Jane was silent for a moment. “You sound funny. Are you okay?”
“Sure. I’ll be even better when I see you. Bye.” She hung up.
Trust Jane to read her mood even long-distance. She hesitated as she cast a glance at the closed bedroom door. No, she wouldn’t go in and tell Joe she was leaving for the airport. The closing of that door had been firm and final. She would give him time and hope that those dragons he was talking about would slink away into the darkness.
She left the house and ran down the porch steps to the car. But her eyes were stinging with tears, and she had to wait a moment before she pulled out of the driveway. Her hands clenched on the steering wheel as she stared blindly out into the darkness.
Joe’s pain was all about Bonnie and Eve’s obsession with finding her daughter’s murderer. The hunt that had gone on for years. It was hurting him. She couldn’t expect him to have empathy. He had never had a child. They had taken Jane from foster homes when she was ten, and by that time, Jane had been wise beyond her years. She had become their friend, not their child. Joe had never had the wonderful experiences that Eve had known of raising a little girl. That was why he would never understand why Eve couldn’t let it go.
Because the memory of Bonnie would never let go. That night before Bonnie was taken was as fresh tonight as if it had happened yesterday.
Bonnie running into Eve’s bedroom in her yellow pajamas with the orange clowns all over them. Her wild red curls were bouncing, and her face was lit with her luminous smile.
“Mama, Lindsey says her mother is going to let her wear her Goofy T-shirt to the park tomorrow for the school picnic. Can I wear my Bugs Bunny T-shirt?”
Eve looked up from her English Lit book open on the desk in front of her. “It’s not can, it’s may, baby. And yes, you may wear Bugs tomorrow.” She smiled. “We wouldn’t want Lindsey to put you in the shade.”
“I wouldn’t care. She’s my friend. You said we always had to want the best for our friends.”
“Yes, we do. Now run along to bed.”
Bonnie didn’t move. “I know you’re studying for your test, but could you read me a story?” She added coaxingly, “I thought maybe a very, very, short one?”
“Your grandmother loves to read you stories, baby.”
Bonnie came closer and whispered, “I love Grandma. But it’s always special when you read it to me. Just a short one . . .”
Eve glanced at her Lit book. She’d be up until after midnight as it was studying for that exam. She looked at Bonnie’s pleading face. Oh, to hell with it. Bonnie was the reason Eve was working for her degree anyway. She was the reason for every action Eve took in life. Why cheat either one of them? “Run and choose a storybook.” She pushed her textbook aside and stood up. “And it doesn’t have to be a short one.”
Bonnie’s expression could have lit up Times Square. “No, I promise . . .” She ran out of the room. She was back in seconds with a Dr. Seuss book. “This will be quick, and I like the rhymes.”
Eve sat down in the blue-padded rocking chair that she’d used since Bonnie was a newborn. “Climb up. I like Dr. Seuss too.”
“I know you do.” Bonnie scrambled up in her lap and cuddled close. “But since it’s such a short book, can—may I have my song too?”
“I think that’s a reasonable request,” Eve said solemnly. The two of them had their little traditions, and every night since she was a toddler, Bonnie had loved to share a song with Eve. Eve would sing the first line, and Bonnie would sing the next. “What’s it to be tonight?”
“ ‘All the Pretty Little Horses.’ ” She turned around on Eve’s lap and hugged her with all her might. “I love you, Mama.”
Eve’s arms closed around her. Bonnie’s riot of curls was soft and fragrant against her cheek, and her small body was endearingly vital and sturdy against Eve. Lord, she was lucky. “I love you, too, Bonnie.”
Bonnie let her go and flopped back around to cuddle in the curve of her arm. “You start, Mama.”
“Hushabye, don’t you cry,” Eve sang softly.
Bonnie’s thin little voice chimed. “Go to sleep, little baby.”
The moment was so precious, so dear. Eve’s arms held Bonnie closer and she could feel the tightening of her throat as she sang. “When you wake, you shall have . . .”
Bonnie’s voice was only a wisp of sound. “All the pretty little horses . . .”
EVE’S HEAD SANK DOWN TO rest on the steering wheel. Get a grip. She couldn’t sit here and wallow in the past. So her life right now seemed to be going down the tubes. She had to go on. She had to deal with the problem with Joe. She had to pick up Jane from the airport.
She lifted her head and started the car.
