She wanted to work, dammit.
No, she wasn’t going to do it. What had happened had all the signs of control and manipulation. She didn’t know if it was true, but she wasn’t going to chance it.
But if she couldn’t sleep, she could at least get a glass of water and go out on the porch until she was tired enough to try again. This tossing and turning would wake Joe.
She carefully avoided looking at Jenny’s reconstruction as she passed through on her way to the porch.
“I’m not interested, Jenny,” she murmured as she went to the rail. “Maybe tomorrow.”
No answer.
There might never be an answer, she thought, as she raised her glass of water to her lips. Perhaps that contact had been rare and fleeting, not to be repeated. Perhaps it had only been imagination, which had been her first thought.
Not imagination. She had not only heard her, she had felt her as a person or entity or whatever.
But it was an entity who had driven her mercilessly today and had somehow managed to control Eve’s own desires and disciplines. That couldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t permit it. It was far beyond what—
Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her robe.
Jane?
Not Jane.
Nalchek. She should ignore it. It was after three in the morning. But even Nalchek surely wouldn’t call her at this hour of the morning unless there was a reason.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked when she picked up. “If you want to check on progress, I don’t work twenty-four/seven, Sheriff.”
“I was going to wait until morning,” Nalchek said. “But I didn’t get the report until one, and I didn’t want to— I thought I had to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“My deputy, Ron Carstairs, was killed last night.”
His voice was hoarse, strained, and she could sense the pain.
“That’s terrible. I’m very sorry.”
“I didn’t call because I wanted sympathy. I thought you should know about it. I don’t think you’re in danger, but I don’t know.”
“Danger?”
“No one else thinks there’s a connection, but I can see it. Just because she’s dead is no sign that she’s forgotten. They tell me a child is helpless, but there might be some reason that—You should know.”
“How was your deputy killed?”
“We were out at the grave site. I was checking for additional evidence, and Ron was waiting for me at the car. He was stabbed.”
“Dear God.”
“The department thinks it’s robbery or maybe something personal.”
“But you don’t?”
“I think someone was keeping an eye on the crime scene. I believe they wanted to know how the investigation was going. Maybe they saw me going out there a couple times and wondered if they’d left something that could incriminate them.”
“After eight years?”
“I don’t know. That’s what everyone says. For God’s sake, eight years isn’t forever.” His voice was suddenly passionate. “All I know is that little girl is dead, and someone should pay for it. She wants them to pay for it.”
“You sound very sure of that.”
“She was only nine. She had her whole life ahead of her. Of course I’m sure.”
At least, he hadn’t said that Jenny had told him that she wanted revenge, she thought wryly. Evidently, Eve was the only one who had been honored by her wish to communicate. “And why did you feel it was important to tell me about your deputy?”
“Because Ron had your dossier in the car on the way out to the crime scene. He tossed it on his seat when he got out of the car and walked with me to the edge of the forest.”
“And?”
“When I got back in the car, the dossier was spread out on the seat, very organized, everything clear. No longer in the folder. That was on the floor.”
“Maybe he went back to look at it.”
“No.”
“What are you thinking?”