Quicksand (2 page)

She glanced down at the ID. Bloomburg, Illinois. Sheriff James Jedroth. It had to be another police department asking her to do a reconstruction. Since she'd become so blasted famous, those requests never stopped. But it was nearly ten at night and evidently Sheriff Jedroth didn't understand the concept of business hours. Well, Eve didn't either, so she might as well answer.

"Eve Duncan."

"Do you still miss your little Bonnie?"

Shock jolted through her. "I beg your pardon."

"She had curly red hair and on the last day you saw her, she was wearing a Bugs Bunny Tshirt."

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Sheriff Jedroth? I'm not amused."

"I'm amused. Amused and excited and full of anticipation. I haven't felt like this for years. I didn't realize I was getting stale and that the kill was losing its luster. Then I heard your name on your voice mail and suddenly I felt reborn."

"Kill." Her hand tightened on the phone. "Who is this? You're not a sheriff, are you?"

"I impersonated a sheriff once. It was in Fort Collins, Colorado. Children are taught to trust policemen."

"Who are you?" she repeated. "I don't know you. Why are you calling me?"

"Bonnie knew me. She knew me very well before the end."

Don't show him the wrenching pain his words are causing. "You son of a bitch. What are you trying to tell me?"

"You shouldn't have tried to track me down. Now I'll have to punish you. I never let myself be victimized without making sure that my pain is reciprocated." He chuckled. "Though this time I'm not feeling nearly so bitter. I've been following your search for Bonnie for years and it's lightened many a dull moment."

"I didn't try to track you down. I don't even know your name."

"Henry Kistle."

Kistle. The name of the man Montalvo had given her as one of the possible murderers of her daughter.

"Yes, you know me. You set that asshole, Jedroth, to watch me."

"Where are you?"

"It would be no use to tell you. I've just left town. I'll be hundreds of miles away from here before you can call and get someone to try to find me. I know about red tape."

"What . . . do you know about Bonnie?"

"That she was seven years old and a beautiful child. Do you know how many pretty little girls I've killed since your Bonnie died? Though I always regard her as my inspiration. She was like a burning arrow lighting the darkness. I remember how—"

"Shut up." She couldn't take any more. "Don't talk about her."

"I'm done for the time being. I just wanted to touch base with you. I needed something to keep me up and zinging."

"Zinging?"

"That's what life's about. You have to keep on top of it, keep excited and moving. I got a little buzz earlier tonight but nothing like the one I'm feeling now. It's not as good as a kill, but maybe you could make the next kill extraordinary."

"What kill?"

But he had hung up the phone.

She was shaking.

She had curly red hair and the last day you saw her, she was wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt.
Kistle.

Joe. She had to call Joe.

Her hand was shaking as she dialed his cell number. No answer. The voice mail picked up immediately. His phone had to be turned off.

She hung up. Dammit, she
needed
him. Where the hell was he?

Stop whining. He was a cop. There were all kinds of situations where he'd turn off his cell. Okay, she had to handle it alone. She'd reach Joe as soon as he was available.
She was like a burning arrow lighting the darkness.

Bonnie.

Block out the pain. She had to try to catch that bastard before he was out of reach. Sheriff James Jedroth. Kistle had used Jedroth's telephone and Jedroth was located in Bloomburg, Illinois. Call information and get the number for the sheriff's department. Move. Five minutes later she had reached the sheriff's department and been transferred to three different extensions before she reached a Deputy Charles Dodsworth. "I'm sorry, ma'am"—he had a distinctly midwestern twang—"but Sheriff Jedroth isn't on duty. May I help you?"

"I was afraid he wasn't on duty. I only used his name to get through to anyone in authority." Eve continued urgently, "That's why I've been trying to contact someone, anyone. I received a phone call this evening from Sheriff Jedroth's cell phone. Only it wasn't the sheriff. It was Henry Kistle."

There was a silence on the other end. "Kistle. You're positive that was the name?"

"Dammit, I'm positive. You know who he is, don't you? I can tell by your tone."

"I'm familiar with the name," he said cautiously.

