I Can See You (32 page)

Apprehension tickled the back of her neck. “Nice to
meet you,” she said as he put a piece of paper on the bar. Immediately she
recognized her own name. “My thesis abstract.”

“I work with Noah Webster. Today I heard an
interesting story about a confidential informant. Web was adamant on keeping
this person’s name secret. He’s worried I’ll turn him… or her… in. I wanted you
to know that I don’t plan to.”

Eve’s exhale was controlled, her frown confused. “I’m
sorry. I’m not following you.”

He smiled gently. “I’m really here to help you. It
took me five minutes to locate your abstract in the university’s online
library. Using Shadowland as a training tool has amazing therapeutic potential.
But your study has attracted the attention of a dangerous man. I was there,
yesterday, at your friend’s house. I was shaken. I still am.”

A chill raced down Eve’s back as she thought of Christy,
hanging from that rope. Her eyes… “You’ll have to talk to Detective Webster,
sir. He has all the information.”

“Because you gave it to him,” Pierce said kindly.
“That was very brave, Eve. You could be facing disciplinary action for breaking
double-blind, but I think I can stop that. I know Dr. Donner’s boss, Dean
Jacoby. We’re old friends. I can smooth the way.”

She studied his face. “Why?” she asked baldly.

“You’ll need others throughout your career, Eve. We
all do. Colleagues, experts. Mentors. You found yourself in an untenable
situation and you did the right thing. I’d hate to see you penalized. You have
a great career ahead of you. It would be a travesty for you to lose it all
before you even begin.”

He took a business card from the pocket of his
expensive suit and slid it across the bar. She stared at the card for a moment
before putting it in her pocket. Then she met his eyes, remembering her
manners. “Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He nodded once. “Good,” he said and turned to put on
his coat and gloves.

“Dr. Pierce, does Detective Webster know you came?”

“No. But as I said, it took less than five minutes to
connect the study with you. You will be found out, but I think you knew that
before you came forward.”

“Yes, I did,” she murmured and in his eyes she saw
respect.

“Call me when you’re ready for me to talk to the dean.
But I wouldn’t wait too long.”

She toyed with the business card in her pocket as he
walked away, then sucked in a breath when Sal appeared at her elbow. “Who was
that?” Sal asked, frowning.

“Psychologist,” Eve answered. “Works with the Hat
Squad. Interested in my thesis.”

“I see,” Sal said stiffly and Eve looked up at him. He
looked angry and… hurt.

He’d eavesdropped.
No surprise there
. “Go
ahead. What did you hear?”

“ ‘Disciplinary action.’ And last night you were with
the Hats. What’s going on?”

Eve dropped her voice. “Sal, somehow my thesis project
is being used to hurt people. I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m sorry.”

“All right,” he said in begrudging acceptance. “So
what about disciplinary action?”

“The way I got information was… against the rules.”

He met her eyes and once more she felt the scrutiny of
another. But this was different. This was Sal. “Would you do it again?” he
asked quietly.

“In a heartbeat,” she said without hesitation. “Less
than a heartbeat.”

“Good enough for me,” he said, then his eyes went sly.
“So what about the kiss?”

Eve looked up at the ceiling, flustered. “Oh for God’s
sake.”

“I knew it,” Sal said smugly, rubbing his hands
together. “I won the pool.”

Eve stared at him. “There was a fucking pool?”

“Well, not a fucking pool.” Sal snickered. “Just a
kissing pool.”

I should have known
. She controlled the anger that rose, knowing it came from humiliation.
“Well, I hope you won a bundle,” she said quietly and he sobered quickly.

“Only a beer,” he said. “Eve, what’s wrong?”

Everything
.
A business card she was afraid to use, directions to a dinner she was afraid to
attend. A good man who wanted her when he shouldn’t. A man she wanted, but couldn’t
have, who’d end up hurt when this was over. A career on life support before it
began. And over it all, three dead women, a dangerous man, and the real
possibility he could strike again. That he was hunting fish in the very barrel
she’d stocked.

