“It was a good hook. It was what made me send the skull to you. I liked the idea of someone’s caring enough to want to get close to a victim.”

“I feel sympathy for any victim, but the closeness of which I spoke only occurs during the actual sculpting process. That’s really the only part of reconstruction that has the potential for creativity.”

“And bonding?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Maybe. I’m trying to make sure I did the right thing, sending her to you. I feel responsible.”

“Should I send that skull back to you?”

“No, ma’am. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’d appreciate it if you’d get right on it, please.”

“No offense taken. You just seem very possessive about this skull.”

“That’s what I thought about when I researched you, Ms. Duncan. Two of a kind?”

“No.” Though those words were eerily close to what Joe had said, she thought. “Perhaps I do feel a responsibility and closeness to my work while I’m doing a reconstruction, but I’d never feel possessive. I only want to set them free.”

Nalchek chuckled. “I haven’t gotten there yet. I feel like that little girl still belongs to me just like the minute we pulled her out of that grave. Maybe after you get me a face, I’ll be able to let her go. Good night, Ms. Duncan. You’ll let me know how it goes?”

“I imagine that you’ll make sure I do,” she said dryly. “Good night, Sheriff.” She hung up.

Nalchek wasn’t entirely what she had thought. She would still bet that he was young, but he wasn’t inexperienced and had a toughness that made his insistence about her doing the reconstruction all the more puzzling.

A nine-year-old girl, buried over eight years.

I felt like she was calling to me.

“Eve.” Joe was standing behind her in the doorway. He was carrying two cups of coffee. “Done?”

She nodded and took the cup he handed her. “For the time being.” She moved toward the porch swing and curled up next to him as he sat down. She sighed with contentment as she gazed out at the lake. The fragrance of the pines, the moonlight on the lake, Joe beside her at this place they both loved. “Nalchek is very polite, very concerned. And he’s going to be a thorn in my side until I finish her.”

“Then don’t take his calls.”

“That’s one solution.”

A breeze was lifting her hair, and it made everything in this moment all the more wonderful. This perfect place, this perfect man for her.

That little girl had not lived long enough to have a perfect anything. That took time and searching and the wisdom to know it when you found it.

“Then do it.” Joe put his arm around her. “Why not?”

“I’ll think about it.”

But she knew she wouldn’t do it.

I felt like she was calling to me.

*   *   *

“So did your bone lady come through for you, Nalchek?”

Nalchek looked up as Deputy Ron Carstairs came into the office. He was a friend as well as coworker, and Ron had been riding him since the night they’d found the little girl. He was a good guy, and they’d worked together for five years, but he didn’t understand why Nalchek hadn’t just dropped this investigation and pushed it into the hands of the medical examiner. “She’s not a bone lady. You’re thinking of that TV show. She’s a forensic sculptor and probably the best in the world.”

“And she’s rushing to give that kid a face just because you asked her to do it?” Ron dropped down in the visitor’s chair. “Hell, then she couldn’t be that good. We’re small potatoes out here in the boonies.”

“She’s that good,” Nalchek said. He tossed the Eve Duncan dossier to Carstairs. “Take a look for yourself.” He pointed to the photo of Eve Duncan. Red-brown shoulder-length hair, hazel eyes, features that were more interesting than beautiful. “She was illegitimate and born in the slums of Atlanta and had a baby of her own by the time she was sixteen. She named the little girl Bonnie, and the kid turned her life around. The kid became her whole life. She went back to school and then on to college. Then when the little girl was seven, she was kidnapped and killed. It was a terrible blow, and Duncan went into shock. But then she rallied and started to rebuild her life. Duncan went back to college to study forensic sculpting. Since then, she’s become the most sought-after artist in forensic sculpting. She works for police, FBI, and private parties.” He pointed to the dossier underneath Eve Duncan’s. “That’s Joe Quinn, ex-SEAL, ex-FBI, currently a detective with ATLPD. They’ve been living together for years.”

Ron only glanced at the dossier. “I’ll look at them later. Nice looking woman. Not my type. Too intense.”

“She’s my type. I want her intense.” He grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “Though I’ll probably stay away from Joe Quinn. His reputation is a little too lethal for me.”

“You said he was a cop.”

“There are cops, then there are cops. You know that as well as I do. He’s supposed to be totally bonkers about Eve Duncan and very protective.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with either one of them now that you’ve turned the skull over to Duncan.”

Nalchek’s smile faded as he looked back down at the dossier. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Hey.” Ron was shaking his head. “Drop it. Let it go, Nalchek.”

“I have let it go. It’s out of my hands.”

“But not out of your mind. There’s a lot of talk around town about how weird you’ve been behaving since we found that kid’s skeleton. We all felt bad about what happened to that little girl, but you overreacted.”

“How can you overreact to the murder of a kid?”

“She’s been dead over eight years. What are the chances we’ll ever find her murderer?”

“Damn good if we try hard enough.” He got to his feet. “And I’m trying hard, real hard. I’ll find the son of a bitch. I’ve got Eve Duncan, and soon I’ll have a face.” He moved toward the door. “And right now, I’m going back to that grave site and take another look to see if I can find anything more.”

“You’ve been out there five times. Don’t you think it’s a little excessive?”

“No.”

I felt like she was calling to me.

He had said that to Eve Duncan, and he was still hearing that call even though the bones were long gone from that crime scene.

“You can never tell what you’ll find if you look hard enough. Want to come along?”

“Waste of time.” Ron grimaced. “Oh, what the hell.” He got to his feet, grabbed the Duncan and Quinn dossiers, and followed him toward the door. “Why not?”

*   *   *

“Are you still going to wait up for that call from Jane?” Joe asked as he paused before going back to their bedroom. “Want company?”

Eve chuckled. “I’ve got company.” She moved across the room to her worktable, where the FedEx box remained unopened. “No, you go on to bed. You’ve got to work tomorrow morning. I won’t be too long. I’ll just take care of the setup and preliminary measuring, then come to bed after I get Jane’s call.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He still didn’t move. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely.” She started to unfasten the box. “Stop hovering. You’re acting like a grandma with her first grandkid.”

“I beg your pardon.” Joe’s voice was suddenly deep, silky smooth, and infinitely sensual. “Grandma? Me? I think we’re going to have to address that insult when you come to bed.”

She glanced up at him and suddenly lost her breath. Thigh muscles that were compact and yet sleek and full of leashed power. Tight stomach and buttocks. In this moment, he was totally male, completely sexual, and she could feel her own body respond. Even after all these years together, their sexual chemistry was just as explosive as when they had come together when he had been the FBI agent sent to investigate Bonnie’s death. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said softly.

He grinned. “That was my intention. Anticipation is the name of the game.” The next moment, he’d disappeared down the hall.