Iris Johansen - Eve

Queen stifled his impatience. Black had to be handled carefully or Queen would never get his hands on the ledger. “Just get me the ledger, and you can do all the hunting you want to do. But you’ll have more time to play with the kid if we take care of Gallo and Duncan first. And I can help you with them. You can see that, can’t you?”

“If you don’t get in my way.”

“It will be your rules. Just make the contact. I’ll be standing by.”

“I’ll let you know.” Black hung up.

Queen felt a surge of fierce satisfaction as he shoved his phone in his pocket. He had made progress. Once Black thought about it, he would probably agree to let Queen become part of his plans. Black was clearly more interested in the processing of his precious kills than anything else. Once involved, Queen could make the move to assume control.

He picked up his carry-on and moved toward the entrance to pick up his rental car.

“THERE’S SOME CANNED BEEF stew in the cupboard,” John said as he opened the door. “We might as well eat something.”

“I’m not-” But she was hungry, she realized. They hadn’t eaten all day. They had even missed the breakfast John had ordered that morning at the hotel. “Why not? You heat it, and I’ll wash some bowls to serve it.”

He nodded and headed for the cabinets. “That sounds like a plan.”

It was strange yet oddly comfortable working with John to prepare the simple meal. The momentary uneasiness she’d experienced earlier was gradually disappearing. But the curiosity remained, and she yielded to it when they were almost finished eating.

“I was watching you before you came back to the cabin.” She didn’t look at him as she spooned up the last of the stew in her bowl. “You looked as if you were listening to something. Were you communing with nature?”

“Nothing so spiritual. My uncle taught me to identify the sounds of the forest. He said someday it could keep me alive. I was concentrating and seeing how much I remembered.” He was studying her expression. “You looked a little spooked when I came into the cabin. What did you think I was doing?” He nodded slowly. “You’re not sure of me. What was your first thought?”

She hesitated and then said honestly, “Voices.”

His brows rose. “Schizophrenia?”

“You said you had delusions in the hospital.”

“But not lately. I like to believe I’m on the up path.”

“Yet you told me the first time you called me that you had moments of instability.”

“And I do.” He smiled faintly. “Did I really appear to be listening to voices? Who did you suppose was whispering in my ear? An angel or the devil? No, I’ve never heard either entity singing to me in this forest.”

“Nor anywhere else?”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “Why are you being so persistent?”

Say it. Don’t back down. “I was wondering if… Bonnie.”

“You thought that I was imagining I heard Bonnie’s voice? A voice from the dead?” He shook his head. “I’m not that crazy, Eve.”

“Crazy? I know someone who would argue that with you.” She tried to smile. “My friend, Megan, hears voices from the dead, and she’s one of the sanest people I know.”

“You believe her?”

“Sometimes it’s difficult not to believe her. Though I was more skeptical than you in the beginning.” She picked up her coffee cup. “But now I believe that there are many things out there that defy understanding or reality itself. You experienced one in that prison when Bonnie came to you.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You told me that you’d dreamed of Bonnie even after she was killed. How many times?”

He stiffened. “Not often.”

“Did the dreams come when you were in the depths of despair? When you desperately needed someone, something?”

He was silent, then slowly nodded. “Yes.”

“And what kind of dreams, John? Was she so real that you felt as if you could reach out and touch her? After they were over, did you feel a sense of peace?”

“God, yes,” he said hoarsely. “Bonnie was- Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Why do you think?” She met his gaze. “How do you think I survived after she died?”

“You dreamed of Bonnie?”

“I dreamed, I hallucinated, I had fantasies. I told myself I was doing all of those things in the beginning. I didn’t care. I had my daughter again. Then, gradually, I began to believe her when she told me that she was not a dream.” She smiled as she lifted her cup to her lips. “So if that’s crazy, then you’re not alone in your moments of madness, John.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “This wasn’t easy for you. It leaves you a little vulnerable. Why did you tell me?”

“The same reason that I told you all about Bonnie from the day of her birth. I felt perhaps I owed it to you.” She shook her head. “And to let you know that if you begin to think that visits from Bonnie are a sign of craziness, then at least you’re not alone in that particular madness. We share it.”

“And another experience that draws us together. As I said, if you’re trying to distance yourself from me, then it’s going to be more difficult.”

“I’ll worry about that later.” She gave him a level glance. “I’m very confused about how I feel about you, John. There are times when I’m suspicious as hell and wonder if you’re the best con man on the planet. There are other times when I believe you’re as crazy as Joe and Catherine told me and could be a Mr. Hyde waiting to strike. But I have to rely on my instincts where Bonnie is concerned. I believe you loved her.”

He inclined his head. “And so you’re willing to take a chance on me.”

“Yes, because I believe she must love you, too.”

His head jerked back as if she’d struck him. “I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t deserve her to feel anything for me. I wasn’t there for her.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to her.”

“It has to matter.” His voice was suddenly rough. “It matters to me.” He pushed back his chair and strode over to the front door and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway, his legs parted, the moonlight glinting on his dark hair, gazing out into the darkness. “I’ve had enough talk about Bonnie, and voices, and things that go bump in the night. All I want to think about is getting Paul Black and killing the son of a bitch. Why doesn’t he call?”

Eve could see the barely contained violence in every muscle of his body. Yes, it did matter, and the guilt and blame he felt must be a constant thorn. She stood up and started to stack the dishes. “You can’t want it any more than I do. But I guess I’m more accustomed to things that go bump in the night than you are.” She carried the dishes over to the sink. “I’ve gotten to expect it.”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Yet you were always the complete realist as a young girl.”

“I still am a realist.” She smiled. “I just accept that no one can be sure of just what reality is. Your reality may not be mine… or Bonnie’s.” She changed the subject. “I’ll wash these dishes, you dry. Okay?”

“Okay.” He turned to face her. “I guess you’re aware you scared me a little.”

“I know. You’ll get used to it.” She started the water running. “Bonnie will help.”

He smiled. “Oh, and what-”

His cell phone rang.

Eve stiffened, her eyes flying to where he was standing.

John was tense, too, but he shrugged as he checked the ID. “I don’t recognize it.” But he put it on speaker anyway. “Gallo.”

“It’s been a long time.” The voice was deep and faintly mocking. “And we scarcely exchanged anything but a few words. Do you recognize my voice, Gallo?”