“Eve Duncan was kidnapped from her lake cottage home in north Atlanta several days ago. Because she’s one of the foremost forensic sculptors in the world, it was assumed at the time that the kidnapper might be one of the nuts or serial killers she’d targeted by her work.”

“But if Venable is involved, then that’s not why she was killed,” Catherine said grimly. “I’m surprised Eve let him pull her into a CIA mission.”

“She didn’t. James Doane had been in a safe house in Goldfork, Colorado, and slipped away from the agent guarding him. When Venable realized he was gone, he thought there might be a possibility of his heading toward Eve Duncan, but he couldn’t be sure that—”

“Why? Why would he go after Eve?”

“That’s not in the report. You’ll have to ask Venable.”

“You can bet I will. Venable fouled up and didn’t protect Eve. Is that the truth?”

“I’m sure there is an explanation. As I said, he wasn’t sure Eve Duncan would be a target.”

She drew a deep breath. “Let’s go down another path. Why was Jim Doane in that safe house? Was he a foreign agent? A witness?”

He shook his head. “He was the father of Kevin Relling, who was assassinated five years ago. His son was in Special Forces in the Army and turned very dirty. He was working with al-Qaeda in Pakistan and blocking the hunt for Bin Laden. He also indulged his penchant for raping and killing little girls in whatever city he found himself. He killed the five-year-old daughter of General Tarther in Marseilles because the general was trying to zero in on the al-Qaeda group.”

“Very dirty. Scum.”

“The general went crazy and eventually hired a hit man, Lee Zander, to find and go after Doane’s son. Zander killed him and hired a funeral director to cremate the remains. Doane arrived too late to grab anything but his son’s skull from the furnace.”

“Okay, then that would be a reason for his kidnapping Eve. Doane wanted Eve to do a reconstruction on the son’s skull. Right?”

“I understand that she was doing just that while she was his captive.”

“Then why would the crazy bastard kill her? She was smart. If that job was the ransom he wanted, she wouldn’t risk her life by refusing to do a reconstruction.”

“You’ll have to ask Venable,” he said again. “All I know is that Doane took her to a ghost town in the Rio Grande Forest in Colorado. We traced him to an abandoned saloon there. When our units, Quinn, and Jane MacGuire were closing in on him, he set off a charge that blew up the saloon and half the town.” He glanced at her. “You look— Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. It shouldn’t have happened. Someone should have stopped it. Venable should have stopped it.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I should have stopped it.”

“Venable said that you were on a very important mission and that you—”

“Screw Venable.” Her gaze shifted to the passing scene out the window. “Anything else? Are they sure she was in that damn saloon?”

“Yes. Everyone saw Doane take her into the place, and, a few minutes later, our infrared scopes confirmed two people inside. They were still on the scopes when the place blew.”

“DNA?”

“We’re working on it, but it may take a long while. There wasn’t much left. As I said, the blast practically leveled the town. She was in—”

“I don’t want the details. Not now.”

It appeared that Ling was not as tough as he had heard, Bradford thought. Or maybe she’s just human, like the rest of us. “I hear Eve Duncan was quite a woman. It’s a great loss. Everyone from senators to a dozen police chiefs are at that memorial service.”

“They don’t know how great a loss,” Catherine said. “They know the work, not the woman, not the friend.” She was silent for a while, forcing herself to read the file. Then she looked up, and asked, “How close are we?”

“Five minutes. The service was held outside by the lake at the cottage where she lived with Joe Quinn. He thought she’d like it to be at her home. Pretty place.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. “I know. That’s where I first met Eve. I stayed with her while she worked on a computer age progression on photos of my son.”

That was one of the stories about Ling, too. Her son had been held prisoner by a Russian criminal for nine years, and she had never ceased trying to find him. It was only after Eve Duncan had helped her that she had been able to locate him. “I’m sure you were very grateful.”

“Are you?” She looked at him. “You have no idea.”

He pulled his gaze away with some difficulty. Catherine Ling might be as lethal as a striking panther, but he was suddenly finding himself having visions of ladies in distress and knights in shining armor and himself somewhere in the mix. Crazy. It just went to show how right the stories were about the fascination she effortlessly exerted. “I know you’re upset. If I can help, just call me.” He almost bit his tongue. Venable would not like the idea of his moving into Ling’s camp when she was definitely at odds with him. “Though I’m sure Venable will straighten everything out.”

He swung into the grove that Quinn had designated as a parking area. “Here we are. I’d drive you closer, but there are people milling all over the place.” He quickly got out, ran around, and opened the door for her. “Everyone is around the cottage down toward the lake. Would you like me to go with you?”

“No.” She strode toward the cottage. “I’d advise you to stay clear. You wouldn’t like dodging the flak.”

He watched her disappear from view, then reluctantly turned away. Catherine Ling might be wrong. He found himself experiencing a strange blankness as if he’d been witnessing a fireworks display, and now there was only dark sky.

It might be worth dodging a little flak to see her in action.

*   *   *

CATHERINE SPOTTED VENABLE in the crowd two minutes after she turned the corner of the cottage.

He was wearing a dark suit and looked surprisingly formal. He was talking to a man in an NYPD uniform. Then he lifted his gaze and saw her at the edge of the crowd.

Wariness.

Then he lifted the wineglass in his hand and nodded.

Catherine drew a deep breath and tried to smother the anger. If she confronted Venable now, she would make a scene, and that was the last thing she wanted to do at this service honoring Eve. She’d deal with him later. She nodded curtly and turned to look for Joe Quinn.

He was standing talking to a tall, white-haired man she vaguely recognized as a congressman. Joe looked pale and unsmiling, but he could obviously still function. She started to make her way toward him.

He looked up and saw her. Then, with a word to the congressman, he left him and was walking quickly toward her. “Catherine.”

“Joe, I tried to call you.” She took a step closer. “I didn’t know. Believe me, I didn’t know anything, or I would have come to—”

“I saw that you’d called, but I couldn’t talk.” He took her elbow and was propelling her toward the corner of the house. “I’ve been surrounded all day.” He stopped as he reached an unoccupied stretch of lawn on the side of the cottage. He took a minute to look around and make sure there was no one near. “I can’t really talk now either, but you have to know, dammit.”

“What are you talking about? I do know. I just found out today in Miami. I can’t tell you how—”

“Listen.” His hands grasped her shoulders. “It’s not what you think.” His voice lowered. “Go into the cottage and talk to Kendra Michaels. I told her earlier that you were coming. I knew I couldn’t get away from this hullabaloo.”

“Joe, what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying that though you look terrific in black, you shouldn’t go into mourning.” He turned away. “I’ll see you later. Go talk to Kendra.”

She stared in shock as he walked away. For a moment, she couldn’t get her breath. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant.