"Shh." Joe brought her the fresh cup of coffee and sat down beside her again. "I don't know the answer to any of those questions. I'm just playing devil's advocate so we can strike a sane balance."

"Why should we be sane? That son of a bitch who killed her can't be sane. You should have heard him. He loved hurting me. He kept hammering away at me until he drew blood."

"Okay, let's talk about him. What about his voice? Young? Old?"

"I couldn't tell. He sounded like he was talking from the bottom of a well."

"Mechanical distorter," Joe said. "What about phrasing? Accent? Vocabulary? Slang?"

She tried to remember. It was difficult to separate the manner from the words that had caused her so much pain. "No accent. He seemed . . . well spoken. I think he's educated." She shook her head wearily. "I don't know. I wasn't trying to analyze anything from the moment he mentioned Bonnie. I'll try to do better next time."

"If there is a next time."

"There will be. He was exhilarated. He said so. Why would he call me once and just leave it at that?" She started to take a sip of coffee, then stopped. "You have an unlisted number here. How did he get it?"

Joe shook his head. "I'm more concerned that he found you."

"Guesswork?"

"Possibly." He paused. "We have to consider that he still may be some kid at the university playing a nasty joke on you."

She shook her head.

"Okay, then there's the possibility that he was the murderer of those people at Talladega. But he didn't kill Bonnie and wants to take credit for it as he accused Fraser of doing."

"He knew about the ice cream."

"Or he's one of those people who confess to every murder and had nothing to do with any of them."

"We'll know soon enough about that one," Eve whispered. "If they find those boys at Talladega."

"They're searching now. I called Robert Spiro the minute I hung up with you."

"Who's Robert Spiro?"

"An agent with the FBI Behavioral Science Unit. He's part of the team handling Talladega. Good man."

"You know him?"

"He was at the Bureau when I was there. He moved to the Profiling Unit a year after I resigned. He'll call me if they find anything."

"No." She set down her cup and tossed the throw aside. "I need to go to Talladega."

"You need to rest."

"Bullshit. If they missed those bodies before, I'm not going to let them make the mistake again." She stood up. Jesus, her legs felt weak. They'd get better. Walk. "Can I take the Jeep?"

"If you take me with it." Joe put on his jacket. "And if you wait until I make enough coffee to fill a thermos. It's cold outside. This isn't Tahiti."

"And you're afraid I'm still in shock."

He headed for the kitchenette. "No, you're almost back to normal."

She didn't feel normal. She was still shaking inside and felt as if her every nerve was exposed and raw. Joe probably knew it and was tactfully ignoring it. She had to ignore it too. Just do one thing at a time. First, find out if that bastard had told her lies about Talladega. If he had lied about Talladega, then he could have lied about Bonnie.

But what if he was telling the truth?

THEY REACHED T ALLADEGA Falls after midnight, but the searchlights and lanterns dotting the surrounding cliffs made it seem like day.

"Want to wait here?" Joe asked as he got out of the Jeep.

She was staring up at a cliff. "Is that where they found them?"

"The first skeleton was discovered on the next ridge, the rest up there. The child was found nearest the gorge." He didn't look at her. "It's just a hole in the ground. There's nothing there now."

But a little girl had been buried at that spot all these years. A little girl who might be Bonnie. "I have to see it."

"I thought you would."

"Then why did you ask if I wanted to wait here?" She got out of the car and started walking.

"My protective instinct." He turned on his flashlight and followed her. "I should know better."

"Yes." There had been a frost earlier in the evening, and the earth crunched beneath her feet. Was she walking in the footsteps of the murderer as he carried his victims to their graves?

She could hear the roar of the falls. Then, as she reached the top, she saw it pouring in a long, silver stream across the gorge. Brace yourself. Don't turn your head. Not yet.

"To your left," Joe said quietly.

She drew a deep breath and tore her gaze from the falls. She saw yellow tape and then . . . the grave.

Small. So small.

"Okay?" Joe was holding her elbow.

No, she wasn't okay. "She was buried here?"

"We think so. This is where she was found, and we're pretty certain the mud slide just uncovered her."

"She was here all along. All this time . . ."

"It may not be Bonnie."

"I know that," she said dully. "Stop reminding me, Joe."