sent you the skull?”
“Your captain. It arrived about an hour ago. It’s one of the children on the island. A little boy. After all the publicity in the past few days, you’d think they would have been able to ID him.”
“Most of those kills were a long time ago. What are you calling him?”
“Matt.” She always named the skull she was currently working on. It seemed less impersonal, and she needed that connection. These murdered children who had just been tossed in the ground filled her with immense sadness. The skulls sent to her were those of children who were completely unknown to the local police departments. They had to have a starting place before they could begin DNA testing and matching. It was her job to take the skull and build a close enough resemblance so that it could be photographed, published in the media, and, hopefully, be recognized by friends or relatives. She took down two bowls from the cabinet. “Long time or not, I would have been calling nonstop if I knew there were unidentified bodies in those graves.”
“Not everyone is you, Eve. Some people have managed to move on.”
“I know. I’m happy for them.” She shrugged. “Maybe when I do finish Matt, they won’t thank me for stirring up the memories again.”
“They’ll thank you. Closure is a great gift.” He sat down at the table. “I wish I could give it to you.” He paused. “I called Montalvo today.”
“I know. He phoned and filled me in.”
“I thought maybe he would.”
She gazed at him a long moment. “You’re not angry.”
“I won’t let myself be angry. I can’t afford it, any more than I can afford jealousy. You and I have gone way past that point, haven’t we?”
“I suppose we have.” But his cool assessment and realization of the situation was not like that of the emotion- charged man she had known lately. It made her feel uneasy. “He said you’d agreed to let him in on anything you found out about Jelak.”
“I will.” He picked up his spoon. “I had the sheriff in Bloomburg go into Gold’s Gym and get a description of Jelak. About five-foot-nine, Roman nose, dark hair with white sideburns, very muscular.”
“Nancy Jo,” Eve whispered.
“Yes, he fits her description. We have a very observant ghost.” He lowered his gaze to the stew. “You said I was a rock. Well, the rock gets a deeper crack running across it every time something like this happens. I just have to hold on and keep it from shattering.” He lifted his eyes to her face. “But I will do it, Eve.”
“I know you will.” She sat down across from him. She could feel the strength and determination he was emitting as if it were a living force. Those qualities had never changed. From the time she had met him all those years ago, he had been a bastion of strength. She remembered breaking down and clinging to him in those weeks after Bonnie had been taken. Even at that time, she’d had moments of feeling safe and treasured in a barren world.
He should have seemed more vulnerable now. His brown hair was damp and a little mussed. His tea-colored eyes were older and a little weary. His face was thinner, the bones more pronounced. He didn’t look vulnerable. He reminded her of the portrait of a gladiator she had seen in a gallery she had visited with Jane in California. The man had been leaning against a sun-baked wall, relaxed and at rest, but the leashed strength had been clearly visible, only waiting to break free.
Very close to breaking free.
“What are you thinking?” Joe’s gaze was studying her expression.
“You’re changing.” She tried to smile. “I have a tendency to cling to you as I first knew you. But you’re not that man, any more than I’m that poor broken woman.”
“Some things never change.”
“But people do. Lately I told someone that everyone changes, and you just have to adjust.” She held up her hand. “Oh, it’s not because of this weird business of Megan’s. Well, maybe a little of it because it’s an experience, and experiences cause after-effects. You’ve probably been changing all along, and I didn’t want to see it. All I let myself see was that you were tired of the search for Bonnie.”
He met her gaze and repeated, “Some things never change.”
“But we have to explore what those things are.” She drew a deep breath. “But not now. That’s putting a little too much pressure on you for it to be fair.” She lifted her spoon to her mouth. “So did you find out anything more about Nancy Jo’s murder?”
“The Perimeter Mall security camera on the level where Nancy Jo left her car was smashed. We managed to find a picture of a light gray Lincoln Town Car that exited about that time.”
“License plate?”
“Conveniently covered with mud.” Joe finished eating and leaned back in his chair. “She seems to have been a random victim. Poor kid.”
“Why?” Eve shook her head. “For her blood? The whole thing is sick.”
“Gift to Gift.” Joe said. “And why was Jelak trailing behind Henry Kistle? I wouldn’t be surprised if the paper trail we’re doing on him leads us back to Kistle’s stomping grounds.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Have you traced his early years here in Atlanta?”
He nodded. “It’s pretty skimpy. He grew up in College Park in a foster home. His mother was a whore on crack and left him to fend for himself for most of his early years before DEFACS took him away from her. He was in trouble with the law from the time he was eight or ten. When he was seventeen, he beat up one of his teachers and was thrown into jail. The man almost died. After that, Jelak was in and out of prison for the next eight years.” He paused. “We went back into some of the trial-court records and found something interesting. At one point during a routine search of his apartment, the police found a sizable collection of vials containing blood.”