"Then go get him. I think he was in a car and on the move. He boasted that you wouldn't be able to catch him. But it's been less than ten minutes. He must have been under investigation by you or he wouldn't have been able to take the sheriff's phone. Can't you call the highway patrol and try to stop him?"

Silence. "He really had Jim's phone?"

"That's what it said on my ID."

"Shit." The deputy's tone was now curt. "I'll get back to you." He hung up. Good. She was encouraged that he had wanted to get rid of her so that he could take action. At least there was a hope that Kistle could be intercepted. Hurry, she prayed. Don't let him get away.

She called Joe again. His phone was still turned off. She left a message for him to call her as soon as possible.

But there was a car driving up the road to the cottage.

She ran out on the porch to see Jane getting out of the rental car. "I can't get in touch with Joe. Have you heard from him?"

"Yes." She gave Toby a hug in greeting and pushed him aside. "And you can't get in touch with him because he probably had to turn his phone off on the plane." She grimaced. "Though he might not have answered you anyway. He didn't want to have to deal with you until he was sure."

She stared at her. "Deal with me? Plane?"

"I told him he wasn't handling this right." Jane was climbing the porch steps. "But you know Joe. Stubborn. He had to get on that damn plane to Bloomburg."

Eve stiffened. "Bloomburg?" she whispered. "Kistle."

"Yes." Jane's gaze narrowed on Eve's face. "How did you know?"

"Kistle just called me," she said numbly. "He was telling me what a beautiful child my Bonnie was."

"Damn." Jane's arms slid around her and she held her close. "I wish I'd been here with you. You shouldn't have had to be alone."

She wasn't alone now. She had Jane, and the healing comfort was like a blessing. "I'm okay." She hugged Jane before letting her go. "And we have a chance of getting the bastard. He called from an officer's phone and I was able to notify the sheriff's department pretty quick."

"Come on." Jane took her arm and pulled her into the cottage. "I'll make some coffee and you can tell me about it."

CHARLIE DODSWORTH HESITATED,
staring at the phone after he'd hung up from talking to Eve Duncan. She'd sounded scared and desperate, but who knew if she wasn't some kind of nut? He was only a deputy. He had no business calling the highway patrol and setting up roadblocks. That was a sheriff's job. Jim's job.

He dialed Jim's cell number. No answer.

Jim always answered. Unless his cell was no longer in his hands, as Eve Duncan had claimed. Damn, that scared him.

He punched the number for Torrance with the highway patrol and while he was waiting he called out to Annie Burke in the front office. "Get that report Jim requested on Joe Quinn." After he had read the report, the sheriff had thought Quinn might have valid reasons for suspecting Kistle and had started the surveillance on him. He needed to know everything Jim knew.

"Ten minutes," Annie said. "I'm on my lunch break."

"Now!"

Annie would probably give him hell later. He couldn't worry about it. Torrance had picked up and Dodsworth was telling him what had to be done.

"By whose authority?" Torrance asked. "I'm not about to send my guys off on a wild-goose chase at this time of night."

"Sheriff Jim Jedroth," Dodsworth lied. "I'm just relaying his orders."

"Got you." Torrance hung up.

Annie was standing in the doorway holding a folder. "You lied to him. What's got into you, Charlie Dodsworth? Jim's going to have your ass."

"I hope he does." Dodsworth got up from the desk. "I haven't got time to read that report. Walk me to the patrol car and fill me in, Annie."

"Where are you going?" She fell into step with him as she took out the report.

"I can't get in touch with Jim."

"He could still be okay. That doesn't—" She broke off, her gaze scanning the report. "Joe Quinn is a lieutenant with ATLPD. Lots of commendations, formerly with the SEALs and FBI. There's a photo."

He glanced at the picture. Quinn appeared to be in his late thirties, brown hair, square face, broad mouth, and wide-set brown eyes.

Annie went on, "He went to Harvard and is supposed to be very, very smart. He lives in a lake cottage outside Atlanta with an Eve Duncan."

