Iris Johansen - Quinn

“I know she’s desperate. I think she’d do anything to find that kid.”

So did Joe. He was trying not to think about it. “I may be a son of a bitch, but I wouldn’t try to make that kind of deal with her.”

“But she’d be grateful,” Slindak said softly. “One thing could lead to another. You like women too much to go the platonic route. Are you fooling yourself, Joe?”

Maybe. He didn’t know where this path was taking him. He just knew that he had to follow it. “I’m going to work Eve Duncan and myself to the bone to solve those disappearances. I promise I’ll find who is responsible and hand him over to you.” He added curtly, “Now are you going to file a report on my making these copies? I’d like to know so that I can be prepared.”

Slindak hesitated. Then he slowly shook his head. “I may be sorry, but I’ll trust you not to make an ass of yourself and me. Keep her under control.” He turned on his heel. “Hell, keep yourself under control.”

Joe watched him walk out of the copy room.

Keep yourself under control.

He was trying. It was getting harder by the hour.

EVE THREW OPEN THE DOOR to his ring. “You didn’t return my call. Why-”

“I was busy.” He pushed past her and strode into the kitchen. He opened his briefcase and pulled out the pile of files and loose papers and dumped them on the table. “The missing children. You wanted them. They’re yours.” He met her gaze. “And mine. We work on them together.”

She stood looking at him, then slowly moved across the room. “I wasn’t sure you’d do it.” She touched one of the files with a tentative finger. “You didn’t want to let me help. Why did you decide to do it?”

“Impulse?” He smiled recklessly. “How the hell do I know? Neither would anyone else at the precinct. My old buddy, Ralph Slindak, had an interesting thought. He said that he believed you were desperate enough to go to bed with anyone who’d give you a chance to find your daughter.”

She looked up at him. “He’s right,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t think twice. Not with Bonnie in the balance. It wouldn’t matter at all.” She met his eyes. “Is that what you want? I wouldn’t think that I’d be your type, but all you have to do is ask.”

Oh, shit.

Not his type? If he was going to feel this overwhelming emotional response for her, why couldn’t it have been confined to compassion? But even while he felt that pity, he wanted to touch her, put his hands on her, take her to bed, and make her forget everything but him. He couldn’t separate the mental from the physical. And the physical was burning hot and trying to submerge everything else.

It didn’t help that now when he looked at her that he’d remember what she’d said, that he could have her if that was the price he demanded to help her. Another thought to block, another image to try to forget.

Look away from her. Don’t let her see what you’re thinking.

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m afraid you’re right. You’re not my type. You look so fragile that I’d be afraid I’d break you.” He snapped his briefcase shut. “Besides, I can get a lay anytime.” He smiled at her. “I have a lot more trouble keeping friends.” He could see relief lessen the tension in her face. “So, if you don’t mind, we’ll skip the roll in the hay.”

“I just wanted to make my position clear. I know I’m asking you to do things that are a little outside the boundaries.”

“You’re being very clear.” Too damn clear.

“I just want you to know that I value you. I felt very much alone before you came. It’s better now.”

“Then suppose you give me a cup of coffee. Then we’ll get down to going over those reports.”

“I’ll give you the coffee.” She went to the cabinet and got down a tin of coffee. “But I’m going to ask another favor. Would you leave me and let me look through these reports by myself tonight?”

“Why?”

“Because I can concentrate better if-” She shook her head as she put on the coffee. “No, I won’t lie and protect myself. You were right when you said that I’d be upset when I read about these kids. I can be tough about some things, but not about children. After I get through the reports once, I think that I’ll be okay.” She smiled with an effort. “I guess I don’t want you to see how weak I can be.”

“Then by all means read them by yourself. I’m just a guy, and I have trouble coping with tears. I’ll come back in the morning, and we’ll talk.”

“That would be good.” She glanced at the files. “There seem to be quite a few. I didn’t realize that there were that many cases.” She frowned. “I thought I read… six? And that included the little boy they found in the grave by the freeway.”

“That was all the ATLPD and the media had on their list. But they were all local and within the last five years. They checked nearby cities and came up with nothing. But I found cases in more distant cities in Georgia and Tennessee that I thought were worth looking at. And I dug down another ten years. I ran across a story about the body of a child found in a swamp near the Florida border twelve years ago.”

“Fifteen years. You think he’s been killing that long?”

“Or longer. It might not be the same man, but it could be. Serial killers like what they do. They tend to make it a life’s vocation.” He took the coffee she handed him. “You’ll find enough there to keep you busy tonight. There are eight or nine that I thought close enough to run a comparison.”

“And only two bodies found?” She shivered. “Those poor parents. In agony all these years, not knowing…”

“After a certain amount of time passes, just the lack of knowledge is a sort of proof that the child is never coming home. That must be a kind of comfort.”

“The hell it is. There’s nothing worse than a child who’s lost or thrown away like some piece of garbage. A child has value, she should be cared for and brought in from every storm.” Her voice shook with passion. “Dead or alive, I’d have to bring my child home.”

“Then maybe we can help some of those parents in the reports.” He poured her a cup of coffee. “But you need to calm down and get a breath of air before you start. Walk me to the porch.”

She took the cup and followed him out onto the porch. “I get too… upset. I didn’t used to be like this. You’re being very patient with me.” She leaned against the porch rail and lifted her gaze to the night sky. “Everything reminds me of her. We’d sit here on the steps and look up at the stars and I’d tell her stories about all the constellations and we’d try to identify the Big Dipper and Orion and…” She took a sip of coffee. “Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

“Not for me. She’s part of you. And memories can save, not destroy, if you accept them.”

“Can they? I only know I wouldn’t give up a single memory of her no matter how much it hurt.” She added, “My mother doesn’t feel that way. She loves Bonnie, but she’s trying to block the thought of her. I guess everyone handles grief differently.”

“I haven’t seen your mother the last two times I’ve been here. Is she still staying in her room?”

Eve shook her head. “She’s been going to church. She was never religious, but a local pastor came to visit and invited her to come to services. I think the congregation has taken her on as a project. They keep her busy. That’s fine, Sandra needs people. It may keep her off the drugs. She quit when Bonnie was born, but this is a dangerous time for her.”

“What about you? She’s the only family you have. She should stay with you and give-”