Shadow Play (11 page)

“Stupid?”
He lifted his hand and struck her in the face. Her head jerked back from the blow, but when she lifted it, there was still no fear in her eyes. It filled him with rage. “
You bit my hand. Let's see how you like to have your hands hurt.”

Fear. For the first time he saw fear in her. “
Not my hands. I can't let you—
” She lifted her chin defiantly, and the fear was gone. “
It won't matter. They'll fix them.
”

“
They won't bother. You'll be dead.
” He took her hand and bent back the first finger. “
Tell me what I want to know. Tell me where they are. If you do, I'll stop the pain.
” He pressed the finger back until he knew it was agony. “
Tell me.
”

She whimpered.

Why didn't she scream?

She had never screamed.

Not even when he'd lost his temper and taken the crowbar and struck her on the temple.

*   *   *

He couldn't see that wound on her temple on this damn reconstruction now. Duncan had carefully erased it. He held the skull higher.

It was as if the blow had never happened.

And those green eyes were blazing with defiance at him as they had when he'd broken her fingers.

No, they weren't. Glass eyes. They were only glass eyes. But how had Duncan known that little girl had green eyes? How had she known about that pointed chin, those eyebrows?

Guess work. It was only a lucky guess.

And in another moment, all her work would be devoured in these flames.

“
No, they won't. I won't let you.
”

He froze.

Her
voice.

His eyes widened in shock, his gaze locked with the green eyes of the skull's reconstruction.

Ignore it.

He was hearing things.

He had been concentrating so hard on that long-ago night that he had only thought he'd heard Jenny speaking to him.

Hallucination.

As soon as he got rid of the skull, he'd be fine.

“
No. I told you that you were stupid. You'll never get rid of me.
”

The voice wasn't coming from that skull. It was coming from his left, over in the trees.

Don't look.

“
Are you afraid of me? I'm not afraid of you. You can't do anything to me that you haven't already done. But I'm only learning everything I can do to you. Look at me, Walsh.
”

His head slowly turned.

And then he saw her.

White dress, black, patent-leather shoes, and those eyes as green as the glass ones in this damn skull.

Those eyes that had wept but never held fear.

He could feel his heart pounding and the cold sweat break out. “I'm looking at you, bitch. You're not real. You're dead. You're only a damn hallucination. Once I settle this, I'll forget you just like I did before.”

“
And go on and kill that little girl in Carmel? Isn't that what you're thinking?
”

“I'll do what I please. And you don't know what I'm thinking.”

“
Then how did I know about the little girl? What's her name, Walsh?
”

“See, I told you that you didn't know anything. If you were Jenny, you'd know. Go
away
.”

“
So you can toss my skull into that fire? I can't let you do that.
” She took at few steps closer. “
I haven't decided what I'm meant to do with you, but I won't let you destroy Eve's work.
”

“Let me? What can you do about it?”

“
Try it.
” She took a step closer, her eyes glaring into his own. “
You can't let it go. You remember when I bit your hand? I didn't. Not until it all came rushing back to you, then I remembered. There are all kinds of things I don't remember yet. But I think it will all come back to me. Except the pain. I may not ever remember that entirely. But I can make you remember your pain. Your hand will start to hurt just as it did that night, only the pain won't go away until you take the skull back to the car.
”

“I
will
drop it.” He started to release the skull into the flames.

Pain!

He screamed.

He backed away from the fire.

The pain lessened but didn't go away.

“
No, Walsh, I won't let you destroy me all over again.
”

Green eyes staring at him, golden skin gleaming in the firelight, lips tight.

He was cursing. “It's not you. You're not real. I'll get over this; and then I'll burn this skull. Then I'll find wherever they've put your skeleton and burn every bit of you until you're ashes.” His hands were shaking as he shoved the skull back in the FedEx box. “And then I'll throw them into the ocean for the fish to eat.”

“
You won't get over it. Every time you try to burn this reconstruction, I'll be there. It will get worse and worse.
” Her voice followed him. “
And maybe by that time, I'll find out what I have to do with you. How you have to be punished…”

“You're not
real
.” He didn't look over his shoulder as he jumped into the car and threw the box with the reconstruction on the floor of the backseat. But he couldn't resist one last glance after he started the car and pressed the accelerator.

She was still standing there by the fire.

Her dark hair shining in the firelight, her eyes staring at him with that fearless boldness that made him want to kill her all over again.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

But his hand still throbbed and hurt the way it had when she'd bitten him.

He had to get away from her.

His foot stomped on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. He wanted to throw the damn reconstruction out the window, but he couldn't do it. Too dangerous. It mustn't ever be found.

Get rid of it later.

Get away.

He'd show her.

But maybe not tonight.

*   *   *

“At last,” Eve said impatiently, as Nalchek finally picked up her call four hours later. She hadn't been able to get past Nalchek's voice mail until now, when she was on her way to the airport. “I've been trying to reach you.”

“Sorry. I was in a town meeting trying to soothe down a bunch of very nervous citizens. In this town, everyone knows everyone else, and Ron Carstairs's death sent everybody into a tailspin.”

“I can see how it would. First, you find a murdered little girl, then a deputy is killed. Any developments?”

“No,” he said tersely. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to tell you that Joe and I are going to be on our way out to Sonderville today.”

Silence. “Why?” he asked warily. “You can't do anything that I can't.”

“That's what I've been telling myself since I started the reconstruction. It's not working for me any longer.”

“It's true. You did your job, and it's not your fault that you lost that reconstruction.”