He punched the elevator button. "Tell me about Eve Duncan. Is there anything on her?" Annie nodded. "Yeah, evidently they've worked together on several cases. She's a forensic sculptor, one of the best in the world, and does work for police departments all over the country. Several years ago her daughter, Bonnie, disappeared and was presumed killed by a serial killer who was later executed. Her body was never recovered and later it was suspected that the man who was executed for her death was innocent of that particular killing. Though he was guilty of several more child murders. Eve Duncan went back to school to study forensic sculpting and has been searching for the killer and the remains of her murdered daughter ever since. Joe Quinn has taken several leaves of absences from the department over the years to investigate possible suspects."

"Like Kistle," Dodsworth said grimly. "And this time he may have hit the jackpot." He was going down the steps toward the patrol car parked in front of the building. "Why the hell couldn't he have stayed out of our town?" He jumped into the car. "If Torrance calls back, cover my ass, Annie."

She frowned. "What's happening, Charlie? Where are you going? It must be pretty serious if you're willing to risk your job like this."

He backed out of the parking spot. "Dead serious."

FLASHING LIGHTS. HIGHWAY
patrol cars drawn across the highway ahead. Roadblock.

This was farm country and a roadblock was big stuff, Kistle thought. Those cops weren't going to be checking for seat belt violations.

He stomped on the brake, made a U-turn, and pressed the accelerator to the floor. He could hear the sirens behind him.

He should have had more time. He'd hidden the sheriff's body and he should have had a chance to get out of the county before the police were able to martial their forces. Eve Duncan had done this.

He knew he'd shaken and sickened her, but she must have rallied quickly, to get this fast a response. He felt a thrill of excitement as he went around a curve in the road. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins. He hadn't been this close to capture in a long time. He'd forgotten the adrenaline rush, the feeling of being alive. These days it usually came only with the kill.

They were getting close.

But according to his GPS there was a forest up ahead. Clayborne Forest.

He put on more speed and skidded around the next turn. Then he turned off his lights, left the road, and drove into the woods, bumping along on the rutted ground, branches swatting the windshield of his car.

The two highway patrol cars raced past him and around the curve, sirens blaring. But they'd be back.

This car was a handicap now. He'd have to abandon it and go it on foot. He grabbed his duffel, rifle, and memory box and jumped out of the car.

No one would be able to catch him once he took to the woods. As a kid, he had spent all his free hours in the forest near his home. Later, in the Army, his skills had been honed to supreme sharpness. None of these country bumpkins could touch him, much less catch him. If they got close, he'd just take them out one by one.

He splashed through a stream. He was acutely aware of the power of his muscles, the wind in his face. He was beginning to feel a sense of primitive joy. They thought him prey, but he was really the hunter. As a child, he'd seen a movie about a werewolf and in the forest he'd always pretended to be that monstrous, lethal entity. Now that he was grown he'd gone far beyond those fantasies and become far more deadly.

No one could catch him.

No silver bullet could kill him.

Hurry. Put distance between himself and the car. The first patrolmen after him would probably be novice trackers, but they'd pull in more experienced woodsmen if they didn't catch him. He had to have time to mask his signs.

These stupid cops won't catch me, Eve. I told you I'd get away from them. He could feel again that surge of excitement.

Eve Duncan. Eve Duncan. Eve Duncan.

The name repeated in his mind like a mantra, he could hear the rhythm of it in his heartbeat as he ran.

Are you thinking about me, Eve? You shouldn't have done this to me, you know. You'll have to be punished.

The thought brought a swelling wave of pleasure. There were so many ways she could be hurt. He had hurt her tonight, but she had bounced back immediately. It would take time and study to find a way to bring her to her knees. But he didn't want to wait that time. He wanted that exquisite satisfaction now.

So what do I know about you, Eve Duncan?

You're a tough bitch who grew up in Atlanta's slums. Let's see, you're illegitimate and so was your Bonnie. Then when she was born, you turned your life around. You finished school and went on to college. What a sparkling example for those other street kids. But all that drive didn't help you, did it? Your Bonnie died and you couldn't do anything about it. Take away a child and the world stops turning, and the one who takes her away is all-powerful. It's the ultimate way to play God. You were helpless. And you're helpless now, but you don't know it. But you'll know it soon.

TWO