anthropology now.
Only by correspondence. I dont have time to go to classes yet.
For Gods sake, why anthropology? Dont you have enough on your plate?
I thought it might help. Ive tried to find out all I can from the anthropologists Ive worked with, but theres still too much I dont know.
Youre working too hard as it is. Your schedule is booked up for months.
Thats not my fault. She made a face. It was that damn mention your commissioner gave me on 60 Minutes. Why couldnt he keep his mouth shut? I was busy enough without getting all this out-of-town stuff.
Well, just remember who your friends are. Joe headed for the door. Dont go moving away to some highfalutin college.
Dont talk to me about highfalutin, when you went to Harvard.
That was a lifetime ago. Now Im a good ol southern boy. Follow my example and stay where you belong.
Im not going anywhere. She got up and set the skull on the shelf above her workbench. Except to lunch with Diane next Tuesday. If shell have me. Will you ask her?
You ask her. Im not running interference again. I have my own problems. Its not easy for her being a cops wife. He paused at the door. Go to bed, Eve. Theyre dead. Theyre all dead. Its not going to hurt them if you get a little sleep.
Dont be stupid. I know that. You act like Im neurotic or something. Its just not professional to ig-nore a job.
Yeah, sure. He hesitated. You ever been con-tacted by John Logan?
Who?
Logan. Logan Computers. Hes a billionaire racing on the heels of Bill Gates. Hes been all over the news lately because of the Republican fund-raisers hes been throwing out in Hollywood.
She shrugged. You know I barely keep up with the news. But she did recall seeing a picture of Logan, perhaps in the Sunday paper the previous week. He was in his late thirties or early forties with a California tan and close-cut dark hair with a dusting of gray at the temples. He had been smiling down at some blond movie star. Sharon Stone? She couldnt remember. Well, he hasnt been soliciting me for money. I wouldnt give it to him if he did. I vote Inde-pendent. She glanced at her computer. Thats a Logan. He makes a good computer, but thats the closest Ive ever come in contact with the great man. Why?
Hes been making inquiries about you.
What?
Not personally. Hes going through a high-powered West Coast lawyer, Ken Novak. When they told me down at the precinct, I did some checking and Im almost sure Logans behind it.
I dont think so. She smiled slyly as she punned, It doesnt compute.
Youve handled private inquiries before. He grinned. A man in his position has to have left a trail of bodies on his way to the top. Maybe he forgot where he buried one of them.
Very funny. She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. Did his lawyer get his report?
What the hell do you think? We know how to protect our own. Tell me if he gets hold of your pri-vate number and bothers you. See you. The door shut behind him.
Yes, Joe would protect her just as hed always done, and no one could do it better. He was different from when they had first met years before. Time had hammered every trace of boyishness out of him. Shortly after Frasers execution, he had resigned from his job as an agent in the FBI and joined the At-lanta ED. He was now a lieutenant detective. Hed never really told her why he had made the move. She had asked, but his answerthat hed wanted to jet-tison the pressure of the bureauhad never satisfied her. Joe could be a very private person, and she hadnt probed. All she knew was that he had always been there for her.
Even that night at the prison when she had felt more alone than ever.
She didnt want to think about that night. The despair and pain were still as raw as
So think about it anyway. She had learned the only way to survive the pain was to meet it head-on.
Fraser was dead.
Bonnie was lost.
She closed her eyes and let the agony wash over her. When it eased, she opened her eyes and moved toward the computer. Work always helped. Bonnie might be lost and never be found, but there were others
Youve got another one? Sandra Duncan stood in the doorway, dressed in pajamas and her favorite pink chenille robe. Her gaze was focused on the skull across the room. I thought I heard someone in the driveway. Youd think Joe would leave you alone.
I dont want to be left alone. Eve sat down at the desk. No problem. Its not a rush job. Go back to bed, Mom.
You go to bed. Sandra Duncan walked over to the skull. Is it a little girl?
Preadolescent.
She was silent a moment. Youre never going to find her, you know. Bonnies gone. Let it go, Eve.
I have let it go. I just do my job.
Bullshit.
Eve smiled. Go to bed.
Can I help? Make you a snack?
I have more respect for my digestive system than to let you sabotage it.
I do try. Sandra made a face. Some people werent meant to cook.
You have other talents.
Her mother nodded. Im a good court reporter and I nag damn well. Will you go to bed, or do I have to demonstrate?
Fifteen minutes more.
I guess Ill allow you that much slack. She moved toward the door. But Ill be listening to hear your bedroom door close. She paused and then said awkwardly, Im not coming home right away after work tomorrow night. Im going out to dinner.
Eve looked up in surprise. With whom?
Ron Fitzgerald. I told you about him. Hes a lawyer in the district attorneys office. I like him. Her tone was almost defiant. He makes me laugh.
Good. Id like to meet him.
Im not like you. Its been a long time since Ive been out with a man, and I need people. Im not a nun. For Gods sake, Im not even fifty. My life cant stop just because
Why are you acting so guilty? Have I ever said I wanted you to stay home? You have a right to do whatever you want to do.
Im acting guilty because I feel guilty. Sandra scowled. You could make it easier for me if you werent so hard on yourself. Youre the one whos a nun.
God, she wished her mother hadnt decided to go into this tonight. She was too tired to cope. Ive had a few relationships.
Until they got in the way of your work. Two weeks tops.
Mom.
Okay, okay. I just think its time for you to live a normal life again.
Whats normal for one person isnt always normal for another. She looked down at her com-puter screen. Now, scat. I want to finish this before I go to bed. Be sure you drop in tomorrow night and tell me all about your dinner.
So you can live vicariously? Sandra asked tartly. I may or may not.
You will.
Yeah, I will. Her mother sighed. Good night, Eve.
Good night, Mom.
Eve leaned back in her chair. She should have no-ticed her mother was becoming restless and unhappy. Emotional instability was always dangerous for a re-covering addict. But, dammit, Mom had been clean since Bonnies second birthday. Another gift that Bonnie had brought when she came into their lives.
She was probably exaggerating the problem. Growing up with an addict had made her deeply suspicious. Surely her mothers restlessness was both typical and healthy. The best thing that could happen to her was a solid, loving relationship.
So let Sandra run with it, but watch the situation closely.
She was staring blindly at the screen. She had done enough tonight. There could be little doubt the skull belonged to little Bobby Starnes.
She noticed the Logan insignia as she logged out and turned off the computer. Funny how you never paid any attention to things like that. Why the hell would Logan be asking questions about her? He probably wasnt. More than likely it was a mistake. Her life and Logans were at opposite ends of the spectrum.
She stood up and moved her shoulders to rid them of stiffness. Shed pack up Bobbys skull, take it and the report to the house, then ship them out the following morning. She never liked to have more than one skull in the lab at the same time. Joe laughed at her, but she felt she couldnt give her full attention to the job she was working on if she could see another skull silently waiting. So shed overnight Bobby Starnes and the re-port to Chicago and the day after tomorrow Bobbys parents would know that their son had come home, that he was no longer one of the lost ones.
Let it go, Eve.
Her mother didnt understand that the search for Bonnie had become woven into the fabric of her life and she could no longer tell which thread was Bonnie and which were the other lost ones. That probably made her a hell of a lot
