Iris Johansen - Quinn

He pulled the car to a stop in front of her house. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You need a hot shower and some rest.”

“Go home, Joe.” She got out of the car. “I wouldn’t put it past you to strip me down and throw me in the shower.”

“It’s an interesting idea.”

“Not really. I’m too skinny for you, remember?” She shook her head. “I have some thinking to do. I don’t want you here.”

He didn’t want her to be alone, dammit. Should he push it?

She started up the steps. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. I got along before you dropped into my life.”

“But not as well.”

She turned as she unlocked the door. “No, not as well.” She smiled slightly. “Though I hate to cater to your ego. I’ll see you tomorrow, Joe.”

“I’ll call you first thing in the morning. I want you to tell me that you slept a little.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“But you’re going back to those reports.”

“He’s a monster, Joe,” she said quietly. “He might be my monster. We have to stop him.” She disappeared into the house.

Joe waited until the lights went on inside before he pulled away from the curb. He couldn’t force her to let him help her. He’d already invaded her space and compromised her independence. It was a wonder that she hadn’t rebelled against him before. He’d go back to the precinct and see if any of the forensic reports were completed yet.

Whether the man who killed that little girl in the cave was Eve’s monster or not, he was definitely a monster. Joe could feel the anger tear through him as he remembered the hideously macabre scene in the cave.

Get to work. Show the bastard he wasn’t as invulnerable as he thought he was. Joe felt a familiar exhilaration mix with the rage. The warrior instinct that had been a part of his life for years was starting to simmer.

Yes, he was in the mood for hunting monsters.

JOE THREW A FOLDED NEWSPAPER on the table in front of Eve the next morning. “The media got hold of the story. Interviews with the hunters. Descriptions of what they saw in the cave. Damn them. We hadn’t yet notified the Bristols that it might be their daughter. We were waiting to check with her dentist. The phones have been ringing off the hook from parents of those kidnapped kids, and we can’t even tell them yes or no.”

Eve opened the newspaper and shook her head. “Why didn’t they wait? This is cruel.”

“It’s a scoop. The reporter wanted to get ahead of the competition. The bastard will do anything for a story.”

“Brian McVey,” Eve read the byline. “I hope he’s happy about this ugliness.” She looked up at him. “How long before you get a confirmation on the dental records?”

“This afternoon.” His lips tightened grimly. “And the information will not go to Brian McVey. We’ll leave him so far out in the cold, he’ll freeze to death.” He looked at the files in front of her. “Did you find anything?”

“All the children were in the age brackets from four to eight, all of them were from middle- to high-income families, all of them lived in homes in nice subdivisions.” She looked up. “Except Bonnie. I’m poor as dirt, and this is a rental property. It’s nicer than anywhere I’ve lived before, but it doesn’t compare with one of those houses in Towne Lake or Chestnut Hill subdivisions. I was very happy when I saw that she didn’t make the A-list. That’s two things that are different: three months between the kidnappings, and the kind of place where she lived. It may not seem a lot to you, but to me it’s gigantic.”

“It’s gigantic to me, too,” he said gently. “Anything else?”

“Not yet.” She leaned back in the chair. “What about the footprint in the cave?”

“We’re working on it. It’s not the usual shoe. It’s rubberized…”

“A tennis shoe?”

“Not exactly. The pattern is different… We’re working on it. We’ll get there. I’m going to go to a shoe manufacturer downtown when I leave here and see if he can identify it.” He was glancing through the reports. “But first, why don’t we go and take a look at these houses.”

“Why?”

“These are the kids’ home bases. Children stay close to their home at this age. It’s where they may have been kidnapped.”

“But according to the reports, only two of the parents think their child was taken from the neighborhood.”

“We’ll still take a look.” He turned. “If you want to go with me.”

“Of course, I do.” She was beside him in a moment. “And to the shoe factory, too.”

He shrugged. “Just routine investigation. I could just as well phone you after I finish.”

“Nothing is routine.” She got into the car. “I’ve forgotten what the word means.”

So had Joe. Since the moment he had met her, nothing had been routine or commonplace in his life. “Where, first?”

“Chestnut Hills. Linda Cantrell. It’s in Kennesaw.”

His brows lifted. “You rattled that off. I’m surprised you haven’t memorized the address.”

“I have. I’ve memorized all of them. I’ll tell you when we’re closer.”

“THE HOUSES ARE ALL DIFFERENT styles,” Eve said. “Tudors, modern, cottage…” Her gaze wandered over the neat lush lawn and clipped bushes that surrounded Nita Teller’s home. “Small, medium, large… As home bases, they have very little in common. They’re just pleasant houses in suburban neighborhoods. I think we struck out.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Joe was staring thoughtfully at the house. “I can’t put my finger on it right now, but something may strike me later. What’s next?”

“Janey Bristol. She’s the last one in Atlanta. The others are from your list of outside the city. She’s about five miles from here, in Roswell. Do we have time before we go downtown to that shoe company?”

Joe nodded. “We got through these neighborhoods quickly. You had them organized very efficiently.”

She handed him the address. “I put her last. I guess I wasn’t very eager to imagine Janey where she was happiest. It hurts after last night.” She tilted her head. “You’re very thoughtful. You do think this was helpful?”

“As I said, sometime something sticks in your mind, then it comes together later.”

“You’re very good at this, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “Hell, yes.”

“And so modest.”

“I’ve never lacked an appreciation for my own worth. I see nothing wrong in confidence as long as it’s not misplaced.”

“Neither do I. It was the first thing I noticed about you,” she said quietly. “I wanted the FBI to send an older agent. Someone who had worlds of experience and could use it to find Bonnie. I was angry that instead they sent me a young man who acted as if he knew how to shape the world to suit himself. You were good-looking, tough, smart, and oozed assurance. I wanted to kick you.”

“I appreciate your restraint.”

“And then I saw something in you. And I thought that maybe it would be okay between us.”

“And it is.” He glanced at the address again. “The Bristol subdivision should be just ahead.”

She tensed. “Last night I kept thinking of that skeleton and the skull. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept thinking how I’d feel if that was all I had left of Bonnie.”

“And it tore you to pieces.”

“Yes, that goes without saying. But I wanted to help the Bristols. And there was nothing that I could do.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I almost feel as if we’re all a family who have been visited by some catastrophic disease and have to nurse each other through it.”