And she had to try to block out that bittersweet memory that was still echoing in her mind and heart.
All the pretty little horses . . .
“DAMMIT, I’VE MISSED YOU so much.” Eve gave Jane a hug before releasing her. “How dare you look as beautiful as if you’d spent the night at a spa. After that international trip, you should be haggard and rumpled. I always am.”
“I’m rumpled, but I got a new haircut in Paris that makes it look fashionable.” She glanced at the revolving baggage carousel. “I think I see my duffel. I’ll be right back.” She sprinted toward it.
So much energy, Eve thought. Jane was the complete package: beauty, talent, and a loving nature that didn’t preclude a streak of pure iron. She had graduated from college only two years ago and was already making her name as an artist in the galleries of the U.S. and Europe. It had been a blessing that Eve and Joe had been able to take Jane into their home when she was a street kid. She had enriched their lives then and now. It was a shining—
Her cell phone rang. Joe? she thought as she pulled her phone out of her handbag. Let it be Joe.
Megan Blair. She smothered her disappointment. It had to be important. Yet she still was wary to take the call. Megan’s psychic gifts were undoubtedly genuine, but Eve had wanted to distance herself for a while. And why on earth was she calling at this hour of the morning?
“Eve, are you okay?” Megan Blair’s voice vibrated with urgency as Eve picked up the call. “Dear God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that—Is everything all right with you?”
“What are you talking about?” Eve glanced at Jane, who was pulling her black duffel off the carousel. “Everything’s fine. I’m just picking Jane up at the airport. She flew in from Paris tonight.”
“Good. Someone’s with you. Tell her not to leave you.”
“I’ll tell her no such thing. Why should I?”
“It’s this damn facilitator thing. I thought you were safe. I was unconscious, so I thought the emotion wouldn’t trigger anything.”
“You’re not making yourself clear, Megan.”
“I’ll try to slow down.” She took a deep breath. “Remember I told you that I had this other gift. Gift? No, that’s not the word. So far it’s been mostly a curse. Anyway, when I’m experiencing extreme emotion, it’s dangerous for me to touch anyone.”
“Yes, I noticed you treated everyone as if they had the plague.”
“It’s because I facilitate. Whatever latent psychic gift the person I touch possesses becomes active. Mind reading, healing, finding . . . whatever. But that sudden freeing of the psychic talent can be too much for some minds.”
“Madness. Yes, you told me all that. But you also said I didn’t have to worry because you were in a coma when I touched you in the swamp.”
“But it just occurred to me that I was still aware of those dead children that were buried on that island even then. That means that the coma wasn’t deep enough. At least, I don’t think it was. I just don’t know.”
“Shh. You’re upset for nothing, Megan.”
“Don’t tell me that.” Megan was silent a moment. “Look, I know you probably didn’t believe me when I told you about this weird facilitator stuff. You accept that I can hear echoes of what happened to those murdered children in the place where they were killed because you were there, you saw me going through it. But the other is too bizarre for you. Well, it’s bizarre to me too. But I’m not going to let anyone be hurt by it if I can help it. I touched you. I held your hands. That’s all it takes sometimes. Lord, I don’t want to hurt you, Eve.”
Jane was coming toward her, pulling her duffel bag, her brows lifted inquiringly.
“I’m not hurt,” Eve said. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Megan.”
“I hope not. But if anything strange does happen, don’t be afraid. We’ll work through it together.”
“I don’t think we’re going to have to work through it. I feel perfectly normal, Megan. Besides, you said the danger period had long passed by the time I left you at the hospital.”
“But that was before I realized that my emotional response was still active even though I was in that coma. The effect may have been delayed. Tell Jane to stay with you anyway. Just in case. Will you do that for me?”
“I’m not going to have her holding my hand, Megan. I’ll be fine. If there’s a problem, I promise to call you. Just try to relax.”
“No way. Dammit, I know this all sounds crazy to you. Hell, it is crazy. But I can’t let go until I know for sure that you’ve not been affected. I’ll check back later.” Megan hung up.
“What was that all about?” Jane asked. “You sounded very soothing. And why should I have to be holding your hand, Eve?”
“You shouldn’t, that’s the point.” Eve turned and walked with her toward the exit. “I’m fine.”
“And why doesn’t Megan Blair think you’re fine? She should know. She’s a doctor, isn’t she?”
