Blood Game

by Iris Johansen

  She felt him stiffen beside her. “Different? What the hell do you mean different? I either hurt you or I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t. I told you. It was damn well incredible.” As sex always was with Joe. She rolled closer and tucked her head in her favorite place in the hollow of his shoulder. “Stop being so defensive.”

  He relaxed. “Sorry. I told you, I’m a little on edge.”

  “I noticed.” She was silent a moment. Okay, go for it. “I didn’t tell you. Megan called me twice today. She was pretty upset.”

  “More psychic mumbo jumbo?”

  “You’re being very scathing. You told me that you believed her when she told you about hearing those dead children.”

  “I also told you that I wouldn’t go to her on another case.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m a little too pragmatic. There have to be reasonable explanations. It’s the way I live.”

  “Megan is an ER physician. What’s more practical? But when she had to face the fact that she had this so-called gift, she had to come to terms with it.” She paused. “But she’s having trouble with this other facilitating gift she says she has. It’s erratic, and she doesn’t understand it.”

  “Then I’m sure I wouldn’t either,” he said flatly. “Let’s drop it.”

  He didn’t want to talk about anything to do with psychic gifts, Eve realized. “Okay, I just wanted to tell you that Megan was full of warnings because of what happened in the swamp. Remember that she didn’t want to be touched? She said that sometimes if she touched someone, it released latent psychic talents in them. Some people can’t adjust. She was afraid for me because I touched her.” Don’t mention that she’d included Joe in the warning. It might cause him to instinctively reject it. Let him draw his own inferences. “I told her I was fine and that I’d contact her if there was a problem.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. “She thought you’d hear dead people like she does?”

  “She said it depended on the person. She said it might cause them to read minds or be a healer or be able to make flowers grow. Any special talent that might be within them.” She cuddled closer. “And I told her that I found all of this a little hard to swallow.”

  “Of course.” His tone was absent. “Totally ridiculous.”

  “Nothing about Megan is ridiculous. It’s just out of my realm of experience, so I can’t imagine it.”

  “I can imagine it.” He added with sudden roughness, “And I find it ridiculous as hell.”

  “Don’t get upset about it.”

  “Why not? It’s bullshit. Dead children speaking from the beyond, corpses walking around. It’s bullshit.”

  “I’ll tell her that when she calls again. She’ll probably agree with you. But it’s the bullshit she has to live with.”

  “Well, I don’t have to live with it.” He sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “I can’t sleep. I’m going to call the M.E. and see if he has a report on the Norris autopsy.”

  “It’s almost midnight.”

  “They’ll still be there. We’re working around the clock on this one.” He shrugged on his robe. “Ed Norris will have his aides on our ass every step of the way.”

  “Do you want company?”

  “No, stay in bed. This shouldn’t take long.”

  Eve watched him leave the room. She had done her best. She didn’t know if that would be good enough. It was like trying to walk along a precipice blindfolded. For the first time in their relationship, she had no idea what he was thinking. And it was only guesswork that it had something to do with Megan’s facilitator talent. She was grasping at straws. She could only allow him his space and hope that he would work it out for himself.

  Damn, it was hard.

  What was she complaining about? If it was hard, then it was only a tiny portion of the hell Joe had gone through for her over the years. From that initial meeting after Bonnie had been taken, he had tried to shoulder every burden, ease every pain. Yet when he had first come into her kitchen that first morning, she’d been bitterly resentful.

  There was a discreet knock on the kitchen door. “Ms. Duncan. FBI. I rang the front doorbell, but no one was answering. May I come in?”

  Because she’d ignored the bell. She turned back to the stove. “Yes, I suppose you may.”

  She heard the door open behind her.

  “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to answer the bell. I’ve heard the media has been harassing you. I’m Special Agent Joe Quinn. FBI. I wonder if I could have a few words with you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him as she turned the omelet in the pan. Dark blue suit, square face, brown eyes, maybe twenty-six or -seven, good-looking. Young, too young. Why hadn’t they sent her someone older, with more experience? “Questions? I’ve answered millions of questions. It’s all in ATLPD’s records. Go ask them.”

  “I have to make my own report.”

  “Red tape. Procedures.” She scooped up the omelet and put it on a plate. “Why didn’t they send someone right after it happened?”

  “We had to wait for a request from the local police.”

  “You should have been here. Everyone should have come right away.” Her hand was shaking as she picked up the plate and put it on a tray. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to you, but I have to take this omelet to my mother. She hasn’t gotten out of bed since Bonnie disappeared. I can’t get her to eat.”

  “I’ll take it.” He reached out and took the plate. “Which room?”

  She wasn’t about to argue. Let him do something, anything. He hadn’t done what was important. He hadn’t found Bonnie. “First door at the top of the stairs.”

  She took the pan to the sink and started to wash it. Keep busy. Don’t think. Keep moving.

  “She started to eat,” Quinn said as he came back in the room. “Maybe it was the shock of seeing a stranger.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And how are you eating, Ms. Duncan?”

