He was silent for a moment. “Yes. The bones on the fingers of her right hand were all broken. The pathologist said that they’d been bent back until they snapped.”
Dear God, poor Jenny. Eve felt sick. “Bastard.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He paused. “How did you know?”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have had to ask.” She wasn’t about to tell him about that moment when Jenny had told her about the pain to her hand. He might believe in instinct, but that was entirely different from embracing the concept of ghosts. “Maybe you have a leak.”
“And maybe I don’t.”
She changed the subject. “You said you’ve spent a lot time looking for any clues in those woods where Jenny was found. Have you found anything at all?”
“No.”
“Then why keep looking?”
“Sheer frustration,” he said. “I told you I felt like she was calling to me. I interviewed everyone in the neighborhood about that killing that took place over eight years ago. Nothing. No one missing a child, no one who even remembers a nine-year-old child in the neighborhood who wasn’t fully accounted for. The only things I had left were you and the crime scene.”
“And I failed you,” Eve said. “I’ll make it up, Nalchek.”
“Bullshit. I told you that I didn’t expect more of you than you gave me. What were you supposed to do? Hand-carry the skull out here?”
She chuckled. “You’re right. And I won’t make it up to you, I’ll make it up to me.” Her smile faded. “But your friend was killed near that crime scene, and that means that the killer was watching it. Have you found any signs of anyone besides you wandering around that area?”
“No, if there was anyone, he was damn good about covering his tracks. I grew up in those woods, and I know them like my right hand. I was in the Special Forces, and I’ve been trained to observe. I saw signs of my men and the forensic crew. Nothing else.”
She hesitated. “Maybe you need a fresh eye.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t doubt that your Special Forces training made you very savvy, but there are all kinds of other people with specialized talents that might prove valuable.”
“You have someone in mind?”
“Maybe.” She went on quickly, “Isn’t there just a possibility that you might not see—”
“If there was something there, I would have seen it.” His voice was cool. “Is that all?”
“Just one other thing. What clothes was Jenny wearing when you took her out of that grave?”
“What? Why do you want to know that?” He went on impatiently, “Never mind. Everything she had on was in such tatters that it was hard to tell, but we decided that she was wearing a long white dress. Black, patent-leather shoes. Kind of dressy. She looked like she might have come from church. But I sent men around to all the churches within a hundred-mile radius, and they came up with zilch.”
Eve felt a surge of disappointment. Nalchek had already covered the only lead that she had thought might be a possibility. Which only proved how sharp and competent he was. “If not a church, where else would a little girl wear a fancy dress? A party?”
“Search me. I’m still looking.”
The music.
“I have a suggestion. Little children sometimes have musical recitals. They dress up for them.”
“That’s reaching. But I’ll check it out.”
“You’re obviously not going to give up.” She was turning into the airport. “Neither will I, Nalchek. I have to hang up now. I’ll call you when I arrive in San Francisco and have picked up our rental car. Can you give me the name of a decent hotel in your area?”
“Sonderville doesn’t have more than a few hotels. Martello’s Vineyard is pretty nice.” He sighed. “If you’re still set on coming, I’ll make your reservations.”