“Go away?”
“Die. Doane had to die. It was important to the wolves that he die.”
Catherine couldn’t take any more of this. “Stop spinning fairy tales. I want answers, Margaret.”
“You’re getting them.” She added simply, “The wolves didn’t like Doane, but there was something else. They felt he had to die. It was something to do with the natural order. I couldn’t get it clear. It had some connection with death and silence and a little red-haired kid.”
“Margaret.”
“You want to know how I know.”
“I want to know why you’re bullshitting me.”
“I know because the night of the fire, I tracked down one of the males who was staking out the ghost town. I heard him howling, and I thought maybe…” She smiled. “And I struck it rich, like they say in the gold towns. Pure gold, Catherine. Karak was pure gold.”
“Karak?”
“The wolf. That’s the closest I can translate his name.”
“Wolves have names?”
“Yes, not all animals identify themselves in that way even mentally, of course. But wolves are on a higher plane.” She drew a deep breath. “I’d better get this over with quickly. You’re getting impatient and angry and ready to call the local booby hatch. Look, I have a certain ability to communicate with animals. I’ve had it since I was a kid. No, I’m not some kind of Dr. Doolittle. I just get impressions and can sometimes tap into memories. It can help on occasion. I was working as a tech at a canine experimental facility down in the Caribbean on Summer Island when I was drawn into all this. They thought I was damn valuable.” She grimaced. “Weird, but valuable. And they eventually got used to me. Does it make you feel better to know that those vets actually believed in me?”
“No, I make my own opinions.”
“Then make it now.”
Catherine looked her directly in the eye. Margaret never flinched but held her gaze with boldness and shining clarity.
Truth. Catherine couldn’t know whatever else comprised the person who was Margaret Douglas, but she recognized honesty.
Catherine shrugged. “Kendra says you’re not a phony. That’s all that’s really important. As for the rest, I’ve run into stranger things. Voodoo, snake charmers … ghosts. I grew up on the streets of Hong Kong, and I’ve traveled all over the world. It’s hard to cling strictly to reality when you’ve gone face-to-face with some of the things I have.” She added, “So bring on your wolf if he can help me find out anything about Eve.”
“I didn’t expect that.” Margaret’s face glowed with delight. “It’s not often I run into someone who is easy. Joe was a little skeptical, but he gave me a chance. Kendra was very difficult. It’s hard for her to accept anything that’s not black-and-white, and I’m definitely on the gray side.”
“So are wolves. Can we get back to your story now?”
“Oh, yes. Karak. After I tracked him down, it took hours before I was able to find out anything other than that it was necessary that Doane die or go away as he termed it. But when he began to trust me, he let me see more.” She paused. “It was the stream. He saw Doane and Eve go down the stream in a raft and go ashore miles away from the town. Eve didn’t move, probably unconscious. Doane deflated the raft and tossed it in a vehicle and took off.”
“Where?”
“Out of the forest, headed south. They lost his scent after that and came back to the mountains.”
“Damn.”
Margaret chuckled. “You can’t expect anything more. They did the best they could. Anyway, Kendra believed me when I showed her where the vehicle had been parked, and she found the tire prints. After that, she started investigating on her own. She didn’t tell anyone what she was doing until she’d gathered all the information, then she went to Joe and Jane to decide what to do.”
“And they decided on this charade.”
“Yes, a chance to take Doane off guard.” Margaret nodded. “It might or might not work, but if he doesn’t expect anyone to know he’s alive, it gives us a little edge. At this point, we’ll take any advantage we can get.” She added soberly, “We have to find her, Catherine. In those hours after we thought she was dead, it almost broke Jane … and Joe. Eve is too important to too many people to let her go. All of those people who came to this memorial service … The stories I’ve heard today. Every life is important, but Eve is special.”
“Yes, she is,” Catherine said. For an instant, memories flooded back to her of moments in her own life when Eve had stepped in and given her time and risked her life to help bring her boy home to her. She cleared her throat. “Of course we’ll get her back. Do you know anything else that could help me?”
Margaret shook her head. “Nothing but that those wolves really wanted to bring down Doane for some reason.”
“That’s interesting but not pertinent.” She smiled. “Now I suggest that you put on your shoes, and we go back to that crowd. I want to talk to Joe again if I can get him away from all those mourners who have him cornered.”
“He’s hating it. He’s particularly angry about all those reporters and media people he had to let come to make sure Doane would know about Eve’s service. He said Eve would hate this kind of show if she were really dead.”
“If she were really dead, she wouldn’t care either way.”
Margaret gestured. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. She’d just want to fade away and live on as a memory. That’s what I’d want, too.” They had reached the edge of the trees, and she saw that Joe was still surrounded. She’d have to wait until he was free, she realized impatiently.
She had a sudden thought. “Zander. Is Lee Zander here? I need to talk to him. He seems to be the center of this equation.”
“Zander didn’t come. He disappeared shortly after the fire was put out.” Margaret shook her head. “Don’t count on talking to him. I’m not even sure he cares whether Eve is alive or not. Though the idea that Doane is still a threat to him might spur him.”
