shrugged. “I told you I didn't do much more than sleep here.” He headed for the kitchen. “I'll make coffee and sandwiches. I doubt if we're going to eat much at that dinner with Barbara Eisley.”
She followed him into the kitchen. She doubted she could eat much now either, but she'd have to. She needed all her strength. “I think I may have met Eisley before.”
“When?”
“Years ago. When I was a kid. There was one caseworker . . .” She shook her head. “Maybe not.”
“You don't remember?”
“I've blocked a lot of that time out of my memory.” She made a face. “It wasn't a very pleasant period. Mom and I were moving from place to place and every month the welfare department was threatening to take me away from Mom and put me in a foster home if she didn't get off the crack.” She opened the refrigerator door. “Everything in here is spoiled, Joe.”
“Then I'll make toast.”
“If the bread's not moldy.”
“Don't be pessimistic.” He opened the bread box. “It's just a little stale.” He popped bread into the toaster on the counter. “Considering what you went through as a kid, you might have been better off in a foster home.”
“Maybe. But I didn't want to go. Back then there were times I hated her, but she was my mother. To a child, family always seems better than strangers.” She got the butter from the refrigerator. “That's why it's so difficult to take abused children from their parents. They want to believe everything's going to be all right.”
“And sometimes it's not.”
“Evidently, it wasn't for this Jane. Not if she's been in four foster homes.” She went to the window and looked down into the street. “You don't realize how rough it is out there for kids, Joe.”
“I realize. I'm a cop. I've seen it.”
“But you haven't been there.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Rich boy.”
“Don't be snooty. I couldn't help it. I tried to get my parents to abandon me, but they wouldn't do it. They sent me to Harvard instead.” He plugged in the coffeemaker. “It could have been worse; they were thinking about sending me to Oxford.”
“Terrible fate.” She looked back out the window. “You never talk about your parents. They died when you were in college, didn't they?”
He nodded. “Boating accident off Newport.”
“Why don't you talk about them?”
“Nothing to talk about.”
She turned to him. “Dammit, Joe, you didn't spring fully grown in Atlanta. I've tried dozens of times to get you to tell me about your folks and the way you grew up. Why do you keep dodging?”
“It's not important.”
“It's as important as the way I grew up.”
He smiled. “Not to me.”
“You're only fifty percent of this friendship. You know everything about me. Stop shutting me out.”
“I don't believe in living in the past.”
“How the hell can I really know you if you won't talk to me?”
“Don't be crazy. You know me.” He chuckled. “For God's sake, we've been together more than ten years.”
He was dodging again. “Joe.”
He shrugged. “You want to know about my parents? I didn't know them very well. They stopped being interested in me about the time I stopped being a cute little tyke.” He got down cups from the cabinet. “Can't blame them. I was never an easy kid. Too demanding.”
“I can't imagine you demanding anything. You're too self-reliant.”
“Imagine it. Accept it.” He pour
ed coffee into the cups. “I'm still demanding as hell. I've just learned ways of camouflaging it. Sit down and eat your toast.”
“You never demand anything of me.”
“I demand your friendship. I demand your company. Most of all, I demand that you stay alive.”
“Those are the most unselfish demands I've ever heard.”
“Don't you believe it. I'm probably the most selfish man you've ever met.”
She smiled as she shook her head. “No way.”
“I'm glad I've got you fooled. But someday you'll find out how I've deceived you all these years. You slum brats just can't trust us rich kids.”
“You've switched the conversation around to me again. Why do you keep doing that?”
“I'm bored with me.” He yawned. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm a very dull fellow.”
“The hell you are.”
“Well, I have to agree that I'm witty and supremely intelligent, but my background's pretty mundane.” He sat down opposite Eve. “Now, what about Barbara Eisley? What do you remember?”
Stubborn bastard, he'd told her as much as he was going to. She gave up as she had so many times before. “I told you, I'm not sure I knew her. There were so many caseworkers and, hey, they never stayed long in the job. Can't blame them. Techwood wasn't the safest neighborhood.”
“Think.”
“Bully.” Okay, stop avoiding thinking about that hellhole where she had grown up. She let the memory flow back to her. Dirt. Hunger. Rats. The smell of fear and sex and drugs. “She might have been one of the caseworkers. I remember one woman in her late thirties. I thought she was old. She came to one of the houses on Market Street. I think I was nine or ten. . . .”
“Sympathetic?”
“I think so. Maybe. I was too defensive to judge. I was angry at Mom and the whole world.”
“Then you may have trouble bonding with her tonight.”
“I don't have to bond with her. I just have to convince her to open those files and help us find that child. There's no time.”
“Easy.” His hand covered hers on the table. “One way or the other, we'll get the records tonight.”
She tried to smile. “I suppose if she won't help, you'll pull a Watergate at the welfare office?”
“Possibly.”
He meant it. Her smile faded. “No, Joe. I don't want you to get into trouble.”