The Face of Deception (5 page)

“Eve tells me you're going to paint her lab. That break-in was a terrible thing.”

Sandra nodded. “But the cleaning crew has scrubbed it almost spotless. When she gets back, she'll never know anything bad happened there.”

“Well, I feel guilty taking her away before they've caught whoever did it. Eve told you that I'd arranged for security?”

“Yes, but Joe will take—”

“I'll feel better adding my bit. If you don't mind, I'll have someone call and check in every night.”

“I don't mind, but it's not necessary.” She gave Eve a hug. “Don't work too hard. Get some rest.”

“You'll be okay?”

“I'll be fine. I'm glad to get rid of you. Now maybe I'll be able to invite Ron here for dinner without worrying about you giving him the third degree.”

“I wouldn't have—” She grinned. “Well, maybe I would have asked him a
few
questions.”

“See?”

Eve picked up her briefcase. “Take care of yourself. I'll call as often as I can.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Duncan.” Logan shook her hand, then picked up Eve's suitcase. “I'll take good care of her and bring her back as soon as I can.”

That charisma again, flowing out and enveloping Sandra.

“I'm sure you will. Good-bye, Mr. Logan.”

He smiled. “John.”

She smiled back. “John.”

She stood at the front door, watching them as they went down the stairs and the front walk. She gave a final wave and closed the door.

“What was the purpose of that display?” Eve asked.

He opened the car door for her. “Display?”

“You sent so much honey flowing toward Mom that she couldn't move.”

“I was merely being polite.”

“You were being charming.”

“I've found it greases a few wheels. You object?”

“It's all lies. I hate it.”

“Why do—” He paused. “Fraser. I was told he was a Ted Bundy type. Dammit, I'm no Fraser, Eve.”

She knew he wasn't. No one was like Fraser except Lucifer himself. “I can't help— It just reminds me of— It annoys me.”

“Since we'll be working together, that's the last thing we need. I promise I'll be as blunt and rude as I know how.”

“Good.”

“Not so good. I've been known to be pretty ugly on occasion.” He started the car. “Ask Margaret.”

“From the way you describe her, I doubt if she'd put up with it.”

“True. She can be much nastier than me. But I do try.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where did you tell your mother we were going?”

“I didn't tell her. I said you're based on the West Coast and she assumed that's where we're headed. She and Joe Quinn have my digital number in case of an emergency.” She repeated, “Where
are
we going?”

“Now? The airport. We're taking my plane to my place in Virginia.”

“I'll need equipment. Most of my stuff was destroyed. He missed only a few instruments.”

“No problem. I've already equipped a lab for you.”

“What?”

“I knew you'd need a place to work.”

“What if I'd turned you down?”

“I would have looked for second best.” He smiled and added in a melodramatic growl, “Or kidnapped you and locked you up in the lab until you did my bidding.”

He was joking. Or was he? she wondered suddenly.

“I'm sorry. Too light? Just testing your sense of humor. By the way, you failed miserably. Is that rude enough for you?”

“Yes, I have a sense of humor.”

“I haven't seen it.” He drove down the exit ramp onto the freeway. “But don't worry, it's not required for the job.”

“I wasn't worried. I don't care what you think of me. I just want to get this job done. And I'm tired of going at this blind. When are we—”

“We'll talk about it when we get to Virginia.”

“I want to talk about it now.”

“Later.” He glanced at the rearview mirror. “This is a rental car and not secured.”

At first she didn't realize what he meant. “You mean it's bugged?”

“I don't know. I just don't want to take a chance.”

She was silent a moment. “Are your cars usually . . . secured?”

“Yes, since I sometimes do business as I move from place to place. Leaks can be costly.”

“I imagine they can be. Particularly when you play around with something like a buried skeleton.”

“I'm not playing.” He glanced at the rearview mirror again. “Believe me, Eve.”

It was the second time in seconds he had checked the mirror, and the traffic wasn't that heavy. She glanced over her shoulder. “Are we being followed?”

“Maybe. Not as far as I can tell.”

“Would you tell me if we were?”

“It depends on if I thought it would scare you off.” He glanced at her. “Would it?”

“No. I gave you my terms and I'm committed. The only thing that would make me back away now would be if I thought you were lying to me. I won't stand for that, Logan.”

“Point taken.”

“I mean what I say. You hobnob with all those politicians who talk out of both sides of their mouths. I'm not like that.”

“My, how sanctimonious you sound.”

“Think what you like. I'm being up-front with you. I just don't want you to make any mistakes about me.”

“Point taken. I assure you, no one could mistake you for either a politician or a diplomat,” he said dryly.

“I take that as a compliment.”

“And I take it you don't like politicians.”

“Does anyone? These days we all seem to have to choose the lesser evil.”

“There are some people out there who want to do a good job.”

