Hunting Eve (4 page)

“General?”

“That’s right, you don’t have the entire picture, do you? I must fill you in.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Then I choose to do it.” He moved toward the desk and flipped open the file on the desk. He gazed down at the photo of Eve Duncan in her dossier. “Venable is almost as emotionally involved with her as you are. You must be kindred spirits.”

“Ridiculous. I’m not emotionally involved. How could I be? I’ve never met her.” His gaze lifted to Zander’s face. “All I know about her is in those dossiers and the snatches you’ve been giving me of what happened to her when she was taken by Doane. I just told you that I thought Eve Duncan appeared to be a worthwhile woman, and anyone would be sorry if she was killed by a mad dog.”

“Anyone but me?”

“I don’t judge you.”

“You don’t voice it if you do.”

“I don’t want to know anything about your business.” He tapped the photo. “Not this kind of business. I’m your accountant, and I handle your money. I don’t know why you suddenly decided I should be anything different.”

“Neither do I. A whim?” He smiled. “There’s always that possibility, isn’t there?”

Stang moistened his lips but didn’t answer.

Zander waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Where was I? Oh, yes, the general and how he’s connected to Eve Duncan. General John Tarther was a client of mine several years ago.”

“I gathered that.”

“He hired me to kill Kevin Relling. Kevin Relling was previously with the Special Forces but when he was in the Middle East, he decided that the al-Qaeda was the way to power and insinuated himself into the group. The Army had no knowledge of that or that his killings didn’t stop at the enemy targets. He was a serial killer who particularly liked little girls. He was very clever, and he left a trail of victims in half the countries in Europe. One of the victims was Dany Cavrol, five years old, and the illegitimate daughter of the general. The general was devastated and set out to catch her killer. He threw money and detectives and personal influence into the hunt. They brought Kevin Relling to justice.” He shrugged. “But a jury member was tampered with, and the case was declared a mistrial. He escaped on the way back to jail.”

“And that’s when the general contacted you.”

“Yes, you always have a wonderful grasp on the continuity of numbers or events, Stang. It’s that fine orderly mind of yours. It didn’t take me long to track him down. He was in Athens, and I knew it well. I shot him, then arranged for his body to be cremated by Nalori Crematorium. Unfortunately, his father was close by and rushed to the crematorium and retrieved Kevin’s head from the furnace. He was a little upset and threw the man I’d bribed to do the cremation into the furnace.”

“His father? Doane?”

“He was Jim Relling then. He took the name of Doane when Venable took him into protective custody. He’d contacted General Tarther and told him that his son had given him a disk with names of embedded CIA agents and Pakistanis who were searching for Bin Laden. He was afraid that al-Qaeda would find out and target him. He said if he didn’t get protection, he’d have to turn the disk over to the newspapers.” He shrugged. “He appeared a broken man just trying to understand what had happened to his Kevin. There was no evidence that he had any connection with his son’s crimes, and I’m told he was very convincing. My instinct was to dispose of him immediately. I could see him trying to find out who killed his son and causing us trouble down the road. But the general was afraid that would be dangerous for those agents in Pakistan. I conceded graciously and let him live.”

Stang’s brows rose. “Graciously?” The gentle, old-fashioned word did not fit Zander in either profession or appearance. His close-cut white hair, the features that were more bold than handsome. He was probably somewhere in his fifties or sixties but he appeared ageless. His tall, muscular body, which he’d honed to perfection with daily workouts in the gym, was sleek and powerful. And so was that mind, which Stang had found to be sharper than that of anyone he had ever met.

“I’m always gracious,” Zander said. “And I told Venable I’d let Doane live as long as he kept him under surveillance. That was truly gracious.”

“And why did Doane target Eve Duncan?”

“He had a skull. She’s a forensic sculptor.”

Stang’s eyes were narrowed on his face. “Is that all?”

“You’re probing. You told me that you didn’t want to know anything that—”

“I don’t.” He looked down at the photo. “Or maybe I do. I feel as if I’ve gotten to know her in the past few days. I feel … close to her.”

