I Can See You (46 page)

They switched phones and Noah dialed Eve, but her
phone went to voicemail. If she was in class, she’d have turned her phone off.
If she was hurt… “I need to get to Marshall,” he said to Jack. “I need to make
sure she’s okay.”

Jack hesitated, then grasped Noah’s arm in a brief
squeeze. “Try not to worry. I’ll call you when I’ve talked to Larry Millhouse.”

“Thanks.” Noah took his phone back and kept Hunter
talking as he headed toward Marshall where he prayed Eve was where she said
she’d be.

Wednesday, February 24, 3:10 p.m.

“That’s him,” Eve said, looking at the police artist’s
computer screen.

“I’ll get this out,” Olivia said, taking a copy of the
assailant’s face from the printer.

“Your sketch made my job a lot easier,” the artist
said. “It’ll give us an edge.”

“If Looey’s still alive.” Eve’s blood went cold
whenever she thought about the look in his eyes as he’d come across the bar.
It
could have been me
.

Officer Michaels had found blood in the real Kurt
Buckland’s apartment. He’d called it in as a possible homicide and Olivia had
picked it up.

Olivia’s partner Kane was taking Rachel Ward’s picture
to the late-closing area bars alone. While Eve knew the murder investigation
should be the highest priority, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that Olivia
was handling Kurt Buckland’s case.

“Eve.” Olivia walked across the bullpen with an ashen
older man. “This is Jim Rosen, Kurt Buckland’s boss. Come on, let’s have a seat
in here where we can talk.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rosen said. “The paper had no
knowledge of this man’s actions.”

“You printed his story about Martha’s suicide on
Monday,” Eve said. “Why?”

“Kurt called me on Sunday. Said he was following up on
a tip, that there was a large police presence at the home of a woman who’d hung
herself and that one of her neighbors, a Sarah Dwyer, said the police indicated
it had been more than a suicide.”

That had been the article that had first pushed her
across Noah’s path. “But you only printed that it was a suicide, and back in
the Metro section.”

“Kurt’s Metro editor and I agreed that without formal
police corroboration we’d print it as a suicide. Then Monday, Captain Abbott
gave a statement that Martha Brisbane had been murdered. By then Kurt had sent
me emails saying he had proof on two other victims, Samantha Altman and Christy
Lewis, statements from their parents saying the police had spoken with them.
I’ve known Kurt for years and I trust him. I ran the story.”

“Did he bring the story to you personally?” Olivia
asked.

“No. He emailed it as an attachment. But like I said,
I’ve known Kurt for years.”

“Did you talk to him after Sunday about the Brisbane
murder?” Olivia asked.

“No. I thought he was sitting at his desk in Metro.
His Metro editor thought he was with me. I can’t believe this.” He looked
genuinely devastated. “Is Kurt dead?”

“We’re investigating,” was all Olivia would say. “Have
you seen this man?” She showed him a copy of the man Eve had described to a
sketch artist.

Eve’s cell vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it,
waiting for Jim Rosen’s answer.

“I don’t think so,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.”

“If he contacts you again,” Olivia said, “play along.
Then call me, right away.”

“I will.” He rose and gave Eve a pained look. “I
understand this man hurt you last night. The Kurt Buckland I know never would
have hurt a fly. He didn’t have an aggressive nature. We certainly don’t
condone tactics of that kind for any reason.”

“Thank you,” Eve said. “I hope Mr. Buckland is found,
safe.”

Rosen nodded stiffly. “If you’d like, we’ll put that
sketch on the front page.”

“Let’s keep it quiet for now,” Olivia said. “If he
knows we’re on to him, he’ll bolt. If he thinks we still believe he’s Buckland,
he’ll get bolder. If I hear anything, I’ll call you.”

When he was gone, Eve searched her face. “Buckland is
dead, isn’t he?”

“Based on the amount of blood we found in his
apartment? Yeah.”

