“Joe, what are you trying to tell me?”

“In my completely clumsy and inadequate fashion”—He reached out and took her hand.—“I’m trying to tell you that you’re going to have a child, Eve.”

READ ON FOR A BONUS SCENE FROM JOE QUINN’S POINT OF VIEW!

LAKE COTTAGE

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

“You have a FedEx package,” Joe Quinn said as Eve came into the cottage. “It’s on your worktable. It came from somewhere in California.”

She nodded. “Yeah, Sonderville. Sheriff Nalchek called me last night and asked me to bump his reconstruction to the top of my list.” She made a face. “I almost told him to forget it. I’m swamped right now, and I don’t need any more pressure.”

Something was wrong, Joe realized instantly. Eve never complained about pressure, even to him. She just did her job and kept on moving to the next poor kid whose skull ended up on her worktable. But if something was wrong, she wouldn’t want him probing. Keep it light, and let her tell him when she was ready.

“You’re always swamped.” Joe smiled teasingly. “You thrive on it. And it’s natural that you’re in demand. Everyone wants the world-famous forensic sculptor, Eve Duncan, to solve their problems.”

“Bullshit.” She went to the kitchen counter and reached for the coffee carafe. “There’s usually no urgency about putting a face on a skull that’s been buried for years anyway. It has to be done, but there’s no reason that I can’t do it an orderly fashion. Every one of those children is important.”

He had heard that many times before, but it was clear she needed to express it again. “So why did you give in to Sheriff Nalchek?”

“I don’t know.” She poured her coffee and came back to Joe. “He wore me down. He sounded young and eager and full of the horror that only comes the first time that you realize that there are vicious people out there who can do monstrous things to innocent children. I got the impression that he was an idealist who wanted to change the world.” She sat down beside Joe and nestled close, her head against his shoulder. Her cheek felt right, absolutely perfect against him. He wanted to hold her closer, but he could wait. He could sense the slight tension of her body, the disturbance that made her want to touch him. She probably didn’t even realize that she was in need and wanted his touch to be comforting. But he knew it and would give her what she needed.

“He kept telling me that this little girl was different,” she said. “That he was sure that he’d be able to find out who she was and who had killed her if I’d just give him a face to work with. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. In cold cases like this, the chances are always better if the officer in charge is enthusiastic and dedicated.”

“Like you.” Joe’s lips brushed her forehead. “Maybe he thinks he’s found a soul mate.”

“Oh, I’m dedicated. Enthusiastic?” She wearily shook her head. “Not now. I’m too tired. There have been too many children in my life who have been killed and thrown away. I’m not as enthusiastic as that young officer is. I’m only determined … and sad.”

“Sad?” Joe straightened and looked down at her. “Yes, I’m definitely feeling the sad part. But it’s not only about that skull in the box over there, is it?” His hand gently cupped her cheek. “Jane?” He had thought the root of Eve’s depression might be Jane MacGuire, their adopted daughter who Eve had just dropped off at the airport to catch her flight to London. “I could have taken her to the airport. I thought you wanted to do it.”

“I did want to do it. It may be the last time we see her for a while. She’s off to new adventures and finding a life of her own.” She tried to steady her voice. “Just what we wanted for her. Look what happened when she came back from London to try to help me. She got shot and almost died. Now she’s well and going on with her life.”

But Eve was having problems coming to terms with the fact that Jane’s life as an artist often took her far away from her, he thought. He had seen this coming. In Eve’s line of work as a forensic sculptor and his job as a police detective, sometimes the evil came close to home. Most recently Jane had been one of the targets. Those weeks with her daughter, while she had been recuperating, had been strained and yet poignantly sweet for Eve. Jane had come to them when she was ten years old and she had been more best friend than daughter to Eve. But that hadn’t changed the love that had bound them all these years. For Joe, the relationship had been different, the love was there, but it had built gradually, and he’d always known that Jane belonged to Eve. That was okay with him because he belonged to Eve, too. She was his center and Jane had always understood. But now that Jane was out on her own and becoming a successful artist, it was terribly hard for them to adjust to the fact that most of the time she was thousands of miles away.

“It’s exactly what she should be doing,” Eve said. “What’s here for her? Hell, I’m a workaholic and always involved with a reconstruction. You’re a police detective who they tap to work cases that don’t give you normal hours either. It was just … difficult … to see her get on that plane.”

“And you didn’t let her see one bit of that pain,” Joe said quietly. “You smiled and sent her on her way.”

“That’s what every parent does. It always comes down to letting them go.”

“And more difficult for you than for others. First, you had to let go of Bonnie when she was killed. Now Jane is moving out of our lives.”

“Not out, just away.” She made a face. “And evidently I couldn’t let go of Bonnie because I insisted on keeping her with me, alive or dead. I was so stubborn that whoever is in charge of the hereafter let me have my little girl’s spirit to visit me now and then.”

And that had been the most difficult challenge of all for Joe to accept. He was a detective, and logic dictated that ghosts were off his radar. But logic had nothing to do with his feelings for Eve. Not from the day that Quantico had sent him down to Atlanta to investigate the disappearance and probable murder of seven-year-old Bonnie Duncan. He had been a Special Agent with the FBI at the time and had not even wanted to visit Eve Duncan’s house or go over old material the ATLPD had already covered very efficiently. But he had gone anyway, and life had never been the same for him. He had only been in that house for a few hours with Eve Duncan before he realized that something extraordinary was happening to him.

*   *   *

“I’m not a fool. I grew up on the streets, and know all about the scum who are out there.” Eve looked wonderingly up at him. “But I have to hope. She’s my baby. I have to bring her home. How can I live if I don’t hope?”

He felt as if he were breaking apart inside. He could feel her pain, and it was becoming his pain. “Then hope.” His voice was hoarse. “And I’ll hope with you. We’ll explore every way we can to find her safe and alive. There’s nothing I won’t do. Just stick with me and give me a little help.”

She hesitated, gazing up at him.

Believe me, he urged her silently. Put your hand in mine, trust me, let me guide you. Something strange is happening here, but it’s not anything bad. I won’t let it hurt you.

She stood staring at him. She could feel it, sense what he couldn’t say, he realized. In her pain, she couldn’t define the nature of what she was sensing, but perhaps it would become clear to her later.

As, God help him, it was becoming clear to him.

*   *   *

But it was years before Eve had healed enough to realize that they could become lovers instead of friends. During that time he had almost lost her. The depression had been too severe, the heartbreak of her loss a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. But then something happened, she had begun to dream of Bonnie. Or at least that was what she had told him. She had thought she was hallucinating, thought that grief had made her mind fly to any solace possible. Before that, she had given up on life and wanted only to be with her Bonnie. She had only been stopped by the realization that the visits from Bonnie were not hallucinations.