A sudden urge to weep grabbed at her throat and she
took an unsteady step back. “Nothing. I’m fine. I just need a break. Can you
mind the bar?”

Without waiting for his answer, she went back to his
office, hearing his heavy sigh. “Goddammit,” he muttered, which Eve thought
summed it up pretty well.

Tuesday, February 23, 9:00 p.m.

 The worst of Jack’s anger had calmed by the time Noah
got to the morgue. Ian had posted photographs of Samantha Altman’s decomposed
body on his board.

“Anything?” Noah asked, scanning the photos.

“Same MO,” Jack said quietly. “Ket in her system,
puncture wound on her neck.”

“And dirt,” Ian said, “in her mouth.”

“What?” Noah leaned forward to get a better look at
the photos. “Where?”

“You can see it in between her back molars,” Ian said.
“When the funeral home delivered the body, I asked them if they remembered
anything different about this body.”

“And?” Jack asked.

“Samantha had a viewing, and it’s standard practice
for them to put cotton in the deceased’s cheeks to keep them from hollowing.
The funeral director told me when the cosmetologist was adjusting the cotton in
Samantha’s cheeks, she saw dirt. She thought this was strange, but knew it was
a suicide. They see all kinds of weirdness with suicides, just like we do. Some
people eat dirt. We find it in their stomach contents.”

“Did you find dirt in Samantha’s stomach?” Noah asked.

“No, but I did find it other places. When I heard
about dirt in her cheeks, I went back to all the samples Janice had taken in
the first autopsy. I’d already submitted the blood samples she’d stored and
they came back with the ketamine. Janice had scraped under the nails, just in
case. Samantha had a lot of dirt under her nails, like she’d been digging in a
garden. It’s potting soil.” Ian’s eyes narrowed as he watched their faces. “It
makes sense to you,” he said grimly. “Tell me.”

“He buried her alive,” Noah said. “Her worst fear.”

Ian stared. “Is that what the snake was all about? And
the water in Martha’s lungs, too? He’s torturing them with their worst fears?
My God, this guy is a real prince.”

“And we just let him go,” Jack said without emotion.

Ian’s eyes grew wider. “You
let
him
go
?”

Noah shook his head. “No, we did not. Jack, we need to
talk.”

“Yeah, we do. But this first. Was there dirt in her
lungs, Ian?”

Ian hesitated. “Yes.”

Noah found himself hesitating as well. “Shouldn’t that
have been caught in the autopsy the first time around?”

“Yes, it should have been. Janice missed it. I don’t
know why, but she missed it.”

“If she’d found it,” Jack said, “we might have already
been looking for a killer.”

Ian nodded, pain in his eyes. “I know. This is going
to kill her. She’s a thorough ME. Maybe she was in a hurry, thinking it was a
suicide. Maybe it was simple error. There wasn’t that much dirt, but she
shouldn’t have missed it. I’ve informed my hierarchy and we’ll have an internal
investigation. In the meantime, we have to live with the fact that we could
have prevented two more deaths.”

“What was the official cause of death, Ian?” Noah
asked. “Suffocation?”

“No, strangulation. I think she could breathe while
buried. There are abrasions along her gumline.” He pointed to the photos of
Samantha’s exposed teeth.

Noah pictured the options. “Snorkel?” he asked and Ian
nodded.

“Probably. I think he took her out, cleaned her up,
and hung her.”

“If she could breathe, how did the dirt get in her
lungs?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Ian said wearily. “Maybe he put dirt
down the snorkel on purpose, maybe it was an accident.”

Noah didn’t want to think about it, either way.
“Anything else?”

“No.” Ian began taking the photos down from the board.
“I think that’s enough.”

Noah agreed. “We’ll be in touch. Thanks.” He waited
until he and Jack were in the hall. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of decent
coffee. We need to clear some things up.”

