Body of Lies

  "Will your chief bow to pressure?"

  "Probably. Like I said, if the tests are already underway before the FBI steps into the picture, the chief will have a legitimate gripe if the information isn't shared. The Bureau is always saying that everything's peaches and cream between the Feds and local police departments, but the antagonism is still there. It would be a bad public relations move for them to refuse access."

  Eve continued to look at the flames as he spoke quickly into his phone, and felt her stomach clench. At first, she'd only been aware of the smell of gasoline and burning pine, but now she realized there was another scent....

  "You okay?" Joe's gaze was on her face.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. "But let's go back to the cottage."

  "Sorry." His gaze was on the road. "Here comes the patrol car. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can."

  -------------------

  They didn't get back to the cottage until after the forensic team arrived at the wreckage fifteen minutes later. Special Agent Hal Lindman from the FBI Atlanta field office arrived an hour later, followed closely by two detectives from Joe's precinct. It was several hours after that when the questioning ended and the final statements were taken.

  "It's not over," Joe said as they watched the police cars drive down the road away from the cottage. "The FBI is going to come down on this case like gangbusters as soon as the man Rusk is sending down from his office gets here. They'll take over the investigation and be on our doorstep tomorrow morning at the latest."

  "We won't be here."

  "What?"

  "Call Galen and get him and Nathan to come back right away. I want to talk to them."

  Joe studied Eve's expression, and nodded. "I'll get them."

  She crossed her arms over her chest as she gazed out at the pine trees. The sky was no longer red, but the trees were scorched and bare.

  Jennings was dead. Blown to bits. She closed her eyes, sick, as the memory of that blazing car came back to her. She had been angry with him for arbitrarily taking the skull, but she had genuinely liked the man. He didn't deserve to have that monster kill him.

  "They'll be here within an hour," Joe said. "They'll have to take a speedboat from the opposite end of the lake to avoid the guards around the crime scene."

  The crime scene. It was an ugly phrase for an ugly act.

  "Eve?"

  Rage was beginning to supplant the horror. "I'm mad as hell, Joe. Hebert killed him because of Victor. When Hebert thought that he might not be able to find out who Victor was, he wanted to make sure no one else would know, either. He didn't care that a decent man was blown up, too."

  "It may have been more than that," Joe said. "Jennings was on the track of something in Boca Raton."

  Yes, Jennings had been excited. What had he said?

  It was there in front of me all the time. I didn't see it.

  What had been there in front of Jennings?

  She rubbed her aching temple. She couldn't think. She was in too much of a rage for cool reason. She wanted to strike out again and again and again.

  You have to stand toe-to-toe and slug it out.

  Jane had said that, but Eve had backed away. Now there was another death, and once more Hebert had gotten away with it.

  Damn him to hell.

  She wasn't going to crawl into a cave and hide again.

  -------------------

  Galen cut the motor of the speedboat as he reached the pier. "You called, we came."

  "Come into the cottage," Eve said as she walked back up the pier. "We may not have much time. Joe's not sure when the FBI will show up again."

  "Yes, ma'am." Galen gave a low whistle as he got out of the boat and followed her toward the cottage. "Whatever you say."

  Joe was sitting in the easy chair by the window. "Any trouble getting here?"

  Nathan shook his head. "No problem. God, I need some coffee." He moved toward the kitchen. "You talk, I'll listen while I'm making a pot."

  His face was pale and pinched, Eve noticed. "You don't look well."

  "I'll be okay. I'm not used to this kind of thing."

  He scowled. "I once thought I'd like to be a police reporter, but I never made it past the first gang shooting." He poured water into the coffeemaker. "I hate violence. It makes me sick."

  "Join the club." Eve shivered as she remembered Jennings's burning funeral pyre. "It shouldn't happen. We shouldn't let it happen."

  Joe's gaze narrowed on her face. "And do we have a way to stop it?"

