“You were gone a long time. You just searched her apartment?”

“Just? We did a magnificent job of searching her apartment and putting everything back exactly the way we found it.” He shrugged. “But when we found out that our Harriet was not what Venable thought she was, I took time to run out to the nearest mall and bought a few bugs to keep track of what she was up to.” He gazed at her inquiringly. “Okay?”

“More than okay. You both did everything right. I’m the one who screwed up,” Jane said bitterly. “If she lied about Kevin, she could have lied about Doane. Which means that she might know where he is now.”

“You didn’t let her know that Doane and Eve might still be alive?” Trevor asked.

“Of course not. I admit I felt a little sorry for her. She was faced with a terrible decision, and, in my opinion, she made the wrong one. But there’s no way I’d trust her enough to confide in her.” She added harshly, “Though it appeared that Kevin had no such problem.” Her hands clenched into fists. “She works with children every day of her life. How could she stand to hear what he did to them?”

“Just because she works with them doesn’t mean she holds them in particular affection,” Margaret said. “I’ve heard that some people can only care about one or two people in their entire lifetime. Maybe her one love was her child, Kevin.”

“Well, she married Doane, and they had a child. Evidently, they both loved Kevin above anything else in the world. If they shared that passion, then Doane must mean something to her. She has to know something about him.” She was trying to control her rage. “Let me out of this booth, Caleb.”

“I was waiting for that.” Caleb got to his feet and helped her out of the booth. “But, at least, I got my sandwich down.” He smiled down at her. “You’re going to go see Harriet Weber again?”

“You bet I am.” She looked at her watch. “It’s past time for school to be over. I’ll go to her apartment and talk to her.”

“I’ll go with you.” Margaret started to slide out of the booth.

“No. I’m going by myself.” She grabbed her bag. “This is between the two of us. She played me.”

“Let me go with you,” Trevor said quietly. “Anyone who would welcome letters that were that sick could be off-kilter herself. She could not only be a liar, but something much more dangerous.”

“Are you trying to protect me again? I can take care of myself, Trevor. Have you forgotten that I grew up on the streets until I was ten and that after Eve and Joe took me in, he taught me martial arts?”

“I haven’t forgotten. You’re tough. I just think that you lack the killer instinct. I don’t know if Harriet Weber does or not. Let me go with you.”

“Hell, no. I don’t want to be protected from that barracuda. If I don’t have the killer instinct, what I’m feeling is pretty damn close. I feel like an idiot. She had me feeling sorry for the poor mother who was forced to give up her child. I thought she was in agony. I was even fighting to understand how she could walk away without finding a way to safeguard those children who were threatened by Kevin.” She could feel the fury surge through her. “Understand? I could never understand her. She didn’t care about those victims. She was only worried that Kevin might get in trouble by killing them.” She started across the terminal toward the exit. “Well, she’s not going to play me again. I’ll find out why she lied and cram it down her throat. If she knows anything about Doane, she’s going to tell me.”

Starlite Motel

Casper, Wyoming

“WHAT DO YOU EXPECT TO FIND?” Zander asked as he threw open the door of the room Eve and Doane had formerly occupied. “We already know it was Eve who was here with Doane.”

“Eve is smart.” Catherine went into the room. “If you’d spent more time with her, you’d realize that, Zander. She left those clay bits on the bed as ID, but she’d try to tell us more than that.”

“Where she was going,” Zander said. “She’d find out from Doane where he was going to take her and try to let us know.” He gave Catherine a level glance. “And I didn’t have to spend much time with her to know that she’s clever. She fought Doane on his own terms up in those mountains, and she would have won if she hadn’t gone soft.”

She frowned. “Gone soft?”

He shrugged. “I was in somewhat of a quandary, and Eve decided that she had to distract Doane from me. I could have handled it. I told her I didn’t need her. She did it anyway.”

“And Doane recaptured her.” Catherine shook her head in wonder. She repeated, “Gone soft. Is that what you call it? Why, you son of a bitch.”

“Yes. I’ve never denied it. Just as I’ve never denied that I don’t think the same way that other people do.” He smiled. “Like you, Catherine. You have a great deal of trouble with my not being sentimental about Eve’s deplorable lack of instinct for self-preservation.”

“I may just test your self-preservation instinct,” she said through her teeth. “I wonder how you’d—” She stopped. “You’re laughing, dammit. Stop it.”

He nodded. “I’m just amused by how easily you’re aroused to anger in defense of Eve. She must be a very good friend to you. I admit that I yielded to temptation to see how you’d respond. It’s my eternal curiosity.”

“Screw your curiosity.” She stared at him. “And I don’t think you’re as detached as you’d like everyone to believe about Eve. I’ve been watching you today, and you’ve been … intense.”

“I’m on the hunt for Doane.”

She gazed at him for a long moment and slowly shook her head. “Have it your way. But there were moments when you might have had Doane, but it would have put Eve in danger. You’re not quite as ruthless as you pretend.”

“I never pretend.”

“Then you may be a split personality. I don’t have time to psychoanalyze you.” She headed for the bathroom. “I’ll check out the cabinets and the shower for anything Eve might have left. You search this room.”

“If I find something, do I get a prize?”

She gave him a glance and started looking through the lower cabinets. He was deliberately trying to annoy her. He didn’t like orders, and she was probably lucky that his response had been verbal.

Nothing in the cabinets.

She went into the shower.

Nothing written on walls or soap.

Not good.

Nothing on the washcloths.

“Catherine,” Zander called from the other room. “I won the prize.”

She ran out of the bathroom. “What did—” He was kneeling beside the table and peering underneath it. “What is it?”

“I noticed the surface of the table was faintly discolored and it would have been natural to use it as a worktable.” He had taken out a small penlight and was shining it underneath. “There’s a small piece of clay stuck to the underside of the table. Can you think of any reason why anyone would do that?”

“Only one.” She held her breath as he started to pry the clay from the table. “Be careful…”

“I’ll not answer that useless bit of—” He stopped. “Part of it is hanging loose. I have to take my time, or it will break in two when I take it down.”

“If you’ll move, I could try—”

“I’ve got it.”

“I meant my hands are smaller.”

“I didn’t think you meant I was inadequate to the task.” Zander’s fingers were moving with exquisite delicacy on the clay, working it away from the table. “I’m sure you’d never be so rude.” The next moment, he’d extracted the clay and brought it from beneath the table. “There we are. Now let’s see what we’ve got here…”

She opened the drapes to let more light into the room and hurried back to the table. “What is it?”

“Your extraordinary Eve,” he murmured. “Four letters…”

“The last two are a W and an A preceding a period. The second one is an e. The first one is…” She frowned. “What? It’s messed up.”

“The clay is ultrathin at that edge,” Zander said. “And it appears that she had to rework it. But the indentation should be clear.” His index finger moved along the indentation. “It’s difficult as hell…” He closed his eyes. “Give me a minute.”