Hunting Eve (2 page)

“They’re surprised at your results. Just give them a chance to digest it.”

“I’ve found a way to help those kids, Whitty. And that study is proof of it.”

“Kendra, there’s a significant variable that some people feel you haven’t addressed.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Impossible. I considered every variable.”

“Not quite.” He smiled. “The variable I’m talking about … is you.”

“Me?” Then she realized what he meant and cursed under her breath. He could be right. She had been nervous about the presentation and several times had caught herself trying to impress the other attendees. It was completely unlike her. “Oh, you mean the dog and pony show? I knew they thought I was a little weird. I just kind of slipped into it. I didn’t mean—”

“Hell of a carnival act, but there’s already been some speculation that’s how you get your positive results. By being so perceptive and empathetic with your subjects, giving exactly what they need in terms of body language, tone, positive reinforcement, the whole package.”

Kendra’s eyes narrowed on him. “That’s what they’re saying? If they read the study, they’ll see I wasn’t the only therapist. My techniques got the same results from everyone.”

He smiled. “I know that because I’ve read the study. And they’ll know it soon enough. You just need to relax.”

“If I’d wanted to relax, I would never have come to this conference. I thought for once that I could make a difference.”

“Kendra, come back inside.” He placed his hand on her arm again. He was trying to soothe her, dammit. He wasn’t a bad guy, and the mistake had probably been her own, but it didn’t matter.

She wanted to deck him.

Her BlackBerry vibrated in her pocket. Thankful for the opportunity to pull away from Whitty, she stepped back, pulled out the phone, and answered it. “Hello.”

“Kendra? Joe Quinn. I need your help.”

“Quinn?” She didn’t like the tone in his voice. Grim. Ragged. She turned to Whitty and mouthed an apologetic “sorry.” He nodded and headed back toward the auditorium. “What’s wrong, Quinn?”

“You name it, everything. I need your help.”

“Dammit, I’m not a detective. And I’m busy as hell. You can’t pull me into—”

“You’re always busy. You’ll have to drop whatever it is.” He paused. “It’s Eve.”

“Eve?” Kendra’s hand tightened on the phone. “What’s happened? Talk to me.”

*   *   *

FORTY MINUTES LATER,
Kendra was at her condo throwing clothes into a suitcase on her bed.

“You didn’t answer the door, so I used my key. What on earth are you doing?” Kendra Michaels’s mother was standing in the doorway of Kendra’s bedroom watching disapprovingly as Kendra threw clothes into the suitcase on the bed. “Besides packing with no regard to neatness or order. I taught you better than that, Kendra.”

“That was when I was blind, and you thought I had to be superefficient so that no one would feel sorry for me because I was handicapped.” She threw another pair of jeans and a sweater into the case. “After the stem-cell operation I discarded that guideline and embraced chaos.”

“In more than packing,” Deanna Michaels said dryly. “I was worried about you for a number of years after those doctors performed their miracle and made you see. I never thought that you’d sow quite so many wild oats.”

“That’s past history.” Kendra grinned. “Now I’m just a boring music-therapy teacher. I leave all the wild oats to you.” Her mother was a history professor at U.C. San Diego and was the most vibrant and young-minded woman Kendra had ever known. And the most caring. She had used that intelligence and forceful personality to raise a child blind from birth and make her as close to independent as was physically and mentally possible.

And every day Kendra blessed her for it. Though her mother could be difficult and definitely tried to manipulate Kendra and everyone around her to suit herself.

“That would be extremely clever of you. I like the idea of your leading a semiboring life.” Her mother crossed the room and started repacking Kendra’s suitcase. “But there are still lingering tendrils of that less-than-wise period you went through. Go get your things from your bathroom. Now that I’ve rearranged your clothes, I have a place for them in this corner of the suitcase.”

“Mom…” She stared at her a moment and turned and went to the bathroom. She had learned to pick her battles, and this one wasn’t worthwhile. A few minutes later, she brought her plastic bag to Deanna and handed it to her. “Keep it handy. I’ll have to pull it for security at the airport.”

“You’re flying? Where?”

“Atlanta.”

“Why?”

“I have something I have to do there.”

