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You’re not one to fear the unknown."

"I’m not afraid of you."

"You will be. But it’s clear I’ll have to work at it a little harder. No problem. I wouldn’t have it any other way." He paused. "Bonnie misses you. You should really be together." He hung up.

Pain tore through her. Damn him. He’d had to throw that last jab. She pressed the off button and looked at Joe. "He just wanted to touch base with me. The bastard wants me to be afraid of him."

"Then pretend to be afraid. Don’t challenge him.”

“Screw that."

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Joe smiled faintly. "I thought I’d try. Did you find out anything we can use?”

“He said his name is Dom. He’s been killing far longer than ten years and does it purely for pleasure. He’s analytical about himself and the world in general. He’s as smart as we thought he was." She turned back to the pedestal. "Will you write all that down and call it in to Spiro? I have to get back to work."

"It wouldn’t hurt for you to take a break."

"Yes, it would," she said fiercely. "I won’t let that bastard disturb my concentration. He wants to control me, and I’ll be damned if I let him. I won’t give him anything he wants."

She stood before the skull. Her hands were shaking a little. Steady them. It was time to do the final sculpting. Nothing must interfere with the sculpting. She had to be cool and detached.

Haven’t you sensed me standing behind you, looking over your shoulder as you work on that skull?

She restrained the impulse to turn her head. No one was staring at her back or over her shoulder. No one was behind her but Joe.

If she let Dom influence her by sparking her imagination, then it would be a victory for him.

Close him out. Think of the little boy, not of the monster who had killed him.

Bring him home.

With slow, certain strokes she began to mold the child’s face.

She was stronger than Dom had thought.

A surge of excitement tingled through him. She was going to stretch him, make him work for every ounce of emotion he drew from her.

It was no real surprise. He had been prepared for it. He welcomed it. It would force him to dig deep to find a way to jar her.

He already had an idea how to do it.

He started the car, backed out of the convenience store parking lot, and headed back to Atlanta.

FIVE

5:40 A.M.

Finished. Except for the eyes.

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She reached for her eye case on the worktable.

Brown was the most prevalent eye color, and she almost always used brown eyes when reconstructing. She placed the glass eye-balls in the sockets and stepped back.

Is it you, John Devon? Did I do a good enough job to bring you home? "Do you want the photo now?" Joe asked quietly.

She’d been vaguely aware that he’d been sitting on the couch all through the night, waiting.

"Yes."

He stood up and opened the large envelope on the coffee table. He discarded one photo and carried the other to her. "I think this is the one you want."

She stared at the photo without touching it. He was wrong, she didn’t want it. Take it. Bring him home.

She reached out and took the photo. She should have put in blue eyes, she realized dully.

Everything else was a match. "It’s him. It’s John Devon."

"Yes." He took the photo and tossed it on the workbench. "I’ll call Spiro right after I get you to bed."

"I’ll call him."

"Shut up." He was pulling her across the room and down the hall. "I said I’d do it. You’ve done your part."

Yes, she’d done her part. John Devon had been found and that meant— "Stop thinking," Joe said roughly as he pushed her down on the bed. "I knew it would start eating at you the minute you finished. But, dammit, you’ve got to rest now." He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. He sat down beside her and began wiping the clay from her hands.

"I should take a shower."

"When you wake up." He tossed the washcloth on the nightstand, made her lie down, and covered her with a quilt.

"I was afraid it was going to be him," she whispered. "Half of me wanted it to be John Devon, but I was afraid too."

"I know." He turned out the bathroom light, sat down beside her, and took both her hands in his. "But you wouldn’t give up, would you?"

"I couldn’t. You know I couldn’t."

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The slight tightening of his grasp was his only answer.

"Since it was John Devon, that means the monster might have been telling the truth. Fraser might not have killed Bonnie."

"He could still have been the one who killed her. Because Dom killed one of the children Fraser confessed to murdering doesn’t mean he killed all of them."

"But the chances are better now that Dom killed her."

"I don’t know, Eve," he said wearily. "I just don’t know."

"And he might still have her. That little girl could be my Bonnie. It wasn’t enough that he killed her; he’s keeping her like some kind of trophy."

“He’s keeping her as bait."

"I hate the idea of that monster with her. I hate it."

"Shh. Don’t think about it."

"And how am I supposed to stop?"

"Hell, how do I know? Just do it." He paused. "This is what he wants from you. Control.

Wouldn’t he love the idea of you lying here suffering because of something he’d done? Go to sleep and cheat the son of a bitch."

He was right, she was doing exactly what Dom wanted her to do. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart. I must be tired."

"Now, I wonder why?"

"I’m confused. It’s difficult not to— I wanted to bring her home but not like—”

“Face it after you’ve slept for a while."

"You have to call Spiro."

"It will wait. I’ll stay here until you go to sleep.”

“You haven’t slept either."

"How do you know? I doubt you were aware I was on the planet while you were working on that boy."

"That’s not true.”

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“Isn’t it?"

"I always know you’re there. It’s like—" It was hard to explain. "It’s like having an old oak tree in your garden. Even if you don’t pay attention to it, you never really forget it’s there."

"I believe I’ve been insulted. A tree? Are you trying to call me a knothead?" No, if he was like a tree, it was because he gave shelter and strength and endurance. "Smart man. I should have known I couldn’t fool you."

"And I’m not that old."

"Old enough." She was smiling, she realized. A moment before she had been in pain, but she felt better now. Joe always made it better. "I’m okay. You don’t have to stay with me."

"I’ll stick around. You’ve got to be hysterical if you’re calling me an oak tree. The only way you’ll get rid of me is by going to sleep."

She was already getting drowsy. It was safe to let everything go for now. Joe was there, holding back the darkness. "This reminds me of when we were on Cumberland Island after Fraser was executed. Remember? You held my hands like this and made me talk and talk…"

"Now I’m trying to shut you up. Go to sleep." She was silent a moment. "He’s beginning to scare me, Joe.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I didn’t think I’d be afraid. I was only angry at first, but he’s smart, and killing me isn’t his main priority. He has to make me feel… he has to hurt me. He needs it."

"Yes."

A sudden thought exploded through her. "Mom.”

“She’s under guard. I made sure he can’t touch her." Relief surged through her. "You did?"