Eve (2 page)

“Speak up. It’s not like you to be inarticulate.”

Catherine turned back to look down at Joe. “Did you finish the reconstruction on Cindy?”

Cindy was the reconstruction that Eve had been working on weeks ago before she had gone to Russia at Catherine’s request. It had been very difficult, and Catherine had been a great help. “Of course, she was done a week after I came home from Russia. It wasn’t that difficult.” She smiled. “Not after I had a little help from my friends during the initial prep work.”

“Was she a pretty little girl?”

“Yes.”

“Like your Bonnie?”

A tiny disturbance rippled through Eve. She didn’t look at all like Bonnie. “Why are you talking about Bonnie, Catherine?”

“Because I think Joe is jealous of your obsession with Bonnie. Not of your daughter. Just of your feelings for her. He’d have to be a saint not to feel a little put in the shade by the way you feel. Isn’t that true?”

She didn’t speak for a moment. “Yes. But friend or not, I don’t want to discuss this with you, Catherine.”

“I have to discuss it with you. Do you think I want to do it? I was even thinking of walking away and forgetting about it. But I can’t do that, Eve.”

Eve frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Joe have a giant problem, and I don’t want to make it any bigger.”

“How could you do that?”

“Easily.” Her lips twisted. “I’m good at what I do. I’m an expert. I just set my mind to it and cause the sky to fall.”

Eve slowly rose from the swing and went to stand beside Catherine. “Talk to me.”

Catherine looked away from her again. “I told you I’d pay you back, remember? I was so grateful I wanted to give you what you wanted most in the world.”

Eve gazed at her with exasperation. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t convince Catherine to accept what Eve had done as a gesture of friendship and let it go. Catherine had come to her to ask her to do an age progression on her son Luke, who had been kidnapped when he was two and had been missing for nine years. Eve had been inevitably drawn into the search for Luke that had culminated in a deadly race to save him from his kidnapper in Russia. “And I told you to forget it.”

“That’s not in my makeup.” She was silent for a minute. “What you want most in the world is to bring your Bonnie home. To do that you have to find her killer. When I came home from Hong Kong, I had lots of time to concentrate on thinking about your problem. I tried to look at the crime from an objective and fresh point of view. Then I started to dig. I used every contact and information-gathering unit I had at my disposal and at Venable’s disposal. We even tapped the NSA.”

Eve could feel her chest tightening. Don’t hope. The search had gone on too long for Catherine to just step in and perform a miracle. “Joe was FBI at the time Bonnie was taken. We didn’t exactly stop at local law enforcement.”

“But all the information wasn’t available then.”

“I know that. My friend, Montalvo, recently gave me a list of three new suspects. Two didn’t pan out, but I still have the third one to investigate. Paul Black. Is that the name you ran across?”

“His name popped up.”

Eve’s gaze narrowed on Catherine’s face. “But?”

“I was more interested in someone else.”

“Who?”

“He had opportunity. He might have had motive.” She was speaking quickly, tersely. “In this type of crime, there’s ample precedent for this kind of perpetrator.”

“Dammit. Why are you being so evasive?”

“Joe. I can see you have to walk very carefully where he’s concerned. He’s very emotional about your obsession with Bonnie. He’s nuts about you.” Her hands tightened on the porch rail. “And he doesn’t need to come face-to-face with this for it to tear him apart. Hell, it might tear you both apart.”

“Catherine.”

“Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “Joe has been thinking about you as being totally his own since the moment you met. It’s been the saving grace when he had to come to terms with your obsession with Bonnie. It would disturb the hell out of him to lose that security.”

“There’s no way he would lose it.”

“No? You’re very cool, very controlled, but it wasn’t like that always. There was a time when you lost your head and spun out of control over a man.”

Eve was beginning to see where Catherine was going. No, it couldn’t be. It was impossible. She asked hoarsely, “Catherine, who killed my Bonnie?”

“I didn’t say I was certain.”

Eve was shaking. “Tell me. Tell me the name.”

“You want a name?” Catherine drew a deep breath. “The name you didn’t even see fit to put on the birth certificate, Eve,” she said gently. “Bonnie’s father, John Gallo.”

