The Face of Deception (7 page)

I like country, Logan said. I just cant stand those songs of woe you hug to your bosom. Blood-stained wedding gowns, dogs at grave siteshellip;
Thats because youre full of mush and you dont like to show it. Do you think I havent seen your eyes water? Now, take Feed Jake. Its a
You take it. The window.
Okay. The window glided up soundlessly and the music faded out.
I hope you dont mind, Logan said.
No, I have trouble with sad songs. But I cant imagine you crying in your beer over one.
He shrugged. Im human. Those country-song writers know exactly how to hit you.
Her gaze shifted to the back of Gils head. Hes nice. Not exactly what I expected in one of your employees.
Gils not what anyone expects, but hes a good driver.
And bodyguard?
That too. He used to be in the Air Force Military Police, but he doesnt respond well to discipline.
Do you?
No, but I usually try to work my way around it instead of punching people out. He gestured out the side window. Well be on my land in a few minutes. Its pretty country with lots of woods and meadows.
I suppose so. It was too dark to see more than shadowy trees. She was still absorbed with the com-parison Logan had made between himself and Price. And what do you do when you cant work around anyone who tries to discipline you?
Why, punch them out. He smiled. Thats why Gil and I get along. Were soul mates. They turned a curve in the road, and a twelve-foot-tall elaborate wrought iron fence loomed before them.
She watched Gil press a control on the dashboard, and the gates swung slowly open.
Is the fence electrified too? she asked.
He nodded. And I have a security man moni-toring the grounds by video camera from the carriage house.
She felt a sudden chill. Very high-tech. I want my own remote to open those gates.
He looked at her.
Gates that keep people out can also keep them in. I dont like the idea of being in a cage.
Im not trying to keep you prisoner, Eve.
No, not if you can get what you want any other way. But what if you cant?
I cant force you to work.
Couldnt you? Youre a very clever man, Logan. I want my own remote to open those gates.
Tomorrow. It will have to be programmed. He smiled sardonically. I think its safe to assume I wont try to bulldoze you in the next twenty-four hours.
Tomorrow. She leaned forward as the house came into view. The moon had come out from behind the clouds and lit the place. Barrett House was a sprawling two-story stone building that looked like the nineteenth-century inn Gil had said it had once been. There was nothing pretentious about it, and the ivy covering the walls softened the stone. As Gil stopped the car in front of the front door, she asked, Why buy an inn that you had to restore? Why not just build a new house?
Logan climbed out of the car and held out his hand to help her. It had a few unique features that appealed to me.
Dont tell me. It had its own graveyard.
He grinned. The Barrett family cemetery is just over the hill. But that wasnt why I bought the inn. He opened the tall mahogany front door. There arent any live-in servants. I have cleaning people come in from town twice a week. Well have to fend for ourselves in the kitchen.
It doesnt matter. Im not accustomed to ser-vants, and food isnt a high priority for me.
His gaze ran over her. I can tell. Youre lean as a greyhound.
I like greyhounds, Gil said as he carried the luggage into the hall. Graceful and those great, big wistful eyes. I had one once. Nearly killed me when he died. Where do you want her bags?
The first door at the head of the stairs, Logan said.
Right. Gil started up the steps. Pretty boring. My quarters are in the old carriage house, Eve. You should ask him to put you out there. More privacy.
This will be more convenient to the lab, Logan said.
And more convenient for Logan to keep tabs on me, Eve thought.
Margaret must have gone to bed. Youll meet her in the morning. I think youll find everything you need in your room.
I want to see my lab.
Now?
Yes. You may not have equipped it properly. I may have to supplement it.
Then by all means come with me. Its one of the added rooms in the back. I havent seen it myself. I had Margaret get you everything she thought youd need.
The efficient Margaret again.
Not only efficient. Exceptional.
She followed Logan across a huge living room with a fireplace large enough to walk into, plank floors covered by woven hemp carpets, and oversized leather furniture. It looked like a lodge, she decided.
He led her down a short hall and then opened a door. Here you are.
Coldness. Sterility. Gleaming stainless steel and glass.
Oops. Logan grimaced. This must be Mar-garets idea of scientific heaven. Ill try to warm it up for you.