  “I eat enough. I know I can’t afford to lose strength.” She started drying the pan. Slowly. She was desperately afraid of running out of something to do. “What do you want to know, Agent Quinn?”

  He looked down at his notes. “Your daughter, Bonnie, disappeared at the park over a week ago. She went to the refreshment stand to get an ice cream and didn’t return. She was wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t see anyone suspicious loitering anywhere nearby?”

  “No one. It was crowded. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be—” She drew a deep breath. “No one suspicious. I told the police that I wondered if maybe someone had seen what a sweet kid my Bonnie was and taken her away. Maybe someone who had lost a child and only wanted another one.” She stared at his face. “And they only looked at me the way you’re doing and made soothing noises. It could have happened that way.”

  “Yes, it could.” He paused. “But the odds are against it. I’m not going to lie to you.”

  “I know that. I’m not a fool. I grew up on the streets, and I know all about the scum that’s out there.” She looked wonderingly up at him. “But I have to hope. She’s my baby. I have to bring her home. How can I live if I don’t hope?”

  “Then hope.” His voice was hoarse. “And I’ll hope with you. We’ll explore every way we can to find her safe and alive. There’s nothing I won’t do. Just stick with me and give me a little help.”

  She believed him. The intensity in his expression was overwhelming. Suddenly he didn’t look like the young man she’d assumed him to be when he’d walked into the kitchen. He looked hard and mature and fully capable. “Of course I’ll help.” She glanced away from him as she put the pan in the cupboard. “I’m afraid, you know,” she said unevenly. “I’m afraid all the time. My mother gave up and just went to bed, but I can’t do that. I have to keep fighting. As long as I’m fighting, I have a chance to find Bonnie.”

  He nodded. “Then we’ll fight together. I’l
l stay with you until we get through this.” He paused. “If you’ll let me.”

  Together.

  She suddenly felt a little less lonely. Nothing could ease the aching fear, but to share it was somehow comforting. She slowly nodded. “I think that would be very kind. Thank you, Agent Quinn.”

  BUT HOW COULD SHE HAVE ever dreamed how long Joe would have to stay with her to get her through that search for Bonnie, she thought as she stared into the darkness. He had been everything to her during that period when her life had been pure hell: friend, brother, a constant support when her world was falling apart around her. He’d marshaled everyone to search for Bonnie, then kept Eve sane when the realization had come that her daughter was dead, murdered, and buried away somewhere Eve might never find her.

  Yes, she owed him more than he’d ever know. No matter what was wrong in Joe’s life, she had to help him put it right.

  ________

  IT WAS ALL BULLSHIT, JOE thought as he switched on the coffeemaker. Forget it. There weren’t any ghosts. No mystic psychic powers.

  So he’d believed in Megan for that brief period in the swamp. He’d come to his senses after he’d come back to Atlanta.

  Until he’d thought he’d seen Bonnie Duncan. Until Nancy Jo Norris had paid him a visit.

  And if those had been hallucinations, then he was left with the realization that he was going off his rocker. He’d trot to the department’s psychiatrist and let the bastard talk soothingly to him about work-related stress and how he should take time off.

  He couldn’t take time off. It was his work that kept him balanced.

  Some balance.

  At least, it kept him busy and full of purpose. He reached for his phone and dialed the M.E.

  “Tim Brooks.”

  It was one of the M.E.’s assistants. Joe had talked to him before. “Quinn. Is the autopsy finished?”

  “Hell, no,” Brooks said sourly “This one will take days. Every test in the book.”

  “What’s the preliminary?”

  “Loss of blood due to the severance of the jugular.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Presence of ether and fiber fragments in the nostrils. He evidently knocked her out before he killed her.”

  Joe stiffened. “Ether?”

  “You heard me. Look, I’ve got to get back. You know I shouldn’t talk to you before we get a final.”

  “Thanks, Brooks.” He slowly hung up.

  He attacked me and stuffed a handkerchief over my face. It smelled sweet. Then he brought me here and slit my throat.

  Nancy Jo’s words during his hallucination earlier today.

  But why would he have had that particular detail in that hallucination?

  Guesswork from a hundred similar cases?

  But there was no case similar to this one. God help him. He was becoming increasingly convinced that was true. And if it wasn’t guesswork, he was left with a choice.

  Go to see the department shrink or jump headfirst into the river of no return?

  He spun on his heel and strode toward the bedroom.

  EVE WATCHED JOE DRIVE down the road before she reached for her cell phone and dialed Megan’s number. Megan answered after three rings. “I’m sorry to call this late. Did I wake you?”

  “That doesn’t matter. I told you to call me if you needed me.” She paused. “And do you need me?”

  “I might. Joe may be on his way to see you. I thought I’d prepare you.”

  “‘May’? You don’t know?”

  “He said he’d found out something from the Medical Examiner’s Office that he had to check out. It could be the truth or at least part of the truth. It’s a rough case, and we may be personally involved. But I have a hunch that whatever he has to check out, he wants to do it with you.”

  Silence. “You’re telling me that Joe Quinn is behaving . . . irrationally?”