“Really?” He studied the photo. “Are you attracted to her? She’s not beautiful. She’s just interesting. Nothing to make you—”

“Are you going to go after him?”

“I told Venable I’d think about it.”

“Do it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Zander turned to look at him.

“I know it’s not my business. I’ve tried to stay out of it. I know it would be safer for me.”

“Yes, it would.” He tilted his head. “But it intrigues me you’re willing to take the risk of involving yourself. If you stayed on the outskirts of my iniquitous life, I’m much more vulnerable to ambush.”

“You didn’t give me a choice. It was either resign and leave you or take the next step.” He forced himself to stare him in the eye. “And you don’t know that I want to ambush you.”

“No, but I’m a tolerable judge of character, and I’ve been suspecting it since the day you came to work for me. The prospect was interesting. Besides the fact that you’re a genius at making my money grow there was another factor. I live a fairly boring life, and watching you and wondering what you’re up to gave it a little spice. But now life is becoming more entertaining, and I may not need that additional stimulation.”

Stang felt the tension grip him. “And that means?”

“I think I’ll let you dwell on that and decide for yourself.” He flipped the file closed. “I believe I’ll go work out at the gym.” He headed for the French doors that led to the detached building that housed the gym. “I’m a bit restless tonight.”

Stang had been aware of that restlessness, and it had caused his uneasiness to heighten. Zander was usually in full control, and volatility was rare. “What if Venable calls again?”

“He won’t. I won’t need you for the rest of the evening. Set the alarm and go to bed, Stang.”

“You told Venable you’d think about going after Doane.”

“My, you’re persistent.” He paused. “And I will. There are reasons why it’s not a bad idea.”

“Eve Duncan?”

“No, the general. His death might tarnish my reputation. I mustn’t have potential clients thinking that their lives could be in danger because of the aftereffects of the termination. If I’d followed my gut instincts in the beginning, none of this would have happened. I might have to show that I actively sought to correct the problem. Duncan has nothing to do with it.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Unless I have to use her to get to Doane.”

“You
are
going to do it.”

“Stop pushing me, Stang. I’m going to think about it.” He smiled coldly. “And whatever I decide, it probably won’t make an iota of difference to whether Duncan lives or dies.”

“If you throw a different number into an equation, the answer is bound to change,” Stang said. “And sometimes the answer is better than you hope. If you decide to do it, will you team with Venable?”

“No, why would I do that? He has his own agenda, and he’d get in my way.”

“Just wondering.” He turned toward the door. “Good night, sir. There’s a jacket on the patio chair if you need it. It’s cold outside.”

Rio Grande Forest
Colorado

LORD, IT WAS COLD,
Eve thought.

The temperature had plummeted in the last hour, and the cotton tunic she was wearing was no protection against the cutting wind. Her teeth were chattering, and her muscles were knotting with the effort to withstand the chill.

She didn’t have much farther to go until she got to the place where she’d discarded her duffel. She would have been there sooner, but she’d lost the trail twice in the darkness and become disoriented. But now she was close, she knew it. The moon was up, and she’d recognized a few distinctive boulders.

It should be just around this turn of the trail.

And so might Doane.

She stopped and stared at the trail ahead.

Had he seen her discard the duffel? There was no way of knowing.

If he had, he could be up ahead waiting for her. If he hadn’t, then she might be safe.

She moved off the trail into the shrubs.

Move quietly.

Listen.

Is he there?

No sound.

The wind was sharper, taking her breath.

Are you tucked under a warm blanket on your couch down there in the house, you bastard?

Stay there. Sleep. While I try to even things out.

She stopped again and listened.

Still nothing but the wind through the trees.

The duffel should be right before her …

No duffel! Dammit, no duffel.

Don’t panic. Look for it.

She hadn’t realized that the trail had skirted this close to the cliff edge at this point. What if the duffel had rolled down and gone off the cliff?

And what if it hadn’t?

Look for it.

She might get lucky.

She slid farther down the slope toward the cliff edge.

There it was! She grabbed the black duffel and turned back to go up the slope.

