No, the church was not that dim. It was the coffin, huge, dark, and casting its shadow over both Jules and Etienne.

Casting its shadow over all the world.

“No, Senator Melton,” Eve said firmly. “I’m not interested. I have enough work to keep me busy for the rest of the year. I certainly don’t need any more.”

“It would help us enormously if you could see your way clear to changing your mind. It’s a very sensitive situation and we need your help.” The senator paused.

“And, after all, as a citizen, you do have a patriotic duty to—”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Eve interrupted. “Every time a bureaucrat wants to be put first on the list, he pulls out patriotic duty. You haven’t even told me what this job is going to be about. All I know is that I’d have to leave my home and my family and go running off to Baton Rouge. I can’t imagine a job important enough to make me do that.”

“As I said, it’s a very sensitive, confidential situation and I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you until you’re committed to—”

“Get someone else. I’m not the only forensic sculptor in the world.”

“You’re the best.”

“I’ve gotten a lot of press. That doesn’t mean—”

“You’re the best. False modesty doesn’t become you.”

“Okay, I’m damn good.” She paused. “But I’m not available. Get Dupree or McGilvan.” She hung up the phone.

Joe looked up from his book. “Melton, again?”

“He won’t give up. Lord save me from politicians.” Eve went back to the pedestal and began smoothing the clay over the skull. “God, they’re pompous.”

“Melton has the reputation of being fairly down-to-earth. He’s certainly popular.

They say the Democrats are grooming him for president.”

“I wouldn’t trust any politician. They’re all bedfellows in Washington. They scratch each other’s backs.”

“Sounds a little disgusting.” Joe studied her. “But you’re intrigued. It’s sticking out all over you.”

“So, I’m curious. Melton’s evidently experienced at piquing people’s interest.” Eve didn’t take her gaze from the sculpture. “The only thing he’d tell me was that it was my patriotic duty. Bull.”

“No more than that?”

“He said we’ll discuss it when I commit.” She smoothed the area under the eye crevice. “I wonder who they think it is…”

He watched her for a moment without speaking. “Louisiana in October isn’t too unpleasant. We could take a jaunt down to New Orleans. The department owes me some time, and Jane might like it.”

“You’re not invited.” She made a face. “Highly confidential and top secret.”

“Then screw him.” He thought about it a moment. “Was that a little lacking in tact and understanding? I know better than to try to get in the way of your job. If you’re tempted, I guess we could put up with being without you for a few weeks.”

“Why should I be tempted?” She wiped her hands on a towel and moved over to stand at the window. The lake was glittering blue on this fine autumn afternoon, and Jane was down on the shore playing with the new puppy Eve’s friend, Sarah Patrick, had given her. The girl was tossing a stick for Toby, and the mixed-breed dog was running crazily to retrieve it. They both looked so alive and healthy and wonderfully happy.

Well, what was there not to be happy about here in this place at this time?

“Eve?”

She glanced over her shoulder at Joe, her protector, her best friend, her lover. He was the bedrock of her life, and every moment with him and Jane was precious. She smiled at him. “Hell, no, I’m not tempted. Screw Melton.”

“She refused,” Melton said when Jules Hebert picked up the phone. “She suggested I get Dupree.”

“I don’t want Dupree,” Hebert said curtly. “We need Eve Duncan. I told you that from the beginning. It has to be her.”

“It looks like you’ll have to make do with Dupree. He has a decent reputation.” Hebert drew a deep breath. He had seen examples of Eve Duncan’s work on academic Websites and compared it to that of other leading forensic sculptors. It was like comparing a da Vinci masterpiece with a cave drawing. He couldn’t entrust this skull to a Neanderthal. It was too important to him. It was important to Melton and the rest of them, too, but Jules didn’t care about them. Not now. Melton had a safe job in a safe world. He sat in his office and lifted his finger and sent men like Hebert out to take his risks and do his bidding. “You told me I had to find a way to verify. Give me Eve Duncan and I’ll do it.”

“You made the mistake; it’s your job to correct it.” Jules’s hand tightened on the phone. “There’s always a way to get what you want, if you work at it. What’s the problem?”

“My bet is that she’s so mired in domesticity that she can’t see beyond her little cottage in Georgia. It’s only what you’d expect from a woman.”

“Never underestimate women. I’ve known some that I’d rather avoid than come up against. Duncan is obviously very strong-willed. You approached her in the way that I suggested?”

“Yes, she seemed interested, but that didn’t make her accept.”

“Then we didn’t press the right buttons. There has to be some way. Tell me about her.”

“You know her reputation, or you wouldn’t be so sure she’s the right one for the job.”

Jules looked down at the newspaper with the picture of Eve Duncan that had first led him to call Melton. It was a photo of a woman in her early thirties with a strong, intelligent face framed by curly red-brown hair. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and looked out at the world with an odd mixture of boldness and sensitivity. “I know about her professional capabilities. I need to know more about her background. I need to know how to manipulate her.”

“She’s illegitimate and grew up in the slums of Atlanta with a crackhead for a mother. In later years, the mother gave up drugs, and she and Duncan became close.

Eve got pregnant herself when she was sixteen and gave birth to a child, Bonnie. She went back to school and was working her way through when her seven-year-old little girl was murdered by some nut who had killed eleven other children. They couldn’t find the body, and that spurred Duncan to become a forensic sculptor. She studied at Georgia State and became one of the top forensic sculptors in the country.

She works freelance and also with several police departments nationwide.”

“And her personal life?”

“She’s living with Joe Quinn, a detective with the Atlanta Police Department.

They’ve been friends since her daughter was murdered over twelve years ago, but they’ve only been living together for the past two years. She’s recently adopted a twelve-year-old girl, Jane MacGuire, who grew up on the streets just as Duncan had done. They live in a lake cottage outside of Atlanta. Her daughter, Bonnie, is buried on the grounds.”

“You told me the body had never been found.”

“Until last year. New information emerged, and they located the skeleton in the Chattahoochee National Forest. DNA tests confirmed that the skeleton was Bonnie Duncan.”

And Eve Duncan was now at peace, Hebert thought. He knew the value of closure. He could imagine the dark world Eve Duncan had lived in all those years.

“Anything else?” Melton asked. “I’ve got all the details; I can cross the T’s and dot the I’s if you need it.”

So cut-and-dried. Jules was sure Melton would relate all those details in the same detached way he’d revealed Eve Duncan’s past history. “That won’t be necessary.” He couldn’t leave this to Melton, he thought wearily. He’d have to work on Eve Duncan’s weaknesses himself.

She’s so mired in domesticity that she can’t see beyond her little lake cottage in Georgia.

She had a man and a child, and her own personal cross was buried on that property near her home. She was probably very happy. And why not? She had earned her peace.

So the only way to get what he needed was to destroy that peace. And he knew he would do it, just as he did everything that needed doing. Drop everything and get to the airport. He had to get her to leave Atlanta immediately.