His brows lifted. “You rattled that off. I’m surprised you haven’t memorized the address.”

“I have. I’ve memorized all of them. I’ll tell you when we’re closer.”

*   *   *

“THE HOUSES ARE ALL DIFFERENT styles,” Eve said. “Tudors, modern, cottage…” Her gaze wandered over the neat lush lawn and clipped bushes that surrounded Nita Teller’s home. “Small, medium, large … As home bases, they have very little in common. They’re just pleasant houses in suburban neighborhoods. I think we struck out.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Joe was staring thoughtfully at the house. “I can’t put my finger on it right now, but something may strike me later. What’s next?”

“Janey Bristol. She’s the last one in Atlanta. The others are from your list of outside the city. She’s about five miles from here, in Roswell. Do we have time before we go downtown to that shoe company?”

Joe nodded. “We got through these neighborhoods quickly. You had them organized very efficiently.”

She handed him the address. “I put her last. I guess I wasn’t very eager to imagine Janey where she was happiest. It hurts after last night.” She tilted her head. “You’re very thoughtful. You do think this was helpful?”

“As I said, sometime something sticks in your mind, then it comes together later.”

“You’re very good at this, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “Hell, yes.”

“And so modest.”

“I’ve never lacked an appreciation for my own worth. I see nothing wrong in confidence as long as it’s not misplaced.”

“Neither do I. It was the first thing I noticed about you,” she said quietly. “I wanted the FBI to send an older agent. Someone who had worlds of experience and could use it to find Bonnie. I was angry that instead they sent me a young man who acted as if he knew how to shape the world to suit himself. You were good-looking, tough, smart, and oozed assurance. I wanted to kick you.”

“I appreciate your restraint.”

“And then I saw something in you. And I thought that maybe it would be okay between us.”

“And it is.” He glanced at the address again. “The Bristol subdivision should be just ahead.”

She tensed. “Last night I kept thinking of that skeleton and the skull. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept thinking how I’d feel if that was all I had left of Bonnie.”

“And it tore you to pieces.”

“Yes, that goes without saying. But I wanted to help the Bristols. And there was nothing that I could do.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I almost feel as if we’re all a family who have been visited by some catastrophic disease and have to nurse each other through it.”

Joe turned into the subdivision. “I think you have enough on your plate without trying to cure all those other victims.”

“There is no cure except catching that monster. I believe we have to— What on earth!”

Joe muttered a curse as he stomped on the brakes. The street before the Bristol house was full of cars and media vans. Three ATLPD squad cars were in the driveway. “Son of a bitch, someone must have leaked the information about Janey Bristol to the media. We weren’t even supposed to have a dental confirmation until later today.”

“It looks like those reporters are on the family like locusts,” Eve said. “Can’t you keep them away from them? It nearly killed me to have to deal with them after I first lost Bonnie.”

“I can knock a couple of heads together and end up in court. I may do it. But you can’t interfere with the freedom of the press.” He stiffened as he saw someone get out of one of the squad cars. “There’s Slindak. What the hell is he doing here?” He rolled down the window. “Slindak!”

Slindak turned at his call and strode over to the car. “How did you hear about this mess, Quinn?”

“What are you talking about? Did someone leak the results on the Bristol dental records?”

Slindak shook his head. “We haven’t heard anything yet.” He glanced at Eve. “She shouldn’t be here. Those reporters are going to recognize her, and they’ll surround her like sharks. I’ll get someone to take her home. I need you inside, Quinn.”

He nodded as he jumped out of the car. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Ellen Bristol answered the phone this morning. It was a phone call from a man who claimed he was the one who killed her daughter. He told her that Janey was the victim that they found in the cave.” His lips tightened grimly. “And then he gave her details about exactly what he did to her child.”

“Oh, my God,” Eve whispered.

“She collapsed, and her husband grabbed the phone. But the man had hung up. Ellen Bristol is hysterical, and her husband isn’t much better.” Slindak muttered a curse as he heard an outcry from the reporters, who were running across the lawn toward them. “Get her out of that car and inside the house! They’ve recognized me.”

Joe was already around the car and jerking open Eve’s door. “Come on, move.”

Eve was out of the car and running toward the front door.

But she was too late. They’d recognized Eve as well. She was surrounded by reporters and photographers. Bulbs were flashing in her face. Questions were being hammered at her.

“What are you doing here, Ms. Duncan?”

“Did you receive a similar call?”

“Has your daughter’s body been found?”

“No comment.” Joe muscled his way through the mob and took her wrist and pulled her toward the front door. “She’s just here as a gesture of sympathy toward the Bristols. Now give her space, dammit.”

“Inside.” Slindak was throwing open the front door.

Joe pushed Eve over the threshold, then followed her and turned to the reporters. “You’ll get a story when we have one to give.” He slammed the door.

Eve was pressed against the wall of the foyer. She shuddered. “I felt as if they were going to devour me.”

“No wonder you were so wary of the media when I first came down here.” He turned to a tall, dark-haired officer who was standing attention just inside the living room. “Where is Mrs. Bristol?”

“Upstairs with the doctor and her husband, Agent Quinn.” The officer shook his head. “She’s in a bad way.”

“What a surprise.” Eve drew a ragged breath. “I’m surprised she’s not in the hospital. But what I want to know is how all those reporters knew about that call. Surely the Bristols didn’t phone them.”

“You’ll have to ask Detective Slindak.”

“I intend to do that,” Joe said. “Do you know when the Bristols received the call?”

“About nine forty this morning. We were called in about ten. The media started arriving about ten fifty-five. It was all happening pretty—”

“Shit.” Slindak barreled through the door and slammed it behind him. “I feel like a damned rock star. They were practically tearing me apart.” He looked at Eve. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I should be used to it. But I’m not.”

“I’ll have an officer drive you home as soon as I can.”

“No, you won’t,” Joe said. “They’ll follow and camp out. I’ll find someplace else for her.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Eve said impatiently. “What happened here? How did those reporters know that Ellen Bristol got that call?”

“They got calls themselves. At least CNN and the Atlanta Constitution received calls from the killer. The other stations were tipped off when they started moving.”

“What kind of calls?” Joe asked.

“Similar to the one Ellen Bristol received.” Slindak paused. “And they were told that Ellen Bristol had been phoned. I suppose just to make sure that she was roasted over the flames a little more.”

“How vindictive can you be?” Eve asked.

“Evidently there aren’t any bounds,” Joe said. “What was the content of the call? Are we sure it wasn’t just some weirdo wanting to take credit for the murder? He could have read the newspaper account the hunters had given.”

Slindak shook his head. “He knew other details. The placement of the body. The fact that one of her tennis shoes was thrown in the far corner.” He paused. “I think that he killed her, Joe.”