Eve nodded. “ER. But she’s not practicing right now.”
“Too busy with this voodoo stuff?”
Voodoo. Yes, that was what Eve had thought when she had first met Megan. She had believed all psychic powers were crap and everyone who claimed to have them charlatans. But she had seen too much in that swamp while they were chasing that killer, Henry Kistle, to discount anything that Megan told her.
Except that last facilitator revelation. Eve still couldn’t quite accept that possibility as reality. It was too bizarre, as Megan had said.
“I guess you could call it voodoo. But Megan isn’t . . . I respect her, Jane.”
“Then I apologize for being flip. Heaven knows, I realize that there’s more out there than we can see or touch. It’s just that someone like Megan Blair is outside my realm of experience. Where’s your car parked?”
“Short-term lot.” She started across the street. “I brought the Jeep. I was expecting more luggage, or maybe a canvas or two.”
“No, I left everything in Paris. I’ll go back, or they can send it to me.” Jane’s brow was furrowed. “Why did Megan think I should hold your hand? You told me Kistle was dead. There’s no threat from him, right?”
“Right.” Jane wasn’t going to let it go, Eve thought. She was in protective mode, or she wouldn’t have flown here from Paris just to be with Eve. “And there’s no threat, period. Megan is just having second thoughts about something.”
“What?”
Tell her, but keep it light. “She thinks I may go off my rocker.” Eve made a face. “Or become a voodoo priestess myself.”
“Not likely.”
“That’s what I told her.”
“Why would she say something like that?”
Okay, just explain and then drop it. “I told you that Megan has certain . . . talents.”
Jane nodded. “She can hear the dead under certain circumstances or, at least, echoes of what happened to them. Pretty creepy.” She paused. “And hard for me to believe. Though I can see that you might be open to it.”
Because Jane knew that the memory of Bonnie was still a major part of Eve’s life. “It was difficult for me too. I thought Megan was like one of those psychic phonies who victimized me right after Bonnie disappeared all those years ago. It took a lot for me to admit to myself that Megan was the real thing. But I was with her when she located the grave of a little boy in the woods in Illinois. I saw her go into deep shock in the swamp here in Georgia trying to help us find Kistle and those children he’d killed.”
Jane’s lips quirked. “I imagine ‘real’ is rather an ambivalent term in cases like this. And did Megan’s dead friends tell her that you had to be looked after?”
“No.” She made a face. “It seems Megan has another talent. She said that she releases . . .” She shrugged. “She said that she’s sort of a facilitator, that if she touches someone while she’s in an emotionally charged state, it could trigger the release of latent psychic powers in the person she touches. According to her, some people can’t accept that release. They go bonkers.”
“Now that’s bizarre.”
“ ‘Bizarre’ seems to be the word for the night,” Eve said as she unlocked the Jeep. “Megan used it, I used it. Now you, Jane. Megan said that she understood how I’d fight accepting this facilitator effect. She’s absolutely right.” She slipped into the driver’s seat. “Particularly since I seem to be a candidate for it, and I’m not feeling in the least bonkers. Nor am I sensing any splendid new mental powers.”
“You don’t need any more mental powers,” Jane said as she got into the passenger seat. “You’re probably the foremost forensic sculptor in the world. And you’re the smartest woman I know.”
“I’m not bad in the IQ department, but I can’t say the same for my emotional acumen. I don’t seem to learn from my mistakes.”
“You’re smart enough to hold on to Joe,” Jane said. “That strikes me as positively brilliant.”
“I’ve been lucky . . . so far.” Her smile faded. “I have you, and I have Joe. And neither one of you is inclined to kick me out of your lives. That’s pretty wonderful.”
Jane was silent for a moment. “How are you and Joe getting along?”
She had known that question would be asked. “As well as can be expected considering that I have an obsession that dominates our lives.” She looked away from Jane. “We really needed that Henry Kistle be Bonnie’s murderer as well as the killer of all those other children on the island. Joe is . . . tired of it all. Who can blame him? Certainly not I.” She smiled determinedly as she backed out of the parking place. “But he’ll be glad to see you. You’re like a fresh breeze every time you whisk into our lives.”
“And how is your work going?”
“I just finished up a forensic sculpting job a few days ago. Joe said I may have to work on the skulls of one or two of the children we found buried on the island in the Okefenokee Swamp if we can’t get an ID. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring them home.”