Smother the panic. It would be all right. He had always known this day would come, and the problem was not unsolvable. He just had to find a way to bring freshness and challenge back to the kill.
Debby Jordan was not a portent of the ultimate boredom and deadness he feared most. It didn’t matter that he had hurt her.
Dammit, she had hurt him.
Eve gazed out at the surf gently rushing against the shore. She’d run out to the beach after she’d spoken to Logan hours ago, and she’d been sitting there ever since, trying to regain her composure.
There was already so much pain inflicted by strangers in this world; why did she have to hurt someone she cared about?
"You told him?"
She turned her head to see Joe standing a few yards away. "Yes.” The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02
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“What did he say?"
"Not much. Not after I told him it might be Bonnie." She smiled sadly. "He said you’d played the one card he couldn’t top."
"He’s right." He sat down beside her. "Bonnie’s always the indisputable factor in all our lives."
"Only in mine. You never knew her, Joe."
"I know her. You’ve told me so much about her that I feel as if she’s my child.”
“She loved life so much. Every morning she’d come and jump on my bed and ask me what we were going to do, what we were going to see that day. She radiated love. I grew up choking on bitterness and poverty and I used to wonder why I was given a child like Bonnie. I didn’t deserve her."
"You deserved her."
"After she came I tried to deserve her." She forced a smile. "I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t burden you with this."
"It’s no burden."
"Sure it is. It should be only my albatross."
"Not possible. When you’re hurting, everyone around you feels it." He picked up a handful of sand and let it slowly sift through his fingers. "Bonnie’s still here. For all of us."
"You, Joe?"
"Sure, could it be any different? You and I have been together for a long time." Since that nightmare time after Bonnie had disappeared. He had been an agent with the FBI then, younger, less cynical, capable of being shocked and horrified. He had tried to comfort her, but there had been no comfort in the world during that hideous period. Yet he had somehow managed to pull her back single-handedly from a nearly fatal depression until she could function on her own. She grimaced. "I don’t know why you stick around. I’m a lousy friend. I never think about anything but my work. I’m selfish as hell or I would have known you and Diane were having trouble. Why do you put up with me?"
"I wonder sometimes." He tilted his head, as if considering. "I suppose I’m used to you. It’s too much trouble to make new friends, so I guess I’ll have to keep you.”
“Thank God." She drew up her knees and linked her arms around them. "I hurt him, Joe."
"Logan’s tough. He’ll get over it. He knew you weren’t going to be a sure thing when he lured you here."
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"He didn’t lure me here. He was trying to help."
Joe shrugged. "Maybe." He stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, I’ll walk you back to the house. You’ve been out here long enough."
"How do you know?"
"I saw you run out. I’ve been waiting on the terrace.”
“All this time?"
He smiled. "I didn’t have any other pressing engagements. I figured you needed the time alone, but now you should go to bed."
He had stood there in the darkness, silent, strong, waiting patiently until he could help her. She suddenly felt stronger herself, more optimistic. "I’m not going back to the house but you can walk me back to the lab. I have some work to do and then I have to pack."
"Do you need help?"
She shook her head. "I can manage." She headed toward the small house a hundred yards away. "I’ve just been putting it off."
"Second thoughts?"
"You know better." She opened the door of the lab and turned on the light. "But sad thoughts.
Regretful thoughts." She moved toward the computer on the desk. "Go away. I have to finish this age progression. It’s been a long time for Libby’s mother.
She’s almost given up hope."
“Nice place." Joe’s gaze was wandering around the room, from the beige couch heaped with orange and gold pillows to the framed pictures on the bookcase. "You’ve made it yours.
Where’s the sculpture you’ve been working on?" She nodded at the pedestal beside the large picture window. "Your bust is a work in progress. But there’s a finished one of Mom in the armoire beside the door."
"My bust?" He stared at it. "Good God, it is me."
"Don’t be flattered. I didn’t have any models, and I know your face almost as well as I do my own."
"Jesus, I can see you do." He touched the bridge of the nose. "I never realized anyone noticed that little bump. I broke it playing football."
"You should have had it taken care of at the time."
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He grinned. "But then I would have been too perfect." He paused. "I’d have thought you’d do one of Bonnie."
"I tried. I couldn’t do it. I just found myself staring at the clay." She adjusted her glasses and brought up the picture of Libby on the monitor. "Maybe later."
"But you think you can reconstruct the little girl’s skull?"
He was being very careful not to refer to it as Bonnie’s skull, she noticed. "I have to do it. I can do whatever I have to do. Go away, Joe. I have to work now."
He strolled toward the door. "Try to get some sleep."
"After I finish the progression." She pulled up the photographs of Libby’s mother and maternal grandmother. Study them. Don’t think about Bonnie. Don’t think about Logan. Libby deserved her entire attention. She had to age the eight-year-old girl to fifteen. It wasn’t going to be easy.
Block everything else out.
Don’t think about Bonnie.
"Too bad you don’t have time to finish Joe," Bonnie said.
Eve turned over on the couch and saw Bonnie standing staring up at Joe’s bust. She looked as she always did when she came to Eve: blue jeans, T-shirt, red hair a riot of curls. But she appeared smaller than usual next to the pedestal.
"I have more important work to do now."
Bonnie wrinkled her nose as she glanced at Eve over her shoulder. " Yeah, you think you’ve found me. I keep telling you I’m not there anymore. It’s just a bunch of bones."
"Your bones?"
"How do I know? I don’t remember any of that any more. You wouldn’t want me to remember."
"God, no." She paused. "But I think you know where he buried you. Why won’t you tell me? I just want to bring you home."
"Because I want you to forget the way I died." Bonnie moved over to the window and gazed out at the sea. "I want you to remember me only when I was with you and how I am now."
"A dream."
"A ghost," Bonnie corrected. "Someday I’m going to convince you.”
“And then they’ll lock me up in the nut house."
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Bonnie giggled. "No way. Joe wouldn’t let them."
Eve smiled and nodded. "He’d cause a ruckus. I’d rather avoid the entire scenario if you don’t mind."
"I don’t mind. It’s probably better that you don’t tell anyone about me." She tilted her head.
"It’s kinda nice having these times all to ourselves. Like a very special secret. Remember the secrets we used to have? The time we surprised Grandma on her birthday with that trip to Callaway Gardens. We made her get in the car and then we took off. The flowers were so pretty that spring. Have you gone there since?"
Bonnie running around Callaway Gardens, her face alight with joy and excitement… "No."