She stared thoughtfully at him. “Would you have … difficulties if the authorities knew you were here? Venable evidently was working with you.”

“My arrangement with Venable was unusual. There are a number of agencies and governments who would like to talk to me. Difficulties? You could describe it that way.” He smiled. “So, yes, I’ll not be here when the police or state patrol come roaring to your rescue.”

Her gaze searched his face. “I … think you’re telling me the truth. And that makes you vulnerable.”

“It’s all manipulation. Though you’re denying it, I’m asking you to do something that might make you feel a little vulnerable. You’re more likely to give me what I want if you believe we’re on equal footing.”

“Equal footing?” She glanced down at her tied wrists. “Not at the moment.”

The smile never left his face as he gazed at her across the fire.

He was waiting.

She looked down into the flames.

He was wrong. Talking about her life would not make her vulnerable. She was far beyond anything in the past affecting what she was now. She had accepted the bad and the good and learned to work with them.

And lies or truth, the deal he had offered her was the only game in town. Or the only game in this wilderness, she amended ruefully. Take it and hope for truth. If it proved to be false, then worry about taking another step later.

She lifted her gaze to his face.

“Ask your questions.”

He nodded. “I’ll start off slowly and build. Though I’m tempted to go directly to Bonnie.”

“Why?”

“Because every time you’ve spoken of her, it’s been in the present tense.” His brows rose. “For a man as curious as I am, that was a red flag that was set waving.” He gestured. “But I’ll restrain myself for a while. Let’s talk about where you grew up.”

“Didn’t your dossier on me tell you?”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you. I want to hear everything from you.”

She shrugged. “I grew up in the slums of Atlanta at Piedmont Housing Development.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It wasn’t any worse or any better than any other slum. Children adjust and try to find comfort and joy wherever they are. Sometimes I could do that. Sometimes I couldn’t.”

“When your mother was on dope?”

She tensed. “She was never abusive. She had a problem. Which meant that both of us had a problem.”

“You loved her?”

“Yes, most of the time.” She paused. “I’m not talking about my mother anymore. Ask another question.”

“Tell me about your apartment. What did it look like? Did you have friends?”

Eve relaxed a little more. She hadn’t been sure he would let her escape talking about her mother. “It was small, on the fourth floor, not terrible, just your usual development flat. When I was older, I tried to keep it clean, and I used a lot of bright linens. I hated drab colors.”

“Friends?”

“Kids in the neighborhood. After I started school, I didn’t have much time for play. Everyone told me that the only way to get out of the slums was to either get very smart in school or peddle dope or sex. I wanted to get out so I chose the only way I could tolerate. I knew about drugs, and they scared me.”

“Tell me about school.”

“Why? It’s just ordinary…” She stopped. Give him what he wanted. School was a subject that was boring, but it didn’t reveal any more of herself or her mother than more intimate subjects. She relaxed a little more. “Every wall in the school was tan, and there was graffiti in all the bathrooms. Most of the teachers were tired and scared and wanted out of the projects. There were a few teachers in the lower grades who still liked being with the kids and tried to make a difference. But once they had to deal with some of the older kids who were already in gangs and on their way to becoming juvenile delinquents, everything changed. The teachers had to fight to survive, and if you wanted to get an education, you had to fight, too. I fought.” She had a sudden memory. “But there was one teacher, Mrs. Garvy, when I was in the seventh grade who wasn’t beaten down. She’d joke and try to make everything fun.” She smiled. “I loved art but I was terrible at math and she’d come in early to sit down and work with me. It was … nice.” She had another memory, they seemed to be tumbling back to her. Strange, she hadn’t thought of the projects for years. But the past was always with you, waiting to be reborn. Now it was with her again, and she was scarcely aware of Zander. “And there was a Halloween party that she let us have that was fun, costumes and everything … Not that we could afford much. But a sheet makes a great ghost outfit…”

CHAPTER

9

Goldfork, Colorado

“WHAT THE HELL?” KENDRA murmured as she thrust her phone back in her pocket after talking to Jane. She slammed the door of the toolshed behind her and started for Doane’s house. “Well, that was different.”

“What was different?” Margaret said as she fell into step with her. “That was Jane, right? How is she?”

Kendra shook her head. “Damned if I know. I’d say, loopy from medication?”

“What?”

“No, maybe not. She sounded upset, not drugged. She wanted to tell me about a dream she’d had. She thought it might help find Eve. She said she was going to send me photos of a sketch she’d made, and I should be on the lookout for it.” She grimaced. “Dreams. I’d never have thought Jane would be one to go around the bend like that. She must really be desperate.”

“Maybe you should listen to her. Everyone dreams. So do animals. Some people think we’re closer to everything around us when we relax our minds. How do you know that—”

“Margaret, I don’t want to talk about dreams.” She quickened her pace toward Doane’s house. “I’ll look at Jane’s sketches because I respect her, but I—”

“What was the dream about?”

“She didn’t go into it. She was vague. She was probably embarrassed. Jane impressed me as usually being very sensible.”

“Then you should pay attention. It must have been important to her if she risked you thinking she was nuts.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. She should have called me. I’d have been more understanding.” She increased her pace to keep up with Kendra. “Why are we going back to the house? What did you see in the shed that—”

“Margaret, this is no time for explanations. I’m in a hurry.” Her gaze went to the house. “I’ll explain as we go along. Maybe.”

“I’d think you’d want to explain now so that I could be prepared to help,” Margaret said quietly. “There’s no reason to be impatient, Kendra.”

There was every reason, Kendra thought. Between the weird phone call from Jane and now her own guilt feelings about being short with Margaret, she was feeling infinitely frustrated. “Don’t lecture me. I’m trying to cope, but between your conversations with the dog next door and now Jane’s dream, I’m feeling as if I’m in some bizarre nightmare myself. This is not how investigations should be conducted.”

“Yes, Kendra,” Margaret said solemnly.

Kendra shot her a suspicious glance. Dammit, it was clear the girl was trying not to smile. And why not, she thought suddenly. Kendra had sounded like one of the straight-and-narrow FBI agents who had driven her crazy with their insistence on their proper procedures and their blindness to what was so evident to her. She had always been considered different, too.

Different, but she couldn’t embrace this degree of difference.

“It’s okay, Kendra,” Margaret said gently. “I understand. I’ve thrown you off-balance. You’re probably angry at yourself, too. You’re having trouble figuring me into your world as you know it.” She smiled. “And you like me, which makes it harder.”

Kendra did like her. But she didn’t like her seeing that deeply into what she was feeling. “I don’t need you to understand me. You’re making me feel like that German shepherd you were chatting with. What’s her name? Kelly?”