“Well, then why does it feel like my fault?” she asked fiercely. “I should have been able to do something. I shouldn't have just waved good-bye to that FedEx truck and thought everything would work out. I was uneasy when I did it, and I should have paid attention to instinct.”

“And I'm paying attention to instinct, and everyone in town thinks I'm nuts,” he said dryly. “I know my job, Ms. Duncan. I don't need you wandering around my town and searching for that bastard who killed Ron. You stay where you are and let me do it.”

“Too late. I'm on the way to the airport.” She paused. “You're afraid I'll get in your way.”

“You're damn right.”

“I won't do that. I'll be careful not to step on your toes. I'm bringing Joe Quinn, and he has a tendency to take over, but I won't let that happen. However, you must have some knowledge of Joe's capabilities. He'd be an asset to you.”

“I don't need a big-city detective to barge in—” He stopped. “I sound like a belligerent ass. I guess I'm being defensive.” He was silent. “Yeah, he'd be an asset as long as he doesn't try to pull rank.”

“It's your town, Sheriff. And you might find I could be an asset, too.”

A very skeptical silence. “Not without a skull to re-create that little girl's face.”

“That's still a possibility. We don't know that the killer destroyed the reconstruction.”

“If he took it, he destroyed it,” he said flatly. “Nothing else makes sense.”

“Killers aren't always sensible or logical.” She added bluntly, “And we need to work together if we're going to blow him out of the water. I have a couple things to ask you about Jenny's body.”

“Her body?”

“I saw the wound on her temple; did she have any other wounds or signs of torture?”

“Why do you ask?”

“What does it matter? Is there any reason why her hands would hurt?”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes. The bones on the fingers of her right hand were all broken. The pathologist said that they'd been bent back until they snapped.”

Dear God, poor Jenny. Eve felt sick. “Bastard.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” He paused. “How did you know?”

“If I'd known, I wouldn't have had to ask.” She wasn't about to tell him about that moment when Jenny had told her about the pain to her hand. He might believe in instinct, but that was entirely different from embracing the concept of ghosts. “Maybe you have a leak.”

“And maybe I don't.”

She changed the subject. “You said you've spent a lot time looking for any clues in those woods where Jenny was found. Have you found anything at all?”

“No.”

“Then why keep looking?”

“Sheer frustration,” he said. “I told you I felt like she was calling to me. I interviewed everyone in the neighborhood about that killing that took place over eight years ago. Nothing. No one missing a child, no one who even remembers a nine-year-old child in the neighborhood who wasn't fully accounted for. The only things I had left were you and the crime scene.”

“And I failed you,” Eve said. “I'll make it up, Nalchek.”

“Bullshit. I told you that I didn't expect more of you than you gave me. What were you supposed to do? Hand-carry the skull out here?”

She chuckled. “You're right. And I won't make it up to you, I'll make it up to me.” Her smile faded. “But your friend was killed near that crime scene, and that means that the killer was watching it. Have you found any signs of anyone besides you wandering around that area?”

“No, if there was anyone, he was damn good about covering his tracks. I grew up in those woods, and I know them like my right hand. I was in the Special Forces, and I've been trained to observe. I saw signs of my men and the forensic crew. Nothing else.”

She hesitated. “Maybe you need a fresh eye.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don't doubt that your Special Forces training made you very savvy, but there are all kinds of other people with specialized talents that might prove valuable.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Maybe.” She went on quickly, “Isn't there just a possibility that you might not see—”

“If there was something there, I would have seen it.” His voice was cool. “Is that all?”

“Just one other thing. What clothes was Jenny wearing when you took her out of that grave?”

“What? Why do you want to know that?” He went on impatiently, “Never mind. Everything she had on was in such tatters that it was hard to tell, but we decided that she was wearing a long white dress. Black, patent-leather shoes. Kind of dressy. She looked like she might have come from church. But I sent men around to all the churches within a hundred-mile radius, and they came up with zilch.”

Eve felt a surge of disappointment. Nalchek had already covered the only lead that she had thought might be a possibility. Which only proved how sharp and competent he was. “If not a church, where else would a little girl wear a fancy dress? A party?”

“Search me. I'm still looking.”

The music.

“I have a suggestion. Little children sometimes have musical recitals. They dress up for them.”

“That's reaching. But I'll check it out.”

“You're obviously not going to give up.” She was turning into the airport. “Neither will I, Nalchek. I have to hang up now. I'll call you when I arrive in San Francisco and have picked up our rental car. Can you give me the name of a decent hotel in your area?”

“Sonderville doesn't have more than a few hotels. Martello's Vineyard is pretty nice.” He sighed. “If you're still set on coming, I'll make your reservations.”

“I'm still set on coming. Thanks, Nalchek.” She hung up and drove into long-term parking.

The call had not been entirely satisfying, but she knew what she had to face now. Nalchek would cooperate but might be surly. He didn't want to have anyone getting in his way. She could deal with it. It didn't matter as long as he was committed, and he was certainly that.

And she had confirmed that the dress in which Jenny had appeared to her was the one she'd worn the night she'd been killed or taken. Where had she gone that night?

And Jenny had suffered that night. Dear heaven, what pain she must have gone through when that monster had broken her fingers.

She drew a deep breath and tried to fight down the anger that was searing through her. Jenny hadn't remembered the deathblow, but she'd remembered the pain of her hand. Even in the great beyond, that memory had lingered.

Forget it, Jenny. If you can, let it go.

But I won't let it go. I'll remember what you went through.