Eve shuddered. “I didn’t feel scared last night at
Sal’s. Not with so many cops around. But I feel scared now.”

“Good. You should feel scared. I don’t want you going
anywhere alone, okay? I don’t care how much of a pain in the butt it is.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Did you get any usable
prints from his business card?”

“Not yet. I asked Micki to send somebody from Latent
to Sal’s to dust the bar. If he touched it, maybe we’ll get something from
there.”

“I polished it last night, like I do every night. I
doubt you’ll get anything.” Eve stiffened when her cell vibrated again. She
pulled it from her pocket. “It’s Noah.”

“Take it,” Olivia ordered.

“Hey,” Eve said, injecting a bright note in her voice.
“I’m fine.” Then everything inside her went cold once more as she listened.
David.
“Where did they take him?”

“Northwest General,” he said. “I talked to the
paramedics who responded. They say he’s stable, he just took a hard hit to the
head. Eve, he was driving your car.”

Eve sucked in a breath and seemed incapable of forcing
it back out.
Breathe
. “I know. I’m here with Olivia at the station. They
think the real Kurt Buckland is dead. They found blood in his living room. A
lot of blood.” Her voice was shaking and she couldn’t make it stop. “Noah, he
killed Buckland. He just tried to kill me, too.”

“Let me talk to Olivia,” he ordered tersely.

Wordlessly Eve handed Olivia the phone. David was
hurt. Stable, but hurt.
He was in my car. He’s hurt because he was in my
car. That was supposed to be me
.

She could hear Olivia’s voice, steady and capable, but
it had faded to a whisper, overwhelmed by the pulse pounding in her head. “It
was supposed to be me,” Eve said.

Olivia squeezed her arm. “I know. Get your coat. I’ll
take you to Northwest General.”

Wednesday, February 24, 3:45 p.m.

He sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of
his own car, having parked the SUV. He’d have to get that headlight repaired
forthwith
.

He’d missed. It hadn’t been Eve Wilson in her car. It
was Hunter. He hadn’t known until he was right up against him. He’d been so
surprised, he’d jerked his hands on the wheel, keeping him from delivering the
ramming blow he’d planned.

The small car had veered off the road, flipping once,
but it hadn’t been the fiery ball it should have been.
I missed
. The
only bright spot was that Hunter wouldn’t be able to identify him. The tinted
windows of his SUV had prevented his face from being seen.

Now getting to Eve would be impossible. He doubted the
police would let her out of their sight. So now he’d have to resort to a more
tried and true method.

He’d have to shoot her. Webster wouldn’t like that. If
the rumors were to be believed, there was a great deal more going on between
Webster and Wilson than met the eye. Webster wouldn’t rest until her death was avenged.
No matter. He’d shoot Webster, too, eventually.

But after he’d taken the sixth of his six. This would
be the victim that defied everything they’d suspected. The victim who didn’t
follow the rules of the game.

Wednesday, February 24, 3:45 p.m.

Olivia followed Eve and a nurse to a small room where
David Hunter lay, his eyes closed. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut,
and he had a big bandage on his temple. One arm was immobilized in a splint,
but other than that, he looked whole.

Olivia let herself breathe. Beside her, Eve did the
same. Eve had held herself together remarkably well.
Better than I might
have, under the circumstances
.

“See,” Olivia murmured with more calm than she felt,
“I told you he’d be okay.”

“Is he conscious?” Eve whispered to the nurse.

“Yes, he is,” David said. He opened one eye,
squinting. “Ow. Bright light.”

Eve grabbed the bed rail and held on. “Where are you
hurt?”

“Cuts, bruises, and a fractured arm. They’re checking
my back and neck, but so far, so good.” He looked past Eve and his open eye
flickered with surprise. “Olivia.”

Olivia moved next to Eve, keeping her smile friendly.
“Long time no see.”

“How are you?” he asked soberly and her heart did a
slow twirl, as it had the first time she’d seen him.

