MacDuff glanced at him. “You’re familiar with the term?”

“Yes, the Sang Noir wasn’t shy about talking about total extermination while I was with them. They were very proud of the concept. But it was a punishment levied only against special enemies. I heard they’d actually only used it once.”

“Who?”

“Juan Parillo, a police chief in Nardez, Venezuela. It’s a small city outside Caracas. He supposedly tortured and killed one of the Sang Noir group three years ago. They wanted to make an example of him.”

“And what did that mean?”

“They killed Parillo, his wife, his brother, and his three children. Then they systematically went down the list and murdered two of his officers and their families. They even took out his next-door neighbors because they were reputed to be his best friends.”

“Wiped from the face of the earth,” MacDuff repeated. “Everyone close to him…”

“I told you the Sang Noir was ugly,” Venable said. “And crazy as hell.”

“Celine Denarve,” Jock said. “She was Jane’s friend and coworker. A double reason for them to kill her if Jane had been targeted for a total.” He suddenly straightened. “But that wouldn’t be good enough for them. It would only be a token.” He looked at MacDuff. “Celine Denarve has a sister. She was supposed to meet with Jane today.”

“NO, YVETTE’S NOT HERE YET,” Jane said when MacDuff phoned her. “She called me at nine and said she was on the road.” She paused. “Why do you ask?”

“She was driving from Lyon?”

“Yes, I told her I’d meet her if she decided to take the train instead. She’s really too upset to be driving. I’ve been a little worried. She said she’d be here by eleven.”

“Do you have a number to call her back?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “What’s happening, MacDuff?”

“I hope nothing is happening. Call her back and make sure she’s okay. Get back to me.” He hung up.

Jane pressed the disconnect. She’d been a little worried, but now she was afraid. MacDuff didn’t cry wolf unless the wolf was leaping in for the kill. She quickly checked Yvette’s number and dialed.

Nothing.

She tried again.

Voice mail. Yvette’s voice, cheerful, casual. So different than the shock and near hysteria that had shaded her voice when Jane had talked to her.

She hung up and called MacDuff back. “I can’t get hold of Yvette. Now, dammit, tell me why you’re worried about her.”

“It appears that you’ve become a special case to the Sang Noir. Let me call Venable back and have him check on the logical route she would take and the car she should be driving. Jock and I will start looking for her.”

“What do you mean ‘special’-” She stopped. “Another one? You’re saying that Yvette may be another victim?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think we can take the chance. I don’t have time to go into it now with you. I’ve got to call Venable. I may be wrong. She may walk in the door of the gallery in the next five minutes.”

“If she doesn’t, I’m going with you.” She hung up. Dear God, it was too horrible to be true.

Let it not be true.

Please walk in that door, Yvette.

FORTY MINUTES LATER JOCK, MacDuff, and Jane were on the A6 leaving Paris.

“It’s a black 2005 Volvo,” Jock said as he hung up the phone from talking to Venable. “And Yvette Denarve stopped at a gas station on A6 and used her credit card over three hours ago.”

“I’m going to call her again,” Jane said. “Maybe she just had a flat tire. It’s possible.”

“Yes, it’s possible,” MacDuff said. “Look sharp, Jock. See if you see any sign of the car in trees or at the side of the road.”

“We don’t have any cliffs or sharp inclines around here,” Jock said. “Even if she had brake trouble, there wouldn’t be too much danger.”

He’s right, Jane thought. Level ground and plateaus. But it wasn’t the terrain they were concerned about.

A black Volvo.

MacDuff was driving slowly so that they could keep an eye out for the car.

Two miles.

Five.

Seven.

“There it is!” Jock pointed to a stand of trees up ahead. “But I don’t see anyone in the car.”

The black Volvo was a good hundred yards off the highway, Jane noticed. Not good. How could Yvette have driven that far into the woods if she’d had car trouble?

“I don’t like this.” MacDuff parked by the side of the highway. “Jock and I will scope it out. You stay here.”

But Jane was already out of the car and heading for the Volvo.

“Or not,” MacDuff said as he got out of the driver’s seat. “Have it your own way.”

“I will. It’s broad daylight and those pines are too thin for anyone to be hiding behind. I just hope that Yvette is in-” She had reached the car and saw that the entire driver’s side was smashed as if sideswiped. She felt a rush of panic. Her gaze flew to the interior of the Volvo. “No one’s in the car.”

“Then we’d better fan out and see if we can find any trace.” Jock glanced inside the car. “No blood. That’s good.”

“Yes.” She glanced around the area. Tall scraggy pines were scattered over the entire plateau. It was broad daylight but the trees were casting dark shadows. It was terrible to have to think that an absence of blood was a good thing. “I hope.”

“But the car wouldn’t have been pushed this far by a glancing hit.” Jock was heading toward the deeper woods. “It would have had to be driven.”

Jane didn’t want to hear her own thoughts put into words. She moved toward the trees to the left of the car, her gaze raking the shrubs, then the ground.

“Jock!”

It was MacDuff calling from the other side of the stand of trees.

She stopped. “MacDuff?”

“Stay where you are, Jane,” MacDuff said. “You don’t want to see this.”

She closed her eyes for an instant. No, she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want it to be true. Her lids flicked open. Face it. She started in the direction from where she’d heard MacDuff’s voice.

MacDuff’s and Jock’s backs were to her as she pushed through the shrubbery. They were looking down at a woman in black slacks and a green-striped blouse.

Dear God.

It was true and there was no running away from it.

“She’s dead?” Jane whispered.

Jock looked over his shoulder. “Oh, yes. It’s not pretty, Jane.”

“I told you not to come. Do you ever pay attention to what I ask?” MacDuff said.

“No.” She took a step closer, her gaze fixed on the body of the woman. “What did they-” She inhaled sharply. “My God.” Her stomach lurched. “What happened to her head?”

“We haven’t discovered that yet,” MacDuff said. “But it was taken off cleanly, probably by a blow with an axe.”

“Decapitated,” she said numbly. She couldn’t take her gaze from the headless woman.

Blood.

Jagged flesh, bone.

Lord, she felt sick.

“Seen enough?” MacDuff asked roughly. He stepped closer and spun her around to face the road. “Go back to the car. Lock the doors. We’ll keep an eye on you until you reach it. Jock and I will do a search of the woods to see if we can find her-” He stopped. “If you want to do something, call Venable and tell him to get his people out here. I’m not having you wait for the police.”

“We shouldn’t leave her like-”

“No,” MacDuff said. “You’re out of here.” He turned back to Jock. “Let’s do it.”

Jane hesitated, then slowly started toward the car. Just put one foot in front of the other and don’t look back. She had no desire to stay here with that headless corpse who had once been Yvette Denarve. Somehow, that act robbed death of all dignity. No one should be allowed to do that to a human being. Life had meaning. The end of life should also have meaning.

Then do all the things that would show respect and make Yvette’s death important.

She got in the car, locked the doors, then leaned back and closed her eyes.

Blood. Headless. Horror.

Her eyes flicked open again. Would she ever be able to close her eyes without seeing Yvette’s mutilated body?