“To hell with what he cares about. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Whatever.” Margaret was strolling toward Jane. “I warned you. Everyone has to march to their own drummer.”
Catherine stayed where she was at the edge of the crowd, waiting for Joe.
She could see why Joe was on edge about the media. A TV cameraman was drifting around setting up shots of different dignitaries. There was no bank of microphones, but there were two reporters who had hand mikes.
She instinctively tried to fade back into the shadows. Was it worth it? All this media attention that Joe Quinn hated so much and was enduring on the chance that it might help Eve in some way.
Are you out there watching, Doane?
CHAPTER
2
Starlite Motel
Casper, Wyoming
“YOU’RE NOT WATCHING, EVE,” Doane said. “I’ve made you a star, and you’re not paying any attention.” He turned the sound down on the TV. “Though those fools thought you were a star anyway, didn’t they? But people always look kindly at victims after they’re dead.”
“Turn off the TV.” Eve looked straight at the reconstruction of Kevin she was repairing. It had been damaged during the time they were in the stream flowing out of the cavern. “I can’t concentrate with it on.”
“Of course you can.” He leaned back in the chair. “You’re so talented. Listen to all those people being interviewed who are raving about you. I’ve counted four police chiefs so far who have sung your praises.”
“You listen to them. I don’t give a damn. It was always the work, not what anyone thought of me.” She didn’t look at him. He was trying to disturb her, and he was succeeding, but she couldn’t let him know. It would be a victory, and he’d had too many victories lately. “I thought you wanted this reconstruction of your monster son finished. It wasn’t me who did all the damage this time. You can’t take a skull reconstruction down into an underground stream without water da
mage. You almost ruined him beyond repair.” She smiled maliciously. “Kevin wouldn’t be pleased, would he?”
Doane’s smile vanished. “He knows I’m only doing what I have to do. It was all your fault that I had to find a way to get us out fast when all your people were closing in on me.” He added with satisfaction, “But I’d prepared a way to do it. It was a good plan. Just like the plans I always made when Kevin was alive and with me. He was always proud of me.”
“Yes, luring little girls into your son’s web was something for which he’d praise and stroke you, wasn’t it?” And those many children had been raped and murdered by Kevin, Doane’s son. In the end, which one, Kevin or Doane, had been the most evil? “He was your son. You could have stopped him. You could have saved the lives of those little girls. That would have given you a little reason for pride.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve told you, Kevin was special. He could have ruled everything and everyone around him if he’d been given a little more time. The little girls weren’t important.” He shrugged. “Great men need a release. Kevin chose the children.”
She felt sick. She should be accustomed to Doane’s horrible justifications after these days of being with him. But the words were new and painful every time he spoke them. “And he’ll burn in hell for it. So will you, Doane.”
“He’s not in hell,” he said softly. “We both know that, Eve. He’s right there, waiting. Death can’t hold him.” His eyes were glittering. “But I’m sure he’s enjoying being so close to your Bonnie. You know how he needs little girls. They’re together, you know. Only a little more power, and he’ll be able to scoop her up.”
“You’re crazy.” She tried to smother the panic. Keep calm. Doane’s hallucinations regarding his son were infectious. While working on Kevin’s reconstruction, she had actually wondered if that demon spirit was reaching out, trying to merge with his father to take back the life that Zander had stolen. Not only reaching out to Doane but to her … and, maybe, Bonnie. “I don’t know anything about what happens in the afterlife. But my Bonnie would never be anywhere near that monster. She’s light to his darkness.”
“A light to warm his hands when he stretches out to—”
“Shut up!” Get control. He often taunted her, but she didn’t usually let him get to her like this. It was the strain of working on this damn reconstruction that she only wanted to crush and destroy. They had been holed up in this tiny motel since Doane had brought her here the night of the fire. He had given her an injection, and she had not regained consciousness until just a little while before they had reached this seedy motel. It was the smallness of their quarters that she found nerve-wracking. Their motel room had two full-size beds and one bathroom; he’d converted the round dining table to use as her workbench, and the proximity with Doane was suffocating. He’d watched her like a hawk, handcuffing her whenever he left the room, sniping, trying to hurt her at every opportunity. Usually, she could handle it, but not when he talked about Bonnie. She whirled and headed for the bathroom. “I can’t listen to you right now.”
“I didn’t say you could stop working and leave.”
“I need to go to the bathroom and wash my face. I haven’t had a break in hours, and my eyes are getting blurry. You wouldn’t want me to make a mistake with your Kevin.” She slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it.
She had been telling the truth about her stinging eyes, and she closed them for a moment. She’d shown weakness to Doane, and she mustn’t do that again. He knew that to strike at Bonnie was to strike at Eve’s heart. Her little seven-year-old daughter, who had been killed and taken from Eve so many years ago.
No, not really taken. Eve had not found Bonnie’s body until recently, but she had been aware that Bonnie’s spirit was still with her from about a year after Bonnie’s death. She had first been conscious of her in what she had thought were dreams but had gradually begun to believe the wonderful truth. Bonnie was being permitted to come back to her from that place beyond. The knowledge had kept Eve alive when she’d only wanted to die and join her Bonnie.