“About the same. You, on the other hand, have looked
better. Last time I saw you, you were wearing a tux with a carnation in your
buttonhole, making every woman in the church wish you’d escort them to their
seats and making them swoon when you did.”

“You didn’t see me the morning after Mia’s wedding,”
he said. “I think my head felt almost as bad as it does now, although my face
wasn’t so ugly.”

“Too much champagne will do that.” She watched his
eyes shadow and wondered how much he remembered of that night, of the things
he’d said. And done. “But I wouldn’t worry about your face,” she added lightly.
“You were way too pretty before.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, then glanced at Eve. “She
drove you down, kid?”

Eve nodded. “She kept me calm. You had me scared. No,
terrified.”

“I’m just glad I had the car and not you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eve attempted a scoff, but it came out
more like a sob. “Mr. Mario Andretti of the virtual world. More like Mario
Brothers.”

He looked mildly annoyed, which was encouraging. “I’ve
raced in the real world, too.”

“When you had your body shop,” Olivia said quietly.
Before
you gave it up for the fire department
. She remembered every word he’d said
that night, but she could see she’d surprised him again. “You told me you
rebuilt classic cars and drove them too fast.”

“The secrets champagne unlocks,” he said gruffly. “I
guess I’m lucky you didn’t cite me for speeding.” He closed his eye. “You
realize he was gunning for you, Evie.”

“Yes,” Eve whispered. “I’m—”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m going to kick your ass,”
David said. “After I’m able to stand up. What’s Webster doing to catch this
SOB?”

“Webster’s not on this case,” Olivia said. “I am.”

David opened one eye again. “Okay. What are
you
doing to catch this SOB?”

“Right now I’m trying to understand this SOB’s
motives. Why Eve? Why now?”

“I think he’s really gunning for Noah,” Eve said
again. “I’m just in the way.”

Olivia wasn’t so sure about that. “
If
that’s
true, I still don’t understand why Noah.”

“You don’t think that’s why?” David asked. “That Eve’s
just a byproduct?”

“I might have before this. And before we found the
real Buckland went missing. The guy that came after Eve isn’t a reporter. We
think he assaulted the real Buckland, maybe killed him.”

David paled further than he already had. “Oh my God.”

“We’ll make sure Eve’s safe,” Olivia said. “But I
didn’t want to lie to you.”

“Thank you.” He glared at Eve. “You better not go to
the john without protection, kid.”

“I’ll do what they say, David. I promise.” Tentatively
Eve brushed the hair from his forehead. “I’ll call your mom. Let her know
what’s happened.”

“No,” David said firmly. “That will stir up the whole
family. They’ll drop everything and come out here.
All
of them. It’ll be
like Chicago, without the Cubs.”

Eve hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “All right. If
the doctor says you’ll be fine, I won’t call your mom. I did call Tom. Got his
voice-mail. I’ll keep trying.”

“Thanks. You’re not planning to work tonight, are
you?”

“No. Callie’s taking my shift. I’m… I’ve got plans.”

David’s eye narrowed shrewdly, then his gaze lifted
over their heads.

Olivia looked over her shoulder. Noah was here, making
the room instantly smaller, and if she’d doubted how he’d felt about Eve
before, there was absolutely no doubt now. It was written all over his face.
Poor guy had it real bad.
I can sympathize
.

“I need to talk to David,” she said to Noah. “Can you
get Eve a cup of coffee?”

“Of course.” Noah put his arm around Eve’s shoulders,
tenderly. “Come on.”

Without argument Eve leaned against him. “I’ll be back
later, David.”

When they were gone, Olivia pulled a chair next to
David’s bed and took out her notepad. “Okay, tell me what happened. Everything
you can remember.”

David’s shoulders sagged wearily. “There’s not much. I
was taking Eve’s car to get a few parts. I was going to tune it up. I had Hank
on the radio and I was singing along.”

She looked up, her lips curving. “You gotta sing to
Hank. I think it’s a country music law or something. What next?”