Shadow Play (8 page)

She stiffened. “Lost contact?”

“I can't talk to you any longer. I was just authorized to check. We have the police and a company representative who will be on their way to—”

“Police? What the hell are you talking about?”

“An accident,” he said quickly. “Our FedEx driver had an accident.”

“What? Where?”

“On Quinn Road, a few miles from the expressway. That's why we were almost sure he'd made the pickup.” He paused. “But we can't locate the package. Don't worry, I'm sure that we will. And, as I said, a company representative will—”

“Can't locate the—” She jumped to her feet. “This is weird as hell. And why would anyone send the police with that FedEx rep?” She was heading for the front door. “You're not telling me the truth.” She slammed the door, locked it, and ran down the porch steps. “Let me talk to your supervisor.” No, that would just be adding to the red tape. “Never mind.” She hung up and called Joe as she jumped into the Jeep. Voice mail. “Joe, something crazy is happening with that FedEx I sent out a couple hours ago. I'm on my way to check it out. Call me.”

Her foot pressed the accelerator, and the Jeep leaped forward.

*   *   *

She saw the white FedEx truck a mile before she approached the expressway.

But there was no sign of a crash or another vehicle. Yellow crime-scene tape was barricading the area around the truck. Police squad cars, a forensic van, and an ambulance were parked along the road.

Not good.

She parked behind the barricade and jumped out of the Jeep. She lifted the tape and ducked beneath it.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, you'll have to go back.” A young policewoman ran forward. “This is an investigation and you're not allowed to—”

“What kind of investigation?” She looked at the woman's badge. “Officer Maddox. I just received a call from the FedEx dispatcher to tell me that I'd be receiving a visit from the police and the FedEx rep. Why?”

“I'm sure that one of the detectives will be able to tell you what you need to know. But you really do have to get beyond the tape and let us get your statement. It's not—”

“Eve, what the hell are you doing here?” Detective Pete Salyer had come around the truck. “I just called Joe and left a message for him. He's with the captain and the mayor at some council meeting. I thought he'd want to know.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. She'd known Pete for years, and she liked and trusted him. “Know what?”

“A murder practically on his doorstep would interest him.”

Shock surged through her. “Murder?”

“The FedEx driver was shot at close range. No one heard the shot, so we think the weapon had a silencer.” He looked around at the trees lining either side of the road. “No houses. So far, we have no witnesses.”

“Murder,” she repeated numbly.

“She said that the company dispatcher phoned her about the truck,” the police officer said. “We wouldn't allow that, would we, sir?”

“No way,” Pete said flatly. “What's happening, Eve?”

“I have no idea.” She shivered. That pleasant young man to whom she'd given the reconstruction only hours ago was dead. “The man who phoned me said he was the dispatcher and there had been an accident. The package I'd given the driver was missing.”

“No accident. And we haven't had a chance to determine if there was anything missing from the truck.” Pete turned and headed for the truck. “But I think it's time we checked it out. I'll talk to one of those FedEx bigwigs and see if they can pull up the info.”

Officer Maddox grimaced. “Look, I'm sorry that I wasn't more helpful. I was just trying to do my job.”

“And you did it,” Eve said. “I must have looked pretty wild when I jumped out of that Jeep. And my story was just as improbable. Don't apologize.”

Pete came back fifteen minutes later. “A record of a package being sent by you at 12:42
P.M.
No package in the van. We'll go through the entire van later for other missing packages but that's a positive.”

“I don't believe you'll find any other missing packages,” Eve said. “I think he got what he wanted.” Her phone rang. “It's Joe.”

“Are you okay?” Joe said the instant she picked up.

“Yes, I'm not the one who got shot. It was that poor driver.”

“Yeah, I got Pete's message. Right before I got yours. It scared the hell out of me. I'm on my way,” he said tersely. “Are you at the crime scene?”

“Yes.”