And then she stopped on the cliff edge.

From this vantage point, she could see the house and the mine. The lamplight was pouring from the windows. That was a good sign that he wasn’t out here looking for her.

But she wouldn’t take that small sign to the bank. He could still be out here.

Get away. She couldn’t even stop to pull warmer clothes from the duffel until she was miles down the road. She started to climb the slope.

“You can’t get away. I won’t let you. Kill you. Throw you into the fire.”

She went rigid at the gravelly whisper. Doane?

Oh God, she’d been wrong. He was here, waiting.

She whirled toward the road and started running.

“Hate you. Throw you into the fire. He’ll find you.”

Where was the voice coming from? The other side of the trail? Wherever he was, he’d had time to get his gun from the house.

No bullet.

No sound of footsteps behind her.

Where the hell are you, Doane?

“
Burn you like they did me. Never get away.
”

Like they did me …

Her pace slowed.

She hadn’t thought she could get colder, but she was suddenly icy.

Not Doane.

She looked over her shoulder at the house where the lights cast a cozy glow out into the darkness.

Then she looked down at the abyss yawning beyond the cliff.

Burn you like they did me.

Not Doane. Kevin.

It was Kevin whose remains had been tossed into that furnace after he was shot.

She smothered the panic.

It could be imagination, a hallucination brought on by nerves and exposure.

Malignance and power coming from that darkness where she’d thrown Kevin’s skull.

Or it could be that the evil presence she’d sensed while she did Kevin’s reconstruction was real and waiting to forge across the barriers.

And attack.

But she hadn’t heard his voice since she’d realized that it was either her own imagination … or Kevin. If the attack had come, she had been able to repel it.

“You’re weak, Kevin,” she whispered fiercely. “You can’t touch me. You think you can use your father to break through, but you have boundaries. It’s not going to happen.” She started running up the path. “Go back to hell, where you belong.”

*   *   *

HE WAS COMING!

Eve climbed higher in the tree, making sure that she made no sound.

Doane made no effort to be quiet. Why would he? He had a rifle, and she was the prey.

She had thought he had settled for the night in the house, but she’d been rudely disappointed. In the middle of the night, he’d come after her, and she’d had to go on the run.

And it was the second time tonight that Doane had gotten so close. He hadn’t been boasting when he said he was a great tracker. She had resorted to going through the streambeds to erase the tracks and lose him. But she must have left some sign, or he wouldn’t be here now. It wouldn’t surprise her. It wasn’t as if she was woods-savvy like Joe. She just had to do the best she could.

“I can feel you, Eve,” Doane called out. “I can feel your fear and the panic. It’s terrible being hunted, isn’t it? No matter where you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

She wasn’t in a panic, but she was experiencing that primal fear of being hunted. And she
hated
this feeling of helplessness.

Damn, she wished she had some kind of weapon. She’d found a branch earlier that she’d tried to fashion into a club, but that would not hold up when confronting a rifle.

Not unless she could stage a surprise attack, and he had given her no opportunity to think of a way to do that.

“Are you having a rough night? The temperature is near freezing, and I was thinking of you when I was curled up in the house. That’s why I decided to leave comfort behind and go after you. I expected to be able to bring you in with no problem. You must be tougher than I thought to survive so well.”

It had been rough. Even wrapped in the blanket and covered with leaves, it had been cold. The wind hadn’t stopped, and she had only dozed for minutes at a time. It was probably a good thing because she had heard Doane when he’d tried to surprise her.

“Were you afraid that I’d be tracking you tonight? You’ll never know when I’m after you or when I go back for a little well-earned rest. So never sleep too hard, Eve.”

He was right below the tree.

Don’t move. Don’t breathe.

“If you sleep, I’ll catch you, Eve. You must be very tired right now.” He lifted his head. “Do you hear me? I must admit that I’m enjoying our little hunt. I like the idea of running you to ground. I noticed that you were traveling the stream. Your feet must be wet. By morning, they could be frostbitten. It will be hard for you to run then, Eve.”