“I’m okay.” She was lying. She wasn’t okay. All she could think about was that beautiful young man who was now no longer beautiful. Pierre, whose years had been cut short in that brutal fashion.
“Then keep me company.” He switched on the stove, then took down the instant coffee. “I’m very sensitive. Blood always upsets me.”
She tried to smile. “Liar.”
“I am sensitive. There’s just a layer of scar tissue.” He got down two cups from the shelf and spooned in the coffee. “And blood is . . . messy. To be spilled only when necessary. There are so many neater ways.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. “That got you. Did you expect me to soothe you? You’re too tough for that.”
“Am I?”
“Sure. Of course, Quinn would probably comfort you. But you wouldn’t take it from me.” He poured boiling water into the cups and sat down across from her. “So take a cup of coffee instead.”
In spite of what he said, he was trying to comfort her. She took a sip. “I’m surprised a gourmet like you would tolerate instant coffee.”
“It was quick.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I can tolerate anything. I’m used to making do.”
“It’s good.” She took another sip. “I . . . did need it. I guess I’m pretty shaky. I
hate
death. We fight and we fight and there’s still nothing we can do about it.”
“Sometimes there is. Personally, I intend to live until I’m at least a hundred and fifty. I figure with all the research going on I could still be spry at that age.”
“Pierre was so young. There’s something even more terrible about the young dying.”
“Like your Bonnie.”
“Yes.” Eve looked down into the coffee in her cup. “Like my little girl.”
Galen was silent.
Eve drew a shaky breath. “And I hate the monsters who take those youngsters’ lives. I want to reach out and get them by the throat. I want to scream at them how unfair it is for them to steal all those bright, wonderful years away. It’s cruel and ugly—Shit.” Tears were running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Galen was kneeling beside her chair. “Hey, don’t do this to me.” He took her in his arms and rocked her back and forth. “You’re tearing up all my scar tissue.” He felt her stiffen against him, and immediately released her and sat back on his heels. “Let’s get this straight right now. I’m not trying to take advantage of a bad moment. It’s my natural instincts again. A woman weeps and I react.” He looked directly in her eyes. “But I know the difference between a vulnerable moment and the real thing. I like you, I respect you, and, if I let myself, I’d find you sexy. But you’re not available. It’s so clear that you might as well be carrying around a sign. So I’m your protector, your friend, and sometimes a shoulder to lean on. Got it?”
She smiled shakily. “Got it.”
He smiled. “At least that little misunderstanding accomplished one thing. You’re not crying anymore.” He breathed a theatrical sigh of relief. “I can’t take tears. They lay me low.”
“I’ll remember that. It may come in handy.” She stood up. “I’m going to bed. I have an early start tomorrow.”
Galen looked at his watch. “Tomorrow’s already here. The airport?”
“Hell, no.” She started for the door. “They’re not going to get away with killing that boy. They’re going to pay for it. I’m going to give Victor a face.”
Chapter 7
“May I come in?” Galen asked.
Eve glanced up from the skull. “If you don’t talk to me.”
“Just a few words. Where’s Rick?”
She shrugged. “Around somewhere. He brought me coffee a couple hours ago. Why?”
“Just checking. He’s usually so attentive he makes me worry about losing my job.”
“He may be attentive, but he’s quiet and unobtrusive. I hardly know he’s around.”
“I doubt you’d notice if he ran around banging on a drum. I can see you’re caught up in the project. I’ve never seen anyone so obsessed.”
“It’s what I do.” Her work had saved her from the depths of despair and helped her keep her sanity after Bonnie had been murdered. It was her salvation and her passion.
“I just thought I’d fill you in on a few things I’ve learned about Bently.”
“I thought you’d already told me everything.”
“Only the obvious. I decided to probe a little deeper. I don’t like to trust the obvious.”
“So what did you find out?”
“He was an ardent environmentalist, very passionate about solar energy and cleaning up the rivers.”
“And?”
“That would make him a target for any number of energy groups. What if he was planning to run on a platform that would step on some very important toes?”
“You’re doing those ‘what ifs’ again.”
“Can’t help it. It’s a game I have to play. It’s my suspicious nature.” Galen smiled. “But at least you should be relieved that Bently is turning out to be such a sterling character.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s obvious you’ve become so emotionally attached to that skull that it would give you a hell of a lot of satisfaction if Victor turned out to be a good guy.”
“Either way, it won’t stop me from doing my job.”
Galen tilted his head and gazed appraisingly at the skull. “You don’t appear very close. He looks like a voodoo doll. What are all those sticks all over his skull?”
“Tissue-depth markers. I cut each marker to the proper measurement and glue it onto its specific area on the face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known tissue depths.” She carefully placed another marker. “There are anthropological charts that give a specific measurement for each point.”
“Then your work is mostly measurement?”
“No, that’s the donkey work. I take strips of plasticine and apply them between the markers, then build them up to tissue-depth levels. Then I smooth and fill in and work with the skull until I’m satisfied. The last process is the most important. That’s why I can’t look at photographs of the subject. I can’t let even my subconscious be influenced.”
