Bosworth glanced down at the skeleton. This was the kind of thing Quinn faced on a daily basis.
Hell, he even went looking for it. Well, let him have it. Bosworth would be glad to get rid of the skeleton. It wasn’t fair for his people to be drawn into this nasty—
His walkie-talkie buzzed and he pressed the button. "Bosworth."
"Quinn!"
Joe looked over his shoulder at Bosworth at the top of the cliff. "What?”
“Come back up here. My deputy just radioed me that my men on the far ridge have found more bodies." He paused. "Well, skeletons."
Joe tensed. "How many?"
Bosworth’s plump face had paled in the early morning light, and he looked dazed. "Eight, so far.
He thinks one of them is a little kid."
They had found the Talladega bodies.
Dom turned off the television set and leaned back in his chair to consider the ramifications.
As far as he knew, this was the first time any of his kills had been discovered. He had always been very careful and methodical, always going the extra mile. In this case many extra miles.
Those had all been Atlanta kills and he had transported the bodies to what had been his favorite graveyard then.
Now they had been found, not through diligent search but by an accident of nature.
Or an act of God?
Any religious fanatic would say that God’s hand had uncovered those bodies to bring him to justice.
He smiled. Screw all those holier than thou fanatics. If there was a God, he looked forward to taking him on. It might be just the challenge he needed.
The Talladega skeletons were of little threat. By the time of those murders, he had learned enough not to leave a hint of evidence. If there had been any mistakes, the rain and mud had probably erased them.
He hadn’t been as careful in the early days. The thrill had been too intense, the fear so vivid.
He’d even picked his victims at random to make the kill more uncertain. He was long past such foolishness. But he’d been so methodical lately that the excitement was dwindling. If the The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02
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excitement went away, then so did his reason for living.
He quickly blocked the thought. He’d gone through this before. He just had to remember that the satisfaction came from the kill itself. Everything else was a plus. If he needed a challenge he’d choose someone harder, someone with ties, someone who was loved and would be missed.
As for the discovery at Talladega, he must look on it only as an interesting development, something to watch with amusement and curiosity as the law struggled to put together the pieces.
Who had been the kills at Talladega? He vaguely remembered a blond prostitute, a homeless black man, a teenager selling his body on the streets… and the little girl. Funny, but until that moment he’d completely forgotten about the little girl.
PATHOLOGY DEPARTMENT ATLANTA FIVE DAYS LATER "The child was seven or eight, female, and probably Caucasian." Ned Basil, the medical examiner, read from the report on his desk, which had come from Dr. Phil Comden, a forensic anthropologist at Georgia State. "That’s all we know, Quinn."
"How long had she been in the ground?"
"Uncertain. Possibly between eight and twelve years.”
“Then we have to find out more."
"Look, it’s not our problem. The skeletons were found in Rabun County. The chief stretched a point to even get a forensic anthropologist to examine these bones."
"I want you to recommend facial reconstruction."
Basil had known that was coming. The moment they’d brought in the kid’s skeleton, it was a given. "It’s not our problem."
"I’m making it our problem. Nine bodies were found in Talladega. I’m asking for reconstruction on only one."
"Look, Chief Maxwell doesn’t want to be drawn into this mess. She’d only turn me down. She allowed you to bring the child’s body here because she knew that all the missing-children groups would be on her ass if she didn’t make the token effort."
"I need more than a token effort. I need to know who this child is.”
“Didn’t you hear me? It’s not going to happen. Why don’t you give up?”
“I need to know who she is."
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Jesus, Quinn was relentless. Basil had run into him a few times before, and the detective had always interested him. On the surface he appeared quiet, easy, almost lazy, but Basil had always been aware of his razor-sharp intelligence and alertness. He’d heard somewhere that Quinn was an ex-SEAL, and he could believe it. "No recommendation, Quinn."
"Change your mind." He shook his head.
"Have you ever done anything wrong, Basil?" Quinn asked softly. "Something you wouldn’t want anyone to know?"
"What are you getting at?"
"If you have, I’ll dig until I find it.”
“Are you threatening me?"
"Yes. I’d offer you money, but I don’t think you’d take it. You’re pretty honest… as far as I know.
But everyone has something to hide. I’ll find it and I’ll use it."
"You son of a bitch."
"Just make the recommendation, Basil.”
“I haven’t done anything that—
"Lied on your income tax? Let an important report slide by because you were overworked?"
Dammit, everyone lied on their income tax form. But municipal employees could be booted out on their ass for that. How could Quinn find out about— He’d find out. Basil’s lips tightened. "I suppose you want me to recommend the forensic sculptor too?"
"Yes."
"Eve Duncan.”
“You bet."
"There’s no betting about it. Everyone in the department knows it’s her kid you’ve been looking for all these years. The chief won’t go for that either. Duncan’s too high profile after that political cover-up case she worked on. Reporters would be climbing all over the place if she was brought in."
"It’s been over a year. That makes Eve old news. I’d work it out.”
“Isn’t she somewhere in the South Pacific now?"
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"She’d come back."
Basil knew Eve Duncan would come back. Everyone at the Atlanta PD was familiar with her story. A young girl who had borne an illegitimate child and then fought her way out of the slums against enormous odds. She was nearly finished with college and was on her way to a decent life, when she had been struck by the cruelest blow. Her daughter, Bonnie, had been murdered by a serial killer and her body had never been found. Fraser, her killer, had been executed without revealing the location of any of the bodies of the twelve children he confessed to killing. Since that time she had dedicated herself to finding other lost children, alive and dead.
She had gone back to school, gotten a degree in fine arts from Georgia State, and become a top forensic sculptor. She had qualified in age progression and superimposition, earning a superior reputation in both as well.
"Why are you hesitating?" Quinn asked. "You know damn well she’s the best." Basil couldn’t deny that. She had helped the department out on many occasions.
"She carries a hell of a lot of baggage. The media will go — "
"I said I’d take care of it. Recommend her."
"I’ll think about it."
Quinn shook his head. "Now."
"The department won’t pay to fly her back.”
“I’ll do it. Just put through the recommendation.”
“You’re pushing, Quinn."
"It’s one of my finest talents." His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. "But you won’t even feel the bruise."
He wasn’t so sure. "It’s a waste of my time. Chief Maxwell will never go for it.”
“She’ll go for it. I’ll tell her that I’ll release your recommendation to the press if she doesn’t. It will be a question of letting Eve work on the skull in privacy or have the media asking the chief why she’s not doing everything possible to solve the little girl’s murder."