“No way. He said his mum named him that because he was destined to be a great explorer. Actually, he fit right in with some of the weirdos who inhabit the French Quarter. He wore thirteenth-century garb whenever he was at home, and he had a particular fondness for Chinese prostitutes. I don’t think that was the kind of Oriental exploration his mum had in mind, but who am I— Shit!” He jerked her to one side and stepped in front of her. “Who the hell are you?”

“Quinn.” Joe stepped out of the shadows next to the front door. “As Eve’ll tell you, if you’ll get away from her.”

Eve stared at him in shock. “Joe?”

“You remember my name? I guess I should be grateful.”

“You shouldn’t have come. I don’t want you here.”

“You’ve made that clear. Tough. I’m here and I’m staying.”

“Where’s Jane?”

“She’s fine. She’s with your mother. Sandra’s husband and little Mike are in Oregon on a fishing trip. The kid’s real mother was jailed again for drugs and they thought he should get away for awhile. Your mother was glad to have the company.“ Shock was being replaced by anger. “I told you when I left I didn’t want you to come with me. Go back to Atlanta, Joe.”

“Sorry.” He turned to Galen. “What’s been going on here?”

“None of your business,” Eve said. “Go home.”

Joe whirled on her and his words spat out like bullets. “You listen to me. I’m not going to barge in on your cozy little establishment here. I know you wouldn’t have me in the same house. But I’m staying. You can’t stop me. Now I’m coming in and I’m going to tell you a few things, and then either you or Galen is going to fill me in on what’s been happening here.”

“I think we’d better invite him in, Eve,” Galen said as he unlocked the door. “I do hate scenes in public.”

“He’s leaving. There’s not going to be a scene.”

“Yes, there is. At this point I’m ready to burn down the whole damn parish if I don’t get my way.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Galen said. “I’ve just been telling Eve what a fine little metropolis this is.”

“Oh, was that what you were telling her?” Joe murmured. “I would have guessed something entirely different.”

“Uh-oh. Is that the way the wind’s blowing?” Galen flung open the door. “Come in, Quinn. I can see this is going to be an interesting chat.” His gaze shifted to Eve.

“Give him twenty minutes, Eve. He obviously has something we might need to hear.

From what I’ve heard about him, he’s not stupid enough to have come all this way without a reason.”

“I don’t want to—” She might as well get it over. She knew that expression on Joe’s face. He wasn’t budging. “Twenty minutes.” She passed Joe and went into the house.

“I'll be right back.“ Galen was running up the stairs. ”I have to check the upstairs.

If you want to make yourself useful, you might check the downstairs, Quinn.“

“You trust me to do that?” Joe asked sarcastically. “Your faith is—” But Galen was out of hearing. Joe turned and went toward the first door on the left. “Is this the kitchen?”

“Dining room. Kitchen adjoins it.”

Joe opened the door. “Stay here.”

“The hell I will.” Eve followed him through the dining room into the kitchen, and watched him while he checked the two pantries, under the table in the kitchen, and the dining room. “It’s not fair for you to do this. I’m not ready to see you, Joe.”

“Will you ever be ready?” He went past her into the hall. “Is that a parlor?” She nodded and watched as he checked the room out.

“Okay?” Galen was coming down the stairs. “Now that we have that out of the way, I don’t suppose you’d like a glass of wine or a cup of coffee? No, I didn’t think so.” He came into the parlor and sat down on the velvet couch. “You’ll excuse me for sitting down before you, Eve, but I can tell by your stance that you’re in no mood for relaxing.” He turned to Joe. “She’s bristling. I believe you’d better hurry a bit.”

“I don’t need your advice. I know Eve better than you’ll ever know her.” His gaze never left Eve’s face. “Don’t I?”

“Do you? I thought I knew you.”

“You do. You just don’t want to accept what you know, what you’ve always known.” He shook his head. “I can’t get through to you. Screw it. It doesn’t make any difference right now. I have to tell you about Capel.”

“Who’s Capel?”

“George Capel. He’s the doctor I bribed to send you that positive DNA report and bury the real one.”

“And the man who sent me the real report.”

“It wasn’t Capel. It didn’t compute that he would do that without trying to get more money out of me first… unless someone paid him an enormous amount of cash. So I started digging. Capel hadn’t shown up for work in a couple days, so I assumed he’d flown the coop.” Joe’s lips tightened. “He knew I’d be looking for him.

But someone had to have suspected something to have gotten to Capel. I went to the DNA lab and asked questions. I went through a dozen administrative clerks before I found one who remembered a police officer from Forsythe County who’d asked to check Bonnie’s records. The clerk was pretty upset because she couldn’t find them.

The police officer asked who would have been in charge of the case, and she told him George Capel and asked if he’d like to see him. He told her he’d come back when he had more time. Two neighbors saw a small, dark man with Capel later that day. They went to his house and then left again. A man of the same description accompanied Capel to the bank the same day. The bank teller who let him into the vault commented that he looked sick. He told her he had the flu. My guess is that the man who was at the DNA lab suspected some shenanigans when there was no record to be found and decided to check out Capel. He struck pay dirt. Capel was fairly transparent, and wouldn’t have been difficult to break for anyone determined enough. He was probably forced to go to his house so the guy could search it. No DNA record. Then it got serious. I believe a good deal of time was spent persuading Capel to reveal where he’d placed the record. Then they went to the bank and got it.

It was no wonder he looked sick. He was probably in severe pain.”

“All this because of Bonnie’s DNA record?” Eve asked skeptically. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Does the fact that we found Capel’s body two days ago convince you?” Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Murdered?” Galen asked.

Joe nodded. “Knife wound from the back. Several other cuts on his body.”

“The means of persuasion,” Galen murmured.

“That’s what I figure.”

Eve dazedly shook her head. “Why?”

“You,” Joe said. “Why did you come here? What drove you?”

“You know why I came.”

“Hell, yes, I know. It was very well orchestrated. The defacement of the grave to send the first shock wave. Then the arrival of the DNA report. A one-two punch that sent you running as far away from me as possible. And wasn’t it convenient that you had a job beckoning here?”

“You’re saying that man was murdered to get me here?”

“Do you want more proof? The shoe prints at the hill were made by shoes from a company with heavy distribution in this state. They led to tracks made by tires that are standard issue on the Saturn. I had a composite sketch drawn of the man who went with Capel to his house and the bank. I had the bank security videos checked, but he was too smart and was looking away from the camera. But both the neighbors and the bank clerk agreed on the face in the sketch, so I played a hunch and took it to the rental car agencies at the airport. Bingo. Avis rented a Saturn to a Karl Stolz from Shreveport, Louisiana. He paid by credit card and was very pleasant to the clerk. He returned the car and boarded a plane for Baton Rouge the day you told Melton you’d take the job.“

“You’ve done a good job of putting it together,” Galen said. “I suppose you traced the credit card.”

“Billed to the real Karl Stolz at an address in Shreveport. A case of stolen identity.