16 Taking Eve (34 page)

He muttered a curse. “You’re a bitch who doesn’t realize how helpless you are. I’m the one in charge. I’m the one who makes the calls. I have the—” His phone rang, and she saw him check his ID as she glanced over her shoulder. “Curious?” He was smiling maliciously. “I made a call to Blick last night. I wanted someone dead. That’s how much power I have. I just say the word, and someone dies. Do you know who I told him to kill?” He punched the access. “Hold on, Blick. A lesson is in progress.” He looked at Eve. “You heard me send him to your lake cottage when we were in the truck. People you care about are there. Did I tell him to kill Joe Quinn? Jane MacGuire?”

She couldn’t breathe, her chest painfully tight. “I don’t believe you.”

“Which one, Eve?” he asked softly.

She moistened her lips. “Neither. You wouldn’t want to sacrifice a possible way to control me.”

“Clever. But I had you for a minute, didn’t I?” He pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Go ahead, Blick. Success?”

“He’s dead. I killed him in his garden. It was a great shot. I was able to break into the house next door and zero in on him from one of the upper-floor windows. Kevin would have been proud of me.”

“I’m sure he would have been. Any interference?”

“A guard inside the house. I was able to get away while he was checking out the old man.” He paused. “You know, I think the old man knew I was there. He lifted his head as if he was listening or something. Then he just sat there as if he was waiting. Weird.”

“But he’s dead, that’s all that counts.”

“Yeah, where do you want me to go from here?”

“I’ll let you know.” He looked at Eve. “Maybe back to the lake cottage.”

“Whatever you say, but the woods were crawling with cops. It may be chancy.”

“I’ll let you know,” Doane repeated. He hung up.

“Who … is the old man?”

“I think you can guess. You’re so clever. General John Tarther. He’s lucky he lived to be this old. He’s been on borrowed time for the last five years.” He looked back at the reconstruction. “But we got him, didn’t we, Kevin? I couldn’t make it last as long as I wanted. I sent him to you to do whatever you want with the bastard.”

She shuddered as she saw Doane’s vicious intensity. “Why now?”

“I’m sure you realized that my call to Zander last night was the signal for the game to start. I was willing to let Blick take care of Tarther, so that I could concentrate on Zander.”

And while Eve had slept, an old man who had only sought final justice for the death of his child had breathed his last.

Rest in peace.

Help him, Bonnie.

“So you can see that I’m in charge. I make the rules. One phone call, and I can—”

“I understand you.” She didn’t want to hear any more. She was sad and sick at the thought of that needless death. She had to stop that obscene bragging. “I’m duly intimidated.”

“No, you’re not. But you will be. Put in Kevin’s eyes.”

“Do it yourself.”

He was taken aback. “What?”

“If you won’t let me finish the rest the way it should be done, then do it yourself.” She poured the hot coffee into her mug. “Placing the eyes is the simplest part of the process, and who should know better how they should look.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’ll open the display case for you, if you like.”

“I don’t know if…” But he was beginning to like the idea. His expression was intrigued. “You’re right; I know exactly how he should look.”

“And your Kevin would love having someone simpatico add the final touches. I don’t think he likes me much, does he?”

“No, he liked you better before he realized how strong you made the little girl,” he said absently. He was suddenly eager, excited. “Yes, Kevin would like me to do him that service. It would be the way we helped each other when we were together.”

Helped each other victimizing those children, she thought, sick. “I’ll get the case.” She crossed the room to the worktable. “I might have to build up the under-eye area to support the eye.” She set her coffee down on the worktable and reached underneath and pulled out the case. “I usually use brown eyes, but I notice you made sure I had blue.”

“Of course.” He watched as she opened the case. “It’s not as if I didn’t know exactly what he looked like.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about me looking at photos then?”

“You didn’t do it with other reconstructions. I wanted you to get the
feel
of him.” His eyes were fixed in fascination on the glass eyes she’d revealed. “And you did.”

There was no doubt about that, Eve thought. Even at this moment, she felt entirely too close to that skull.

