Iris Johansen - Quicksand

"Same message."

She had known it was coming, but she still felt as if he'd struck her.

She could hear Joe cursing. "Dammit, I didn't want to tell you, but I was afraid someone else would get to you first."

"No, you were right to call me. I had to know." She steadied her voice. "How could it happen? You said there were so many deputies out there."

"You saw his history. He's trained to kill."

"And those deputies are like sitting ducks."

"I'll get him, Eve."

"Before he kills another man for me?"

"I'll get him," he repeated. "I'm tied up at the scene now, but if you need me, I'll come back right away."

She did need him. Another death… Who was the man who'd died in her name? Did he have a family?

"Eve, answer me. Do you need me?"

"I'm all right." What was she supposed to do? Take him away from the search because she was shocked and sad and felt helpless and weak? "Stay. Call me if you find out anything."

"Go to bed and try to sleep. It may take hours. These local forensic boys are doing their best, but they aren't exactly high-tech. I'll let you know if there's anything unexpected." He hung up.

She huddled on the couch and stared at the portfolio Montalvo had brought them this morning. Joe was right, Kistle was trained for guerrilla killing, and ordinary law enforcement officers had little chance in that forest. Even if they had even greater numbers, they could be picked off.

And there would be another killing. Kistle was enjoying proving how superior he was, how he could taunt her. There would be another stake through the heart, another note.

For you, Eve .

No!

She jerked upright and began to dial.

Montalvo answered on the second ring.

"Another officer was killed," she said. "Joe just called me."

"I know, I heard. I'm on my way there now."

"All those deputies and he's managed to kill three of them. For me, Montalvo. For me."

"No, you know better. He killed because he liked it. You're the excuse."

"I won't be an excuse for murder. It's got to stop. I have to do something."

He didn't speak for a moment. "Why did you call? What do you want from me?"

"I want that forest crawling with experienced men who aren't fodder for Kistle. I want the FBI back on the job. I don't want three agents. I want an army. I want them to bring in trackers and forest rangers and men like you and Joe. I want Kistle caught before he kills another man."

"That's a tall order. You know that Quinn doesn't believe we need the FBI."

"I won't see another man killed."

"Quinn is right, the FBI might not be the answer."

"Why are you arguing? You're the one who arranged for them in the first place."

"I'm not arguing. I want them on the job. I just want to be honest. I'm telling you that I'd bet on either Quinn or me getting Kistle. The FBI is just an ace in the hole."

For you, Eve .

"I want that ace in the hole."

"Then I'll get them for you. It has to be through Venable. You'll come with me tomorrow morning to the riverbank?"

She stiffened. "That psychic? No way."

"Venable set it up. If we go through his nice, safe scenario and come up with nothing, then maybe I can pressure him to forget about his jurisdictional red tape and help us."

"Why do I have to go?"

"You've been through this kind of charade before. Venable will listen to you if you tell him about your experiences and give him comparisons."

Her hand clenched in frustration on the phone. "Damnation, Venable's a smart man. I can't believe he's been taken in like this."

"Will you go?"

She didn't want to go. It would bring back too many hideous memories.

For you, Eve .

"I'll go." She drew a deep breath. "Pick me up at five. What's this psychic's name?"

"Let me check." He came back on the phone. "Her name is Megan Blair."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MEGAN, tell him to go to hell," Phillip Blair said. "You don't know what it will do to you."

"I can't tell Venable to go to hell." Megan threw her computer into her duffel and fastened it shut. "He made me an offer I couldn't refuse, Phillip." Should she take her medical bag? She shouldn't be gone more than overnight, but she seldom traveled without it. Why not? She could never tell when it would be needed. Even though she wasn't practicing medicine at the moment, she felt a sense of terrible loss without it. She turned and smiled gently at her uncle. "Don't worry, Phillip. I'll be fine. I can get through it. I've done it before."

"I've heard how you got through it," Phillip said. "And I could choke Venable for insisting you do this."

That's the way she had felt when she had gotten that phone call from Venable. Not at first-her initial reaction had been sheer terror followed by the impulse to throw up. "He's not insisting. He just reminded me that he had ignored bud-get concerns in tracking down those kidnapped children from Molino's slavery ring. He promised me at least another year of fighting off the bureaucrats to keep the search going if I did this."

"Charming."

"He's a good man. He must need me."

"And what about you? You may end up in the hospital. Does Grady know?"

She shook her head. "Grady's still in Tanzania. He's having problems finding some of the children there." She turned and moved toward him. She could feel his anxiety, and it was hurting her. She laid her head on his chest. "It's only this one time. I'm not going to shatter and blow away."

"It's a little boy, Megan. You love kids. It will tear you apart."

"They don't even know where or if the boy was killed. I may go there and not hear anything."

"Lord, I hope so. I can't talk you out of it?"

"Nope." She brushed her lips on his cheek. "Now I've got to get out of here. Venable's agent will be here to pick me up any minute. I'm supposed to be in Illinois by six." She picked up her duffel and stopped in the hall to get her medical bag. "I'll call you when it's over."

"You'd better. Or I'll be heading to Bloomburg after you."

She could feel his worried gaze on her back as she went out on the porch. She wanted to run back inside to the safe haven her uncle had always given her. Had she been reassuring enough to him? Probably not. He knew her too well not to realize how frightened she was to go to that riverbank.

Please let it not be the place.

Please keep the voices away.

"HERE THEY ARE," MONTALVO SAIDas he caught sight of the sheriff's car pulling up on the side of the road running along the river. "This shouldn't take too long, Eve."

"It might." It was cold on the riverbank. Or maybe it was she who was chilled by the memories of those other times. "How long do we have to put up with her playacting before you call Venable?"

"We'll play it by ear."

Sheriff Dodsworth was opening the door and a young woman was getting out. Megan Blair had glossy dark hair and bright eyes and she radiated vitality.

"She's pretty," Eve said. "The media must love her."

"Venable said she was as media-shy as you are."

"Yeah, sure." She watched the woman walk toward her. Megan Blair wasn't smiling and her hands were jammed into her jacket. "I'll believe that in six weeks if she hasn't given out any interviews."

The sheriff was obviously enamored, hovering next to Megan, smiling and talking. She was nodding absently, her gaze on Eve and Montalvo.

As she drew closer, Eve could see the tightness of her lips and the rigid straightness of her posture. Strange. She found herself studying Megan as the sheriff made the introductions.

"Eve Duncan, Luis Montalvo, this is Dr. Megan Blair. Ms. Duncan is a forensic sculptor, Dr. Blair."

"I know that. I'm from Atlanta and everyone there has heard about her. She's world-famous. How do you do?" Megan took her hand out of her pocket and extended it. Then, before Eve could shake it, she jerked it away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I wasn't thinking." She jammed her hand back in her pocket. She turned back to the sheriff. "Where do you want me to go?"