The Face of Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

bring that result. If he had Timwick's power and resources, there would be no limit to what he could do. Not that he wanted Timwick's job. He liked what he did. Not many people found their niche in life as he had.
    He rested his head on the back of the seat, staring at the house.
    It was after midnight. The mother should be returning soon. He'd already unscrewed the porch light. If Timwick called him right away, he might not have to go into the house.
    If the prick could make up his mind to do the smart, simple thing and let Fiske kill her.

THREE

    “You know you're going to do it, Mama,” Bonnie said. “I don't understand why you're worrying so much.”
    Eve sat up in bed and looked at the window seat. When she came, Bonnie was always in the window seat with her jean-clad legs crossed. “I don't know any such thing.”
    “You won't be able to help yourself. Trust me.”
    “Since you're only my dream, you can't know more than what I know.”
    Bonnie sighed. “I'm not your dream. I'm a ghost, Mama. What do I have to do to convince you? Being a ghost shouldn't be this hard.”
    “You can tell me where you are.”
    “I don't know where he buried me. I wasn't there anymore.”
    “Convenient.”
    “Mandy doesn't know either. But she likes you.”
    “If she's there with you, then what's her real name?”
    “Names don't matter anymore to us, Mama.”
    “They matter to me.”
    Bonnie smiled. “Because you probably need to put a name to love. It's really not necessary.”
    “Very profound for a seven-year-old.”
    “Well, for goodness' sake, it's been ten years. Stop trying to trap me. Who says a ghost doesn't grow up? I couldn't stay seven forever.”
    “You look the same.”
    “Because I'm what you want to see.” She leaned back against the alcove wall. “You're working too hard, Mama. I've been worrying about you. Maybe this job with Logan will be good for you.”
    “I'm not taking the job.”
    Bonnie smiled.
    “I'm not,” Eve repeated.
    “Whatever.” Bonnie was staring out the window. “You were thinking about me and the honeysuckle tonight. I like it when you feel good about me.”
    “You've told me that before.”
    “So I'm repeating it. You were hurting too much in the beginning. I couldn't get near you. . . .”
    “You're not near me now. You're only a dream.”
    “Am I?” Bonnie looked back at her, and a loving smile lit her face. “Then you won't mind if your dream stays around a little longer? Sometimes I get so lonesome for you, Mama.”
    Bonnie. Love. Here.
    Oh, God, here.
    It didn't matter that it was a dream.
    “Yes, stay,” she whispered huskily. “Please stay, baby.”
             
    The sun was streaming through the window when Eve opened her eyes the next morning. She glanced at the clock and immediately sat up in bed. It was almost eight-thirty and she always got up at seven. She was surprised her mother hadn't come in to check on her.
    She swung her feet to the floor and headed down the hall to the shower, rested and optimistic as she usually was after dreaming of Bonnie. A psychiatrist would have a field day with those dreams, but she didn't give a damn. She had started dreaming of Bonnie three years after her death. The dreams came frequently, but there was no telling when she'd have them or what triggered them. Maybe when she had a problem and needed to work through it? At any rate, the effect was always positive. When she awoke she felt composed and capable, as she did today, confident that she could take on the world.
    And John Logan.
    She dressed quickly in jeans and a loose white shirt, her uniform when she was working, and ran down the stairs to the kitchen.
    “Mom, I overslept. Why didn't you—”
    No one was in the kitchen. No smell of bacon, no frying pans on the stove . . . The room appeared the same as it had been at midnight when she'd come in.
    And Sandra hadn't been home when she'd gone to bed. She glanced out the window, and relief rushed through her.