Iris Johansen - Stalemate

Was he right? Could it be the reason she had been drifting away from Joe was because he wasn't part of the darkness? He lacked that final understanding that no one but someone who had experienced that loss would have.

She didn't know, she thought wearily, as she rose to her feet. Maybe she was just as damaged as she'd told Joe. Perhaps she was tired of having him suffer for her sake. Maybe she was looking for a way to free him.

And maybe she was lusting after that sexy son of a bitch who had all the appeal of the new and the mysterious. He was like the Phantom of the Opera with all his talk of darkness. He was the Beast who lured Beauty back to his castle. He was a challenge to be met. An experience to be tasted.

And a betrayal to be enacted.

It wasn't going to happen.

She moved across the room to stand before the reconstruction. "I can see why you took him as your lover, Nalia. He's pretty hot stuff. He says you taught him joy. I hope you found it too." She began to smooth the line of the cheek. "It's time to start. Are you ready? Let's bring you home…"

Smooth. Pat.

A little deeper indentation around the lips. Smooth.

Forehead broader. Smooth. Carve. Help me, Nalia.

Her fingers were working feverishly now.

Smooth.

Carve.

Sweep the cheekbones higher.

The mouth.

Always difficult. Sometimes impossible because there were no visible clues.

Tell me.

Skip it. Come back to it.

The mid-therum area.

Carve.

Smooth.

Get it right. For God's sake, get it right.

No, for Nalia's sake. For all her pain and desolation. Come home, Nalia.

Smooth.

Go back to the mouth.

Easier now.

Her fingers flew over the visage. Small nose, straight, no upturn at the end.

I hope it's right, Nalia.

Smooth.

Work faster. Make it come faster.

Carve.

Smooth…

She stepped back from the reconstruction and closed her eyes.

"Is it enough, Nalia?" she whispered. "It's the best I can do."

The final touch.

Her eyes opened and she turned to the table and opened her eye case.

"May I do it?"

She looked up to see Montalvo standing beside her.

He was looking down at the glass eyes in the case. "May I?"

She nodded jerkily. "If you like."

He took two brown eyes from the case. "Thank you." He carefully put the brown eyes in the empty sockets. "And to answer your question." His voice was unsteady. "It's more than enough. It's Nalia."

"I felt it was. Sometimes I have no idea. But this time I felt sure." She gazed at the reconstruction. "She's very beautiful. I wasn't sure about the mouth…"

"I know. You had to go back to it."

"How long have you been here?"

"Hours." He didn't take his gaze from the skull. "First I found it fascinating. Then I began to be drawn into the whirlpool."

"Whirlpool?"

"Memories. I imagine I've relived every moment Nalia and I spent together during those last hours." He reached out and touched Nalia's cheek with infinitely gentle fingertips. "I couldn't say good-bye to her until I said hello, welcome back into my world."

"I can understand that."

"I know you can." His eyes were glittering with moisture as he stepped back from the dais. "And now that I've said it, it hurts like hell."

"Closure doesn't come overnight."

"It won't come for me at all until I make sure Diaz is dead and that kingdom he's set up explodes into a thousand pieces." He started to turn away. "And I'd better start working on making that happen."

"Not until I'm finished with her."

"Finished?" He stopped to look at Eve. "She couldn't be more finished. It's Nalia ."

"The actual sculpting is finished but I have to photograph the reconstruction, put it on the computer, and compare it to photographs of Nalia. I need those photographs from you."

He frowned. "All that's not necessary. I have what I want."

"But I don't have what I want. I do every job with the same thoroughness. I'm a professional and I won't cheat Nalia or myself by skimping. Give me those photos."

He hesitated and then went to the desk, unlocked a bottom drawer, and pulled out a large envelope. "Letters. Photos. Anything else?"

"I'll see." She opened the envelope and drew out the photos. They were snapshots of a young woman in her twenties. One photo showed her in a skirt and blouse sitting at a table in a bar. In another she was dressed in pants and khaki shirt and smiling mischievously into the camera. The woman was undoubtedly the Nalia of the reconstruction. She looked so vital and alive that Eve could almost expect to see her walk out of the photo. "No, that's all I need."

He took the photo from her and gazed down at it. "You did a brilliant job but you missed one thing. The laugh lines around her eyes. She used to say those tiny creases made her look old. I liked them. They were part of her." He handed the picture back to her. "You couldn't know about that."

No, Nalia, or whatever instinct drove Eve during those reconstructions, hadn't told her about those creases. "I can't add them now. It wouldn't be ethical or professional."

He nodded jerkily. "And there wasn't anything for her to laugh about at the end anyway. Please hurry with your final wrap-up. I've got to get going on making arrangements to do mine."

And his arrangements were for death and mayhem.

"You'll have to make arrangements to send Joe and me back to the States too."

He stiffened. "When?"

"This afternoon or tonight. I'll finish the computer work within a few hours. I want to get Joe back to Atlanta as quickly as possible."

He was silent a moment. "I'd rather you stay until I'm sure Diaz can't get to you. He's very big on revenge."

"He's not the only one."

He inclined his head. "True."

"Send me home. Joe and I will take care of ourselves." She met his gaze. "And I'll be waiting for you to make good on your promise."

"Don't worry, I'll keep it. I'll be coming to Atlanta just as soon as I take care of business here."

After he left the library she went over to the window and stared out at the night sky. It was beginning to take on a rainbow-soft glow like the black pearls Joe had given her for Christmas a few years ago. It would be dawn soon.

It's almost over, Joe. We can go home and try to forget what happened here. If that's what you want. I owe it to you.

But perhaps it would be better if she didn't forget. She had learned a few things about herself that she hadn't known before. Jesus, you'd think after all she'd been through that she'd know every facet of her personality. But along came Montalvo and she'd discovered she'd barely scraped the surface.

When I look at you it's like looking in a mirror.

But the image was dark and twisted and not what she wanted from life. She wanted Joe.

Well, with any luck she still had him. And if she could keep him with her when Montalvo came to Atlanta as he'd promised, to help her find Bonnie and Bonnie's killer… the situation then would be tense and very, very dangerous. Yet she could not do anything else, she thought wearily. This was what she'd worked for, what she'd risked the happiness she'd had with Joe. She'd made a decision before she'd left Atlanta that what Montalvo had promised was worth any risk. She wasn't going to back out now. The price had been too high.

She opened the door of the cabinet beside the French doors and pulled out her duffel with her cameras and equipment. Get the job done and get Joe back to Atlanta where he'd be safe. Worry about the search for Bonnie later. She had waited for all these agonizing years. She had to be patient and take care of the people she loved.

She began to set up the cameras.

"May I come in?" Soldono's hesitant knock was followed by the opening of the library door. "Since Miguel isn't standing guard in the hall, I take it that you've finished?"