“Are you trying to convert me? Forget it. I don't like Republicans any more than I do Democrats.”

“Who did you vote for in the last election?”

“Chadbourne. But not because he was a Democrat. He convinced me he'd be a decent president.”

“And you think he has?”

She shrugged. “He got the aid to dependent children bill passed even though Congress had him gridlocked.”

“A gridlock's like a logjam. Sometimes you have to toss in something explosive to break it up.”

“Those fund-raisers you've been giving aren't exactly explosive.”

“It depends on your viewpoint. I do what I can. I've always believed a person has to take a stand. If you want to change things, you have to work with the system.”

“I don't have to work with it. I don't have to have anything to do with it except on election day.”

“No, you bury yourself in your lab with your bones.”

“Why not?” She gave him a sly glance. “They're better company than most politicians.”

To her surprise, he didn't take the bait. “My God, maybe you do have a sense of humor.” He chuckled. “Suppose we agree to disagree. My dad always told me never to argue religion or politics with a woman.”

“How sexist of him.”

“He was a great guy, but he lived in a different world. He wouldn't have known how to deal with women like you or Margaret.”

“Is he still alive?”

“No, he died when I was in college.”

“Am I going to meet Margaret?”

He nodded. “I called her this afternoon and told her to be at the house.”

“Wasn't that a little inconsiderate? She had to fly in from California, didn't she?”

“I needed her.”

The bald statement said it all, she thought. He might pretend to be browbeaten by this Margaret, but he expected her to jump when he called.

“I asked her nicely. Nary a whip in sight.”

“Sometimes they don't have to be in view to get the effect.”

“Well, I promise I won't use coercion on you, visible or otherwise.”

She met his gaze with a cool one of her own. “No, you won't. Don't even try, Logan.”

“They're boarding now,” Fiske said. “What do you want me to do? Find out his flight plan and follow him?”

“No, his secretary told her father she was going to the Virginia house. He's got that place loaded with more security than Fort Knox. We've got a surveillance team outside the gates, but we won't be able to touch him once he's inside.”

“Then I should move before he gets there.”

“I told you, he's too visible. We don't want to do anything to him unless it's absolutely necessary.”

“Then I'll go back to the house. The mother is still—”

“No, she's not going anywhere. You can pick up that string later if we decide we need a distraction. We have something more urgent for you to do. Come back here.”

FIVE

The jet landed at a small private field near Arlington, Virginia. Their luggage was immediately transferred into a stretch limousine parked by the hangar.

All the ease that money could buy, Eve thought wryly. No doubt the chauffeur would display the obsequious formality of a Wodehouse character.

The red-haired driver got out. “Hi, John. Good trip?” He was freckled, good-looking, not over thirty, and dressed in jeans and a checked shirt that reflected the blue of his eyes.

“Good enough. Gil Price, Eve Duncan.”

Gil shook her hand. “The bone lady. I saw your picture on
60 Minutes
. You're prettier in person. They should have concentrated on you instead of on that skull.”

“Thank you, but I had no desire to appear on national television. I've had enough of cameras in my life.”

“John doesn't like cameras either. I had to break one last year in Paris.” He grimaced. “And then John had to settle out of court with the bastard who claimed I'd broken his head instead of his camera. I hate paparazzi.”

“Well, the paparazzi don't usually trail me around, so you won't have that problem.”

“I will if you hang around with John.” He opened the back door. “Hop in and I'll get you to Barrett House PDQ.”

“Barrett House? It sounds very Dickens.”

“Nope, it used to be an inn during the Civil War. John bought it last year and had it completely remodeled.”

“Has Margaret arrived?” Logan asked as he followed Eve into the car.

“Two hours ago and crabby as hell. I'm charging you hazard pay for that pickup.” Gil jumped into the driver's seat. “I can't understand it. How can she not love me? Everyone loves me.”

“It must be a flaw in her character,” Logan said. “It certainly couldn't be because there's anything wrong with you.”

“My thought exactly.” Gil started the car and flicked on the CD player. The limo was immediately filled with the doleful strains of “Feed Jake.”

“The window, Gil,” Logan said.

“Oh, right.” He grinned over his shoulder at Eve. “John used to have a Jeep, but he can't stand country music so he got this hearse so he could have a privacy window.”

“I like country,” Logan said. “I just can't stand those songs of woe you hug to your bosom. Blood-stained wedding gowns, dogs at grave sites . . .”

“That's because you're full of mush and you don't like to show it. Do you think I haven't seen your eyes water? Now, take ‘Feed Jake.' It's a—”

“You take it. The window.”

“Okay.” The window glided up soundlessly and the music faded out.

“I hope you don't mind,” Logan said.

“No, I have trouble with sad songs. But I can't imagine you crying in your beer over one.”

He shrugged. “I'm human. Those country-song writers know exactly how to hit you.”