“That’s no answer. If you were still a teenager, I’d call it rude.” She frowned. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

“I was in a hurry. I have to get out of here.” She smiled. “I wasn’t rejecting you. I gave you a key to the condo, didn’t I? That means you’re welcome anytime.” She paused. “Why did you decide to come today? I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“I dropped by your conference. I was going to take you to dinner.”

Kendra grimaced. “And you saw me almost blow my cool.”

“They were idiots. They should have known you were right. You were right, weren’t you?”

“Yep. But not diplomatic.”

“Thank God.” She paused. “I followed you out to the parking lot, and I was going to save you from that earnest young man, but you got a telephone call.” She shrugged. “You hung up right away and jumped in your car and left the conference.” She met Kendra’s gaze. “But I saw your expression. It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

“Wild oats?” Kendra shook her head. “I like my life, Mom. I’m not going to fly off and leave those kids I teach.”

“You know what I mean. Who is it? FBI? The local police? Say no, Kendra.”

Kendra hadn’t thought she’d be able to deter her, but it had been worth a try. “I can’t do that, Mom,” she said quietly. “Not this time.”

“Why not?” Deanna asked harshly. “Those law-enforcement people don’t give a damn about you. How many times have you been hurt? And I’ve almost lost you before when they tapped you and ask—” She drew a deep breath. “You’re too valuable to waste. You’re good and giving, and you’ve worked too hard to become a complete person.” Her lips twisted. “The only problem is that you became a bit more than complete.”

“No, I won’t accept that. Anyone can do what I do. All they have to do is concentrate.” All during her childhood, she had trained all her senses to overcompensate for her blindness. At twenty, when she’d had the operation that had given her sight, she’d been amazed that the people around her weren’t able to use those senses in the same way she did. In a way, they appeared more blind to her than she had been before her operation. It had been that ability that had brought her to the attention of the law-enforcement officers against whom her mother was so bitter. “And I assure you that most of those agents at the FBI don’t consider me loving and giving. They consider me a bitch, useful but not comfortable to be around.”

“I never taught you to suffer fools gladly.” Deanna added, “There’s a possibility I might have gone slightly overboard. But deep down, you have fine instincts. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“And since you taught me, it must be the world and not me that’s wrong.” She leaned forward and gave Deanna a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll sign on to that.” She grabbed her computer case. “I have to go, Mom.”

“Not until you tell me who you’re going to see.” She added grimly, “I need to know who to go to for the body if they get you killed.”

Deanna wasn’t going to be deterred. Kendra had hoped she would be able to avoid explanations. She didn’t have time for them. “Joe Quinn. He’s a detective with Atlanta PD. You may remember my mentioning him. I worked with him when he was out here chasing down a serial killer; and then later he involved me in a missing-person case.”

“I remember you weren’t happy to leave one of your students at a crucial time.”

“It was okay. It worked out.”

Deanna was frowning. “And you were working with an Eve Duncan. You had problems with her.”

“We were a little too much alike. That worked out, too,” she said. “I liked her, Mom. She was kind of special.”

“So you’re going to be working with her again? That’s why you have to become involved?”

“Yes, she’s the reason.” She shook her head. “But I won’t be working with her. Joe Quinn called me and told me that Eve has been kidnapped by some nutcase. The man’s name is Jim Doane. Quinn asked me to help find her. I have to do it.”

Deanna sighed. “Dammit, then I don’t have a chance of talking you out of going, do I?”

“It won’t be that dangerous. I’m not going to be actively working the case. I just have to try to pull up any clues as to where this Doane took her. I’ll go in and do my job and get out.” She added softly, “I won’t tell you not to worry because that’s been your modus operandi from the moment I was born twenty-eight years ago. I celebrate that you think I’m still worth it. But this time, I honestly believe that there’s not going to be any reason to do it. Okay?”

“No.” She stared at her a moment. “If you don’t get yourself hurt physically, you’ll end up an emotional wreck. I’ve seen it before. And this time the odds are leaning in that direction. You told me yourself, you like this Eve Duncan. You’ll get hurt again.” She turned and slammed the suitcase shut. “And I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. Maybe someday you’ll develop a sense of self-preservation.”