  "We've got to try." Her hands clenched at her sides. "We can't let him keep on with this. He almost killed Jane and my mother. He did kill Jennings and Capel and—" She stopped and drew a deep shaky breath. "Jane told me that I should 'slug it out toe-to-toe,' but I was too scared of what he'd do. That was a mistake. I have to stop him before he does anything else. No one is safe as long as he's alive and free. I can't let him go on like this."

  "To stop him, we have to find him," Joe said.

  She was silent a moment. "Or he has to find me."

  "He's already destroyed the skull," Nathan said. "He may not target you now. Particularly if he has other fish to fry in Boca Raton."

  "Oh, I think he'll target me. I know too much, and he evidently likes to keep everything tidy for the Cabal." She paused. "But it will add a little impetus if he thinks I'm going after evidence he doesn't want to be discovered."

  "And that is?"

  "Bently's grave. I don't have to have the entire skeleton. In this day of DNA technology, if I discover hair, a bone, even a tooth, I may have a chance of spoiling whatever game Hebert and the Cabal are playing."

  "How?"

  "I'm not sure yet. But they don't want him identified, or they wouldn't have blown up Jennings's car tonight."

  "And how are you going to find the grave?"

  "I may not be able to. But if Hebert thinks I'm getting near it, he may be drawn in." She opened her handbag. "On the other hand, I may be able to find it." She took out a letter-size manila envelope and opened it. "If I can find out where this came from."

  Joe took the envelope and looked inside. "Dirt."

  "Galen called it 'funny dirt,' " Eve said. "It's a light color, and it has a large amount of tiny bones or shell chips. Victor had this caked mud in all his orifices."

  Nathan made a face as he poured coffee into his cup. "Pleasant."

  Galen smiled. "Isn't it nice I'm so observant? You were so obsessed with Victor, I didn't think you were paying attention when I made the comment."

  "I didn't want to. It got in the way of my work. But after you left, it kept nagging at me. So I scraped some of the mud into an envelope and put it in my purse."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Joe asked.

  "I forgot about it."

  He raised his brows. "Forgot?"

  "Okay, I blocked it out," she said defiantly. "I told you, it was getting in my way with Victor."

  Galen shook his head. "Obsession."

  "And what are you going to do with the mud?" Nathan asked.

  "Take it to Louisiana State University. They have one of the best geology schools in the South there. I'll see if they can give me a lead as to where dirt like this can be found."

  "And then?"

  "I go there and Hebert follows me."

  "No," Joe said flatly.

  "Yes." Eve looked him directly in the eye. "Toe-to-toe, Joe. I'm going to get the son of a bitch."

  He was silent a moment. "I wasn't objecting to that. You said I, not we. I'm going with you."

  She opened her mouth to protest, and then slowly nodded her head. It was no time to worry about their personal conflict. They had worked together before, and there was no one she trusted as she did Joe.

  Trust...

  Galen nodded. "I think I'll tag along, too."

  "No," Eve said. "I want you to stay and watch over Jane. I need you here."

  "That wasn't what I was hired to do."

  "I want her sa
fe."

  Galen grimaced. "Okay, but Jane will have my head if she finds out that I'm not dogging your footsteps."

  She smiled faintly. "You'll survive."

  "I'm not so sure. She's a tough customer."

  Eve turned to Nathan. "Are you coming with us?"

  He shook his head. "I'm heading for Boca Raton. If Jennings found out something down there, I might be able to do the same. I'll be in touch." He poured more coffee into his cup. "We don't have much time. It's already the twenty-fifth, and the twenty-ninth was the date Etienne was so concerned about."

  The ticking clock. She wouldn't think about it. She would move as quickly as she could, but there was no sense in panicking. "Then we need to get going." She turned to Joe. "Can you call your chief and get them to keep the FBI off our backs for a few days?"

  He shook his head. "But I can try to get the chief to keep his mouth shut about where we are."

  "Good." Eve turned to Galen. "I need Hebert to know what we're up to."

  "He already seems to know a hell of a lot more than I'm comfortable with."

  "I have to be sure."

  "Any ideas?"

