Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

“We don’t have any cliffs or sharp inclines around here,” Jock said. “Even if she had brake trouble, there wouldn’t be too much danger.”

He’s right, Jane thought. Level ground and plateaus. But it wasn’t the terrain they were concerned about.

A black Volvo.

MacDuff was driving slowly so that they could keep an eye out for the car.

Two miles.

Five.

Seven.

“There it is!” Jock pointed to a stand of trees up ahead. “But I don’t see anyone in the car.”

The black Volvo was a good hundred yards off the highway, Jane noticed. Not good. How could Yvette have driven that far into the woods if she’d had car trouble?

“I don’t like this.” MacDuff parked by the side of the highway. “Jock and I will scope it out. You stay here.”

But Jane was already out of the car and heading for the Volvo.

“Or not,” MacDuff said as he got out of the driver’s seat. “Have it your own way.”

“I will. It’s broad daylight and those pines are too thin for anyone to be hiding behind. I just hope that Yvette is in-” She had reached the car and saw that the entire driver’s side was smashed as if sideswiped. She felt a rush of panic. Her gaze flew to the interior of the Volvo. “No one’s in the car.”

“Then we’d better fan out and see if we can find any trace.” Jock glanced inside the car. “No blood. That’s good.”

“Yes.” She glanced around the area. Tall scraggy pines were scattered over the entire plateau. It was broad daylight but the trees were casting dark shadows. It was terrible to have to think that an absence of blood was a good thing. “I hope.”

“But the car wouldn’t have been pushed this far by a glancing hit.” Jock was heading toward the deeper woods. “It would have had to be driven.”

Jane didn’t want to hear her own thoughts put into words. She moved toward the trees to the left of the car, her gaze raking the shrubs, then the ground.

“Jock!”

It was MacDuff calling from the other side of the stand of trees.

She stopped. “MacDuff?”

“Stay where you are, Jane,” MacDuff said. “You don’t want to see this.”

She closed her eyes for an instant. No, she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want it to be true. Her lids flicked open. Face it. She started in the direction from where she’d heard MacDuff’s voice.

MacDuff’s and Jock’s backs were to her as she pushed through the shrubbery. They were looking down at a woman in black slacks and a green-striped blouse.

Dear God.

It was true and there was no running away from it.

“She’s dead?” Jane whispered.

Jock looked over his shoulder. “Oh, yes. It’s not pretty, Jane.”

“I told you not to come. Do you ever pay attention to what I ask?” MacDuff said.

“No.” She took a step closer, her gaze fixed on the body of the woman. “What did they-” She inhaled sharply. “My God.” Her stomach lurched. “What happened to her head?”

“We haven’t discovered that yet,” MacDuff said. “But it was taken off cleanly, probably by a blow with an axe.”

“Decapitated,” she said numbly. She couldn’t take her gaze from the headless woman.

Blood.

Jagged flesh, bone.

Lord, she felt sick.

“Seen enough?” MacDuff asked roughly. He stepped closer and spun her around to face the road. “Go back to the car. Lock the doors. We’ll keep an eye on you until you reach it. Jock and I will do a search of the woods to see if we can find her-” He stopped. “If you want to do something, call Venable and tell him to get his people out here. I’m not having you wait for the police.”

“We shouldn’t leave her like-”

“No,” MacDuff said. “You’re out of here.” He turned back to Jock. “Let’s do it.”

Jane hesitated, then slowly started toward the car. Just put one foot in front of the other and don’t look back. She had no desire to stay here with that headless corpse who had once been Yvette Denarve. Somehow, that act robbed death of all dignity. No one should be allowed to do that to a human being. Life had meaning. The end of life should also have meaning.

Then do all the things that would show respect and make Yvette’s death important.

She got in the car, locked the doors, then leaned back and closed her eyes.

Blood. Headless. Horror.

Her eyes flicked open again. Would she ever be able to close her eyes without seeing Yvette’s mutilated body?

Dammit, don’t think of yourself. Think about that poor woman. Try to do something for her.

She reached for her phone to call Venable.

MACDUFF AND JOCK DIDN’T COME BACK to the car for another thirty minutes.

“No luck,” MacDuff said briefly as he got into the driver’s seat. “They must have taken her head with them. Unless they buried it. And I didn’t see any turned earth.”

Jane had thought that Yvette’s death couldn’t be any more horrible, but she was wrong. The idea of someone’s carrying that poor woman’s head around like a trophy was beyond atrocious. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would they do that? It’s like something from the time of the barbarians.”

“We have quite a few barbarians strolling around right now,” Jock said. “What did Venable say?”

“He told me he’d have a team out here within the hour.” She paused. “He said that maybe we should believe that Weismann had the goods.”

MacDuff started the car. “Weismann is a self-serving son of a bitch. But he may be able to tell us what we need to know.”

“Like why Yvette Denarve had to die?”

“I think we have to assume that Weismann may have been right about the reason she was targeted.”

Total extermination. On the way here, MacDuff had told her about Weismann’s message, and she had found it as incredible as everything else connected to this nightmare. She shook her head. “I can’t believe that.”

“Because you’re in shock. Let it sink in, then we’ll talk about it.”

She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to think about it. She wanted everything to do with this horror to just go away.

And that horrible vision of Yvette Denarve’s headless corpse to fade from her memory.

AT THE GALLERY, THEY HAD to show identification to an officer at the entrance and cross the yellow crime-scene tape.

Marie Ressault, Celine’s assistant, came out of the office in the back. She was pale, her eyes red and swollen from weeping. “I was wondering where you were,” she said to Jane. “I thought that you’d be through talking to Yvette, and I could go over the funeral arrangements with her. Celine wanted to be cremated, you know.”

What should I say? Jane wondered. Sorry, there would be no discussions because Yvette had been murdered with as much shocking cruelty as her sister? “Yvette didn’t show up here. Maybe you should just go home, Marie.”

“I don’t know…” Marie shook her head. “I want to do the right thing.”

“Go home,” Jane said gently. “Celine would want you to rest. You can handle everything tomorrow.”

Marie nodded jerkily. “It’s so hard. I loved her, you know. Everyone loved her.” She straightened. “You’re right. Tell Yvette to call me when she gets here, and we’ll talk.” She headed for the front door. “There are cards of congratulations and boxes of flowers for you in the office. They’re on the table beside the door. They’ve been arriving all morning. They must have been sent last night before anyone heard about Celine…” Her voice broke, and she hurried out of the gallery.

“She obviously cared very much for Celine.” Jock was looking after her. “You can see how difficult it is for her. It’s right that you didn’t tell her about Celine’s sister.”