“I already have. Things just seem to get in the way. You’d like Eve, too, Mom.”

“Would I?” Deanna asked as she turned toward the door. “I’m driving you to the airport. You can tell me about her on the way.” She held up her hand as Kendra opened her lips to speak. “I’m driving you,” she repeated firmly. “I’m not letting you fly off into the night without having a solid hold on the situation. Grab your suitcase.”

Kendra shook her head ruefully as she hurried after her out of the condo to her mother’s Mercedes in the parking space in front of her condo. “We might have to go to a therapy session or two when I get back. You’re being domineering again.”

“Am I?” She got into the driver’s seat. “Oh, well, you can take it. Talk to me. Tell me about Eve Duncan.”

“She’s a forensic sculptor, one of the best in the world. She does a great deal of work re-creating the faces of skulls of victims found by police departments across the country. She tries to devote most of her time to doing reconstructions of children. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She’s very famous.”

“The name’s familiar, but I tend to avoid looking at skulls unless it has to do with something of historical significance. It reminds me of my own mortality. But a person is more than a profession. You haven’t told me about Duncan, just what she does for a living.”

“She’s illegitimate and grew up in the slums of Atlanta. Her mother was on drugs most of her childhood and didn’t list any name for the father on Eve’s birth certificate. Her mother wasn’t sure who he was. Eve had an illegitimate child herself when she was seventeen. It was a little girl she called Bonnie. She adored her. The little girl was kidnapped and killed when she was seven years old.”

“Dear God,” Deanna whispered. “How could she survive a blow like that? I don’t know if I could.”

“Eve survived. She went back to school and became a forensic sculptor. She spent years trying to find the body of her daughter and only succeeded a short time ago. She adopted a ten-year-old street kid, Jane MacGuire, years after her daughter disappeared, and she and her lover, Joe Quinn, raised her. Jane’s now an artist and temporarily living in Europe. Recently, Eve discovered she had a half sister, Beth, and they’re trying to build a relationship, but Beth lives here in California. They don’t see much of each other.” She looked at Deanna. “Is that enough personal background for you?”

Her mother nodded. “She’s no lightweight.” She made a face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me about her. I don’t have much ammunition to convince you not to go off and try to find her.”

“No, you don’t. She’s strong, and she’s real. Like you, Mom.”

Deanna didn’t speak as she changed lanes to get on the freeway. “If they know the name of this man who abducted her, why can’t they find them without you?”

“I don’t know. Joe said that Doane had been planning this for years. His son, Kevin, had been murdered and partially cremated, and Doane only managed to salvage his blackened skull.”

“Ah, and he wanted Eve Duncan to do the reconstruction on the skull?”

“Presumably. Doane let her call Quinn and check on the condition of Jane MacGuire, and she told him she’d made a deal with him to do it.”

“Condition?”

She hesitated. Her mother was not going to like this. “Jane MacGuire was shot by one of Doane’s accomplices, a man named Blick.”

“Shit. And this isn’t going to be dangerous?”

“I go in, then get out. Jane wasn’t killed, only wounded.”

“What a relief,” Deanna said grimly. “Wonderful.”

“It is wonderful.” She wouldn’t tell her about the CIA man who had been found with his throat cut on the lake property. “I’m not saying that Doane isn’t dangerous. He’s not stable, but I’m not going to have to deal with him. That’s Joe Quinn’s job. And he’s fully capable of handling it. Before he became a detective, he was with the FBI, and before that, he was a SEAL. He only asked me to look around and see if I come up with something.”

“And he wouldn’t try to pull you into the case if he thought it necessary? You said he was Eve Duncan’s lover. That doesn’t bode well for cool professionalism.”

Trust her mother to cut through everything to get to the truth. “No, Joe isn’t at all professional about Eve.” Kendra wouldn’t lie. “He’s crazy about her. They’ve been together for years, and it’s still a love story. Nice…” She added quickly, “But no one pulls me into anything if I don’t want to go. I’m not reckless. You know me well enough to realize that, Mom.”

“But you don’t have to be reckless if you get emotional. What about that case a few years ago, where there were kidnapped children involved? That nearly made you into a basket case.”

Kendra didn’t answer.