No, not really taken. Eve had not found Bonnie’s body until recently, but she had been aware that Bonnie’s spirit was still with her from about a year after Bonnie’s death. She had first been conscious of her in what she had thought were dreams but had gradually begun to believe the wonderful truth. Bonnie was being permitted to come back to her from that place beyond. The knowledge had kept Eve alive when she’d only wanted to die and join her Bonnie.

Where are you, Bonnie? My God, how I need you.

But Bonnie couldn’t come to her. She had managed to reach Eve only once since this nightmare had begun. That had been at the Colorado house to which Doane first brought her after he had kidnapped her. But then she had been in a deep-coma state, and Bonnie had told her that was the only reason she had been able to reach her, that Kevin was keeping her back.

Why was it so difficult for Eve to believe in a demon of supreme evil like Kevin trying to breach the border between life and death? She knew that her Bonnie had done it.

Because evil should be contained and destroyed, and goodness should live forever.

“I don’t mean to complain, Bonnie,” she whispered. “I know you’re doing your best. But I’d really like to just have you come once, so I know that you’re all right, and all of Doane’s poison are just lies.”

She straightened and opened her eyes. Just this tiny box of a bathroom. No endearing little figure in her Bugs Bunny T-shirt.

Of course not. So stop whining and go back and face Doane again.

No, she’d rest for just a little while before she had to go back to face Doane … and Kevin. She took a few minutes, then went to the sink and started to run the water.

The volume of the television in the other room was suddenly turned down.

She stiffened. Another telephone call? The walls in this fleabag of a motel were paper-thin. Twice before when she’d gone into the bathroom, she’d heard Doane talking on the phone. The first call had been barely audible, but she’d caught a name. Cartland. The second call had been to the same man, but she’d heard a little more. They were talking about a city, Seattle. The second in the chain, Doane had called it.

What chain? she thought with exasperation. And what did this Cartland have to do with Doane’s so-called master plan? Whatever it was must have been important to him. He was very careful about going out, or he would probably have made the calls outside the motel room.

What did she care about all of Doane’s crazy plans and telephone calls? Lord, she was tired of dealing with him.

She gazed at herself in the mirror over the sink. She looked as tired as she felt. And she looked … different.

Her face was thinner, the eyes sunk deeper, her lips more defined. She looked tougher, ready to face down the world. She had changed in these days with James Doane. She resented the fact that he’d had the power to carve out all the softness and left only the lean, sharp essence. But her greatest fear was that the hardness had scored deep beneath the surface. She desperately wanted to keep the humanity that made her what she was. She wouldn’t let him steal that from her.

And she wouldn’t give up fighting because of the exhaustion. The phone calls Doane was making were signs of need, signs of weakness. Things weren’t going entirely the way he’d planned. Find out the weakness. Find a way to strike out at it.

She moved quietly closer to the door. She’d missed most of the conversation but heard the last scrap.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Cartland. You’ll get the location when you give me the money and the manpower to do the job. When Zander is dead, you’ll have what you need. Of course I’m not bullshitting you. You know you can trust Kevin. Has he ever disappointed you?” He hung up.

The TV volume was turned up again.

Trust Kevin? Kevin was dead. What the hell could Kevin give to this Cartland?

Think about it. Listen. Watch.

She turned the water on full and splashed her face. She wiped it on the hand towel and turned and opened the door.

Doane was smiling at her. “You look much more refreshed. But you shouldn’t have run away. Did I disturb you by telling you Kevin’s plans for your Bonnie? It was true, you know. She may be dead, but she’s not safe. No one is safe from Kevin.”

She felt herself tense, and she wanted to run away again. Okay, try to distract him and get him away from verbally attacking Bonnie. “You didn’t make me run away. I’d just had enough of you. And turn off that damn TV. Do you think it hurts me to see all those people I love at the cottage mourning me? Well, you’re right. It does. It also makes me less able to work on Kevin. You said you wanted him ready by tomorrow.”

“I do.” He tilted his head. “But this is too enjoyable to miss entirely. I’ve been looking forward to this memorial service since it was announced on CNN. I can’t get enough of it. I’ve recorded it, and I’ll try to catch it on another cable station later.”

“It will probably not be shown. I’m surprised they’re giving it any airtime at all. I’m not that important, Doane.”

“You’re too modest. You notice that your mother didn’t show up for the service? But, then, she doesn’t care anything for you, does she?”

“She cares. In her own way.”

“And I don’t see Zander in the crowd.”

“Why should he be there? You say he’s my father, but I don’t accept it. He’s only a hired assassin who doesn’t care anything about me.”

“He cares. A father always cares about his child. That’s what this is all about. It would be dangerous for him to show up at your memorial service, but he’ll be mourning you in his own place and way.” He smiled. “And after you finish Kevin tomorrow, we’ll go join him.”

“It’s all a stupid—”

“Shh.” He help up his hand. “Now pay attention. They’re filming your Joe Quinn. He looks totally devastated, doesn’t he?”

Joe. Beloved. Friend. Protector. She studied his face. His expression was tense, the jaw clenched, his brown eyes glittering.

Devastated?

She stiffened. Careful. She tried to keep her own face expressionless as she gazed at Joe. She knew that face. She could read every expression, every hint of feeling.

Joe was not devastated at losing her. He was impatient. He wanted this media circus over.

Why? If he had set it up to honor her?

Then it sank home. She had been so numb in these last days, fighting to recover physically and mentally, that she had just accepted what Doane had said to her about the memorial service. Joe would never have thrown a huge media party like this because he would have known she’d hate it.

Which meant he had set it up for someone else. Doane?

Doane had been so certain that everyone had been fooled by his grand plan. He had been smug and completely obnoxious about it.

“And there’s Jane MacGuire,” Doane said. “She’s very beautiful, and it’s no wonder the cameras focus more on her than anyone else. Poor Jane, she has to be heartbroken that there was nothing she could do to save you.”

“Heartbroken,” Eve repeated, intently studying Jane’s face.

Jane had been more close friend than daughter to her since she’d adopted her when she was ten years old, but the love was strong between them. She knew exactly how Jane would react.

Jane was pale and unsmiling.

No agony. Only tension. And the same impatience Eve had seen in Joe’s face. They wanted this show over.

Eve felt the joy and hope surge through her.

Oh, Doane, you’ve underestimated them again.

They’ve found out about your little escape plan.

They know I’m alive.

*   *   *

“YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE,” Margaret whispered to Jane when she reached her. “Your nerves are shredded from all this crap. Why don’t you go up in the house with Kendra?”

That sounded wonderful to Jane. Peace. Quiet. No pretense. She reluctantly shook her head. “Kendra isn’t family. I am. I’m expected to be at this circus. I can do this.”