Chapter TWO

Joe and Logan were polite during dinner, but Eve could sense the antagonism between them.

She hated it. She liked everything honest and clear. Watching them was like watching two icebergs drift toward each other and never knowing when they would collide because there was so much hidden beneath the surface.

She couldn't stand it. To hell with dessert.

She jumped to her feet. "Come on, Joe. Let's go for a walk."

"I'm not invited?" Logan murmured. "How rude, and we haven't finished dinner."

"I'm finished." Joe stood up and threw down his napkin. "And, no, you're not invited."

"Oh, well, I'd only be bored. I think I've guessed what you're going to say to Eve." He leaned back in his chair. "Go ahead. Do what you came to do. I'll talk to her when she gets back."

"You wouldn't be bored." Joe strode toward the door. "Hell, you're scared shitless."

Eve hurried after him into the hall. "Dammit, did you have to say that?"

"Yes." He smiled. "It had to come out. I've been too nice all evening. It was giving me indigestion."

"You're in his house."

"That gives me a bellyache too." He headed for the French doors. "Let's go walk on the beach."

She would be glad to get out of the house too. The tension was so thick, she couldn't breathe.

She kicked off her shoes as soon as they reached the terrace and watched Joe take off his shoes and socks and roll up his pant legs. It reminded her of the last time she'd seen him on his speedboat, bare-chested, khakis rolled up to his calves, laughing over his shoulder at Eve and Diane as he weaved the boat across the lake. "Do you still have the lake cottage?"

He nodded. "But I gave the Buckhead house to Diane as part of the settlement."

"Where do you live now?"

"An apartment near the precinct." He followed her down the path toward the beach. "It's fine. I'm not there much anyway."

"I can tell." Her feet sank into the cool, soft sand. This was better. The sound of the surf was calming, and being alone with Joe was soothing too. They knew each other so well, it was almost like being by herself. Well, not really. Joe never let her forget who and what he was. It was just that they . . . meshed. "You're not taking care of yourself. You look tired."

"It's been a rough week." He fell into step with her and walked in silence for a few moments. "Did your mother tell you about Talladega?"

"What?"

"I didn't think she would. It's all over the newspapers but she wouldn't want to tell you anything that might jar you away from here."

She stiffened. "What's happened?"

"Nine skeletons were found on the bluff near the falls. One of them is a little girl. Caucasian."

"How . . . little?"

"Seven or eight."

She drew a deep breath. "How long has she been buried?"

"The first estimate is between eight and twelve years." He paused. "It may not be Bonnie, Eve. The other skeletons are adults, and as far as we know, Fraser killed only children."

"As far as we know. He wouldn't tell us anything." Her voice was uneven. "The bastard only smiled and wouldn't tell us anything. He told us he buried her and then wouldn't tell us a damn--"

"Easy." Joe took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Take it easy, Eve."

"Don't tell me to take it easy. Bonnie might have been found and you expect me to be calm about it?"

"I don't want you to get your hopes up. The kid might be older. The time she was in the ground might be longer or shorter."

"It might be her."

"It's a possibility."

She closed her eyes. Bonnie.

"And it might not."

"I could bring her home," she whispered. "I could bring my baby home."

"Eve, you're not listening. It's far from a sure thing."

"I'm listening. I know that." But she was closer than she'd come all these years. It could be Bonnie. "Can we check dental records?"

He shook his head. "No teeth in any of the skulls."

"What?"

"We think the killer pulled the teeth to prevent identification."

She flinched. Smart move. Brutal but smart. Fraser had been smart. "There's still DNA. Could you get enough samples for tests?"

"We got some from the bone marrow. The lab's processing it. But you know the results could take a while."

"What about using the same private lab we used last time?"

"Teller's not doing DNA profiling any longer. He wasn't pleased with all the publicity his lab got on the job he did for us."

"Then how long?"

"Four weeks minimum."

"No. I'd go crazy. I have to know." She drew a deep breath. "Will they let me reconstruct her face?"

"Are you sure you want to?"

"Of course I want to." Seeing Bonnie's face come to life beneath her hands . . .