  “I’m telling you that for the first time since I’ve known him, Joe is doubting his—” She took a deep breath. “There’s no one more solid or confident than Joe. That’s not what I’m seeing right now. I don’t know if it has anything to do with you or not, but I tried to steer him in your direction. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

  “You didn’t talk to him?”

  “Dammit, he would have backed away from me. If he is having any kind of weird reaction, it’s not the kind of thing he would admit, much less discuss. He calls it all bullshit. I did my best. It has to come from him.” She paused. “I’m worried. I feel helpless. If he does come to you, help him, Megan. Please.”

  “You don’t have to ask,” Megan said. “I’ll do what I can, though I don’t know what that will be. But I can tell you that it doesn’t always turn out badly.”

  “You mentioned insanity and death. I’d say that’s pretty bad.”

  “But it may have something to do with the strength of the individual character.”

  “Well, Joe has plenty of that. And it may not have anything to do with you. I just had to hedge every bet.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Megan hung up.

  Eve gazed out at the lake. Had she done the right thing? She had guided Joe toward Megan even though she wasn’t sure that she believed that Megan’s talent was at the bottom of Joe’s problem. She had been afraid to do anything else.

  She could only hope that there was a solution and that Megan would find it.

  MEGAN TURNED TO HER UNCLE as she hung up the phone. “We may have a visitor, Carey. Better put on the coffee while I throw on some clothes.”

  “At this hour? Who?”

  “Joe Quinn.”

  He frowned. “What the hell? After all the sarcastic bull he was throwing at you down at the swamp? I wanted to sock him.”

  “So did I. But you can’t blame him for being cynical about me. Sometimes I don’t believe in this psychic crap either.” Her lips twisted. “Or wish I didn’t believe it. It would make life easier.” That was the understatement of the century. “And I don’t have any right to blame him for anything now.” She whispered, “I may have hurt him, Carey.”

  “The facilitating thing?”

  “Eve thinks he’s not behaving normally. And that would be hard for her to admit. She’s very protective of him.”

  “I don’t remember him needing protection. You were the one being attacked.”

  “And that cynicism would make it even more difficult for him . . . if something did happen.” Megan turned and headed for her bedroom. “Maybe Eve’s wrong. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it’s something else.”

  Joe Quinn rang the doorbell forty minutes later.

  His gaze raked her up and down as she opened the door. From the top of her dark hair to her feet. “You’re dressed. Were you expecting me?” His lips twisted. “Maybe some psychic premonition?”

  “I don’t have premonitions. I have only two psychic talents of which I’m aware. That’s more than I want. Come in, Joe.” She stepped aside. “We might as well go into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee.”

  “I don’t want to sit down and have a cozy chat. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “No, there’s nothing cozy about you at the moment.” She doubted if that word would describe him at any time. He was all hard, lean strength and keen intelligence. “You’re angry, and you want to strike out at someone. Be my guest. I probably deserve it.” She turned toward the kitchen. “But we’d better pretend to be on good terms. My uncle is very defensive, and you’re not on his list of favorite people.”

  “That doesn’t bother me.” He followed her into the kitchen. “I can handle him.”

  “If you do, you’ll have me to deal with. He’s my only family, and I’m defensive too.” She sat down at the table and gestured for him to sit down across from her. “I tried to tell him you have a right to be angry, but he’s not buying it.”

  He sat down but his posture was as stiff as his expression. “And why should I be angry with you?”

  “Because I may have done you
harm.” She poured coffee into their cups from the carafe on the table. “Have I?”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. “I don’t believe all that stuff you told Eve. It’s something from a sci-fi movie.”

  “More like a horror film.” Megan shrugged. “And not only for me.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Is it, Joe?”

  His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. “Are you reading my mind?”

  “No, your body language.” She lifted her cup to her lips. “Tell me, can you read minds now? Did I do that to you?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Good. I imagine that would be a nightmare.”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “I’m an amateur. I’m new at this. I do know that I caused that in one man. He went insane.”

  “I’m not insane.” His lips were tight, his eyes glittering.

  “But you’ve been wondering.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve had a few doubts. But I came to the conclusion that I either accept that you may not be the charlatan I thought you were, or I accept the fact that I may be heading for the funny farm. I find the former far more palatable. So I’m here to ask questions. So far, you’re not being very reassuring.”

  “Tough. I don’t think you want reassurance. You want answers. I may not be able to give them to you, but I’ll try to help you find them. Ask your questions.”

  “Ghosts. You hear the dead. Do you see them?”

  Her cup stopped on the way to her lips. “No, and I never considered them ghosts. More like echoes of what happened at a given time and place.” She gazed at him for a moment before she put the question to him. “Do you see them?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe.” He scowled. “Damn, that was hard to say.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “Bonnie. I thought at first that I was having a hallucination because of the stress of the years of trying to find her.”

  “How many times have you seen her?”

  “Once.”

  “Then you could be right.”

  “I wasn’t trying to find Nancy Jo Norris, and I saw her.”