It doesnt matter. I wont be here that long. She strode over to the pedestal. It was sturdy and ad-justable. The three video cameras on tripods next to it were top-notch, as were the computer, mixer, and VCR. She moved over to the workbench. The mea-suring instruments were high-grade, but she pre-ferred the ones she had brought with her. She took the wooden box from the shelf above the bench, and sixteen sets of eyes stared up at her. All variations of hazel, gray, green, blue, brown. Blue and brown would have been sufficient, she said. Brown is the most prevalent eye color.
I told her to get you everything you could pos-sibly need.
Well, she did that. She turned to look at him. When can I start to work?
In a day or two. Im waiting for word.
And Im supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs?
Would you like me to dig you up one of the Bar-retts to practice on?
No, I want to finish the job and go home.
You gave me two weeks. He turned away. Come on, youre tired. Ill show you to your room.
She was tired. She felt as if a thousand years had passed since she had walked to her lab that morning. She had a sudden pang of homesickness. What was she doing here? She didnt belong in this strange house with a man she didnt trust.
The Adam Fund. It didnt matter whether she be-longed here or not. She had a job and a purpose. She came toward him. I meant what I said. I wont do anything criminal.
I know you meant it.
Which didnt mean he accepted it. She flicked off the overhead light and moved past him into the hall. Are you going to tell me why you brought me here and why I should do what you want me to do?
He smiled. Why, its your patriotic duty.
Bull. Her gaze narrowed on his face. Politics?
Why do you assume that?
Youre known for your activities in public view and behind the scenes.
I suppose I should be relieved that you no longer think Im a mass murderer.
I didnt say that. Im exploring all options. Politics?
Possibly.
A sudden thought occurred to her. My God, are you trying to smear someone?
I dont believe in smear campaigns. Lets say things arent always what they seem, and I believe in bringing the truth to light.
If its to your advantage.
He nodded mockingly. Of course.
I dont want to be part of it.
Youre not part of ithellip; unless Im right. If Im wrong, you go home and we forget you were ever here. He was preceding her up the stairs. What could be more fair?
Maybe his reason didnt involve politics. Maybe it was entirely personal. Well see.
Yes, we will. He opened her door and stood aside. Goodnight,Eve.
Good night. She went inside and closed the door. The room was country comfortable with a canopy bed with a rust and cream quilt, simple pine furniture. The only thing in it that interested her was the telephone on the end table. She sat down on the bed and dialed Joe Quinns number.
Hello, he answered sleepily.
Joe, Eve.
His voice lost all trace of drowsiness. Is every-thing okay?
Fine. Im sorry to wake you, but I just wanted to tell you where I am and give you my phone number here. She rattled off the number printed on the ex-tension. Got it?
Got it. Where the hell are you?
Barrett House. Logans place in Virginia.
And this couldnt wait until morning?
Probably. But I wanted you to know. I feelhellip; disconnected.
You sound uneasy as the devil. You took the job?
Why else would I be here?
And whats scaring you?
Im not scared.
The hell youre not. You havent called me in the middle of the night since Bonnie
Im not afraid. I just wanted you to know. She had a thought. Logan has a driver, Gil Price. He used to be in the Air Force Military Police.
You want me to check him out?
Ihellip; think so.
No problem.
And youll watch out for my mother while Im gone?
Sure, you know I will. Ill ask Diane to go over and have coffee with her tomorrow afternoon.
Thanks, Joe. Go back to sleep.
Yeah, sure. He paused. I dont like this. Be careful, Eve.
Theres nothing to be careful about. Bye.
She hung up the phone and stood. Shed take a shower, wash her hair, and then get to bed. She really shouldnt have woken up Joe, but hearing a familiar voice made her feel better. Everything about this place was low-key and unthreatening, including lik-able Gil Price, but she was still on edge. She couldnt tell how much was authentic and how much had been layered on to disarm her, and she didnt like being so isolated.
But now she had a link to the outside world.
Joe would be her safety net while she was walking this tightrope.
Eve? Diane Quinn rolled over in bed and propped her head on her hand. Is everything all right?
Joe nodded. I think so. I dont know. She took a job that may not be Forget it. Probably nothing to worry about.
But Joe would worry, Diane thought. He always worried about Eve.
He lay back down and pulled up the covers. Go by and visit her mother tomorrow, will you?
Sure. She turned out the light and cuddled closer. Whatever you say. Now go back to sleep.
I will.