Jack nodded, still subdued. “All right.”

Tuesday, February 23, 9:30 p.m.

“Hel
lo
there, Eve.” Kurt Buckland slid onto a
bar stool with a smug smile.

Eve gritted her teeth. She was getting damn sick and
tired of visitors to the bar. “Mr. Buckland. Still stalking me, I see.”

“Now, Eve. I’m simply sitting here at the bar, waiting
for service.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time.” She wanted to throw
him out, but Sal was their muscle, and after the “fucking pool” conversation
he’d gone AWOL.

“That was an interesting show you put on at the Deli
this morning,” Buckland said.

She shrugged. “Believe what you want.”

“It must have been hard to keep that secret from your
best friend. I thought it quite interesting that Callie so adamantly insisted
you weren’t seeing anyone.”

Eve started wiping down the bar, ignoring him as best
she could. She should have warned Callie, but honestly the thought hadn’t
entered her mind.
I’ve been a bit busy
.

He slid a manila envelope across the bar. “Here are
some pictures you should see.”

“No, thank you. I’ve already seen your pictures once
today.”

“No, these are better. You’ll see your detective isn’t
such a good guy after all.”

Shaking her head, she turned away. “I’m not playing
your game, Buckland. Leave.”

He reached over the bar and grabbed her arm, his grip
punishing. “I said,
look
.”

Fighting the instant panic that swelled within her,
Eve calmly lifted her eyes to his and saw the crazed light of fury. “You are
not a smart man, Kurt. This bar is filled with cops. I scream, and they drag
you away in handcuffs. Take your hand off me. Now.”

His eyes flickered, as if he’d momentarily forgotten
where he was. He let her go, lowering himself back to his stool. “I apologize,”
he said stiffly.

Her pulse was still racing, but she kept her voice
even. “I don’t accept. Please go.”

“Eve?” Regular Jeff Betz stepped up behind Buckland,
hulking over him.

“I’m fine, Officer Betz. Mr. Buckland was just
leaving.” She shoved the envelope over the bar and into Buckland’s hands. “Take
this with you. I don’t want it.”

Buckland slid off the stool, the fire in his eyes now
banked. “I’ll be in touch.”

When he was gone, she massaged her arm. It hurt worse
than she wanted to let on.

“You’re not fine,” Jeff said. “You should get that
looked at.”

Eve looked up at him, her smile wan. “I’ve had a lot
worse.”

Jeff frowned, troubled. “Doesn’t make it okay. You
call if he bothers you again. I’m off to pick up my wife. Have Sal walk you to
your car when you leave, Eve.”

“I’ve got a ride, but tomorrow I will. Don’t worry. I
don’t take chances.”
Not anymore.

Tuesday, February 23, 9:30 p.m.

“Why didn’t you just tell me about Eve’s information?”
Jack asked wearily.

They’d met at the Deli, but had taken their coffee and
conversation back to the privacy of Noah’s car. “Because you haven’t been
exactly approachable today.”

“I guess I deserve that. So what if it’s not Girard?
What do we do next?”

“Well, right now Abbott’s moonlighting as a woman in
Shadow-land’s bar, trying to attract this guy. Abbott is scarily convincing
and, I think, having too much fun.”

Jack’s lips twitched. “Wish I’d stayed around to see
that.”

Some of the tension dissipated. “If Girard is our guy,
we’ve got surveillance tonight. Tomorrow we ask him to alibi the times Eve
found the avatar files had been changed.”

“But even if he was home, or at work, or anywhere
people can verify his presence, he still could have gone online and made the
changes. He could have just pretended to check his email. Or he could have
taken a bathroom break and taken his laptop to the john. If his home or office
has wireless Internet, he didn’t even have to be at his desk.”

“But if he doesn’t alibi, we get a warrant for his
computer and check online activities.”

Jack nodded. “Makes sense. If he does alibi, we’ll
have to find something else to tie him to one of the crime scenes or the crimes
in general.”