The death of a child.
Someone had held this girl as a baby, had watched her take her first steps. Eve prayed that someone had loved her and given her joy before she had ended up lost in that hole in the forest.
She gently touched the girls cheekbone. I dont know who you are. Do you mind if I call you Mandy? Ive always liked that name. Jesus, she talked to skeletons and she was worried about her mother going off the deep end? It might be weird, but shed always felt it was disrespectful to treat the skulls as if they had no identity. This girl had lived, laughed, and loved. She deserved more than to be treated impersonally.
Eve whispered, Just be patient, Mandy. To-morrow Ill measure and soon Ill start sculpting. Ill find you. Ill bring you home.
MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA
Youre sure shes the best choice? John Logans gaze was fastened on the television screen, where a video of the scene outside the prison facility was playing. She doesnt appear all that stable. Ive got enough problems without having to deal with a woman who doesnt have all her marbles.
My God, what a kind, caring human being you are, Ken Novak murmured. I think the woman might have cause to appear a little distracted. That was the night the murderer of her little girl was executed.
Then she should have been dancing with joy and offering to pull the switch. I would have been. In-stead, she pleaded with the governor for a stay.
Fraser was convicted for the killing of Teddy Simes. He was almost caught in the act and wasnt able to dispose of the boys body. But he confessed to murdering eleven other children including Bonnie Duncan. He gave details that left no doubt he was guilty, but he wouldnt tell where hed disposed of the bodies.
Why not?
I dont know. He was a crazy son of a bitch. A last act of malice? The bastard even refused to appeal the death sentence. It drove Eve Duncan frantic. She didnt want him executed until he told them where her daughter was. She was afraid shed never find her.
And has she?
No. Novak picked up the remote and froze a frame. Thats Joe Quinn. Rich parents, attended Har-vard. Everyone expected him to go into law, but he joined the FBI instead. He worked the Bonnie Duncan case with the Atlanta P.D., but hes now a de-tective with them. He and Eve Duncan have become friends.
Quinn appeared to be about twenty-six at the time. Square face, broad mouth, and intelligent, wide-set brown eyes. Only friends?
He nodded. If shes gone to bed with him, we havent found out about it. She was a witness at his wedding three years ago. Shes had one or two rela-tionships in the past eight years, but nothing serious. Shes a workaholic and that doesnt lend itself to en-riching personal relationships. He looked pointedly at Logan. Now, does it?
Ignoring the comment, Logan glanced down at the report on the desk. The mothers an addict?
Not any longer. She got off the stuff years ago.
What about Eve Duncan?
She was never on dope. Which was a wonder. Practically everyone else in her neighborhood was sniffing or shooting, including Mama. Her mother was illegitimate and had Eve when she was fifteen. They lived on welfare in one of the worst areas of the city. Eve had Bonnie when she was sixteen.
Who was the father?
She didnt list him on the birth certificate. Evi-dently he didnt claim the child. He pressed the button to start the tape again. Theres a picture coming up on the screen of the kid. CNN really wrung the story for all it was worth.
Bonnie Duncan. The little girl was dressed in a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Her red hair was wildly curly and there was a smattering of freckles on her nose. She was smiling at the camera and her face was alight with joy and mischief.
Logan felt sick. What kind of world was this in which a monster could kill a kid like that?
Novaks gaze was fixed on his face. Cute, huh?
Fast-forward.
Novak pressed the button and the scene was back outside the prison.
How old was Duncan when the kid was killed?
Twenty-three. The little girl was seven. Fraser was executed two years later.
And the woman went bonkers and became ob-sessed with bones.
Hell no, Novak said curtly. Why are you being so rough on her?
Logan turned to look at him. Why are you being so defensive?
Because shes not Shes got guts, dammit.
You admire her?
From her head right down to her toes, Novak said. She could have given up the kid for adoption or gotten an abortion. She kept her instead. She could have gone on welfare like her mother and repeated the pattern. She kept the baby in a United Fund nursery during the day while she worked and did cor-respondence courses at night. She was almost fin-ished with college when Bonnie disappeared. He looked at Eve Duncan on the screen. That should have killed her or sent her spiraling back where she came from, but it didnt. She returned to school and made something of her life. She has a degree in fine arts from Georgia State and is certified as a computer age progression specialist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Arlington, Vir-ginia. She also received advanced certification for clay facial reconstruction after training with two of the nations foremost reconstruction artists.
Tough lady, Logan murmured.
And smart. She does forensic sculpting and age progression as well as computer and video super-imposition. Not many people in her profession are experts in all those areas. You saw the clip from 60 Minutes on how she rebuilt the face of that kid who was found in the Florida swamps.
He nodded. It was incredible. His gaze re-turned to the video. Eve Duncans tall, thin body was clothed in jeans and a raincoat and appeared terribly fragile. Her shoulder-length red-brown hair was soaking wet and framed a pale, oval face that held agony and desperation. The brown eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses reflected the same desolation and pain. He looked away from the screen. Can we find anyone else as good?