Hunting Eve (28 page)

“Very clever. Just what I’d do. I’d bet there wasn’t much on Zander.”

“No, even Venable couldn’t pull more than a few lines on him.” He paused. “But on you…”

“I’m very ordinary.” He smiled. “Just your typical genius next door. All brain but with no larger-than-life characteristics. I’ll leave that to you … and Zander.”

“You can’t compare me to Zander.”

“Yes, I can. I see a few similarities. You will, too, once you make his acquaintance. But only a few, he’s something of an enigma.”

“And so are you. For instance, you were born Colin Daklow, in South Africa of American parents, missionaries who ran a medical facility there. You had an older brother, Sean, with whom you were very close. He was a doctor at the hospital. You spent most of your time in New York. First at Harvard and then at Merrill Lynch. You were the golden boy there, but you still made frequent trips back to South Africa. You and your family were very close.” He paused. “But you weren’t there when the village and hospital were attacked by rebel insurgents who killed your parents and fatally injured your brother Sean. He died two hours after you saw him the morning you flew back there from New York.”

“I asked the doctors why they couldn’t save him,” Stang said. “Until I saw what they had done to him. Then I only hoped he’d die quickly.” His lips tightened. “Butchers.”

“Then you buried your dead and went back to the U.S.,” Joe said. “But not to Merrill Lynch. You disappeared for a while. To grieve, Stang?”

“Yes, and to think.”

“About the reports that the South African government was sending you about the suspicions that Lee Zander had somehow been involved in that massacre?”

Stang was silent.

“The nurses at the hospital filled out a report stating that Sean was coherent and talking before his death. What did your brother say to you before he died?”

For a moment Joe wasn’t sure Stang was going to answer. Then Stang said slowly, “He made me promise that I would never leave Zander until the day he died.”

“Yet there was no proof,” Joe said. “But it must have been agonizing to know that Zander would probably never face punishment for those killings. It was about that time that you changed your name and purchased an entire new identity on the black market.”

“Yes.” He took a sip of his scotch. “It’s remarkably easy if the money is available, and money has never been a problem for me.”

“Then you hunted down Zander and applied for a job. I presume to look for your opportunity.”

“It’s always a mistake to presume anything, Detective. Since you are a law-enforcement officer, I’m sure you’re aware of that.” He put his glass down on the table. “And I’d like you to dispense with this raking over very painful coals. I still find the memories excruciating.”

“I can see that you would,” he added harshly. “Evidently your opportunity never came. Well, make it happen now. Walk away from Zander and help me. Help Eve.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I think I’d like Eve Duncan. I’d look at her photo and see … I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She reminded me of my mother and father, and Sean and all those other foolish souls who let themselves be butchered. Some people take, some people give. The ones who give shouldn’t suffer, but they do.”

“Then help me,” Joe said urgently. “Zander is bound to find out about who you are eventually. Walk away from him now.”

Stang smiled faintly. “I think Zander knew who I was before he even hired me. I know he knew a few months later. He doesn’t take chances without knowing all the details about the people surrounding him.”

“Then why the hell would he keep you near him?”

Stang shook his head. “Enigma. I believe he enjoys the risk. He works hard at protecting himself, but lately I’ve wondered if he doesn’t really care whether he dies or not.”

“Like Eve,” Joe muttered. He hadn’t meant that to come out. Eve never said anything, but he knew that she would not be sorry to go to her Bonnie. But not yet, dammit. He wouldn’t let her go yet.

“Eve? Maybe that’s what I saw when I was looking at her photo,” Stang said quietly. “A reflection of Zander.”

“That’s not what you saw,” Joe said. “Eve will fight. Eve will have a good life ahead of her if we give her a chance.” He took a step nearer. “If
you
give her a chance. Where did Zander go hunting?”

“I don’t know.” He held up his hand as Joe opened his lips to speak. “But I may be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Talk.”

“Zander expected Doane to contact him, so he had his phone bugged and an expert on hand to monitor any transmissions and try to trace it.”

