Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“No, it may be a copycat.” He grabbed his jacket. “Anyway, I'm on my way to make sure. I'll call you from Charlotte. Don't let Jane leave the cottage. I'll tell the guys on stakeout I'm leaving and to keep sharp.”

“But it could mean he's decided Jane isn't worth the risk?”

“Maybe. Don't count on it.”

She watched him run down the steps and stride toward the squad car. No, she couldn't count on anything but she couldn't help but have a faint stirring of hope. Charlotte was miles away and in another state. Perhaps the bastard was showing sense and knew they wouldn't let him touch Jane. Christ, that would be wonderful. It was terrible to be this relieved at someone else's misfortune.

The phone rang.

“Hello.”

No answer.

The person on the other end hung up.

Just a wrong number, she told herself as she replaced the receiver. People got them all the time. It was rude to just hang up without saying anything, but not unusual. It could have been one of those computer-generated sales calls that had gone awry.

It didn't have to be Aldo.

He was in Charlotte or somewhere near there. He'd lost interest in Jane and moved on.

Not here. Pray God, not here.

It's possible,” Joe said when he called that evening from Charlotte. “It has all the same signatures as the other cases. Ashes found near the body. Young woman. No face. She hasn't been dead for more than forty-eight hours. Very provocative attire. Signs of sexual intercourse. She could be a prostitute. CLTPD has set the Vice Squad on questioning some of the hookers in the area.”

“Are you coming back tonight?”

“Probably not. I'm going to hit the computer and check the local Vice mug book to see what I can come up with. It might be quicker than questioning pimps and hookers.”

Eve shivered. “To see if any of them look like Jane.”

“It would narrow the field. No copycat would know the women had similar facial characteristics. How's Jane?”

“Fine. The same.”

“And you?”

“Impatient as hell.”

“Me, too. Let me get to work so that I can get back there.” He paused. “I miss you. This is the first time I've been away from you for more than a few hours in years. I'd forgotten how empty I feel when I'm away from you.” He didn't wait for her to answer. “I'll let you know when I find out something.” He hung up.

She slowly pressed the disconnect. She missed him, too. He'd only been gone nine or ten hours and she was experiencing that same emptiness. Jesus, he was gone that long on cases here in town. She was being stupid.

“Was that Joe?” Jane stood in the doorway. “Is it a copycat?”

“He's not sure. It could be the real thing. They believe the victim could have been a hooker. Joe's staying over to check the mug books.” She moved toward the kitchen. “I'm opening a can of tomato soup for supper. Do you want to make some grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“Sure.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “He's looking for my face. Right? It's really depressing how many people must look like me. I guess everyone wants to think they're an original.” She opened the refrigerator and got out the cheese. “Maybe I should think about plastic surgery.”

“Don't you dare. Your face is unique. Everyone is unique. Who should know better than me? Do you know how many faces I've reconstructed?”

“I don't want to guess.” She began making the grilled cheese sandwiches. “You know I never actually saw the Caroline Halliburton reconstruction, just the photo. You must have thought she looked a lot like me.”

“Yes. But there were differences. Your lower lip is fuller. Your brows are more arched.” She studied her. “And no one has a smile like yours.”

Jane laughed. “But you never have your reconstructions smile.”

“Exactly.” She poured the soup into a pot. “So you're unique.”

“And so are you.” Jane's smile lingered as she shook her head. “I was kidding about the plastic surgery.”

“I know.” She turned the flame down. “But it must be annoying to think you're one of a—”

The phone rang.

“I'll get it.” Jane turned away from the stove.

“No!” Eve hurried to the wall phone. “I'll answer. You watch the cheese sandwiches.”

“Okay.” A slight frown wrinkled Jane's brow. “Whatever you say.”

“Hello.”

“Susie?” It was a woman's voice.

Relief surged through Eve. “No, you must have the wrong number.”

“Not again? This is the third time. There must be a crossed line. I've been having all kinds of connection problems reaching my daughter, Susie. Sometimes the call doesn't even go through.” She sighed. “I must have some kind of bad phone karma. Sorry to bother you.”

“That's okay. I hope you reach her.” Eve hung up and turned back to the stove. “Wrong number.”

“The way you jumped for the phone I thought you might have thought it was Joe again. Everything's okay with him, isn't it?”

“He wants to come home. Otherwise he's fine.”

And she was fine too. That other call must have been a genuine wrong number just as she'd supposed. She smiled luminously. “Are those sandwiches done? I'm starved.”

Janis Decker.

He'd almost missed her.

Joe leaned forward, his gaze on the photo on the monitor. She bore only a faint resemblance to Jane but it might have been enough for Aldo. Age twenty-nine. Picked up for prostitution three times in the last five years.

“Find something?” Detective Hal Probst of CLTPD was looking over his shoulder.

“Maybe.” He pressed the button to print out the report. “Will you ask the Vice boys to circulate this and see if they can find anyone who knows anything about her? It might be smart to check her fingerprints against the victim's.”

“No problem. I'll have them get on it right away.” Probst took the sheet from the printer. “The sooner we get some action going, the better. This case is a little too gory for our fine local politicians. They're going to be on our ass big-time. I wish you'd kept this joker in Atlanta.”

“She may not be the one.” He rubbed his eyes. “Four hours of staring at this computer screen may be making me see double.”

Probst tilted his head, studying the mug sheet. “She does look a little like that reconstruction that appeared in the newspaper.”

“Emphasis on ‘little.'” Joe leaned back in the chair. “If it's our man, he wasn't choosy this time. How soon can you have the fingerprint match?”

“A few hours. It will take longer to get a report from Vice but we'll—” Probst's cell phone rang. “Probst.” He listened. “Okay, I'm on it.” He looked at Joe as he hung up. “We may have another set of prints to match up. There's a report in from Richmond PD. Some hikers found the body of a woman near a lake outside of town.”

Joe stiffened. “Same MO?”

Probst nodded. “Far as we can tell. No face.”

Richmond, Virginia,” Eve repeated. “That's not far from Washington. He's moving up the coast.” And away from Atlanta, she added thankfully to herself. “When was she killed?”

“Within the last twenty-four hours.”

“You're going there?”

“I have to follow the trail. There are indications that he may be getting reckless. He wasn't careful when he picked Janis Decker and he left us fingerprints to work with. Reckless men make mistakes. They stumble and if you're there you can reel them in.” He paused. “Unless you'd rather I come home. If you're nervous, say the word.”

“Of course I'm nervous. That doesn't mean you have to come running back here. I can take care of Jane.” She added fiercely, “You get that bastard.”