"Johansen, Iris - The Face of Deception" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johansen Iris)

I dont think so. She smiled slyly as she punned, It doesnt compute.

Youve handled private inquiries before. He grinned. A man in his position has to have left a trail of bodies on his way to the top. Maybe he forgot where he buried one of them.

Very funny. She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. Did his lawyer get his report?

What the hell do you think? We know how to protect our own. Tell me if he gets hold of your pri-vate number and bothers you. See you. The door shut behind him.

Yes, Joe would protect her just as hed always done, and no one could do it better. He was different from when they had first met years before. Time had hammered every trace of boyishness out of him. Shortly after Frasers execution, he had resigned from his job as an agent in the FBI and joined the At-lanta ED. He was now a lieutenant detective. Hed never really told her why he had made the move. She had asked, but his answerthat hed wanted to jet-tison the pressure of the bureauhad never satisfied her. Joe could be a very private person, and she hadnt probed. All she knew was that he had always been there for her.

Even that night at the prison when she had felt more alone than ever.

She didnt want to think about that night. The despair and pain were still as raw as

So think about it anyway. She had learned the only way to survive the pain was to meet it head-on.

Fraser was dead.

Bonnie was lost.

She closed her eyes and let the agony wash over her. When it eased, she opened her eyes and moved toward the computer. Work always helped. Bonnie might be lost and never be found, but there were others

Youve got another one? Sandra Duncan stood in the doorway, dressed in pajamas and her favorite pink chenille robe. Her gaze was focused on the skull across the room. I thought I heard someone in the driveway. Youd think Joe would leave you alone.

I dont want to be left alone. Eve sat down at the desk. No problem. Its not a rush job. Go back to bed, Mom.

You go to bed. Sandra Duncan walked over to the skull. Is it a little girl?

Preadolescent.

She was silent a moment. Youre never going to find her, you know. Bonnies gone. Let it go, Eve.

I have let it go. I just do my job.

Bullshit.

Eve smiled. Go to bed.

Can I help? Make you a snack?

I have more respect for my digestive system than to let you sabotage it.

I do try. Sandra made a face. Some people werent meant to cook.

You have other talents.

Her mother nodded. Im a good court reporter and I nag damn well. Will you go to bed, or do I have to demonstrate?

Fifteen minutes more.