  "I believe what Melton knows, Hebert will know." She frowned, thinking. "Tanzer. He bragged that nothing went on in Baton Rouge that he didn't know about. Can you finesse someone at the college to filter information to Tanzer after we leave there?"

  "And Tanzer will call Melton." Galen nodded. "I might be able to get one of my contacts to work it." He smiled faintly. "After all, Tanzer is a trou du cul."

  Jesus, it seemed a long time since Marie Letaux had used that phrase. So much had happened, so many deaths...

  "Be careful," Nathan said soberly. "I wouldn't want you to be caught in the trap you're setting for Hebert. The man gives me the willies."

  She had a sudden memory of the chill she had felt when talking to Nathan earlier in the evening. "You be careful, too."

  "I'm always careful." He finished his coffee. "I have to live to get my Pulitzer." He started for the door. "Come on, Galen. Get off your ass and take me to the airport."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Louisiana State University

  11:45 a.m. October 25

  "It's Terrebonne parish." Professor Gerald Cassidy straightened his bifocal glasses on his nose before looking up at Eve and Joe. "I'd bet on it."

  "You haven't even tested it," Joe said. "How can you be sure?"

  "I'll take it to the lab and run some tests, but I've seen this dirt before. It's unusual. I did a paper on the area for my doctorate."

  Which couldn't have been too long ago, Eve thought. Cassidy didn't look a day over twenty-five. "Why is it unusual?"

  "High concentration of calcium." Cassidy pointed to the minute white chips embedded in the dirt. "Shells. Hundreds of years ago, the entire area was flooded and the shells were deposited all over." He frowned.

  "But I've never run across this heavy a percentage of shells in the soil samples I took. I'd be interested to know where it's located...."

  "We need to be absolutely sure we can start at Terrebonne," Joe said. "Will you run some tests?"

  Cassidy shrugged. "Sure. Come back this afternoon." He paused. "Why do you want to know? What are you looking for?"

  Eve hesitated. "A grave."

  Cassidy made a face. "Good luck. That's bayou country. Hundreds of waterways, and the Cajuns aren't all that communicative. They don't like strangers. It took me months to gather enough information for my thesis."

  "But you must have made a few contacts. Can you put us in touch with anyone who might be able to pinpoint the area where this might be found?"

  "Jacques Dufour. If he needs money and wants to cooperate, he knows the bayous better than anyone else I was able to hire. I'll give you his phone number in Houma." He opened a desk drawer, took out a black leather address book, and flipped through it. "I wouldn't use me as a reference. He made no bones about showing his contempt for me."

  "Why?"

  "I was twenty-four years old, a little bookish, and not Cajun. All sins in his eyes." He studied Joe. "Somehow I don't think you'll have a problem with him."

  "I won't." Eve wrote down the phone number and stood up. "When will you know for certain?"

  "It should be about four this afternoon. Are you coming back here?"

  Eve shook her head as she went toward the door. "Joe will give you our cell number. We're leaving for Houma right away."

  -------------------

  "They're going to Terrebonne parish," Melton said as soon as Hebert answered the phone. "They're after the grave. For God's sake, can you screw up any worse than you've been doing?"

  Hebert smothered the surge of anger. "They won't find anything."

  "I'm not so sure. You've screwed up everything about this business from the beginning."

  "It will be all right. Maybe better than all right. I know those swamps, and the people who live there. Etienne and I grew up near those bayous."

  "Listen to me. I want no disruption. Get rid of them quickly, quietly, and then get your ass back to Boca Raton. Christ, I can't believe you've cut it this close. You're sure that everything's on schedule down there?"

  "It's all in motion. I'm sure your informants have already told you that the plan's working beautifully."

  "Yes, there was an article in the newspaper this morning. Security?"

  "In place. As soon as I finish, I'll get back and tie up any loose ends."

  "Then do it, damn you." Melton hung up.

  Arrogant son of a bitch. Hebert didn't need Melton to tell him how tight the time frame was getting. His gut twisted every time he let himself think about it. Every move he had made lately had been either threatened or checkmated. It was as if there were some force keeping him from succeeding.