*   *   *

EVE HAD BEEN EXPECTING IT,
but the name struck her, stunned her. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely speak, “No … it’s not true. You don’t understand. It’s not true.”

But if Catherine thought it true, then somehow it might be.

No, it was impossible.

“Eve, I wouldn’t have just pulled his name—”

“No!” She had to get out of here. She had to be alone. She whirled and was across the porch, fumbling at the screen door. “You’re wrong, Catherine. You couldn’t be more wrong. It’s not—” She slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it, staring into the darkness.

Cool and controlled, Catherine had called her. Where was that coolness now? She felt as vulnerable and emotional as she had when she was that sixteen-year-old kid who had given birth to Bonnie. So angry, so defiant, so passionate.

John Gallo.

Catherine’s words had sent her spiraling back to that sixteen-year-old girl.

Back to John Gallo …

CHAPTER

2

Peabody Housing Development

Atlanta, Georgia

“I NEED A LITTLE MONEY, EVE.”
Sandra Duncan’s soft, Southern tone was coaxing. “You got paid last night, didn’t you? A ten spot will do me.” Her hand fluttered to her short red-brown hair. “I need to get my hair tinted so that I can go look for a job. I’ve got to look my best.”

Her mother was stoned again, Eve realized in despair. Eyes a little unfocused, movements slow and uncoordinated. And the ten spot she wanted might go for crack or marijuana instead of hair tint. Yet what the hell could she do? Sandra hadn’t had a job in four months, and they needed any money that her mother could bring in. The rent at their apartment was a month behind, and Eve barely made enough working part-time at Mac’s Diner to pay the utilities. “I can give you five, Mother. Can you go to that beauty college in College Park and get it any cheaper?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Sandra?” her mother said. “Everyone tells me I’m much too young to have a grown daughter of sixteen. Why, I’m just a little over thirty myself.” She reached over and patted Eve’s cheek. “I had you when I was only fifteen. I could have had an abortion, but I decided to keep you. It wasn’t easy for me. You owe me, don’t you, honey? Ten?”

Sandra always brought up how much Eve owed her when she needed something, Eve thought with annoyance. When she was younger, it had hurt her. But then she’d realized that her mother used it to get what she wanted, and that big sacrifice was probably because Sandra had been too far along to safely get an abortion. She reached into her wallet and brought out a ten-dollar bill. “Okay. But I want you to show me how pretty you look tomorrow after you get your hair done.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Sandra looked in the mirror. “You never say so.” She patted her hair again. “You’re not exactly pretty, Eve, but you have my hair. Everyone says that my hair is very unusual.” She picked up her handbag. “That’s why I have to keep it looking nice.” She headed for the door. “Do you know, I bet that manager at Mac’s Diner would give you a full-time job if you asked him nicely.”

It wasn’t the first time Sandra had made that suggestion. Her mother always conveniently forgot what she didn’t want to remember. “I’m not going to ask him. I haven’t graduated from high school yet, Sandra. And Mr. Kimble has already said he’ll keep me on and work around my hours when I go to college.”

“College?” Sandra smiled with genuine amusement. “People like us don’t go to college, honey. You’ll be much happier if you get that thought right out of your head.”

“Would I?” She tried to smother the anger, but it burst free. “And are you happy jumping from job to job, Sandra? Are you happy sniffing coke to make you think everything is what it should be?” She looked around the shabby apartment. She tried to keep it clean, but everything about it was worn, drab, and depressing. “Are you happy living here? Well, I’m not, and I’m not going to stop thinking of ways to get away from here.”

Sandra was looking at her in bewilderment. “Don’t be ugly. There’s nothing wrong with smoking a joint or sniffing a little coke now and then. It’s not as if I’m one of those drug addicts on Peachtree Street.”

“No? Have you tried to kick it lately?”

“Why should I?” She opened the door. “You’re just too intense about most everything. You seem to be mad at me every time you see me. You work or read all the time. You don’t even have a boyfriend. Sometimes I don’t understand you, Eve.” She slammed the door behind her.

Sandra had never understood her, Eve thought. Even when she’d been a child, her mother had often looked at her as if she were some strange creature from another planet.