He wouldnt go back to sleep. Hed lie there in the darkness thinking and worrying about Eve. Smother the resentment. She had a good marriage. Joe had in-herited enough money from his parents to give them a comfortable lifestyle even without his salary. He was thoughtful, generous, and great in bed. Shed known when she married him that he and Eve were a package deal. It hadnt taken her long to realize the bond between Joe and Eve was too strong to break. They were so close, sometimes they finished each others sentences.
But that bond wasnt sexual. Not yet. Maybe never. That part of him was still hers.
So smother the envy and resentment. Be Eves friend, be Joes wife.
Because she was bitterly aware she couldnt be one without being the other.
She called Joe Quinn thirty minutes ago. Gil set a sheet of paper on the desk in front of Logan. Heres a transcript Mark made of the conversation.
Logan smiled faintly as he glanced through the text. I dont believe she trusts us, Gil.
Smart lady. Gil threw himself into the easy chair across the room and draped a leg over the arm. Now, Im not surprised she doesnt trust you. Youre pretty transparent, but it takes someone ultrapercep-tive to suspect me.
Its not your acting ability, its those damn freckles. He frowned. Ive been trying to contact Scott Maren in Jordan. Any calls?
No calls. Then he snapped his fingers. Except from your lawyer, Novak.
He can wait.
Do you want Mark to foul up the connection if she tries to call again?
He shook his head. Shed only use her digital. She still might if she knows the phone in her room is bugged.
Whatever you say. He paused. When do we go for it?
Soon.
He lifted a brow. You wouldnt be holding out on me, would you?
I have to make sure everythings right. Timwicks been too close on my tail.
You can trust me, John.
I said Im waiting.
All right, you closemouthed bastard. Gil stood up and strolled toward the door. But I dont like going in blind.
You wont.
Ill take that as a promise. Get some sleep.
I will.
When the door closed behind Gil, Logan glanced down at the transcript again and then tossed it to one side. Joe Quinn. He couldnt afford to underestimate the detective. Eve had inspired intense loyalty in Quinn. Loyalty and friendship and what else? he wondered. Quinn was married, but that didnt matter.
Hell, it wasnt any of his business if it didnt in-terfere with what he needed Eve to do. Besides, he had enough to worry about.
Scott Maren was wandering around Jordan and might be taken down at any minute.
Timwick might have seen through Logan and drawn conclusions. Those conclusions would frighten him enough to give the order to secure his position.
Logan couldnt wait to get hold of Maren.
He pulled out his personal phone book and flipped it open to the back page. There were only three names and telephone numbers on the page.
Dora Bentz.
James Cadro.
Scott Maren.
Bentzs and Cadros telephones might be bugged, but he should still call and verify they were all right. Then hed send someone to pick them up.
He reached for the telephone and dialed the first phone number.
Dora Bentz.
The phone was ringing.
Fiske finished tying the womans legs to the bedposts and pushed her nightgown up above her waist.
She was in her fifties, but she had damn nice legs. Too bad about that pouchy belly. She should have worked out, he thought. Situps would have taken care of that pouch. He did two hundred situps a day and his own belly was iron hard.
He got a broom out of the kitchen closet and came back to the bed.
The phone was still ringing. Persistent.
He shoved the broom up the woman. The killing had to look like a sex crime, but he wouldnt risk ejacu-lating inside her. Semen was evidence. Many serial killers had trouble ejaculating anyway, and the broom was a nice touch. It spelled out woman hatred and home desecration.
Anything else?
Six deep, savage wounds on her breasts, duct tape over her mouth, the open windowhellip;
No, it was a clean job.
Hed have liked to stay awhile and admire his handiwork, but the phone hadnt stopped ringing.
Whoever was on the other end might get worried and call the police.
One more check. He walked to the head of the bed and gazed down at her.
She stared back at him, her eyes as wide open, her expression as terrified as when hed plunged the knife into her heart.
He took out the envelope with the photographs and the typewritten list Timwick had given him at the airport. He liked lists; they kept the world in order.
Three photographs. Three names. Three addresses.
He crossed Dora Bentzs name off the list.
The phone was still ringing as he left her apart-ment.
No answer.
It was three-thirty in the morning. There should have been an answer.
Logan slowly replaced the receiver.
It didnt have to mean anything. Dora Bentz had married children who lived in Buffalo, New York. She could be visiting them. She could be on vacation anywhere.