“I admit I didn’t want to be right about this one.” He shrugged. “But sometimes the bad guys win.”

“Not this time.” She placed another marker. “Now go away and let me work.”

“I’m on my way.” He paused. “You know, we could call Melton and tell him we think Marie’s and Pierre’s deaths may not be quite what they seem.”

“I thought of that. And then he’d assure me that I was mistaken and that the police reports were accurate.”

“Could be.”

“And I don’t need to deal with Melton right now.”

“I didn’t think so. It might interfere with Victor, and you won’t permit anything to do that. Is Rick feeding you?”

“When I let him.” She lifted a brow. “It seems my poison tester hasn’t been on the job.”

“Rick wouldn’t let anything happen to you. At least, not until you’ve finished Victor. I’ve never seen anyone more intent on making your work easy for you. And I’ll cook for you myself tonight.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It should be more than comforting. You should be breathless with anticipation.”

“I don’t have time.”

“Okay, forget about dwelling on my fine cuisine.” He turned to leave. “I’d like this job done quickly, too.”

He couldn’t be more anxious than she was, Eve thought as he left the room. Ever since she had seen Pierre’s body the night before last, she had been driven to finish the reconstruction.

Maybe even before that. There were so few truly good people; Bently might have been one of those rare individuals.

She placed another marker. “We’re getting there, Victor,” she murmured. “Galen thinks you might have been some kind of martyr, but I’ve got to be very careful not to pay any attention. You might have been just a soldier or a tramp or some other victim. It doesn’t matter. You deserve to be brought home, too…”

“No identification, Lieutenant.” Officer Krakow shrugged. “And we’re not going to get anyone to recognize him. The forensic boys say he’s been dead for at least four days, facedown in the water in that drainpipe.”

“Four days?” Joe’s gaze went down the hill to the forensic team gathered around the entrance of the drainage pipe.

“Could be longer. You know it’s hard to pin down when a corpse has been out in the weather. We’ll have to wait for the medical examiner.”

“What kind of clothes is he wearing?”

“Oxford cloth shirt. No tie, but nicely tailored pants. He appears to be very white-collar. He definitely wasn’t one of the homeless.” Krakow gazed at Joe curiously.

“This isn’t your case, is it, sir? You looking for someone in particular?”

“Maybe. Thanks, Krakow.” Joe started down the hill. He could see the sprawled body, and the size seemed right. Capel had been a big man with receding brown hair, but he couldn’t see the hair from here. White-collar described George Capel, and he’d have to see about the time frame. Conditions were everything as far as decomposition was concerned. He’d seen a woman taken out of the trunk of a car after only seven hours; he would have sworn she had been dead for days.

It didn’t have to be Capel. He hoped to God it wasn’t. If that body was George Capel, it brought this whole mess to a new and dangerous level.

“Hi, Lieutenant.” Sam Rowley glanced up as he approached. “Looks like we’ve got one for you.”

Joe looked down at the corpse. The hair was light brown, but he couldn’t tell if it was receding from that swollen, disfigured face.

“Homicide?”

“Appears to be a knife wound in the back. There are multiple wounds on the body, but it’s hard to determine if they were inflicted before or after death. He’s been out here awhile.”

“I need to know who he is. Fingerprints?”

“May be tough to match with the hands so swollen. Probably have to go for the teeth.”

“How soon?”

“The lab’s pretty backlogged. Two weeks, maybe.”

“I need to know now, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “Talk to the lab techs. You know I can’t help you.”

“I will.” Joe turned and strode back up the hill.

A knife wound in the back. Multiple other wounds.

The muscles of his stomach twisted as he got back in the car. Don’t panic yet. Get down to headquarters and pull strings to get that ID right away.

Christ, he hoped it wasn’t Capel.

“How far along are you?” Galen asked as he poured Eve’s coffee that evening.

“Have you gotten past the voodoo stage?”

“Tomorrow. I have to go very slowly to have an absolutely true foundation.” Eve lifted the cup to her lips. “That was a very good meal, Galen.”

“It was a magnificent meal. You’re too tired to appreciate me.”

“No, I’m not.” She studied him soberly. What an unusual man he was. Complex, smooth on the surface with depths that were definitely dark and enigmatic. Yet she’d never felt safer with any man except Joe. “You’ve been very kind to me, Galen.”

“Just doing my job.”

“No. Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you’ve given me whatever I needed.”

“That’s my business. I’m a provider.” He leaned back in his chair. “And you’ve been easy. I haven’t had to maul or dispatch anyone lately.” He was joking. Or was he? Maybe not. Those murky depths again… “I hope you won’t have to do it in the future either.” Her hand tightened on the cup. “Death is ugly.”

“Yes, it is. And no one should know better than you.”

“Not even you?”

He smiled. “Let’s say my experience is active and yours is passive.”

“Why did you take this bodyguard job, Galen? I got the impression that you played on a much bigger stage.”

“I like Louisiana. I even have a house near New Orleans.”

“You took the job because you liked the area? I don’t think so.”

“Okay, Logan is my friend and he asked me to do it as a favor. I move around too much to have many friends, so I try to keep the ones I have.” He paused. “And I guess I kind of liked the idea of being cast as a knight to protect a lady. Usually my jobs are much less noble. I’d only met you once, but I wasn’t fond of the idea of you jumping into trouble.”

She had certainly been in trouble the first time she met him in Arizona two years ago, Eve thought ruefully. Besides taking care of Sarah’s wounded wolf, Maggie, she had been trying to sort out her own problems with Jane. “Well, you were very good with Maggie. Sarah was impressed.”

“We had a lot in common.” He took a sip of coffee. “Quinn must have been really worried about this trip or he wouldn’t have called Logan. I got the impression they’re not the greatest mates in the world.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about Joe.” She finished her coffee and stood up. “And in a few days there won’t be anything for any of us to worry about. Let’s get these dishes done. I want to go upstairs and make my call to Jane before I go to bed. Do you want to wash or dry?“

“I’ll do them. I need to expend some excess energy. You go on and call your little girl. I checked out the upstairs when you were taking your shower. It’s secure. But don’t go out on the balcony.”

“You think someone’s going to shoot me?”

He shook his head. “It would be too obvious. Everything has been made to look like an accident or suicide so far. But it won’t hurt to be careful. Sometimes new elements pop up in these situations.”

“You talk as if this is just run-of-the-mill to you. I’m finding it a good deal more stressful.”

He started to stack the dishes. “It’s certainly interesting.” She looked at him and shook her head. Just when she thought she had made progress getting beyond that smooth exterior, he pulled it firmly back in place.

“Good night, Galen.”

“Good night. Pleasant dreams.”

Don’t go out on the balcony or you might get shot.

Don’t eat anything Galen didn’t cook or you might be poisoned.

Not the stuff of which pleasant dreams were made.

Jane looked up from the salad she was tossing when Joe walked in that evening.