Free The Face of Deception by Iris Johansen

it to one side. Joe Quinn. He couldnt afford to underestimate the detective. Eve had inspired intense loyalty in Quinn. Loyalty and friendship and what else? he wondered. Quinn was married, but that didnt matter.

Hell, it wasnt any of his business if it didnt in-terfere with what he needed Eve to do. Besides, he had enough to worry about.

Scott Maren was wandering around Jordan and might be taken down at any minute.

Timwick might have seen through Logan and drawn conclusions. Those conclusions would frighten him enough to give the order to secure his position.

Logan couldnt wait to get hold of Maren.

He pulled out his personal phone book and flipped it open to the back page. There were only three names and telephone numbers on the page.

Dora Bentz.

James Cadro.

Scott Maren.

Bentzs and Cadros telephones might be bugged, but he should still call and verify they were all right. Then hed send someone to pick them up.

He reached for the telephone and dialed the first phone number.

Dora Bentz.

The phone was ringing.

Fiske finished tying the womans legs to the bedposts and pushed her nightgown up above her waist.

She was in her fifties, but she had damn nice legs. Too bad about that pouchy belly. She should have worked out, he thought. Situps would have taken care of that pouch. He did two hundred situps a day and his own belly was iron hard.

He got a broom out of the kitchen closet and came back to the bed.

The phone was still ringing. Persistent.

He shoved the broom up the woman. The killing had to look like a sex crime, but he wouldnt risk ejacu-lating inside her. Semen was evidence. Many serial killers had trouble ejaculating anyway, and the broom was a nice touch. It spelled out woman hatred and home desecration.

Anything else?

Six deep, savage wounds on her breasts, duct tape over her mouth, the open windowhellip;

No, it was a clean job.

Hed have liked to stay awhile and admire his handiwork, but the phone hadnt stopped ringing.

Whoever was on the other end might get worried and call the police.

One more check. He walked to the head of the bed and gazed down at her.

She stared back at him, her eyes as wide open, her expression as terrified as when hed plunged the knife into her heart.

He took out the envelope with the photographs and the typewritten list Timwick had given him at the airport. He liked lists; they kept the world in order.

Three photographs. Three names. Three addresses.

He crossed Dora Bentzs name off the list.

The phone was still ringing as he left her apart-ment.

No answer.

It was three-thirty in the morning. There should have been an answer.

Logan slowly replaced the receiver.

It didnt have to mean anything. Dora Bentz had married children who lived in Buffalo, New York. She could be visiting them. She could be on vacation anywhere.

Or she could be dead.

Timwick could be moving quickly to tie up all the loose ends.

Shit, Logan had thought he had time.

Maybe he was jumping to conclusions.

Hell, so what? Hed always trusted his instincts, and they were shouting at him now.

But sending Gil to check on Dora Bentz would be a tip-off. Timwick would know what he only sus-pected now. Logan could try to save Dora Bentz or he could remain safe for a few more days.

Shit

He picked up the phone and dialed Gils number in the carriage house.

Lights. Moving lights.

Eve stopped drying her hair, slowly got up, and went to the window.

The black limousine that had picked them up at the airport was gliding down the driveway toward the gates.

Logan?

Gil Price?

It was almost four oclock in the morning. Where would anyone be going at this hour?

She doubted if shed be told if she asked to-morrow morning.

But shed damn well do it anyway.

SIX

Eve didnt fall asleep until five, and then her slumber was restless. She woke at nine but forced herself to stay in bed until almost ten, when a thun-derous knock sounded on the door.

The door opened before she could answer, and a small, plump woman