'He knew about the ice cream.'
'Or he’s one of those people who confess to every murder and had nothing to do with any of them.'
'We’ll know soon enough about that one,' Eve whispered. 'If they find those boys at Talladega.'
'They’re searching now. I called Robert Spiro the minute I hung up from you.”
“Who’s Robert Spiro?'
'An agent with the FBI Behavioral Science Unit. He’s part of the team handling Talladega. Good The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02
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man.'
'You know him?'
'He was at the Bureau when I was there. He moved to the Profiling Unit a year after I resigned.
He’ll call me if they find anything.'
'No.' She set down her cup and tossed the throw aside. 'I need to go to Talladega.'
'You need to rest.'
'Bullshit. If they missed those bodies before, I’m not going to let them make the mistake again.' She stood up. Jesus, her legs felt weak. They’d get better. Walk. 'Can I take the Jeep?'
'If you take me with it.' Joe put on his jacket. 'And if you wait until I make enough coffee to fill a thermos. It’s cold outside. This isn’t Tahiti.'
'And you’re afraid I’m still in shock.'
He headed for the kitchenette. 'No, you’re almost back to normal.' She didn’t feel normal. She was still shaking inside and felt as if her every nerve was exposed and raw. Joe probably knew it and was tactfully ignoring it. She had to ignore it too. Just do one thing at a time. First, find out if that bastard had told her lies about Talladega. If he had lied about Talladega, then he could have lied about Bonnie.
But what if he was telling the truth?
They reached Talladega Falls after midnight, but the searchlights and lanterns dotting the surrounding cliffs made it seem like day.
'Want to wait here?' Joe asked as he got out of the Jeep. She was staring up at a cliff. 'Is that where they found them?”
“The first skeleton was discovered on the next ridge, the rest up there. The child was found nearest the gorge.' He didn’t look at her. 'It’s just a hole in the ground.
There’s nothing there now.'
But a little girl had been buried at that spot all these years. A little girl who might be Bonnie. 'I have to see it.'
'I thought you would.'
'Then why did you ask if I wanted to wait here?' She got out of the car and started walking.
'My protective instinct.' He turned on his flashlight and followed her. 'I should know better.'
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'Yes.' There had been a frost earlier in the evening, and the earth crunched beneath her feet.
Was she walking in the footsteps of the murderer as he carried his victims to their graves?
She could hear the roar of the falls. Then, as she reached the top, she saw it pouring in a long, silver stream across the gorge. Brace yourself. Don’t turn your head. Not yet.
'To your left,' Joe said quietly.
She drew a deep breath and tore her gaze from the falls. She saw yellow tape and then… the grave.
Small. So small.
'Okay?' Joe was holding her elbow. No, she wasn’t okay. 'She was buried here?'
'We think so. This is where she was found, and we’re pretty certain the mud slide just uncovered her.'
'She was here all along. All this time…”
“It may not be Bonnie.'
'I know that,' she said dully. 'Stop reminding me, Joe.”
“I have to remind you. You have to remind yourself.' The pain was too strong. Block it out. 'It’s beautiful here.'
'Very beautiful. The sheriff says the Indians called the falls the ‘place of tumbling moonlight’.'
'He didn’t bury them in this place because it’s beautiful,' she said shakily. 'He wanted to hide them where they’d never be found and brought home to the people who loved them.'
'Don’t you think you’ve been here long enough?”
