“Because I am. Especially where you’re concerned, Mama.”
“And why do you think I’m afraid?”
“Because of Joe. You’re afraid for Joe.” The tiniest frown wrinkled her brow. “I’m afraid, too.”
“Why?”
“He’s not like you. I love Joe. I was so happy . . . But he’s not like you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Bonnie looked at her. “You’re afraid because Joe may be different. Megan scared you.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Joe is like an anchor for you. He is what he is. You don’t want him to be changed.”
“Everybody changes. That’s what life’s all about. You learn to love the changes too.”
“What if Joe doesn’t love the changes? I went away, but I don’t think she will.”
“Megan? Look, Bonnie, this psychic thing is completely without—” Her cell phone rang and she reached in her pocket. “It’s Montalvo.”
BONNIE DIDN’T ANSWER.
Eve didn’t have to glance at the pine tree to know that Bonnie would no longer be there. Disappointment sharpened her voice as she answered the phone. “What do you want, Montalvo?”
“In what order?” Montalvo asked. “No, I can tell by your tone that you’re not about to indulge me that way. I called to tell you that there was another credit slip for Kevin Jelak issued at a gas station in Calhoun, Georgia.”
Calhoun. That was a town not too far from Chattanooga. “He’s coming closer. What was the date on the slip?”
“Yesterday.”
“He’s leaving a trail. It’s stupid of him to use a credit card that can be traced.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know that we know about him.”
“Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he wants us to know he’s heading this way.” She gazed out at the lake. “Why now, Montalvo? It’s strange that he should appear right on the heels of Kistle’s death. All these years, and we heard nothing from Jelak. Did those investigators of yours stir him into action?”
“Possibly. I’m expecting a report on him later today. They’re tracing his background through the credit-card application. I’ll let you know.” He paused. “Is everything all right with you?”
A gold goblet stained with blood.
“Everything is fine.”
“I don’t believe you, but I’ll let it go. I’ll call you when I have anything of interest to you.” He hung up.
It didn’t surprise her that Montalvo would sense her disturbance. He knew her very well. Too well.
She turned and moved back toward the cottage. She would finish going through her e-mail, then maybe take a nap while Jane was still asleep. She’d had only a few hours’ sleep before she’d had to go pick up Jane at the airport.
As if she’d be able to relax, she thought ruefully. Her mind was skipping from Jelak to Megan’s worried questions about Joe, to that damn goblet. Everything was swirling around her, leaping closer, like a tornado, hovering, then touching down.
And Bonnie was the eye of the tornado, calm, loving, a shimmering orb that vanished as the storm overtook them.
She glanced back at the pine tree where Bonnie had been sitting and remembered those last cryptic words.
I went away, but I don’t think she will.
Uneasiness, again.
She impulsively reached in her pocket for her phone and dialed Joe. She wanted to reach out, touch him.
“I was just going to call you.” His tone was curt. “I’ve been busy as hell. This crime scene is a media circus. We have to cordon off the entire area to keep the journalists from sneaking past the tapes.”
“Why?”
“That’s right, I didn’t tell you. The victim is Nancy Jo Norris. Her father is Ed Norris. He’s flying down from Washington now, and we have to get the forensic investigation done and Nancy Jo moved to the morgue before we have him coming here and causing more uproar from the media. I’ll be late getting home.” He paused. “After I leave here, I want to stop by the precinct and take a look at that goblet. We should have a preliminary report on the blood by that time.”
“Nancy Jo Norris.” Eve felt sick. “I saw a photo of her in the newspaper last month. She was playing soccer in some tournament. She was smiling, and she looked positively radiant.”
“That’s one of the reasons the media is hyped. A 4.0 student, popular, good at sports, on the student council . . . and a daddy who might run for president someday.”
“Poor girl. Everything to live for . . .” She shook her head. “I’d be out there on top of you too. Any clues as to who did it?”
“One.” He paused. “Schindler thinks it may be a ritual killing.”