“Did he call him?”

“Yes, and the night he left, I know that he made a call to verify that the trace had been effective.” He paused. “I don’t know if he got an actual trace. I wouldn’t think so since he was in hunt mode. Maybe a tower, though.”

“What tower?”

He shook his head. “Guesswork. You need to talk to the source.”

“Who is the source?”

“Zander uses a man named Donald Weiner. He’s very, very good. And he’s completely discreet when it comes to Zander.” He grimaced. “You won’t find many of his associates alive who aren’t discreet.”

Joe typed the name into his phone. “Telephone number?”

“You’re not listening. He wouldn’t answer any calls from numbers with which he’s not familiar.”

“I’ll call on Zander’s house phone.”

Stang shook his head. “Zander calls from his cell.”

“Roadblocks.”

“That’s the way Zander likes it.”

“How do I get to—”

“If he knows you’re looking for him, he’ll take off and go underground. We’ll have to go to see him personally.”

“We?”

Stang shrugged. “He knows I work for Zander. It might help.”

“Where does Weiner live?”

“About four hours’ drive from here. On the other side of the city. We’ll take my car.” He went to the closet and took out his coat and a muffler. “We’d better get started.”

“Why are you doing this, Stang? It’s far from being discreet, and you said Zander didn’t forgive indiscretions. Are you breaking with him?”

“And lose this fine job? No, I can’t do that. I told you, I made a promise. But I believe this time Zander may be acting a little indiscreetly himself. Who knows? It might strike him as amusing. One can never tell with Zander.” He shrugged into his coat and turned toward the door. “Besides, I like your Eve’s face.” He opened the door. “Better bundle up if it wouldn’t offend your macho image. It’s turned very cold in the past few hours.”

CHAPTER

13

Rio Grande Forest
Colorado

DEAR GOD, IT WAS
cold.

The rain was spiking hard against Eve’s face and body, and her hair was clinging to her neck like coiled snakes. At first, the rain had felt almost warm in contrast to the icy waters of the stream. It did not feel warm now. The wind ripping out of the abyss was whip-sharp, taking her breath away.

“It’s going to be slippery going down the side of the cliff.” Doane was shining his flashlight on the straight stone of the cliff wall that merged thirty feet below into a rough slope. “I’ll tie a rope around your waist and under your arms to make sure I don’t lose you.” He smiled grimly. “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, once you get your hands on Kevin, I’ll pull you back up.”

“I’m not worried. You’d be too afraid I’d drop him again if I took a header.” Her breath was pluming in the cold air. Doane didn’t seem to be feeling the cold, she noticed. His face was wet from the rain, but he was eager, charged with energy. It was because he was about to get his precious Kevin back, she thought. “Providing that I can find him down there in this muddy mess. He might have rolled halfway down to the valley by now.” She added maliciously, “And then there are always the wolves…”

“You’d better hope that’s not true.” Doane was tying ropes about her body. “But I don’t believe it is. I’ve been stopping here frequently every time I passed this way while I’ve been on your trail. I think that I saw Kevin about thirty feet down in that patch of jagged rocks jutting out of the slope.” He shined the beam down into the darkness. “Do you see it?”

“I can’t see anything in this rain.” She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to know that Kevin was that close, waiting for her. “What am I supposed to carry the skull back up in once I’ve retrieved it?”

“Just drop it into the big compartment in the backpack.” He took off his backpack and fastened it on her. “But make sure you don’t damage the skull any more than it is already.”

“Heaven forbid,” she murmured.

“Don’t mock me.” His lips tightened. “I’m very angry with you, Eve.” He pushed her toward the edge of the abyss. “And I’m tempted to cut these ropes and throw you off this cliff.” He stepped back. “But I won’t do it. This is much better. You’re making yourself useful to Kevin.” He wound one loop of the rope around a tree at the edge of the cliff. “Now get down there and bring him back. I’m afraid this rain may damage him.”

