Iris Johansen - Quicksand

"He didn't laugh in your face?"

"He's too polite. But he was damn skeptical."

"Amazing," Montalvo murmured.

"Be quiet, Montalvo. I'm doing the best I can. I have to keep this low-key. You don't have to pay me until we locate Bobby Joe. But I'd appreciate it if you'd give this option the benefit of the doubt." He paused. "Or else you might end up with egg on your face."

Montalvo hadn't expected that last remark. He'd thought it had been desperation that had led Venable to come up with this bizarre scheme, but he knew few men more clever or practical. "You actually believe this is a solution?"

"Hell, yes, I've seen it happen."

What the hell? At least, it would be interesting and he might be able to use it. "I'll go along with you for a while. What do you want me to do?"

"I can't be a party to this and, under the circumstances, I doubt if Quinn would want to stand in. Will you be out there at six in the morning to guide the process and bolster up the sheriff?"

"Very well, but if the place is teeming with media, I'm out of there."

"Don't worry, I was very solemn and impressive with our sheriff. He's not going to leak anything."

"He wasn't the one I'm worried about." He took out his notebook and pencil. "Okay, give me the details."

Five minutes later Montalvo hung up the phone and thoughtfully studied his notes. Incredible. Even more incredible that Venable believed it to be a true and valid solution.

But the premise definitely had possibilities. This morning he'd been able to see that Eve was on edge and frustrated that she was unable to actively participate in the hunt for Kistle. Even if this scheme didn't pan out, it gave him an opportunity to involve Eve in a way that would be safe for her. They'd be working together as they had in Colombia.

Yes, it was definitely worthwhile.

He began to dial Eve's number.

EVE THREW OPEN THE DOORto Montalvo's knock. "Okay, what is it? You said Venable had a plan to help catch Kistle."

"In a way. Actually, it's to keep the FBI on the job. We do want to have all the help we can get, don't we?"

"Of course we do. Though Joe says they may get in the way."

"I'm willing to risk it." He came into the room and closed the door. "But the FBI doesn't believe their expertise is needed to catch Kistle and the cop killings appear to be open-and-shut cases. But there may be a way to keep them involved. You knew about Bobby Joe Windlaw."

She nodded. "But he may not have been killed by Kistle."

"And he might have. I think there's a good chance. All we have to do is find the body."

"How does Venable think he's going to find this body when it's not been found by the local police?"

He grimaced. "There's the rub."

"What?"

"Venable is sending a psychic to that riverbank where the child's belongings were found. He asked me to be there at six tomorrow morning to meet with her. I thought you might want to go along in case they found something."

Eve stared at him in disbelief. "You have to be crazy."

"My reaction exactly."

"I can't understand how you could even consider this," Eve said curtly. "It's all bullshit and I won't be a party to it."

"I understand your attitude. But Venable seems to be convinced that she's authentic. I thought you might be interested in checking it out."

"A psychic?" she repeated harshly. "Crooks. Charlatans."

"You seem to be very adamant about it." He paused, studying her expression. "Experience?"

Oh, yes, she'd had experience. It had been part of that nightmare. "They flocked like vultures around me after Bonnie was taken. At least once a week I'd have a phone call or a letter offering to help me find her, saying they knew where she was. Some of them said she was alive and happy, others said she was dead and buried. I was so desperate I even answered a couple of them. Joe tried to keep me from doing it, but I would have tried anything." Her lips curled bitterly. "They always had some reason why Bonnie wasn't coming through to them. But they gave a lot of interviews afterward claiming they'd given the police valuable leads."

"Venable assured me there would be no media. He says this woman wouldn't participate if there was any chance of that."

"Sure," Eve said. "And pigs can fly."

"He also said that he was having a hell of a time persuading her to come and do the job. She wanted no part of it."

"Good. Then there's one less con artist to stir up mud."

"I take it that you're not going with me tomorrow morning."

"For heavens sake, are you deaf? Of course, I'm not going."

"I just want to be certain. Since you're so familiar with this kind of con game, you could be a big help in debunking."

"There's nothing to debunk. No wires. No ghostly figures. They just 'feel' things. They 'sense' a presence or 'see' a vision. All very safe. They rely on some poor fool to want it to be true so badly that she'll accept anything they say." She still remembered standing in a forest in south Georgia and being torn by agony so intense she had felt ripped apart when she'd realized that the faint hope given by that psychic who had said Bonnie was alive was bogus. "And, dammit, I did. I did ."

"Eve." He took a half step toward her and then stopped. "I'd like to comfort you, but I'm experiencing odd qualms of conscience. I can be very calculating, but believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you by this."

"I know." She had to get control of herself. It had all come flooding back to her with just the mention of that damn psychic. "I'd tell Venable to go jump in the lake if I were you. You're wasting your time."

"I gave him my word." He shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps the sheriff will become inspired to bring in some of his officers to look a little deeper into the boy's case himself. It could happen. Sometimes good results come from bad actions." He turned away. "If you change your mind, call me."

"I won't call you," She started toward the reconstruction on the table. "It would be like going back to that hell I went through to hobnob with another one of those damn phonies."

THE BODY WAS HANGINGthirty feet above the ground, a vine wrapped around his neck in a noose.

"Damn," Joe murmured as he played his flashlight on the man's face. "Who is it, Pete?"

"Don Astins." The deputy swallowed hard. "He's with the highway patrol. He volunteered to- God, another one. How does that bastard do it?"

Joe ignored the question. "When did you find him?"

"Twenty minutes ago. He didn't check in when he was supposed to do it, so we went looking for him. It took us a long time. We never thought to look up. Then someone saw the blood on the ground at the foot of the tree."

"Blood? He was hung."

"No, from the wound on his chest. I told everybody to leave him hanging. There might be evidence, right? He had to carry him up there."

"Could be." Joe moved to the left to get a better look at the front of the body. Wound on his chest, Pete had said. Dammit, don't let it be there.

He was in position to see the frontal area now. The stake driven into his chest and the-

"Shit!"

IT WAS CLOSE TO MIDNIGHTwhen Eve's phone rang.

"Did I wake you?" Joe asked when she picked up the phone. "Sorry, I just thought it was important enough to warrant a little loss of sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was working." Her hand tightened on the phone. "You've caught him?"

"No." He paused. "He killed another police officer. According to the medical examiner he believes he was choked to death with a garrote and then hanged from the branches of the tree where we found him."

Eve closed her eyes. "Dear God."

"He had a stake through his heart."

She tensed. "With a note?"

"Yes."

"I don't have to ask what it said, do I?" she asked shakily.