But then Sandra had been revolving in her own solar system ever since Eve could remember. Marijuana, crack, coke, acid.

Don’t think about it. Sandra wouldn’t listen to her, and she had her own battles to fight. She couldn’t help her mother, but she could help herself. She had grown up in the streets and learned every trick in the book to fight those battles.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost six. She had to get to work, or she’d be late. She’d hoped to finish her geometry before she had to leave, but Sandra had been home, and that usually meant a delay. She closed her geometry book and stuck it in her canvas book bag. Maybe she’d get a chance to finish on her break.

She locked the door and ran down the four flights of cement stairs that led to the front entrance of the housing development. The stink was overwhelming. Someone had thrown a sack of garbage on the third landing. All they’d had to do was take it down two flights more to the garbage cans, but that was too much trouble.

Don’t look at the garbage, the iron banister rails, the scrawled graffiti on the dirty gray walls. She had control of their apartment, but all she could do was ignore everything outside their apartment door.

She threw open the worn oak door of the front entrance. Two silver-haired black ladies were slowly approaching, and she waited to hold the door for them.

Then she was quickly outside, drawing a deep breath.

Fresh air. Sunlight. The smell of garbage was less down here.

“Hello, Eve, aren’t you late?” Rosa Desprando was sitting in the sun on the green bench outside the building with her year-old little boy beside her. She spent a lot of time outside; her father was always yelling at her because the baby was too noisy.

“A little.” Rosa was her own age, sixteen, and had been in her homeroom at school before she had gotten pregnant and dropped out. Eve had always liked her. She was a little slow, but that didn’t matter. She had a good heart and was always smiling, something that wasn’t common in Eve’s world. In fact, she had too good a heart. She’d been a target for every guy in school because they could con her into anything. Including getting pregnant with adorable Manuel, who she loved more than anything in the world.

Eve stopped by the bench and stroked the baby’s dark curls. “Hey, hot stuff,” she said softly. “How you doing?”

Manuel was gurgling and batting his long eyelashes at her. She had once told Rosa that he should be doing commercials for mascara. He was a plump, rosy-cheeked child, and completely enchanting.

Eve chuckled. “I think he’s doing fine. Is he still keeping you awake teething?”

“Yes, it doesn’t matter,” Rosa said as she adjusted the baby’s Braves baseball shirt. “He’s worth it. Doesn’t he look cute in this shirt you bought for him? Say thank you, Manuel.”

“No big deal. It only cost me fifty cents at Goodwill.”

“But he’s so cute in it. Like a real baseball player. I’m trying to teach him to say thank you. He said it yesterday.”

Manuel beamed up at Eve. “Mama.”

“I don’t think so,” Eve said.

“He calls everyone mama,” Rosa said. “Even my papa.”

“He’ll get it straight soon.” She dropped a kiss on his head and opened the gate. “See you, Rosa.”

Rosa nodded. “I saw your mama a few minutes ago. She looked real pretty.”

“Sandra always looks nice,” Eve said as she started the four-block walk to the bus stop.

“Eve.”

“What?” Eve glanced back over her shoulder.

“Watch out.” Rosa’s gaze was fixed on the alley at the end of the block. “I saw Rick Larazo and Frank Martinelli and some of their gang around earlier this evening. Rick looked … wild. I think he’s on something bad.”

“I always watch out,” Eve said. “You keep away from them, Rosa.”

“They don’t do anything but call me bad names.” Rosa cuddled her baby closer. “They can’t hurt me, but I don’t like them talking like that about Manuel. He didn’t do nothin’. It was all my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” That wasn’t true. It was Rosa’s fault for trusting and believing and for being born in a world that victimized the innocent and the weak. “It was just something that happened. It can work out. You take good care of Manuel and look through that GED pamphlet I gave you. You’ll get your diploma, then you can get a good job.”

She shook her head. “I’m not smart like you, Eve.”

“You don’t have to be smart. You just have to want it enough. Look, Rosa, we don’t have to be like our parents, living hand to mouth, falling into the same traps, making the same mistakes. We can dig ourselves out of here.” She could never understand why that desire wasn’t there in the people around her. It had always been a burning passion with her. But she didn’t have time to argue with Rosa at that moment. “Study for that GED. I’ll talk to you later. See you.”

