“I’m two hours late.” He came toward her. “That’s why I called you. I wanted to tell you I was stopping to pick up Chinese.” He picked up her phone on the worktable and checked it. “It’s turned off.”

“It couldn’t be.” She frowned as she took the phone. He was right, it was turned off. “I must have hit the button by mistake.”

“That’s hard to do.” He was studying her. “You look … frazzled. And as if you’re not quite with me. Did you have lunch?”

She tried to remember.

“You didn’t.” Joe pulled her to her feet. “Breakfast?”

“I was going to fix toast and orange juice. But then I got busy.”

“I can see you did.” Joe was looking over his shoulder at the reconstruction as he pushed Eve toward the kitchen bar. He gave a low whistle. “Good God, you’ve already got those depth markers that look like voodoo sticks inserted on her. It usually takes you another day to get to that point.”

“Everything went smoothly. I had a little trouble with the orbital cavities but nothing major.”

“Evidently not. I’ve never seen your work go this quickly.”

Neither had Eve, she realized in sudden shock.

She stiffened, stopped short, and turned to look at Jenny.

As Joe had said, the depth markers looked like voodoo sticks.

Not only that, but she was almost done with the insertions. She was even further along than Joe knew to starting the actual sculpting.

There was no way she should be this far along.

Jenny, what are you doing to me?

No answer.

“Let’s get some food in you,” Joe said quietly. “I’ll get the plates.”

She nodded jerkily. “And I’ll go and clean up a little. I’m not exactly a presentable dinner partner.” She moved quickly down the hall toward the bathroom. “Five minutes, okay?”

Seconds later, she closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned back against it. Frazzled? The woman in the mirror definitely fit the word Joe had chosen. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair mussed, and she had a streak of clay on her throat.

And she had turned off her phone.

Forgotten about even minor sustenance.

And she had been driven to work like a proverbial demon to try to get that reconstruction finished.

Driven?

She was a workaholic, and she knew about driving herself.

This didn’t feel like that at all.

I believe we have to come to an understanding, Jenny.

And soon.

She stepped closer to the vanity and washed her face and hands thoroughly. She ran a comb through her hair, then turned out the light and opened the door.

“Better,” she told Joe as she started toward the kitchen. “But not perfect. That’s up to you and that Chinese dinner you brought home. I’m starving.”

*   *   *

“You were hungry.” Joe smiled as poured her coffee. “At least I’m not going to have to worry about your having an attack of malnutrition.”

“You’re not going to have to worry about me at all.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek before she jumped off the stool and gathered their plates and utensils. “You have your job, I have mine. Sometimes they both have a few weird quirks. We just accept them and go on. Right?”

“Weird quirks,” Joe repeated as he watched her put the plates in the dishwasher. “Odd phrasing. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Not at the moment. Perhaps after I’ve worked a few of them out.”

“Not accept, work them out. Opposites.” He gazed at her thoughtfully. “Do I sense a battle in the offing?”

“You sense a tired woman who is going to head for the shower, then go to bed.” She headed down the hall. “Care to join me?”

“Not going to work any more tonight?”

She stopped and looked at the reconstruction shimmering under the work light.

Waiting.

Dear God, she wanted to go back to work. The urge was so powerful, it was almost irresistible.

Almost.

“No.” She turned. “I’ve worked enough today. Tomorrow is soon enough.” She started down the hall. “Or maybe even the next day…”

*   *   *

She couldn’t sleep.

Eve lay there in the darkness, hearing Joe’s even breathing next to her.

She wanted to work, dammit.

No, she wasn’t going to do it. What had happened had all the signs of control and manipulation. She didn’t know if it was true, but she wasn’t going to chance it.

But if she couldn’t sleep, she could at least get a glass of water and go out on the porch until she was tired enough to try again. This tossing and turning would wake Joe.

She carefully avoided looking at Jenny’s reconstruction as she passed through on her way to the porch.

“I’m not interested, Jenny,” she murmured as she went to the rail. “Maybe tomorrow.”

No answer.

There might never be an answer, she thought, as she raised her glass of water to her lips. Perhaps that contact had been rare and fleeting, not to be repeated. Perhaps it had only been imagination, which had been her first thought.

Not imagination. She had not only heard her, she had felt her as a person or entity or whatever.

But it was an entity who had driven her mercilessly today and had somehow managed to control Eve’s own desires and disciplines. That couldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t permit it. It was far beyond what—

Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her robe.

Jane?

Not Jane.

Nalchek. She should ignore it. It was after three in the morning. But even Nalchek surely wouldn’t call her at this hour of the morning unless there was a reason.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked when she picked up. “If you want to check on progress, I don’t work twenty-four/seven, Sheriff.”

“I was going to wait until morning,” Nalchek said. “But I didn’t get the report until one, and I didn’t want to— I thought I had to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“My deputy, Ron Carstairs, was killed last night.”

His voice was hoarse, strained, and she could sense the pain.

“That’s terrible. I’m very sorry.”

“I didn’t call because I wanted sympathy. I thought you should know about it. I don’t think you’re in danger, but I don’t know.”

“Danger?”

“No one else thinks there’s a connection, but I can see it. Just because she’s dead is no sign that she’s forgotten. They tell me a child is helpless, but there might be some reason that—You should know.”

“How was your deputy killed?”

“We were out at the grave site. I was checking for additional evidence, and Ron was waiting for me at the car. He was stabbed.”

“Dear God.”

“The department thinks it’s robbery or maybe something personal.”

“But you don’t?”

“I think someone was keeping an eye on the crime scene. I believe they wanted to know how the investigation was going. Maybe they saw me going out there a couple times and wondered if they’d left something that could incriminate them.”

“After eight years?”

“I don’t know. That’s what everyone says. For God’s sake, eight years isn’t forever.” His voice was suddenly passionate. “All I know is that little girl is dead, and someone should pay for it. She wants them to pay for it.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

“She was only nine. She had her whole life ahead of her. Of course I’m sure.”

At least, he hadn’t said that Jenny had told him that she wanted revenge, she thought wryly. Evidently, Eve was the only one who had been honored by her wish to communicate. “And why did you feel it was important to tell me about your deputy?”

“Because Ron had your dossier in the car on the way out to the crime scene. He tossed it on his seat when he got out of the car and walked with me to the edge of the forest.”

“And?”

“When I got back in the car, the dossier was spread out on the seat, very organized, everything clear. No longer in the folder. That was on the floor.”

“Maybe he went back to look at it.”

“No.”

“What are you thinking?”