“See, I told you that you didn’t know anything. If you were Jenny, you’d know. Go away.”

“So you can toss my skull into that fire? I can’t let you do that.” She took at few steps closer. “I haven’t decided what I’m meant to do with you, but I won’t let you destroy Eve’s work.”

“Let me? What can you do about it?”

“Try it.” She took a step closer, her eyes glaring into his own. “You can’t let it go. You remember when I bit your hand? I didn’t. Not until it all came rushing back to you, then I remembered. There are all kinds of things I don’t remember yet. But I think it will all come back to me. Except the pain. I may not ever remember that entirely. But I can make you remember your pain. Your hand will start to hurt just as it did that night, only the pain won’t go away until you take the skull back to the car.”

“I will drop it.” He started to release the skull into the flames.

Pain!

He screamed.

He backed away from the fire.

The pain lessened but didn’t go away.

“No, Walsh, I won’t let you destroy me all over again.”

Green eyes staring at him, golden skin gleaming in the firelight, lips tight.

He was cursing. “It’s not you. You’re not real. I’ll get over this; and then I’ll burn this skull. Then I’ll find wherever they’ve put your skeleton and burn every bit of you until you’re ashes.” His hands were shaking as he shoved the skull back in the FedEx box. “And then I’ll throw them into the ocean for the fish to eat.”

“You won’t get over it. Every time you try to burn this reconstruction, I’ll be there. It will get worse and worse.” Her voice followed him. “And maybe by that time, I’ll find out what I have to do with you. How you have to be punished…”

“You’re not real.” He didn’t look over his shoulder as he jumped into the car and threw the box with the reconstruction on the floor of the backseat. But he couldn’t resist one last glance after he started the car and pressed the accelerator.

She was still standing there by the fire.

Her dark hair shining in the firelight, her eyes staring at him with that fearless boldness that made him want to kill her all over again.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

But his hand still throbbed and hurt the way it had when she’d bitten him.

He had to get away from her.

His foot stomped on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. He wanted to throw the damn reconstruction out the window, but he couldn’t do it. Too dangerous. It mustn’t ever be found.

Get rid of it later.

Get away.

He’d show her.

But maybe not tonight.

*   *   *

“At last,” Eve said impatiently, as Nalchek finally picked up her call four hours later. She hadn’t been able to get past Nalchek’s voice mail until now, when she was on her way to the airport. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Sorry. I was in a town meeting trying to soothe down a bunch of very nervous citizens. In this town, everyone knows everyone else, and Ron Carstairs’s death sent everybody into a tailspin.”

“I can see how it would. First, you find a murdered little girl, then a deputy is killed. Any developments?”

“No,” he said tersely. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to tell you that Joe and I are going to be on our way out to Sonderville today.”

Silence. “Why?” he asked warily. “You can’t do anything that I can’t.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself since I started the reconstruction. It’s not working for me any longer.”

“It’s true. You did your job, and it’s not your fault that you lost that reconstruction.”

“Well, then why does it feel like my fault?” she asked fiercely. “I should have been able to do something. I shouldn’t have just waved good-bye to that FedEx truck and thought everything would work out. I was uneasy when I did it, and I should have paid attention to instinct.”

“And I’m paying attention to instinct, and everyone in town thinks I’m nuts,” he said dryly. “I know my job, Ms. Duncan. I don’t need you wandering around my town and searching for that bastard who killed Ron. You stay where you are and let me do it.”

“Too late. I’m on the way to the airport.” She paused. “You’re afraid I’ll get in your way.”

“You’re damn right.”

“I won’t do that. I’ll be careful not to step on your toes. I’m bringing Joe Quinn, and he has a tendency to take over, but I won’t let that happen. However, you must have some knowledge of Joe’s capabilities. He’d be an asset to you.”

“I don’t need a big-city detective to barge in—” He stopped. “I sound like a belligerent ass. I guess I’m being defensive.” He was silent. “Yeah, he’d be an asset as long as he doesn’t try to pull rank.”

“It’s your town, Sheriff. And you might find I could be an asset, too.”

A very skeptical silence. “Not without a skull to re-create that little girl’s face.”

“That’s still a possibility. We don’t know that the killer destroyed the reconstruction.”

“If he took it, he destroyed it,” he said flatly. “Nothing else makes sense.”

“Killers aren’t always sensible or logical.” She added bluntly, “And we need to work together if we’re going to blow him out of the water. I have a couple things to ask you about Jenny’s body.”

“Her body?”

“I saw the wound on her temple; did she have any other wounds or signs of torture?”

“Why do you ask?”

“What does it matter? Is there any reason why her hands would hurt?”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes. The bones on the fingers of her right hand were all broken. The pathologist said that they’d been bent back until they snapped.”

Dear God, poor Jenny. Eve felt sick. “Bastard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He paused. “How did you know?”

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have had to ask.” She wasn’t about to tell him about that moment when Jenny had told her about the pain to her hand. He might believe in instinct, but that was entirely different from embracing the concept of ghosts. “Maybe you have a leak.”

“And maybe I don’t.”

She changed the subject. “You said you’ve spent a lot time looking for any clues in those woods where Jenny was found. Have you found anything at all?”

“No.”

“Then why keep looking?”

“Sheer frustration,” he said. “I told you I felt like she was calling to me. I interviewed everyone in the neighborhood about that killing that took place over eight years ago. Nothing. No one missing a child, no one who even remembers a nine-year-old child in the neighborhood who wasn’t fully accounted for. The only things I had left were you and the crime scene.”

“And I failed you,” Eve said. “I’ll make it up, Nalchek.”

“Bullshit. I told you that I didn’t expect more of you than you gave me. What were you supposed to do? Hand-carry the skull out here?”

She chuckled. “You’re right. And I won’t make it up to you, I’ll make it up to me.” Her smile faded. “But your friend was killed near that crime scene, and that means that the killer was watching it. Have you found any signs of anyone besides you wandering around that area?”

“No, if there was anyone, he was damn good about covering his tracks. I grew up in those woods, and I know them like my right hand. I was in the Special Forces, and I’ve been trained to observe. I saw signs of my men and the forensic crew. Nothing else.”

She hesitated. “Maybe you need a fresh eye.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t doubt that your Special Forces training made you very savvy, but there are all kinds of other people with specialized talents that might prove valuable.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Maybe.” She went on quickly, “Isn’t there just a possibility that you might not see—”

“If there was something there, I would have seen it.” His voice was cool. “Is that all?”

“Just one other thing. What clothes was Jenny wearing when you took her out of that grave?”