“Well, you’re safe for now. But I’m planning on going down to the newspaper office and getting a photo.”
“Well, keep it ’til I’ve finished.”
“When will that be?”
“As long as it takes. Five or six more days, maybe.” She glanced at him. “Any news about Pierre?”
“A story on page five of the newspaper about the suicide of Pierre Letaux, who was apparently despondent about the death of his mother.”
“You said the police wouldn’t question it.”
“I admit I didn’t want to be right about this one.” He shrugged. “But sometimes the bad guys win.”
“Not this time.” She placed another marker. “Now go away and let me work.”
“I’m on my way.” He paused. “You know, we could call Melton and tell him we think Marie’s and Pierre’s deaths may not be quite what they seem.”
“I thought of that. And then he’d assure me that I was mistaken and that the police reports were accurate.”
“Could be.”
“And I don’t need to deal with Melton right now.”
“I didn’t think so. It might interfere with Victor, and you won’t permit anything to do that. Is Rick feeding you?”
“When I let him.” She lifted a brow. “It seems my poison tester hasn’t been on the job.”
“Rick wouldn’t let anything happen to you. At least, not until you’ve finished Victor. I’ve never seen anyone more intent on making your work easy for you. And I’ll cook for you myself tonight.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It should be more than comforting. You should be breathless with anticipation.”
“I don’t have time.”
“Okay, forget about dwelling on my fine cuisine.” He turned to leave. “I’d like this job done quickly, too.”
He couldn’t be more anxious than she was, Eve thought as he left the room. Ever since she had seen Pierre’s body the night before last, she had been driven to finish the reconstruction.
Maybe even before that. There were so few truly good people; Bently might have been one of those rare individuals.
She placed another marker. “We’re getting there, Victor,” she murmured. “Galen thinks you might have been some kind of martyr, but I’ve got to be very careful not to pay any attention. You might have been just a soldier or a tramp or some other victim. It doesn’t matter. You deserve to be brought home, too. . . .”
“No identification, Lieutenant.” Officer Krakow shrugged. “And we’re not going to get anyone to recognize him. The forensic boys say he’s been dead for at least four days, facedown in the water in that drainpipe.”
“Four days?” Joe’s gaze went down the hill to the forensic team gathered around the entrance of the drainage pipe.
“Could be longer. You know it’s hard to pin down when a corpse has been out in the weather. We’ll have to wait for the medical examiner.”
“What kind of clothes is he wearing?”
“Oxford cloth shirt. No tie, but nicely tailored pants. He appears to be very white-collar. He definitely wasn’t one of the homeless.” Krakow gazed at Joe curiously. “This isn’t your case, is it, sir? You looking for someone in particular?”
“Maybe. Thanks, Krakow.” Joe started down the hill. He could see the sprawled body, and the size seemed right. Capel had been a big man with receding brown hair, but he couldn’t see the hair from here. White-collar described George Capel, and he’d have to see about the time frame. Conditions were everything as far as decomposition was concerned. He’d seen a woman taken out of the trunk of a car after only seven hours; he would have sworn she had been dead for days.
It didn’t have to be Capel. He hoped to God it wasn’t. If that body was George Capel, it brought this whole mess to a new and dangerous level.
“Hi, Lieutenant.” Sam Rowley glanced up as he approached. “Looks like we’ve got one for you.”
Joe looked down at the corpse. The hair was light brown, but he couldn’t tell if it was receding from that swollen, disfigured face.
“Homicide?”
“Appears to be a knife wound in the back. There are multiple wounds on the body, but it’s hard to determine if they were inflicted before or after death. He’s been out here awhile.”
“I need to know who he is. Fingerprints?”
“May be tough to match with the hands so swollen. Probably have to go for the teeth.”
“How soon?”
“The lab’s pretty backlogged. Two weeks, maybe.”
“I need to know now, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “Talk to the lab techs. You know I can’t help you.”
“I will.” Joe turned and strode back up the hill.
A knife wound in the back. Multiple other wounds.
The muscles of his stomach twisted as he got back in the car. Don’t panic yet. Get down to headquarters and pull strings to get that ID right away.
Christ, he hoped it wasn’t Capel.
“How far along are you?” Galen asked as he poured Eve’s coffee that evening. “Have you gotten past the voodoo stage?”
“Tomorrow. I have to go very slowly to have an absolutely true foundation.” Eve lifted the cup to her lips. “That was a very good meal, Galen.”
“It was a magnificent meal. You’re too tired to appreciate me.”
“No, I’m not.” She studied him soberly. What an unusual man he was. Complex, smooth on the surface with depths that were definitely dark and enigmatic. Yet she’d never felt safer with any man except Joe. “You’ve been very kind to me, Galen.”
“Just doing my job.”
“No. Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you’ve given me whatever I needed.”
“That’s my business. I’m a provider.” He leaned back in his chair. “And you’ve been easy. I haven’t had to maul or dispatch anyone lately.”
He was joking. Or was he? Maybe not. Those murky depths again . . . “I hope you won’t have to do it in the future either.” Her hand tightened on the cup. “Death is ugly.”