Her gaze shifted to the back of Gil's head. “He's nice. Not exactly what I expected in one of your employees.”

“Gil's not what anyone expects, but he's a good driver.”

“And bodyguard?”

“That too. He used to be in the Air Force Military Police, but he doesn't respond well to discipline.”

“Do you?”

“No, but I usually try to work my way around it instead of punching people out.” He gestured out the side window. “We'll be on my land in a few minutes. It's pretty country with lots of woods and meadows.”

“I suppose so.” It was too dark to see more than shadowy trees. She was still absorbed with the comparison Logan had made between himself and Price. “And what do you do when you can't work around anyone who tries to discipline you?”

“Why, punch them out.” He smiled. “That's why Gil and I get along. We're soul mates.” They turned a curve in the road, and a twelve-foot-tall elaborate wrought-iron fence loomed before them.

She watched Gil press a control on the dashboard, and the gates swung slowly open.

“Is the fence electrified too?” she asked.

He nodded. “And I have a security man monitoring the grounds by video camera from the carriage house.”

She felt a sudden chill. “Very high-tech. I want my own remote to open those gates.”

He looked at her.

“Gates that keep people out can also keep them in. I don't like the idea of being in a cage.”

“I'm not trying to keep you prisoner, Eve.”

“No, not if you can get what you want any other way. But what if you can't?”

“I can't force you to work.”

“Couldn't you? You're a very clever man, Logan. I want my own remote to open those gates.”

“Tomorrow. It will have to be programmed.” He smiled sardonically. “I think it's safe to assume I won't try to bulldoze you in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Tomorrow.” She leaned forward as the house came into view. The moon had come out from behind the clouds and lit the place. Barrett House was a sprawling two-story stone building that looked like the nineteenth-century inn Gil had said it had once been. There was nothing pretentious about it, and the ivy covering the walls softened the stone. As Gil stopped the car in front of the front door, she asked, “Why buy an inn that you had to restore? Why not just build a new house?”

Logan climbed out of the car and held out his hand to help her. “It had a few unique features that appealed to me.”

“Don't tell me. It had its own graveyard.”

He grinned. “The Barrett family cemetery is just over the hill. But that wasn't why I bought the inn.” He opened the tall mahogany front door. “There aren't any live-in servants. I have cleaning people come in from town twice a week. We'll have to fend for ourselves in the kitchen.”

“It doesn't matter. I'm not accustomed to servants, and food isn't a high priority for me.”

His gaze ran over her. “I can tell. You're lean as a greyhound.”

“I like greyhounds,” Gil said as he carried the luggage into the hall. “Graceful and those great big wistful eyes. I had one once. Nearly killed me when he died. Where do you want her bags?”

“The first door at the head of the stairs,” Logan said.

“Right.” Gil started up the steps. “Pretty boring. My quarters are in the old carriage house, Eve. You should ask him to put you out there. More privacy.”

“This will be more convenient to the lab,” Logan said.

And more convenient for Logan to keep tabs on me, Eve thought.

“Margaret must have gone to bed. You'll meet her in the morning. I think you'll find everything you need in your room.”

“I want to see my lab.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You may not have equipped it properly. I may have to supplement it.”

“Then by all means come with me. It's one of the added rooms in the back. I haven't seen it myself. I had Margaret get you everything she thought you'd need.”

“The efficient Margaret again.”

“Not only efficient. Exceptional.”

She followed Logan across a huge living room with a fireplace large enough to walk into, plank floors covered by woven hemp carpets, and oversized leather furniture. It looked like a lodge, she decided.

He led her down a short hall and then opened a door. “Here you are.”

Coldness. Sterility. Gleaming stainless steel and glass.

“Oops.” Logan grimaced. “This must be Margaret's idea of scientific heaven. I'll try to warm it up for you.”

“It doesn't matter. I won't be here that long.” She strode over to the pedestal. It was sturdy and adjustable. The three video cameras on tripods next to it were top-notch, as were the computer, mixer, and VCR. She moved over to the workbench. The measuring instruments were high-grade, but she preferred the ones she had brought with her. She took the wooden box from the shelf above the bench, and sixteen sets of eyes stared up at her. All variations of hazel, gray, green, blue, brown. “Blue and brown would have been sufficient,” she said. “Brown is the most prevalent eye color.”

“I told her to get you everything you could possibly need.”

“Well, she did that.” She turned to look at him. “When can I start to work?”

“In a day or two. I'm waiting for word.”

“And I'm supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs?”

“Would you like me to dig you up one of the Barrets to practice on?”

“No, I want to finish the job and go home.”

“You gave me two weeks.” He turned away. “Come on, you're tired. I'll show you to your room.”

She
was
tired. She felt as if a thousand years had passed since she had walked to her lab that morning. She had a sudden pang of homesickness. What was she doing here? She didn't belong in this strange house with a man she didn't trust.