“Now it’s your turn to get the feel of him.” She lifted her coffee to her lips. “Pick up one of the eyeballs. Careful.”

“They’re not as beautiful as Kevin’s.” He carefully picked up the glass eye. “But they’ll have to do.” His head lifted to look at the empty orbital cavities. “We’re so close, Kevin. Just this one more—”

Eve threw the scalding coffee into Doane’s eyes!

He
screamed.
He dropped the glass eye and frantically reached for his own eyes.

Eve’s hand darted out in a karate chop to his neck. He dropped to his knees. His hand reached blindly for the weapons in his pocket. “Bitch.”

Hurry.

No time to try another karate blow. Even though he couldn’t see right now, she knew he had a gun as well as the emblem with the gas release in that pocket.

Keep to the plan.

She dashed the short distance to the bedroom, grabbed the duffel she had set by the door.

Then she was running back toward Doane and the reconstruction.

Doane was still flailing, but he had his gun half-out of his pocket. “You think I can’t see you? You’re hazy, but that’s all I need to shoot you. Stop where you are. I have a use for you. I’m not ready to kill you yet, bitch.”

“Really? I’m ready to kill you,” Eve lifted her foot in a karate kick that struck his hand and sent the gun flying. She dove for the gun, but he was suddenly there on top of her.

He was heavy. So heavy. The best she could do was push the gun spinning across the floor to the opposite side of the room.

No chance to get across the room to retrieve it, she realized in despair.

“Kill me?” he taunted, his hands closing on her throat. “We’re too strong for you. Can’t you feel our power? I’ll squeeze the life out of you. No, not quite. Not yet.”

She was getting dizzy as her air was shut off. Move now or not at all.

She lunged upward and butted her head against his forehead with all her strength.

He grunted with pain, and his grip loosened.

She tore free and rolled to the left, punching him in the stomach.

But he was recovering quickly, reaching for her.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

But keep to the plan.

Do the one thing she dreaded the most.

She jumped to her feet and whirled toward the dais, where the reconstruction stared at her with those blind eyes.

Don’t look at him. He’s nothing. He’s only bone and clay.

She took a deep breath.

The next instant she reached out, snatched the skull from the dais, and threw it in her open duffel.

“What are you doing?” Doane screamed. He was right behind her, his hand grabbing her shoulder. “What are you doing to my Kevin?”

She tore away from his grip and ran toward the door.

“You’re insane. I told you what would happen if you opened that front door.” He was reaching for the control emblem in his pocket. “But I’m not going to wait. I’ll bring you down now and have you groveling.”

She was almost at the door.

Carnations.

Don’t breathe.

She held her breath.

Carnation scent surrounding her.

She unlocked the front door and heard the gas release from the vent above the door.

More carnations.

Dizzy.

Oh, God, she should have taken longer to accustom herself to the gas.

Too late.

Hold your breath and pray that you can endure it.

She was outside!

Don’t breathe yet. There might be lingering scent on the air issuing from the open doorway or clinging to her clothing.

She ran.

Rocks under her feet. Trees. Head for the trees. Sharp, cold air hitting her cheeks.

Lungs bursting.

The feel of the duffel striking her thigh as she ran. Was she feeling Kevin’s reconstruction through the heavy canvas?

She could hear Doane shouting behind her. No shots. He must not have retrieved the gun before he came after her or he’d be firing bullets instead of ugly words. He’d probably been too stunned that she’d been able to withstand the gas.

She took a cautious breath. It seemed safe. The faintest hint of carnation probably emanating from her shirt.

Or was it coming from the duffel, caught in the open zippered fold where Kevin’s skull rested?

The scent was from her shirt. Don’t think of anything else.

Just bone and clay. Just bone and clay.

“Give him back to me.” Doane’s voice was a raw, thunderbolt of rage. “What are you doing? Give him back to me, or I’ll kill everyone that you care about. And I’ll tell Blick to take his time with your fine, pretty daughter. Blick knows all about suffering. He never interfered with Kevin’s pleasure, but sometimes he shared.”

She tried to block out his voice. He had no weapon at the moment but words, but these filled her with desperation and fear. Don’t listen to him.