“Yes, it is. And no one should know better than you.”
“Not even you?”
He smiled. “Let’s say my experience is active and yours is passive.”
“Why did you take this bodyguard job, Galen? I got the impression that you played on a much bigger stage.”
“I like Louisiana. I even have a house near New Orleans.”
“You took the job because you liked the area? I don’t think so.”
“Okay, Logan is my friend and he asked me to do it as a favor. I move around too much to have many friends, so I try to keep the ones I have.” He paused. “And I guess I kind of liked the idea of being cast as a knight to protect a lady. Usually my jobs are much less noble. I’d only met you once, but I wasn’t fond of the idea of you jumping into trouble.”
She had certainly been in trouble the first time she met him in Arizona two years ago, Eve thought ruefully. Besides taking care of Sarah’s wounded wolf, Maggie, she had been trying to sort out her own problems with Jane. “Well, you were very good with Maggie. Sarah was impressed.”
“We had a lot in common.” He took a sip of coffee. “Quinn must have been really worried about this trip or he wouldn’t have called Logan. I got the impression they’re not the greatest mates in the world.”
She stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about Joe.” She finished her coffee and stood up. “And in a few days there won’t be anything for any of us to worry about. Let’s get these dishes done. I want to go upstairs and make my call to Jane before I go to bed. Do you want to wash or dry?”
“I’ll do them. I need to expend some excess energy. You go on and call your little girl. I checked out the upstairs when you were taking your shower. It’s secure. But don’t go out on the balcony.”
“You think someone’s going to shoot me?”
He shook his head. “It would be too obvious. Everything has been made to look like an accident or suicide so far. But it won’t hurt to be careful. Sometimes new elements pop up in these situations.”
“You talk as if this is just run-of-the-mill to you. I’m finding it a good deal more stressful.”
He started to stack the dishes. “It’s certainly interesting.”
She looked at him and shook her head. Just when she thought she had made progress getting beyond that smooth exterior, he pulled it firmly back in place. “Good night, Galen.”
“Good night. Pleasant dreams.”
Don’t go out on the balcony or you might get shot.
Don’t eat anything Galen didn’t cook or you might be poisoned.
Not the stuff of which pleasant dreams were made.
Jane looked up from the salad she was tossing when Joe walked in that evening. “Eve called a little while ago.”
“How is she?”
“Fine. Tired. She’s working on the skull. She calls him Victor. Will you get out the steaks, Joe?”
Joe came into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “How soon will she be done?”
“Doesn’t know.” Jane took out the indoor grill and plugged it in. “You know Eve’s never sure. It’s going well, though.”
“Did she mention Galen?”
“Only that he’d called Victor a gladiator and she was having the devil of a time keeping that out of her mind. Oh, and she said that he was a terrific cook.” She chuckled. “Good thing one of them is. Eve’s not so hot.”
“No, she’s not.” He handed her the steaks. “Sounds very cozy.”
“Yeah.” Jane looked at him and her smile faded. “Joe? Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” He turned away. “I’ve got to go wash up. I’ll be right back.”
When he closed the bathroom door, he splashed water on his face and then reached for the towel. Oh, no, nothing was wrong. His grasp tightened on the soft cloth until his knuckles turned white. Only that he was jealous as hell and wanted to kill Sean Galen.
Shit, he’d want to murder everyone Eve looked at on the street or smiled at in a restaurant. Very sane. Very reasonable.
But who said he was ever reasonable when it came to Eve? She’d been the center of his life since he’d met her all those years ago, and he’d had only this short time of her belonging to him. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Joe drew a deep breath. Get control. He had to go out and not let Jane see what a crazy, obsessive son of a bitch he was. She’d been an angel since Eve had left. No, not an angel. She was too earthy and real to be termed angelic. She’d always had that same tough, loving nature that reminded him of Eve.
Eve. Everything came back to her. And she was in Baton Rouge with Galen, who was helping her, making those damn dinners, talking to her, sharing . . . He had sent Galen to be with her and he’d do it again, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“Joe, the steaks are done,” Jane called.
“Coming.” He hung up the towel and opened the door. He forced a smile. “I’m starved. I forgot to eat lunch today.”
“You’ve been working too hard.” She carried the steaks over to the table, almost tripping over the puppy. “Toby, get out of my way. You cannot have these steaks.”
“I bet he’ll get the leftovers.”
“Maybe. I shouldn’t do it. Sarah said he should have a balanced diet and table scraps aren’t really good for him.” She shook her head. “But he’s such a chow hound. I never saw any dog who loved food like Toby.”
“What else did Eve say?”
“Nothing much. She mostly asked about what I was doing and how Toby was. I told her he was fine.” She sat down. “I told her you were fine, too.”
“But she didn’t ask, did she?”
“No, but I figured she probably wanted to know.”
“Optimist.”
“She’s working, and she already seems more cheerful than when she left. Work always helps her.”
“I know.”
“So you just have to hang on and be patient. Now eat your steak.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else?”
“Yes, don’t work so hard.” She frowned sternly at Toby who’d rested his head on her knee. “Don’t beg. It’s impolite.”