He didn’t want to talk about anything to do with psychic gifts, Eve realized. “Okay, I just wanted to tell you that Megan was full of warnings because of what happened in the swamp. Remember that she didn’t want to be touched? She said that sometimes if she touched someone, it released latent psychic talents in them. Some people can’t adjust. She was afraid for me because I touched her.” Don’t mention that she’d included Joe in the warning. It might cause him to instinctively reject it. Let him draw his own inferences. “I told her I was fine and that I’d contact her if there was a problem.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “She thought you’d hear dead people like she does?”
“She said it depended on the person. She said it might cause them to read minds or be a healer or be able to make flowers grow. Any special talent that might be within them.” She cuddled closer. “And I told her that I found all of this a little hard to swallow.”
“Of course.” His tone was absent. “Totally ridiculous.”
“Nothing about Megan is ridiculous. It’s just out of my realm of experience, so I can’t imagine it.”
“I can imagine it.” He added with sudden roughness, “And I find it ridiculous as hell.”
“Don’t get upset about it.”
“Why not? It’s bullshit. Dead children speaking from the beyond, corpses walking around. It’s bullshit.”
“I’ll tell her that when she calls again. She’ll probably agree with you. But it’s the bullshit she has to live with.”
“Well, I don’t have to live with it.” He sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “I can’t sleep. I’m going to call the M.E. and see if he has a report on the Norris autopsy.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“They’ll still be there. We’re working around the clock on this one.” He shrugged on his robe. “Ed Norris will have his aides on our ass every step of the way.”
“Do you want company?”
“No, stay in bed. This shouldn’t take long.”
Eve watched him leave the room. She had done her best. She didn’t know if that would be good enough. It was like trying to walk along a precipice blindfolded. For the first time in their relationship, she had no idea what he was thinking. And it was only guesswork that it had something to do with Megan’s facilitator talent. She was grasping at straws. She could only allow him his space and hope that he would work it out for himself.
Damn, it was hard.
What was she complaining about? If it was hard, then it was only a tiny portion of the hell Joe had gone through for her over the years. From that initial meeting after Bonnie had been taken, he had tried to shoulder every burden, ease every pain. Yet when he had first come into her kitchen that first morning, she’d been bitterly resentful.
There was a discreet knock on the kitchen door. “Ms. Duncan. FBI. I rang the front doorbell, but no one was answering. May I come in?”
Because she’d ignored the bell. She turned back to the stove. “Yes, I suppose you may.”
She heard the door open behind her.
“I can understand why you wouldn’t want to answer the bell. I’ve heard the media has been harassing you. I’m Special Agent Joe Quinn. FBI. I wonder if I could have a few words with you.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him as she turned the omelet in the pan. Dark blue suit, square face, brown eyes, maybe twenty-six or -seven, good-looking. Young, too young. Why hadn’t they sent her someone older, with more experience? “Questions? I’ve answered millions of questions. It’s all in ATLPD’s records. Go ask them.”
“I have to make my own report.”
“Red tape. Procedures.” She scooped up the omelet and put it on a plate. “Why didn’t they send someone right after it happened?”
“We had to wait for a request from the local police.”
“You should have been here. Everyone should have come right away.” Her hand was shaking as she picked up the plate and put it on a tray. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to you, but I have to take this omelet to my mother. She hasn’t gotten out of bed since Bonnie disappeared. I can’t get her to eat.”
“I’ll take it.” He reached out and took the plate. “Which room?”
She wasn’t about to argue. Let him do something, anything. He hadn’t done what was important. He hadn’t found Bonnie. “First door at the top of the stairs.”
She took the pan to the sink and started to wash it. Keep busy. Don’t think. Keep moving.
“She started to eat,” Quinn said as he came back in the room. “Maybe it was the shock of seeing a stranger.”
“Maybe.”
“And how are you eating, Ms. Duncan?”
“I eat enough. I know I can’t afford to lose strength.” She started drying the pan. Slowly. She was desperately afraid of running out of something to do. “What do you want to know, Agent Quinn?”
He looked down at his notes. “Your daughter, Bonnie, disappeared at the park over a week ago. She went to the refreshment stand to get an ice cream and didn’t return. She was wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t see anyone suspicious loitering anywhere nearby?”
