He’s dead, you bitch. And you’ll be dead, too. You can’t stop me.

The hell I can’t. Watch me.

*   *   *

“Quite a setup.” Nalchek was standing in the doorway of Joe’s room, his gaze on Eve, who was standing at a makeshift stand across the room, working on Jenny’s reconstruction. “Is she much worse for wear? She doesn’t look it. That sketch you drew looks just like her.”

“Not much damage.” She shook her head at Joe. “He took better care of her than he did himself.”

“I wasn’t about to let it be destroyed,” Joe said as he glanced at Nalchek. “I suppose I owe you thanks for the way you responded to Eve’s call. You got those police helicopters out to us with amazing speed, considering that they were out of your jurisdiction. I know how difficult it can be bridging the red tape when it’s not your own guys.”

Nalchek shrugged. “I’ve made it a point since I became sheriff to establish friendly relationships with other police departments both statewide and in close neighboring states. You can never tell when you’re going to need a favor.”

“You must have done a good job. I was impressed.”

“But they didn’t snag Walsh.”

“No, but we’ll get him. That bastard isn’t going to take anything from us ever again.”

“Sounds good.” Nalchek smiled at Eve. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on both her and the reconstruction.”

Oh, shit. He couldn’t have said anything that would have made Joe feel his helplessness more. Eve could see the immediate tension that tautened Joe’s body. She said quickly, “Not your job.” She picked up the towel on the worktable and wiped her hands. “But it is your job to take Jenny for her first viewing.” She nodded at the box on the chair. “Pack her up, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Okay.” He moved across the room and carefully took the reconstruction and placed it in the box. “If you still want to go with me.”

“I told you I did. Which journalist did you place first on the list?”

“Terry Brandell. She writes a weekly column and has national syndication. But she’s very popular in California and Oregon. She’s helped me out before a couple times.” He closed the box. “Though never with anything quite like this. She’s more into tough, investigative police work than lost and found.”

“This is definitely investigative police work.”

“But that face is … wrenching. Children always evoke an emotional response. She prefers the cool, analytical approach.”

“No, there’s nothing cool and analytical about anything to do with Jenny.” She moved toward the bed and gave Joe a quick kiss. “I’ll call you.” She headed for the door. “Let’s get this over with, Nalchek. The sooner your reporter gets Jenny’s face in her column the better.”

*   *   *

“I suppose Nalchek told you that this kind of curiosity/human-interest stuff isn’t really my cup of tea?” Terry Brandell asked as she looked down at the box. “I’m surprised he brought this skull to me.”

“He said you would give it the greatest amount of coverage,” Eve said bluntly. “And this reconstruction is not a curiosity. It’s a little girl who was murdered and needs the justice she never had. If you think that’s a human-interest story, then we disagree. Personally, I believe it’s a terrible tragedy that deserves being exposed and rectified. If you’re willing to do that, then we’ve come to the right place. If not, say it now, and we’ll find someone else. I have no intention of begging you to do the right thing.”

The journalist blinked. “I can see that.” She glanced at Nalchek. “And I like her honesty. When you called me, I did a little research, and when I checked her credentials, I was thinking of doing an interview. How about a trade?”

“No,” Eve said. “I’m not the story. This little girl is the story, and I won’t have her cheated or overshadowed.”

“You heard the lady.” Nalchek was smiling. “I’m open for a deal on future information for your articles, but this one is off the table, Terry.”

“Interesting.” She tilted her head. “Particularly since this isn’t exactly what I’d think you’d be involved in, Nalchek.”

“Yes or no,” Eve said. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

“You can’t convince me there’s a hurry. She’s been dead eight years.”

Eve didn’t answer.

“Or are there new breaks in the case?”

“How can there be?” Nalchek asked. “We don’t know who she is. That’s how you’re going to help us.”

“Maybe.”

Eve shook her head. “Yes or no.”

Terry shrugged. “Yes. Why not? I always like to have Nalchek owe me.” She reached for the box. “Show me the kid.”

Eve opened the box and carefully drew out the reconstruction. She put it on the desk in front of the journalist.

Terry Brandell studied the skull. “Very unusual. Are you sure that you didn’t indulge your creativity a bit on this one, Ms. Duncan?”

“I’m sure,” Eve said. “When you locate a photo of her, I’d bet that the similarity will be very close, Ms. Brandell.”

“Terry. If we locate a photo.” Terry’s gaze was fixed on Jenny’s delicate features. “But if someone has seen her, it’s likely she would be remembered.”

“That’s what we thought,” Eve said. “How soon can you publish the photo?”

“A few days.”

Eve shook her head.

Terry Brandell grimaced. “Pushy. Very pushy.” She turned to Nalchek. “Tomorrow. Give me an hour to get my photographer on it.” She added brusquely, “And I want an exclusive if you come up with the kid’s killer.”

“Done,” Nalchek said.

“And you can come back later today to pick up the reconstruction.”

“No, we’ll wait,” Eve said. “She’s not going to be out of my sight until you’ve taken those photos. Things sometimes get … misplaced.”

“I don’t imagine skulls are high on that list,” Terry said dryly.

“You’d be surprised.” Eve sat down in a chair by the door. “I won’t get in your way.”

“Suit yourself.” She asked curiously, “Are you always this intense?”

“It depends on the job. This one seems to require it.”

Terry turned to Nalchek. “I’m beginning to become intrigued. Want to have dinner and discuss it?”

“No,” Nalchek said. “I’ll take a rain check. Thanks for helping, Terry.”

“I won’t give up, you know.” Her gaze went back to the reconstruction. “Now that I study it, there’s something familiar…”

“Someone compared her features to those of a young Audrey Hepburn,” Eve said. “That’s probably what you’re seeing.”

“Maybe.” She stared for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe not. I’ll think about it.”

“Why else would she be familiar?” Eve asked. “She’s been buried for eight years, and she was only nine. You said that missing children weren’t your cup of tea.”

“They’re not. And I’m probably imagining things.” She reached for her telephone. “I’ll get my photographer up here and get those shots. Fill me in on the backstory about where she was found, Nalchek.”

CHAPTER

11

They didn’t leave Terry Brandell’s office for another three hours. By that time, the photographs had been taken and the story written.

“She’s right,” Nalchek said as he opened the passenger door of the car for Eve. “Pushy. Very pushy. We’re lucky she didn’t tell us to hit the road.”

“We didn’t have time to be diplomatic.” She settled herself in the seat. “But I wasn’t rude, merely insistent. And I saved you from having to be the one to pressure her. You might need to use her services later. I don’t have to deal with her after she publishes that photo tomorrow.”

“So you did it out of the kindness of your heart.”

“I did it because I have to get this wrapped up before Joe gets out of the hospital.” She fastened her seat belt. “And before Walsh decides to move on that little girl in Carmel. That child must have parents or guardians, and I’ll bet that the photo will look like their child. All of the other victims bore a definite resemblance to Jenny. Maybe seeing the article will cause something to click. Or it could be that they’ll make some kind of connection with Jenny.” She wearily shook her head. “If they just see it, and it scares them about the possibility of something like that happening to their own child. If it makes them a little more careful, I’ll take that, too.”