“I’m not a climber, you know.” She moved toward the cliff. “You may lose your Kevin if I slip or—”

“You won’t lose him.” He stood looking at her, the rain pouring down his face. “He won’t let
you,
Eve.”

She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Go on,” he said softly. “Now.”

She hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the cliff, grasped the rope, and began to crawl her way down the rough stone precipice.

The rope was abrasive, tearing her hands as she tried to place her feet against the stone to take pressure from her upper body.

Rain.

Cold.

Thunder.

Wind whipping up from the valley and swaying the rope and her body.

“Hurry,” Doane shouted.

Hurry? There was no way to hurry. Did the bastard think that she was enjoying hanging here over this nothingness?

Keep calm. The one thing she could count on from Doane was that he wouldn’t let her fall. He wanted Kevin.

Ten feet.

Another twenty until she reached the start of the slope.

That twenty feet seemed to be more like a hundred.

But she reached it, and her feet touched the dirt and stone that was the slope.

But the dirt was mostly mud now, and she was slipping and sliding.

Another ten or twelve feet before she would reach the cluster of rocks Doane had said had halted the slide of her reconstruction of the skull.

Steep, slippery feet.

She fell and felt the embedded stones in the dirt cut her knees.

She struggled up again.

Another four feet to go.

Those rocks were right ahead.

But she didn’t see any sign of that damn reconstruction. Could it be Doane’s imagination, and he had sent her on this wild-goose chase?

Two more feet.

She still couldn’t see anything.

But she could feel it. She could feel him.

She stopped and inhaled sharply.

Kill you. Kill her.

Swirling darkness. Darker than the storm around her.

Nausea.

Fight it off.

Move. Get over it. She couldn’t stay here paralyzed, huddled in the mud. That would be a victory for Kevin, a victory for Doane.

She felt a tugging on the rope around her body. Doane was becoming impatient.

Screw you, Doane.

She took another minute and moved forward.

Nausea. Struggle against it.

Then she saw the skull.

She stiffened, her hands clenching into fists so hard her nails bit into the palms.

Dear God, she had hoped all her work would be destroyed by the fall from the cliff.

It should have been destroyed.

Incredibly, the reconstruction was still miraculously intact. The nose was a little askew. The plane of the left cheek would have to be smoothed, and the eyes would have to be inserted.

But then Kevin would be complete, brought back to Doane the way he was before Zander had killed him and destroyed that face.

Kill you. Kill him.

Snarling evil. Clamminess. Smothering.

She braced herself at the assault. It might not have come from Kevin. It might have come from Doane on the cliff. She had come to the point when they were becoming one to her.

She could try to finish the job. She could take the skull and toss it the rest of the way down to the valley below.

Nausea. Panic. Smothering.

“You don’t like the idea?” She crawled the rest of the way to the skull. “That must mean it’s a fine plan.”

Except that it would only mean that Doane would make her climb down to the valley and search for the skull. It would be a waste of time when she had to find a way to escape from him again.

Escape. She felt a sudden plummet of despair at the thought of having to go through that nightmare again. She had been free, and now she was back in Doane’s cage.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, she told herself in disgust. She had made choices tonight that might have been foolish, but she could not have done anything else. She would do it again.

So find a way out of Doane’s cage. She had advantages that she hadn’t had before she had escaped the last time. She knew where she could find a phone and a gun if she could just break away from Doane.

And if Zander managed to work his way up that mine shaft, he would be going after Doane.

Common enemy.

No, she couldn’t count on Zander. She had told him she knew she was on her own.

But a gun and a phone were still valuable assets for a woman on her own.

“Stop wasting time,” Doane yelled down from the cliff. “Bring up my son!”

Bring up the monster.

She stared down at the skull. The empty eye sockets seemed to glare up at her. “I’m going to give you back to him,” she whispered. “You deserve each other. But I promise I’ll find a way to destroy both of you.”

She shrugged out of the backpack and opened the rear compartment.

She took a deep breath, then reached out with both hands and picked up the skull.

Nausea. Heaviness. Breathlessness.