Haven't you sensed me standing behind you, looking over your shoulder as you work on the skull?

She restrained the impulse to turn her head. No one was staring at her back or over her shoulder. No one was behind her but Joe.

If she let Dom influence her by sparking her imagination, then it would be a victory for him. Close him out. Think of the little boy, not of the monster who had killed him.

Bring him home.

With slow, certain strokes she began to mold the child's face.

SHE WAS STRONGER than Dom had thought.

A surge of excitement tingled through him. She was going to stretch him, make him work for every ounce of emotion he drew from her.

It was no real surprise. He had been prepared for it. He welcomed it. It would force him to dig deep to find a way to jar her.

He already had an idea how to do it.

He started the car, backed out of the convenience store parking lot, and headed back to Atlanta.

Chapter FIVE

5:40 A.M.

Finished except for the eyes.

She reached for her eye case on the worktable.

Brown was the most prevalent eye color, and she almost always used brown eyes when reconstructing. She placed the glass eyeballs in the sockets and stepped back.

Is it you, John Devon? Did I do a good enough job to bring you home?

"Do you want the photo now?" Joe asked quietly.

She'd been vaguely aware that he'd been sitting on the couch all through the night, waiting. "Yes."

He stood up and opened the large envelope on the coffee table. He discarded one photo and carried the other to her. "I think this is the one you want."

She stared at the photo without touching it. He was wrong, she didn't want it.

Take it. Bring him home.

She reached out and took the photo. She should have put in blue eyes, she realized dully. Everything else was a match. "It's him. It's John Devon."

"Yes." He took the photo and tossed it on the workbench. "I'll call Spiro right after I get you to bed."

"I'll call him."

"Shut up." He was pulling her across the room and down the hall. "I said I'd do it. You've done your part."

Yes, she'd done her part. John Devon had been found and that meant--

"Stop thinking," Joe said roughly as he pushed her down on the bed. "I knew it would start eating at you the minute you finished. But, dammit, you've got to rest now." He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. He sat down beside her and began wiping the clay from her hands.

"I should take a shower."

"When you wake up." He tossed the washcloth on the nightstand, made her lie down, and covered her with a quilt.

"I was afraid it was going to be him," she whispered. "Half of me wanted it to be John Devon, but I was afraid too."

"I know." He turned out the bathroom light, sat down beside her, and took both her hands in his. "But you wouldn't give up, would you?"

"I couldn't. You know I couldn't."

The slight tightening of his grasp was his only answer.

"Since it was John Devon, that means that monster might have been telling the truth. Fraser might not have killed Bonnie."

"He could still have been the one who killed her. Because Dom killed one of the children Fraser confessed to murdering doesn't mean he killed all of them."

"But the chances are better now that Dom killed her."

"I don't know, Eve," he said wearily. "I just don't know."

"And he might still have her. That little girl could be my Bonnie. It wasn't enough that he killed her; he's keeping her like some kind of trophy."

"He's keeping her as bait."

"I hate the idea of that monster with her. I hate it."

"Shh. Don't think about it."

"And how am I supposed to stop?"

"Hell, how do I know? Just do it." He paused. "This is what he wants from you. Control. Wouldn't he love the idea of you lying here suffering because of something he'd done? Go to sleep and cheat the son of a bitch."

He was right, she was doing exactly what Dom wanted her to do. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart. I must be tired."

"Now, I wonder why?"

"I'm confused. It's difficult not to--I wanted to bring her home but not like--"

"Face it after you've slept for a while."

"You have to call Spiro."

"It will wait. I'll stay here until you go to sleep."

"You haven't slept either."

"How do you know? I doubt you were aware I was on the planet while you were working on that boy."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"I always know you're there. It's like--" It was hard to explain. "It's like having an old oak tree in your garden. Even if you don't pay attention to it, you never really forget it's there."