Where are you, Bonnie? My God, how I need you.
But Bonnie couldn’t come to her. She had managed to reach Eve only once since this nightmare had begun. That had been at the Colorado house to which Doane first brought her after he had kidnapped her. But then she had been in a deep-coma state, and Bonnie had told her that was the only reason she had been able to reach her, that Kevin was keeping her back.
Why was it so difficult for Eve to believe in a demon of supreme evil like Kevin trying to breach the border between life and death? She knew that her Bonnie had done it.
Because evil should be contained and destroyed, and goodness should live forever.
“I don’t mean to complain, Bonnie,” she whispered. “I know you’re doing your best. But I’d really like to just have you come once, so I know that you’re all right, and all of Doane’s poison are just lies.”
She straightened and opened her eyes. Just this tiny box of a bathroom. No endearing little figure in her Bugs Bunny T-shirt.
Of course not. So stop whining and go back and face Doane again.
No, she’d rest for just a little while before she had to go back to face Doane … and Kevin. She took a few minutes, then went to the sink and started to run the water.
The volume of the television in the other room was suddenly turned down.
She stiffened. Another telephone call? The walls in this fleabag of a motel were paper-thin. Twice before when she’d gone into the bathroom, she’d heard Doane talking on the phone. The first call had been barely audible, but she’d caught a name. Cartland. The second call had been to the same man, but she’d heard a little more. They were talking about a city, Seattle. The second in the chain, Doane had called it.
What chain? she thought with exasperation. And what did this Cartland have to do with Doane’s so-called master plan? Whatever it was must have been important to him. He was very careful about going out, or he would probably have made the calls outside the motel room.
What did she care about all of Doane’s crazy plans and telephone calls? Lord, she was tired of dealing with him.
She gazed at herself in the mirror over the sink. She looked as tired as she felt. And she looked … different.
Her face was thinner, the eyes sunk deeper, her lips more defined. She looked tougher, ready to face down the world. She had changed in these days with James Doane. She resented the fact that he’d had the power to carve out all the softness and left only the lean, sharp essence. But her greatest fear was that the hardness had scored deep beneath the surface. She desperately wanted to keep the humanity that made her what she was. She wouldn’t let him steal that from her.
And she wouldn’t give up fighting because of the exhaustion. The phone calls Doane was making were signs of need, signs of weakness. Things weren’t going entirely the way he’d planned. Find out the weakness. Find a way to strike out at it.
She moved quietly closer to the door. She’d missed most of the conversation but heard the last scrap.
“I’m not going to argue with you, Cartland. You’ll get the location when you give me the money and the manpower to do the job. When Zander is dead, you’ll have what you need. Of course I’m not bullshitting you. You know you can trust Kevin. Has he ever disappointed you?” He hung up.
The TV volume was turned up again.
Trust Kevin? Kevin was dead. What the hell could Kevin give to this Cartland?
Think about it. Listen. Watch.
She turned the water on full and splashed her face. She wiped it on the hand towel and turned and opened the door.
Doane was smiling at her. “You look much more refreshed. But you shouldn’t have run away. Did I disturb you by telling you Kevin’s plans for your Bonnie? It was true, you know. She may be dead, but she’s not safe. No one is safe from Kevin.”
She felt herself tense, and she wanted to run away again. Okay, try to distract him
and get him away from verbally attacking Bonnie. “You didn’t make me run away. I’d just had enough of you. And turn off that damn TV. Do you think it hurts me to see all those people I love at the cottage mourning me? Well, you’re right. It does. It also makes me less able to work on Kevin. You said you wanted him ready by tomorrow.”
“I do.” He tilted his head. “But this is too enjoyable to miss entirely. I’ve been looking forward to this memorial service since it was announced on CNN. I can’t get enough of it. I’ve recorded it, and I’ll try to catch it on another cable station later.”
“It will probably not be shown. I’m surprised they’re giving it any airtime at all. I’m not that important, Doane.”
“You’re too modest. You notice that your mother didn’t show up for the service? But, then, she doesn’t care anything for you, does she?”
“She cares. In her own way.”
“And I don’t see Zander in the crowd.”
“Why should he be there? You say he’s my father, but I don’t accept it. He’s only a hired assassin who doesn’t care anything about me.”
“He cares. A father always cares about his child. That’s what this is all about. It would be dangerous for him to show up at your memorial service, but he’ll be mourning you in his own place and way.” He smiled. “And after you finish Kevin tomorrow, we’ll go join him.”
“It’s all a stupid—”
“Shh.” He help up his hand. “Now pay attention. They’re filming your Joe Quinn. He looks totally devastated, doesn’t he?”
Joe. Beloved. Friend. Protector. She studied his face. His expression was tense, the jaw clenched, his brown eyes glittering.
Devastated?
She stiffened. Careful. She tried to keep her own face expressionless as she gazed at Joe. She knew that face. She could read every expression, every hint of feeling.