And Margaret might have saved Eve’s life because of that same gift.
“Am I allowed to ask why you want to get in touch with Margaret?” Kendra asked. “And why I can’t help instead?”
She had known this was coming. “You have many talents but not the one I might need. Margaret lived for years in the woods near her home as a child after she ran away from her father. That makes her uniquely qualified since I need someone who is woods savvy.”
“That’s not me. But I’m told I make it up in other ways that are—”
“No,” she said firmly. “This is my problem. I’m grateful, and if I need you, I might call on you. But not unless I run into a blank wall.”
“You just did,” Kendra said.
“Not yet.”
Kendra was silent. “I’ll make a few calls. Margaret made a lot of friends while she was here. She might have mentioned something to someone. How much time do I have?”
“We need her as soon as possible. Joe and I will be arriving in Sonderville tonight.”
“Sonderville. That’s wine country.”
“It’s the woods north of town, not the vineyards that I’m concerned about.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Kendra.”
“Don’t thank me until I find her. Why do you have to have someone who is woods savvy?”
“I need to find something that was lost or hidden in the woods eight years ago.”
“Eight years.” Kendra gave a low whistle. “Definitely not my area of expertise. I don’t even know if it’s Margaret’s.”
“I’m willing to take a chance.” Eve paused. “It may lead me to a killer, and there’s a child’s life on the line. I don’t know where else to start.”
“Start with me. Okay, okay, I know you’re not going to budge. Let me get off the phone and see if I can find Margaret.” She hung up.
Typical Kendra. Eve found herself smiling as she hung up. Sharp, honest, and beneath that brusqueness was a treasure trove of warmth and loyalty. If Margaret could be found, Kendra would locate her.
“You couldn’t reach her?” Joe asked as he came in from the porch. “Then why are you smiling?”
“Kendra.” She shrugged. “She’s being … Kendra. And I’ll bet she’ll find Margaret for me.”
“No bet,” Joe said grimly. “But whether you manage to get hold of Margaret or not, you’re not going to go into those woods without me. I’m pretty woods savvy myself.”
“Yes, you are. But eight years is a long time and you—” She stopped. How could she tell him that it wasn’t his competence but her own fear that she’d be responsible for something happening to him? Joe was like a force of nature when he was on the hunt. “I know this is a long shot, Joe. But Walsh was keeping an eye on Nalchek while he was searching those woods, a deputy died while Walsh was lurking there like some kind of ghoul. Whatever he’s looking for is making him desperate. I’m just reaching out and trying to find something, anything, that I can grab hold of before Walsh gets his hands on another victim. Those woods where Jenny was buried may be a way to do it.” She shook her head. “Or point me in the right direction.”
“You’ve been thinking about this. Anything else?”
“If we find out who Jenny was, we may be able to make a connection that will help us find Walsh. I’ve been going over the things Jenny has said to me since I started the reconstruction. I’ll check with Nalchek and see if I get anywhere with them.” She got to her feet. “And then I’ll pack a bag for both of us and make reservations for San Francisco while you’re checking out Walsh in those databases. I’ll call you to tell you when to meet me at the airport.”
Joe’s brows rose. “We’re in that much of a hurry? You’re not giving me much time to process all those databases. I may have to go international, too. Let’s leave tomorrow morning.”
She shook her head. “Suppose I leave today and check into a hotel and do the preliminary work with Nalchek. That would save some time. You can fly in tomorrow.”
He frowned. “I don’t like your going alone.”
“Joe, it’s one night, and I promise I won’t do anything that doesn’t concern Nalchek.”
He was silent. “Okay, but I still don’t see why you’re in such a hurry.”
“I don’t know, either.” She reached for her phone again. “I’m just not sure how much time we have.”
Or how much time that little girl in Carmel had.
CHAPTER
5
COCONINO NATIONAL FOREST
ARIZONA
Get rid of her. He had to get rid of her.
Walsh could feel the hatred sear through him as he stared at the FedEx box on the seat beside him. He’d built a huge campfire in the woods and was tempted just to throw the damn box into the flames. But he couldn’t do that, he had to be sure. He had to know that Eve Duncan wasn’t just playing Nalchek for a fool.
He had to look at that bitch, Jenny’s skull.
Get it over with.
He reluctantly took the box and slowly opened it.
He couldn’t see anything, dammit. The skull was secured to the box. He started to undo the fastenings.
His fingers were tingling, burning.
Imagination.
There, he was finished. He’d take the skull out to the fire and get ready to toss it.
He grabbed the box, got out of the car, and strode over to the fire.
The flames were leaping high, the fiery shadows reflecting off the leaves of the surrounding trees.
One more minute and you burn, bitch.
He grabbed the skull and pulled it out of the box and held it high so that he could look at it.
Only it wasn’t a skull.
It was her.
He felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.
Same pointed chin, same winged eyebrows.
And those green eyes, blazing at him, as bold as they had been the night he had put her in that grave. She had been afraid, he’d known she was afraid, and yet she wouldn’t admit it to him. That night was suddenly right here before him.
* * *
“You’re going to die, little girl.” He cradled his bleeding hand where the little viper had bitten him. “Die, then I’m going to throw you in the ground where no one will ever find you.”
“They’ll find me.” Her eyes were glittering in her pale face. “Because you’re stupid and cruel, and they’ll want to take you and throw you in a jail where they put people like you.”
“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.