Keep to the plan.

Her gaze searched wildly to the right and left. This path appeared to be going straight up the mountain, with trees on either side.

She needed to be closer to the cliff edge.

“Blick was angry that I was upset when he disobeyed me and shot Jane MacGuire. He’ll be happy to have my blessing to take that anger out on her.”

“I told you once that you can’t use that weapon against me. Jane’s stronger than you, so is Joe.” Please, let that be the truth. Let good be stronger than evil.

A break in the trees ahead, and she could see a glimpse of the steep cliff that sloped to the valley hundreds of feet below.

Yes.

She increased her speed, running hard, leaving Doane a good distance behind.

“You’re mad. What are you doing? You know I’ll punish you.
We’ll
punish you.”

“Stop where you are.” She’d reached the break in the trees, near the edge of the cliff, and turned to face him. She was panting, perspiring, her eyes glittering. “This is the end, you bastard.”

He stopped several hundred yards down the path, his expression suddenly wary. “Suicide, Eve?” He shook his head. “I know I said that you didn’t have a fear of death, but I don’t think you’d willingly take your own life.”

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t.” She reached in the duffel and pulled out the reconstruction. “Poor Kevin, he’s a little worse for wear with all this jouncing around. His nose looks a bit askew, doesn’t it?”

Doane froze, his gaze on the skull of his son. “Give him back to me.”

“No way.” She glanced over the cliff. “It looks a long, long way down that slope. I’m afraid he’s going to have a rough trip.”

“No!” He took a step forward, then stopped as she held the reconstruction over the edge. “He’s so near to being back with me. You can’t do that to him.”

“Watch me. And then you can decide whether you want to chase after me or go after your precious son. There’s no telling what kind of damage that skull will undergo skidding down that slope toward the valley. It might break on the boulders, or it might be eaten by wolves or coyotes if you don’t retrieve it right away. Don’t you want to save your son, Doane?”

“You won’t do it. He won’t let you do it.” He was glaring at her from those burned red eyes. “It’s happening right now. Your muscles are locking. Aren’t your hands tightening around that skull to keep it from dropping?”

“No.” She deliberately forced her fingers looser on the reconstruction. She wouldn’t let insidious suggestion beat her now. “Do you think that I’d let you use my work in the little nightmare scenario you’ve drawn in that sick mind of yours? I can see you flourishing this ghastly head in Zander’s face before you kill him, and I don’t give a damn. But you seem to want me to be part of the kill, and you’ll have to give that up.”

“I won’t give it up. I want Zander to see you. I want you
there.
”

“Then come and get me.” She looked him in the eye. “But go and get Kevin first.”

She dropped the skull over the cliff.

Doane screamed as if in mortal pain.

She whirled and started dashing up the path.

Run.

And hope that she’d managed to buy the time she needed to get away from Doane. It had been the only ploy she could think of to distract Doane from the chase.

She had a good chance of Doane’s going after Kevin’s skull. He was completely obsessed by everything connected to that reconstruction.

She glanced back over her shoulder.

Doane was standing at the edge of the cliff, his hands clenched into fists as he looked down the long slope where she’d thrown the skull. His face …

And then he looked up the path at her. Darkness. Rage. Evil.

She froze. She inhaled sharply and couldn’t move. She should keep running, but the force of that evil halted her in her tracks. It was as if he’d laid a hand on her shoulder and jerked her to a stop.

“You think you’re so clever.” It wasn’t a shout, it was hoarse, low, and they were so far apart, she shouldn’t have been able to hear him. But she heard every word. “You know nothing if you think I’ll let you get away. I have to have you there when I kill Zander. I’ve been planning it for three years, ever since I found out about you. I’ve been seeing it before I go to sleep at night. I’ve been promising it to Kevin every day. Killing Zander won’t be as sweet if you’re not there.” He paused. “He has to see you die.”

“You fool.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You’d be killing me for nothing. Zander won’t care.”

“He’ll care. He thinks he won’t, but he won’t be able to help himself. There’s nothing stronger in this world.”

The sentence sounded vaguely familiar. “What are you talking about?”