She had to do something. She couldn't just sit there in horror.

Joe. She could call Joe.

She dialed his digital number with a shaking hand.

"Come back," she said when he answered. "Come back."

"Eve?"

"Come--back, Joe."

"What the hell's wrong?"

There was something else she should tell him. "Talladega. Tell them--to look in the gorge--itself. Two--little boys." She hung up and leaned against the wall. Don't think about it. Wrap the numbness around you until Joe gets here.

Don't faint. Don't let out the scream building inside you.

Just wait until Joe comes.

SHE WAS STILL sitting on the floor when Joe arrived an hour later.

He was across the room in four strides, kneeling beside her. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why the hell did you scare me to death?" he said roughly. He carried her to the couch. "I nearly had a heart attack. Christ, you're cold."

"Shock. He said--I was in shock."

He was rubbing her left hand, warming it. "Who said you were in shock?"

"Phone call. I thought it was a crank. Like one of those calls I got after Bonnie--" She had to stop for a minute. "But it wasn't a crank. Did you call Talladega?"

"Yes." He took her other hand and began massaging it. "Talk to me."

"He said he had Bonnie's bones." The numbness was wearing off and she was beginning to shake. "He said she wasn't as pretty as when he--"

"Take it easy." Joe grabbed the throw from a chair and tucked it around her. He crossed to the kitchenette and began making instant coffee. "Just take deep breaths. Okay?"

"Okay." She closed her eyes. Breathe deep. Ride out the pain. Ride out the horror. In. Out. Let it go or it will rip you open.

"Open your eyes." Joe was sitting on the couch beside her. "Drink this."

Coffee. Hot. Too sweet.

He watched her drink half the cup. "Better?"

She nodded jerkily.

"Now talk to me. Slowly. Don't force it. If you have to stop, do it."

She had to stop three times before she finished. When she finally fell silent, he just sat there for a moment. "Is that all? Have you told me everything?"

"Isn't that enough?" she asked unevenly.

"Hell, yes." He nodded at the cup. "Drink the rest."

"It's cold."

"I'll get you another." He got up and strode back to the kitchenette.

"He killed Bonnie, Joe."

"It could have been a crank call."

She shook her head. "He killed her."

"You're not yourself. Give yourself some time to think it over."

"I don't need time. He knew about the ice cream."

He looked up at her. "The ice cream?"

"He said she was eating a strawberry ice-cream cone that day in the park."

"That detail has never been released to the press," Joe murmured.

"Fraser knew it. He told the police that Bonnie had been eating a strawberry ice-cream cone."

"He also described what she was wearing."

"He could have found that out by reading the papers."

"He knew about the birthmark on her back."

Eve rubbed her aching temples. Joe was right. That was why they had been so sure that Fraser had killed her. Why had she been so sure? "He said he tricked Fraser into calling him back by saying he was a newspaper reporter and then fed him details. Is that possible?"

Joe thought about it. "It's possible. Fraser was giving interviews to anyone who would listen. It drove his defense attorney crazy. And no one would have known the substance of their conversation since Georgia has a law against taping without permission. Why would they have even tried to tape it? Fraser had already confessed to the murders. It was going to be an open-and-shut case."

"None of the bodies he'd said he'd buried had been found."

"That wasn't as important to them as it was to you."

God, she knew that. It had been like beating her head against a wall to get them to keep on searching after the confession. "It should have been."

Joe nodded. "But they had enough to send Fraser to the electric chair. Open and shut."

"And the ice cream . . ."

"A lot of time has passed. The vendor might have told any number of people."

"The police told him not to discuss it."

Joe shrugged. "For some people the case was closed when Fraser was executed."

"Okay, the vendor could have told someone. But what if he didn't? What if Fraser didn't kill her?"

"Eve . . ."

"What if that bastard who called me killed her? He stole her from the lab. Why would he do that, unless he--"