  Etienne.

  He closed his eyes. Ridiculous superstitious nonsense. He mustn't panic. All he had to do was remove Duncan and Quinn, and he'd be free to concentrate on his job in Boca Raton. It would be easy to do.

  Unless it was a trap.

  But even if it was a trap, he'd have the advantage. Every year people disappeared into those swamps and never came out. There was death waiting for the careless around every bend of the bayou. But he was experienced enough to spring any trap—or set a deadly one of his own.

  A two-hour flight and he'd be in New Orleans.

  An hour later and he'd be deep in the swamp.

  Waiting.

  Houma

  4:05 p.m. October 25

  "Shells?" Jacques Dufour shrugged. "There are shells all over the parish."

  "But this place has a very high concentration of them," Eve said. "Professor Cassidy said you might know where it was located."

  "I might. I'll have to think about it."

  Eve gritted her teeth. The man was as arrogant as Cassidy had told them. "Then think about it."

  "Maybe we should just go looking. My swamp tour is the best in the bayou."

  "I don't want a tour. I want to find a place with—"

  "How much?" Joe asked curtly.

  "I didn't say—" Dufour stopped as he met Joe's gaze. "I have an idea where it might be. My cousin, Jean Pierdu, lives in an area where there are many shells."

  "Then give me his telephone number. I want to talk to him."

  Dufour smiled. "He has no telephone. People are very poor here. You'll have to go to him. Five hundred."

  "Three hundred. And you'd better be right about the shells. I wouldn't want you to waste your time." Joe's voice lowered to silky softness. "Or mine."

  "Too cheap. It's deep in the bayou, and I might have to—"

  "Maybe I didn't make myself clear." Joe took a step closer. "Three hundred, and you might come out of that bayou with your skin intact. Annoy me with this bullshit and you may end up alligator bait."

  Dufour's lips tightened. "You should remember that a bayou can be a dangerous place for someone who isn't familiar with it."

  "Three hundred."

  Dufour hesitated,
then shrugged. "Three hundred." He turned away. "We leave tomorrow morning."

  "Now."

  "I have a swamp tour in forty minutes, and after that it will be too dark to see." He smiled maliciously. "We go very close to the trees. I think you'd want to be able to see a coral snake before it dropped in the lady's lap."

  Joe muttered a curse as he watched Dufour swagger away from them.

  "It might have gone a little better if you'd been more patient and not threatened him with the alligator," Eve said.

  "I'm tired of being patient."

  That was evident to Eve. Ever since they'd arrived at Houma, she'd been aware that Joe had gone into battle mode. She had seen that side of him only a few times since she had known him. He tried to keep the violence of both past and present apart from her. Yet she still recognized the tension, the alertness, the barely contained eagerness. Yes, eager was the word. He was eager, wanting to break loose, wanting to strike out. No wonder Dufour had backed down. "We might as well find a hotel to check into for the night," she said. "I need to call Galen and make sure Jane's safe."

  -------------------

  "Of course, she's safe," Galen said. "I believe I'm insulted."

  "Insulted? May I remind you that she and my mother were almost blown up?"

  "Good point. But now I have them surrounded by so many of Hughes's security men that it would take an army to get near them. Even if Hebert could breach the FBI and police guards, it would—" He stopped. "But Hebert is going to be too busy to make an attempt, isn't he? Any sign of him?"

  "Not yet. But we have a lead on the grave site. We're at Houma and we go into the swamp tomorrow."

  "I'm very good in swamps. I think you need me. Hughes could do my job here, and I—"

  "We don't need you. Stay with Jane. Have you heard from Nathan?"

  "No, but he'd more likely contact you. For some reason, he finds me a little annoying."

  "I wonder why. I'll call you tomorrow." She hung up.

  Eve was relieved. The odds that Hebert would strike again at Jane were slim, but that hadn't stopped her from worrying. Galen's attitude might have seemed light, but she knew him well enough now to know that he was dead serious about his job. Jane was safe in his hands.