The Adam Fund. It didn't matter whether she belonged here or not. She had a job and a purpose. She came toward him. “I meant what I said. I won't do anything criminal.”

“I know you meant it.”

Which didn't mean he accepted it. She flicked off the overhead light and moved past him into the hall. “Are you going to tell me why you brought me here and why I should do what you want me to do?”

He smiled. “Why, it's your patriotic duty.”

“Bull.” Her gaze narrowed on his face. “Politics?”

“Why do you assume that?”

“You're known for your activities in public view and behind the scenes.”

“I suppose I should be relieved that you no longer think I'm a mass murderer.”

“I didn't say that. I'm exploring all options. Politics?”

“Possibly.”

A sudden thought occurred to her. “My God, are you trying to smear someone?”

“I don't believe in smear campaigns. Let's say things aren't always what they seem, and I believe in bringing the truth to light.”

“If it's to your advantage.”

He nodded mockingly. “Of course.”

“I don't want to be part of it.”

“You're not part of it . . . unless I'm right. If I'm wrong, you go home and we forget you were ever here.” He was preceding her up the stairs. “What could be more fair?”

Maybe his reason didn't involve politics. Maybe it was entirely personal. “We'll see.”

“Yes, we will.” He opened her door and stood aside. “Good night, Eve.”

“Good night.” She went inside and closed the door. The room was country comfortable with a canopy bed with a rust and cream quilt, simple pine furniture. The only thing in it that interested her was the telephone on the end table. She sat down on the bed and dialed Joe Quinn's number.

“Hello,” he answered sleepily.

“Joe, Eve.”

His voice lost all trace of drowsiness. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine. I'm sorry to wake you, but I just wanted to tell you where I am and give you my phone number here.” She rattled off the number printed on the extension. “Got it?”

“Got it. Where the hell are you?”

“Barrett House. Logan's place in Virginia.”

“And this couldn't wait until morning?”

“Probably. But I wanted you to know. I feel . . . disconnected.”

“You sound uneasy as the devil. You took the job?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“And what's scaring you?”

“I'm not scared.”

“The hell you're not. You haven't called me in the middle of the night since Bonnie—”

“I'm not afraid. I just wanted you to know.” She had a thought. “Logan has a driver, Gil Price. He used to be in the Air Force Military Police.”

“You want me to check him out?”

“I . . . think so.”

“No problem.”

“And you'll watch out for my mother while I'm gone?”

“Sure, you know I will. I'll ask Diane to go over and have coffee with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thanks, Joe. Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” He paused. “I don't like this. Be careful, Eve.”

“There's nothing to be careful about. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and stood. She'd take a shower, wash her hair, and then get to bed. She really shouldn't have woken up Joe, but hearing a familiar voice made her feel better. Everything about this place was low-key and unthreatening, including likable Gil Price, but she was still on edge. She couldn't tell how much was authentic and how much had been layered on to disarm her, and she didn't like being so isolated.

But now she had a link to the outside world.

Joe would be her safety net while she was walking this tightrope.

“Eve?” Diane Quinn rolled over in bed and propped her head on her hand. “Is everything all right?”

Joe nodded. “I think so. I don't know. She took a job that may not be— Forget it. Probably nothing to worry about.”

But Joe would worry, Diane thought. He always worried about Eve.

He lay back down and pulled up the covers. “Go by and visit her mother tomorrow, will you?”

“Sure.” She turned out the light and cuddled closer. “Whatever you say. Now go back to sleep.”

“I will.”

He wouldn't go back to sleep. He'd lie there in the darkness thinking and worrying about Eve. Smother the resentment. She had a good marriage. Joe had inherited enough money from his parents to give them a comfortable lifestyle even without his salary. He was thoughtful, generous, and great in bed. She'd known when she married him that he and Eve were a package deal. It hadn't taken her long to realize the bond between Joe and Eve was too strong to break. They were so close, sometimes they finished each other's sentences.

But that bond wasn't sexual. Not yet. Maybe never. That part of him was still hers.

So smother the envy and resentment. Be Eve's friend, be Joe's wife.

Because she was bitterly aware she couldn't be one without being the other.

“She called Joe Quinn thirty minutes ago.” Gil set a sheet of paper on the desk in front of Logan. “Here's a transcript Mark made of the conversation.”

Logan smiled faintly as he glanced through the text. “I don't believe she trusts us, Gil.”

“Smart lady.” Gil threw himself into the easy chair across the room and draped a leg over the arm. “Now, I'm not surprised she doesn't trust you. You're pretty transparent, but it takes someone ultraperceptive to suspect me.”

“It's not your acting ability, it's those damn freckles.” He frowned. “I've been trying to contact Scott Maren in Jordan. Any calls?”

“No calls.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Except from your lawyer, Novak.”