"Fraser," she whispered.
"Eight adults, one child," he reminded her. "Fraser confessed to killing twelve children. He never mentioned any adults, and he had nothing to lose after he was convicted."
"That doesn’t mean anything. Who the hell knows what he did? He would never tell us anything that might help the parents find those children. He wanted us to suffer. He wanted the whole world to suffer."
"It’s a longshot. You’ve got to be prepared to find out this is another killer.”
“I’m prepared. No clues?"
"The rib cages of three victims showed signs the deaths were probably caused by knife wounds.
We’re not sure about the others. But the killer might have left a signature. There was wax residue in the right hands of all the skeletons."
"Wax? What kind of wax?"
He shrugged. "They’re analyzing it."
"They should be done by now. Why are they moving so slowly?”
“Politics. The mayor doesn’t want another serial killer to make Atlanta look bad and Chief Maxwell doesn’t want to take the flak. The city’s already had Wayne Williams and Fraser. The chief would just as soon keep this case in Rabun County. Unfortunately, Rabun doesn’t have our facilities and she’s having to offer limited assistance. The FBI Behavioral Science Unit is also lending a hand. They’re already at Talladega to examine the site and the skeletons."
"Then how did you get permission for me to do the reconstruction?”
“Well, actually, I had to twist a few arms. The chiefs afraid there’ll be a media circus if they find out you’ve been brought in."
“God, I hope not." She had fled thousands of miles to escape the media, and now she was confronted with it again.
"We’ll keep them away. I’ve set up a lab for you at the lake house.”
“They’ll still find us. There are always leaks."
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He smiled. "I have a few ideas on how to circumvent them. Trust me." She couldn’t do anything else. She leaned back in the seat and tried to relax. It was going to be a long flight, and she had to rest to be ready for the work that lay ahead.
A child’s skull to bring to life.
Bonnie?
"Come on." Joe grabbed her arm after they’d cleared Customs. "We can’t go out in the waiting area. There’s a mob of reporters out there." He smiled at the red-coated customer service representative beside him. "Right, Don?"
"Enough to cause you a big problem. This way." He led them toward an emergency exit. "A skycap will bring the bags."
"Where are we going?" Eve asked as they went down a stairway. "Employees entrance leading outside the North Terminal," Joe answered. "I thought there would be a leak and called Don to help us." Don ushered them through a long hall and out into the street in front of the terminal.
"Thanks, Don.”
“No problem." Don waved over the skycap who had just come out the door. "I owed you a favor, Joe."
Eve watched Don disappear back into the terminal. "Okay, now that we’re away from— What are you doing?"
Joe was in the middle of the street. "Hailing your own personal cab." A gray Oldsmobile pulled to a stop beside them. A woman was at the wheel. "Mom?"
Sandra Duncan smiled. "I feel like an undercover agent or something. Were there reporters at Customs?"
"So I was told," Joe said as he and the skycap loaded the luggage into the trunk. "I thought there would be when I saw the newspaper this morning." Joe tipped the skycap. Eve jumped in the front seat and Joe got in the back. A few seconds later her mother was driving down the street toward the airport exit.
"Joe called you?" Eve asked.
"Somebody had to do it." Sandra grinned at her. "Since my own daughter didn’t see fit to let me know."
"I would have called you once we were settled."
"But now I have you to myself until we get to Joe’s place." She gave her an appraising glance.
"You look good. You may have put on a pound or two."
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"Maybe."
"And you have freckles.”
“That’s what Joe said."
"You should have worn your sunscreen.”
“Joe said that too."
"Joe has good sense."
"You look wonderful." It was true. Her mother looked young, chic, and glowing with health and vitality. "How’s Ron?"
"As good as can be expected." Her eyes were twinkling. "He says I exhaust him. I do lead him a pretty strenuous dance. But what the hell. Life’s too short not to enjoy it."
"How’s your job?"
“Fine."
"This is a weekday. Am I making you miss work?"
"Yep, but they were glad I didn’t come in. After the story in the paper this morning, they knew reporters would be all over the court-house if I showed up."
"I’m sorry, Mom."
"It doesn’t matter. I’m the best court reporter they have, and they know it. All this uproar will die down again just like it did the last time." She glanced over her shoulder at Joe. "I’m heading up north toward your cottage. Do you want to stop anywhere?"
Joe shook his head. "No, but I want you to drive around the city a little to make sure we’re not followed."
"Right." Sandra glanced at Eve, her expression sobering. "Joe says the chances aren’t good, Eve.
It may not be Bonnie."
"A lousy chance is better than none at all." She smiled. "And stop fretting, Mom. It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, I can handle it."
"You know I don’t approve of this. You’ve got to let her go before you tear yourself apart. I loved Bonnie too, but I had to come to terms with reality."
What Sandra had done was come to terms with her view of reality, and it was obviously bringing her happiness. Well, more power to her. Eve ignored the tiny flicker of envy and said, The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02
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"I’m not avoiding reality. I’m just trying to find my daughter and put her to rest."
Sandra sighed. "Okay, do what you have to do. Call me if I can help.”
“You know I will." Sandra was frowning, so Eve reached over and affectionately squeezed her arm. "It’s not going to be that bad. The reconstruction will take only a few days, and then I’ll know."
Sandra grimaced. "A few days can sometimes seem like a century."
Eve Duncan.
Dom studied her photograph in the newspaper. Curly red-brown hair framed a face that was more fascinating than pretty. Hazel eyes gazed at the world from behind round gold-rimmed glasses. He remembered seeing this picture in the paper last year and thinking how she had changed from that desperate woman at the Fraser trial. The older Eve Duncan looked stronger, more confident. A woman whose determination could move mountains and topple governments. And now she was turning that determination in his direction. Of course, she didn’t know it was his direction. She wanted only to find her child — which made her just as vulnerable as she had been all those years before.
He had actually considered her as a kill back then but had dismissed the idea almost immediately because of the notoriety of the Fraser trial. She had been too visible and there were enough satisfying, less risky kills.
But the satisfaction was waning.
He could correct that problem now, he thought with relief. Eve Duncan was strong enough to challenge and purge him. He would tread carefully with her, inject each moment with every possible drop of emotion, build slowly so the final explosion would be strong enough to clear away all the deadness and debris inside him.
He had a strong belief in fate and was beginning to think Eve Duncan had been put at this place and time just for him. It was lucky he had ignored temptation when she first passed through his life. Then she would have been only an ordinary kill, no more important than any other.
Now she could be his salvation.