“Stay there. Stay with Pete. Twenty minutes.” He hung up.

 

CHAPTER

4

Joe arrived in fifteen minutes, and he fought his way through the police and media crews that had just arrived to where Eve was standing in the trees. “Talk to me.” His expression was grim. “Tell me everything.”

“There's not much more to tell.” She went over the entire phone conversation in detail. “He said he was a dispatcher. At first it sounded legitimate, then it got weird. It bewildered me. And all that about the police and FedEx reps coming to see me didn't sound right. I've been standing here trying to piece it together.”

“And what did you come up with?”

“That he wanted me to be suspicious. He wanted me to suspect something wasn't as it should be.” She met his eyes. “He wanted me to go try to find out the truth.”

“And you did it.” His jaw tightened. “He could have ambushed you, too. Just as he did that FedEx driver.”

“You know I keep a gun in the glove box.” She added, “And I was already suspicious. I wouldn't have been that easy.”

“No, you wouldn't.” His hand reached out and gently touched her cheek. “But I think you wouldn't have been so eager to run out of the house if your precious reconstruction wasn't in danger.”

“I don't know if I would or not.” She could feel the fury that she had been trying to subdue start to rise. “I do know I'm angry as hell that Jenny's reconstruction was stolen. All I have now are those computer photos that I—” She stopped. “The photos.” She whirled away from Joe. “The photos, Joe. That's the only documentation I have on the reconstruction. I was going to send them to Nalchek later today, but I—”

“You were interrupted.” He took her elbow and strode toward his car. “And you weren't ambushed because the killer had something more important he had to do first.”

*   *   *

There was a squad car in their driveway, and the front door was wide open.

“It's okay,” Joe said, as Eve tensed beside him. “At least, this part is.”

“This part? What's happening?” Eve asked.

“Don't panic. I phoned ahead when I was on the highway and told one of the officers at the crime scene to check out our house and surrounding area to make sure that—”

“You could have told me.” She got out of the car and headed quickly for the steps. She
had
panicked when she'd seen that open door.

And the panic didn't abate when she saw the face of the gray-haired officer who met them at the door.

“Officer James Kiphart, ma'am. You're Ms. Duncan?”

“That's right.” She looked beyond him to her workstation. “Dammit, where's my computer?”

“It's missing?” the officer asked. “I was hoping that we'd scared the thief off before he was able to steal anything. The lock was broken, and the door was wide open, but nothing appeared to be missing.”

She ran over to the worktable. The place that her computer usually occupied was vacant. The notes and measurements she'd used to reconstruct Jenny were no longer in the binder on the dais.

“Would you like to fill out a report?” Officer Kiphart asked.

“Not now.” Joe was standing beside her. “Maybe later. You checked out the other rooms?”

“Clean as a whistle. Like I said, I hoped that I'd scared him off.” He was looking sympathetically at Eve's stricken expression. “Maybe your home insurance will cover the computer.”

“Maybe,” Joe said. “We'll look into it. Thank you for coming so promptly, Officer. I'll help with the paperwork and give you a statement when I get back to the precinct.”

It was a clear dismissal, and the officer nodded and headed for the door. “I'm sorry that I didn't get here in time to catch your thief, Detective Quinn. I'm afraid you'll have to replace that lock.” He nodded at Eve. “Good day, ma'am.”

“Good day.” She was still looking at the place on the worktable where her computer had been and paid no attention to the door closing behind the officer.

“How bad is it?” Joe asked quietly.

“Bad,” Eve said. “He took all my notes on the reconstruction. And he made sure the photos couldn't be copied by stealing the entire damn computer.” She swallowed. “And I don't have the actual reconstruction of the skull. He took care of that when he killed that FedEx driver.” Her hand was shaking as she brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “I have nothing left of Jenny. She's gone.”

“God, I'm sorry, Eve. Look, you know exactly what she looked like. Can't you draw a sketch and send it to Nalchek?”

