“Montalvo?”

“Montalvo used to be an arms dealer in Colombia. I did a forensic reconstruction job for him, and in return he hired investigators to try to find leads to Bonnie’s killer.”

“It sounds like a devil’s bargain. Can you trust him?”

“Sometimes our association is a bit strained, but, yes, I can trust him.”

“Then by all means probe to your heart’s content.” She paused. “How is Joe?”

“How do you think? You’re the one who insisted on talking to—” She wasn’t being fair. Catherine had been trying to take away the burden from her. She was just so on edge about Joe’s reaction that sharpness had come out of nowhere. “And I’m grateful. But Joe didn’t particularly appreciate it.”

“I noticed. After I laid everything out for him, he got very quiet. It was clear I wasn’t wanted, so I made my exit.” She paused. “But I don’t believe he was quiet with you, was he?”

“That’s the way it started. It didn’t stay that way. Before it was over, he was on the phone with Venable getting his own update and making sure that he wasn’t being closed out.”

“Smart. Joe has great instincts.”

“I don’t want to close him out.”

“But you’re going to do it. It’s only a matter of time. He could see it coming, and so could I.”

She didn’t deny it. “I can’t risk Joe. Not this time. Not with John Gallo.”

“Because he was close to you, and you have some idea that closeness may have put all this madness into motion? That closeness is the very reason Joe will see that he’s involved. He’s taking this very personally. I knew he would.”

“Well, I’m taking this personally, too. How the hell could I help it? Bonnie’s my daughter, and John Gallo was my—”

“Lover?” Catherine asked softly.

“No, we weren’t lovers. That implies an emotion other than sexual. We were two kids whose hormones were so charged we couldn’t control them.”

“And that’s all?”

“He was a lot of firsts. He was my first sexual experience, the first who taught my body pleasure, the first for whom I was willing to postpone my ambitions and enjoy the moment.” She paused. “And the first and only man to give me a child.”

Catherine gave a low whistle. “That’s a pretty impressive list. Do me a favor and don’t go over that list with Joe.”

“But it all has one common denominator. Sex. I have so much more with Joe.”

“But he’s a guy. He may have a brilliant mind, but I’d bet sex is as important to him as it was to that kid, John Gallo. Particularly a possessive man like Joe, who is absolutely nuts about you. Those ‘firsts’ may blow him away.”

Eve wasn’t going to argue. Joe was mature and sophisticated on most planes, but their relationship had a potential for moving him toward much more basic responses. “Just find John Gallo. Maybe we’ll be able to get to him before Joe goes into high gear and tries to wrap it up himself.”

“As soon as I hear myself.” Catherine hung up the phone.

CHAPTER

9

“I NEED MORE INFORMATION about Paul Black,” Eve said as soon as Montalvo picked up the phone. “You said you’d try to find out more about him after we crossed the other two suspects off our list.”

“Ah, you’re back on the hunt? I was wondering how long you’d be able to resist temptation.”

“There was no question that I was resisting anything. I’ve just been busy.”

“And Joe Quinn had nothing to do with your hiatus?” His voice lowered silkily. “I’d never keep you from trying to find Bonnie. I’d be there by your side. I know what it is to lose someone.”

Yes, the skull that Eve had done the forensic reconstruction on had been Montalvo’s wife. That loss had been one of the things that had bound them together. “Joe isn’t keeping me from trying to find Bonnie. He always helps me.” She changed the subject. “When I got the initial reports, you told me that Paul Black was off the radar, and you didn’t know where he’d disappeared. What else do you know about him? Why was he on your list?”

“He was in jail in Atlanta on a DUI charge and told another inmate, Larry Shipman, he’d kidnapped and killed Bonnie Duncan. He was still drunk at the time, and when he sobered up, he told Shipman that if he told anyone, he’d cut his throat. Shipman wasn’t going to run a risk when he didn’t give a damn about anything but himself. Years later, when my investigators got hold of him, a nice amount of cash persuaded him he should care after all.”

“But was he telling the truth?”

“We won’t know until we find Black. Shipman believed him.”

“Did Shipman know anything else about Black? Can we go back and ask him questions?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why not?”

“Six months after Shipman talked to my investigators, he was sent to prison on a drug charge.”

“Then we’ll go to the prison.”

“And two months after he was locked up, he was found dead in the prison laundry. Presumably an inmate decided he didn’t like him. They never found out which one.” He paused. “Cut Shipman’s throat.”

“Cut his throat?” She made the connection. “Paul Black’s threat. But it had to be coincidence. That was years later.”

“But it was only a few months after he turned informer. A curious coincidence. It interested me when I heard about it, but you were looking in another direction. Besides, Paul Black was still not to be found no matter how hard we tried.”

The timing had probably been no more than coincidence. The idea that Black had been hovering over Shipman all those years waiting for him to break his silence was far-fetched … and totally chilling.

“What’s Paul Black’s background?”

“He was orphaned at three and grew up in Macon, Georgia, in a church orphanage. He got a construction job at seventeen and went to Athens, Georgia. He got in trouble almost immediately and spent time in jail for robbery. After he was paroled, he worked as a fry cook, then was arrested again when he almost killed another cook with a butcher knife. Paroled again two years later and disappeared for a while. Next appearance was in the county jail when he talked to Shipman.”

“Do we have a picture of him?”

“Yes, I’ll send you his mug shot when we hang up. Pretty ordinary-looking guy. Any other questions?”

“No idea where he is?”

“Not a clue.”

“Another question. Did you ever hear of him working with anyone?”

A silence. “And that’s an odd question. Did you?”

“I need an answer, Montalvo.”

“As far as I know, he was a lone wolf. Obviously, he couldn’t even get along with the people he worked with.”

“Was he ever in the service?”

“No.”

“And he disappeared right after he told Shipman he’d killed Bonnie.”

“That’s right.” He paused. “You’re very intense. How far along are you on this hunt, Eve?”

“Not far enough. Thanks, Montalvo.”

“I’m dismissed? But I don’t want to be dismissed. I’ll keep on looking for information about Black until I find enough that will make you want to take me along for the ride. It sounds as if there’s something intriguing in the wind.”

And Montalvo will do it, she thought. She’d be lucky if he didn’t show up on her doorstep anyway. Montalvo was completely unpredictable. “Good-bye, Montalvo.”

“Good-bye, Eve. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.

She was afraid he would be in touch. Again, if she moved fast enough, she might avoid Montalvo’s interference. She heard a ping and accessed the photo Montalvo had sent her.

The mug shot of Paul Black was not flattering. In the photo, he appeared to be in his late twenties, with dark, crew-cut hair and eyes that could be either brown or gray. His nose was long, and his mouth was wide and full. As Montalvo had said, very ordinary.

She put her phone away and stood for a moment looking out at the water.

Peaceful, soothing to the soul. She’d stay a moment, drink it in, and let it bring her that same peace. There was nothing serene about her own soul tonight. She was too lost in disturbing memories and intense worry about the future.