“But Venable seldom operates on the surface,” Jane said.

Joe grimaced. “Almost never.” He paused. “There were two Muslim clerics who were killed in rather suspicious accidents in Istanbul. They were reputedly responsible for arranging for a suicide bomber to kill four U.S. Army border guards in Iraq.”

“A revenge killing.” Jane frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Venable. He wouldn’t let emotion rule. He’d have a reason before he’d turn loose a team that might spark an international incident.”

Joe nodded. “And there was also a story about the disappearance of a young student on her way from Istanbul to her parents’ home in Delhi. Take your pick.”

“That wouldn’t involve the CIA either.”

“Who the hell knows what he’d do?” Joe said. “But we’re going to find out. I’m tired of making guesses.” He checked his watch. “Time’s up. I’m going after him.” He turned to Caleb. “Stay with Jane. Don’t let her out—” His cell phone rang, and he stiffened as he read the ID. “Venable.”

He punched the volume and access. “Where the hell are you, Venable?”

“Not there obviously. I gather by your tone that you’re frustrated. You didn’t get very far with checking out Relling?”

“You knew I wouldn’t. No Doane. No Relling. You were very careful about erasing his records.”

“Yes, but sometimes there’s a slip,” Venable said. “I’m glad to know they did a good job.”

“So good I may break your neck if I find out that what you did made Eve a target.”

“I can understand that. I never meant it to happen, but I should have been more careful.” Venable added, “But you can tell me all that in person in a couple hours. I just called to let you know that I’m at General John Tarther’s house in Virginia to break the news to him about Doane, but I have a plane waiting, and I’ll be on my way back as soon as it’s done.”

“Tarther? Another hint to dangle? That won’t cut it.”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned his name if I hadn’t intended to take you into my confidence.”

“Everything, Venable.”

Venable paused, then finally said, “Everything.” He hung up.

“Who is Tarther?”

Jane turned to see Margaret standing at the bathroom door, fully dressed in jeans and shirt but her hair wrapped in a towel. Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity as she came forward. “General Tarther? I’ve never heard of him.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Jane said. “He was famous. But it was a long time ago. Iraq, Joe?”

Joe nodded as he hung up the phone. “And Afghanistan. He retired years ago.”

“What’s happening?” Margaret asked, removing the towel from her head. “I only got to hear the last few words. And why would this Tarther—”

“We don’t know,” Joe interrupted. “But it seems that we’re going to find out.”

“But am I going to find out? Are you going to let me help find Eve?” Margaret asked shrewdly.

“Why not?” Joe was suddenly smiling recklessly. “If you can prove you’re able to do it.” He took her arm and pulled her toward the door. “We have a couple hours before Venable gets here, and I don’t want to twiddle my thumbs waiting. Jane said that you have a talent that the rest of us don’t possess. Even if I believed her, I’m not sure that communing with forest creatures would be of any worth in tracking down Doane.”

“I’m not sure either. It’s never a certainty,” Margaret said. “Where are we going?”

“Into the woods. Dukes, one of Venable’s agents, had his throat cut about a mile from the lake. That’s all we know. The area was pristine clean. Forensics has been all over the area and not found anything yet. I want to know how he died and if Doane left any clues that we haven’t found.”

Jane shook her head as she followed them out on the porch. “Joe, how can she possibly tell you anything about a murder that took place while she wasn’t even in the country?”

He stared Margaret directly in the eye. “Can you?”

She was silent a moment. “Perhaps.”

His smile flashed tiger bright as he pulled her out of the house. “Then let’s go see, Margaret.”

CHAPTER

12

Rio Grande Forest, Colorado

“YOU’RE TAKING THOSE RED MARKERS out of his face,” Doane said approvingly as he leaned forward in his chair. “I’m glad. He looked like a demon, and Kevin is such a handsome boy.”

“He’s no boy. He’s a man.” Eve corrected herself as she checked the final depth measurements. “He was a man. I’d judge him to be late twenties when he died.”

“You’re trying to hurt me by reminding me he’s no longer with me.” Doane smiled gently. “You can’t do that when I know that you feel so deeply about your Bonnie. I’m sure you feel she’s still by your side.”

Bonnie sitting leaning against the rollaway bed and talking to her.

“Every now and then. Every parent who has lost a child clings to memories.”

“It’s more than memories. Maybe it’s that way with you, but it’s different with Kevin and me. Sometimes a soul is so strong, it fights free.” He tilted his head as he once more leaned back in his chair. “You’re working very slowly today. I thought it would go faster after you got those voodoo markers out of him.”

“I have to be careful. I start the sculpting process soon, and I have to have an accurate foundation on which to build.” And she was sick again, fighting the nausea. It was worse now than it had been before when she had thought it had been caused by breathing that gas.

It’s not the gas, it’s Kevin.

I’m beginning to believe you, baby.

She stared at the mass of clay that was the reconstruction and fought the nausea. No defined features, cavities where the eyes, nose, and lips would be, just bold swathes of clay. There should have been no hint of personality yet in this unfinished state. She seldom felt a connection with the victim until she began the final sculpting.

Dear God, but she was feeling a connection now. It was faint and dark and brimming with menace.

“I’d hate to think you were stalling,” Doane said. “Kevin wouldn’t like it. It’s important that you finish the reconstruction as soon as possible so that we can go on with what we have to do.”

“And what do you have to do?”

Doane didn’t answer.

“Kill me?”

“Do I look like a man who would kill a kind, worthwhile woman like you?”

“No, but I think that appearances don’t reflect the true picture where you’re concerned.” She paused. “Have you killed anyone before, Doane?”

“No.”

She waited a moment, then asked, “Has Kevin ever killed anyone? Was that why he was in court?”

Doane didn’t answer.

“You don’t want to tell me the truth? I’ll find out sometime. I’ll keep probing until I know everything about you and your precious Kevin. Why not tell me yourself?”

“It would poison you against Kevin. It might affect the reconstruction.”

“You haven’t researched me very thoroughly if you believe that. I don’t let anything interfere with the validity of my work.” She shrugged. “Who knows? It might make it come faster. Truth can be a great clarifier. Was Kevin in that court because he killed someone?”

He slowly nodded.

“Who?”

“No one important.”

She stared at him in shock. “Every human being is important. Every death diminishes us.”

“That’s trite nonsense.” He grimaced. “I used to believe that kind of bullshit before Kevin taught me the truth.”

“Kevin taught you? The father teaches the son.”

“No other man had a son like my Kevin. He was … extraordinary.” Doane’s face was luminous, his eyes glittering. “It took me a long while to understand that there are special people born in this world to rule and others to follow. If Kevin had lived, he would have been a leader, no, he would have been more. He would have been a god. He told me once that Hitler would have changed the world and been worshipped as he deserved if he’d been a little smarter.” He added simply, “Kevin was much smarter. He only needed a little more time before he would have been able to control himself and move up where he belonged.”