“Yes, but that wouldn't be enough without the reconstruction. Nalchek wouldn't be able to persuade any of the media to act without proof it was based on the actual skull. It would just be my word, and it's a damn cynical world.”

“It was a great reconstruction.” He pulled her into his arms. “I know how hard you worked, how glad you were that you had something concrete to send to Nalchek.”

And Jenny had been so much more to her than that. The spirit of that little girl had reached out and touched her, stirred her curiosity, her sympathy, and something … deeper. “I've lost her, Joe.” She nestled her head in his chest. “It's all crazy. Why would anyone be so paranoid that he'd kill someone just to get his hands on that reconstruction? She was only a nine-year-old little girl.” She had a sudden aching memory of Jenny in that white eyelet long dress smiling at her across the room. “I
hate
this. I can't stand feeling this helpless.” She stepped away from him. “That call I got had to be from him to lure me away from the cottage. He'd gotten his hands on the reconstruction, but he had to have the complete package.”

“That's my take on it.”

“Why? Why does Jenny have to remain lost?”

“You'll have to ask him.”

“Him? I don't even know if it's a male or female. I just instinctively call him he.”

“The biggest percentage of little girls are killed by males. Sexual predators go after—”

“I know that. I don't want to hear it again. I don't want percentages. I want Jenny's killer to be tied up and sent to the electric chair.” She whirled away and headed for the porch. She felt stifled in this room. “Can you get forensics out here right away to test for trace and prints?”

He nodded. “No problem.” He started down the steps. “And I'll take another look around the cottage grounds just to make sure that he didn't leave any evidence. Stay here where I can see you.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” She pulled out her phone. “But I have to call Nalchek to tell him he won't be getting that reconstruction … and why.”

He nodded and disappeared around the side of the cottage.

She could hear him moving through the brush, and she knew that he was doing that so that she'd feel safer. Joe was usually panther-silent courtesy of his SEAL training. He needn't have bothered. She wasn't frightened, she was only angry.

She punched in Nalchek's number. “You won't be getting the reconstruction,” she said jerkily when he picked up. “You can't be sorrier than I am.” She briefly went over the events of the afternoon. “You were right, the killer came looking for that skull.”

“Are you all right? You're not hurt?”

“I'm not hurt. But as I told you, that FedEx driver is dead.” She was looking out at the lake. “And I have no idea where that computer and reconstruction are going to end up. They may be at the bottom of the lake right now.”

Nalchek was cursing beneath his breath. “There's nothing that you can do?”

“Not unless you can find that skull. I can go back and re-create the reconstruction, but I can't do it out of air. No one in the media will touch it without proof that I used that skull to do it. And what are the chances of that killer's not destroying it now that he has it?”

“Zero. Unless he's a trophy collector.”

“Then he wouldn't have buried the skull in the beginning. No, he wanted her lost forever.” Another wave of anger poured through her. “And I won't let it happen. He's not going to win, Nalchek.”

“You just told me you couldn't do anything.”

“I told you I couldn't do the reconstruction again. But I'm not going to let him get away with this. I'll make sure he won't stay free and gloating over killing that little girl.” Her voice was shaking. “There has to be a way, but I'm not thinking straight right now. I'll call you after I go over everything and see what my options are.”

“Very sparse, I'd say.” He paused, then said harshly, “I can't deny I'm disappointed as hell. But whether you can do anything more or not, thank you for what you've already done. You've been the only one in my corner since the night I found Jenny. Maybe they'll believe me and move on this after that driver was killed.”

“Maybe. Good-bye, Nalchek. I'll get back to you.” She hung up.

She doubted if Nalchek would get anyone to push forward on a cold case when they didn't have proof of identity. It had been her experience that any excuse was good enough for manpower-strapped law-enforcement departments to file away the records in a bottom drawer and look the other way. But they'd had a chance with that reconstruction, dammit. She defied anyone to look at that face and turn away.