Her pace quickened as she kept a wary eye on the dark cavity of the alley as she passed it. She had been attacked more than once by scum hiding in that cluttered dimness.

This time she was lucky.

Evidently Rick Larazo and his gang had moved on and she didn’t have—

A scream.

Rosa.

Eve whirled.

Dear God.

Rick Larazo, Frank Martinelli, and two other boys were in front of the housing development.

Rick had taken the baby away from Rosa and was holding Manuel over his head. She was trying desperately to jump up and reach him. Frank Martinelli was laughing and backing away. “Throw him, Rick. He thinks he’s a baseball player, let him play.”

“No!”

Rosa screamed as the baby was thrown up in the air and across the yard.

Eve stared in horror.

It was almost like watching slow motion. Manuel’s plump little legs flailing in the air, Rosa whirling and reaching out, the boys laughing and calling out.

“Don’t worry, Rosa. I’ve got him.” Frank Martinelli stepped forward, pretended to catch the baby, then deliberately stepped back and let the baby fall to the ground.

Damn them. Damn them. Damn them.

Eve raced back toward the development.

Rosa was crying, trying to get to her baby, but Rick was holding her back.

The baby was lying still, crumpled on the ground.

“Let her
go
!” Eve tackled Rick Larazo, her hand grabbing for his penis and twisting.

He howled, falling, and released Rosa.

“Get Manuel inside, Rosa,” Eve yelled, and jumped on top of Rick. She wouldn’t be able to hold him long. He was big, strong, and his eyes were as wild as Rosa had said. His dirty straw-colored hair was scraggly, with pink-dyed streaks, and he looked like some weird cartoon character. Only there was nothing funny about him. She was surprised he’d even been able to feel the pain through the drugs.

Rosa snatched up the baby and ran up the stairs and into the building.

Good.

Now to try to get away herself.

Too late.

Frank Martinelli grabbed her hair from behind and jerked backward.

Rick punched her in the stomach and pushed her off him and to the ground.

“Bitch. Interfering bitch.” He was kneeling over her and his fist lashed out and connected with her cheek. “Come on, guys, it’s party time.”

Pain.

Darkness.

Don’t give in to it.

She wouldn’t be raped by these bastards.

She shook her head to clear it, then her teeth sank into Frank Martinelli’s hand, the one that was holding her hair. He screamed and released it. She butted her head as hard as she could against Larazo’s chest.

She rolled sidewise and reached for the strap of her book bag. She slung it with all her force at Larazo’s head. She jumped to her feet and ran toward the front entrance.

Her way was blocked by the two other boys, who had been watching with wide grins.

“Get her,” Larazo said. “Don’t let her inside. Frank, go watch the street. I’m gonna make her scream. I want to—” His voice suddenly cut off into a gurgle. “Shit!”

Eve glanced over her shoulder. Someone, a dark-haired man, was standing behind Larazo, his arm around the boy’s neck. As she watched, he jerked Larazo’s head sidewise, lifted the edge of his hand, and brought it down in a karate chop.

He let Larazo drop to the ground and turned to Frank Martinelli. “Come on,” he said softly. “I haven’t had enough.”

Frank Martinelli hesitated and lunged forward, reaching for his switchblade. He barely got it out when he was whirled around, his arm twisted behind his back. He shrieked as his arm was pushed up higher and higher.

Eve heard the bone snap.

The other two boys who were blocking Eve’s path parted like the Red Sea and ran, leaving Larazo and Martinelli on the ground.

Martinelli was moaning and trying to crawl toward the street, but Larazo was still slumped, silent.

“Did you kill him?” Eve whispered. “You’d better go quickly. The people who live here never come out to help, but they do call the police. The cops don’t care who’s to blame; they take everyone in and book them.”

“I know. He’s not dead. I wouldn’t let a bastard like that ruin my life. I’ve got plans. He should be coming around in a few minutes.” The dark-haired man who had taken down Larazo and Martinelli came toward her. “You okay?”