'I have to listen to him. He’s my best friend.'
'Is he?' He gently touched her cheek. 'Then why is he drawing you into a world that could destroy you? How long can you deal with skulls and murder without having a breakdown?'
'Someone has to do it. I can bring closure to a lot of parents who are still searching for their children.'
'Then let someone else do it. You’re too close.'
“Because of Bonnie? She only makes me better at what I do. She makes me work harder for those other parents who also want to bring their children home.'
'It makes you a damn workaholic.'
She grimaced. 'Not on this island. I don’t have enough to do.”
“Is that the problem? We can go back to the States. We’ll go to my place in Monterey.'
'We’ll talk about it later,' she repeated.
'Okay.' He kissed her hard and sweet. 'I just wanted to get in my innings before Quinn. You have options. If you don’t like the ones I’ve given you, we’ll find others.'
She hugged him. 'I’ll see you at dinner.'
'Think about it, Eve.'
She nodded and left the room. How could she not think about it? She cared about Logan. Did she love him? What was love? she wondered. She didn’t know much about man-woman love.
She had thought she loved Bonnie’s father, but she’d been only fifteen; later she’d recognized her feelings for him as passion and a need for comfort in a rough world. She’d had a few other encounters, but they’d been unimportant, fading immediately into the shadow of her work.
Logan was not unimportant, and he’d fight being overshadowed by anyone or anything. He could rouse her to passion and he was kind and caring. She would be sad if he disappeared from her life. Surely that could be love.
She didn’t want to analyze anything now. After she talked to Joe would be soon enough. She’d go down to her lab and work for a while on that age-progression photo of Libby Crandall, who’d been kidnapped at age eight by her father.
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She moved down the hallway toward the French doors that led to her lab. Sunny. Everything was sunny and bright and clean on this island. That’s how Logan wanted to keep her life, always in sunlight, away from the darkness. Why not let him? Let the pain fade. Let the memory of Bonnie slip away. Let someone else help all the other children who were lost out there.
Not possible. Never. Bonnie and the lost ones were woven into the fabric of her life and her dreams. They were a big part of who she was, maybe the best part. Logan knew her so well, it seemed impossible he’d never accepted the truth about her.
That she belonged in the darkness.
PHOENIX, ARIZONA Darkness.
Dom had always liked the night. Not because it was concealing but because of the excitement of the unknown. Nothing appeared the same at night, and yet for him everything became so much clearer. Wasn’t there something by Saint-Exuprey about that?
Oh, yes, he remembered…
When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
He was never fragmented, but night did make him feel calm and strong. Soon the calmness would be gone, but the strength would sing through him like a thousandvoice choir.
Choir. He smiled as he realized how one thought led to another. He straightened in the driver’s seat. She was coming out of the house. He had chosen her carefully for difficulty; he was sure she would be more stimulating than the last prostitute. Debby Jordan, blond, thirty-one, married, mother of two. She was treasurer of the PTA, had a nice soprano voice, and belonged to the Hill Street Methodist Church choir. She was going to choir practice now. She would never get there.
TWO
Joe and Logan were polite during dinner, but Eve could sense the antagonism between them.
She hated it. She liked everything honest and clear. Watching them was like watching two icebergs drift toward each other and never knowing when they would collide because there was so much hidden beneath the surface.
She couldn’t stand it. To hell with dessert.
She jumped to her feet. 'Come on, Joe. Let’s go for a walk.”
“I’m not invited?' Logan murmured. 'How rude, and we haven’t finished dinner.'
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'I’m finished.' Joe stood up and threw down his napkin. 'And, no, you’re not invited.'
