'You’re so sure he’s going to contact you again?'
'He’ll call me.' She smiled bitterly. 'As he said, we have a bond.'
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FOUR
'Go to bed,' Joe said as they stepped inside the cottage. 'I’ll call Spiro and put in a request for a skull.'
Eve glanced at her watch. It was almost four in the morning. 'He won’t be in a very accommodating mood if you wake him up.'
'I doubt he’s asleep. He doesn’t sleep much when he’s on a case. He’s pretty driven.'
'Good.' She headed for her bedroom. 'I believe in driven.'
'Tell me something I don’t know.' He reached for the phone on the table. 'Go on, get some rest. I’ll get your skull for you.'
'Thanks, Joe.' She closed the door behind her and moved toward the bathroom. Shower and go to bed. Don’t think of Bonnie. Don’t think of those two little boys. Don’t try to draw conclusions. All that could wait until she was rested and able to conquer the horror and the shock. Tomorrow when she woke she would try to put the pieces together.
'You look like hell,' Joe told Eve. 'Couldn’t you sleep?'
'A few hours. My mind wouldn’t turn off. Is Spiro going to give me a skull?”
“He wouldn’t commit. He said he’d discuss it when he finished talking to you.”
“He’s coming here?'
'He’ll be here by three this afternoon.' He checked his watch. 'Another thirty minutes. You have time for breakfast or lunch. Which do you want?'
'Just a sandwich.' She headed for the refrigerator. 'I can’t seem to get warm. I borrowed another one of your flannel shirts.'
'I noticed. It looks better on you.' He sat down at the bar and watched her build a ham and cheese sandwich. 'I don’t mind sharing with you. I’ve become accustomed to it over the years.
It’s kind of comfortable.'
She nodded in perfect understanding. Being with Joe was as comfortable as feeling his soft shirt against her body.
'I have something to tell you.' Joe shook his head when she looked up in alarm. 'It’s not that bad, but you have to know.'
'Know what?'
'Mark Grunard’s found out where you are.' She frowned. 'Mark Grunard?'
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'TV journalist. He must have spent days digging into records to find this cottage. I had to make a deal. You’ve heard of him?'
She nodded slowly. 'He’s on Channel Three. Investigative reporting. I remember him from Fraser’s trial.' She grimaced. 'As well as I can remember anyone or anything except Fraser.'
'I told you I had to find a way to draw reporters away from here. I couldn’t do it by myself, so I had to make a deal.'
'What kind of deal?'
'Mark Grunard’s spot on the six o’clock news last night was about the search for you. He showed a shot of this cottage and expressed his disappointment that this wasn’t the hideaway.
However, he had been given a tip about a houseboat off the coast of Florida. After the broadcast he hopped on a plane to Jacksonville, and I’d bet half the reporters in the city did too.'
'And what did you have to promise him?'
'An exclusive. He keeps quiet until we’re ready to release. But you’ll have to meet with him here a couple times.'
'When?'
'The first one fairly soon. He’s already paid his first instalment on the deal. He’ll want something in return. Do you have an objection to Grunard?'
She tried to remember Mark Grunard more clearly. Older, graying at the temples, with Peter Jennings’s warmth. 'No, I guess not.' She smiled. 'What would you have done if I’d told you I couldn’t stand him?'
'Ditched him.' He grinned. 'But it makes my life easier that I don’t have to go back on my word.
Finish your sandwich.'
'I’m eating.' She took another bite. 'What made you choose Grunard? Do you know him well?'
