Free The Face of Deception by Iris Johansen Page A

strode into the room. Hi, Im Margaret Wilson. Heres the gate control you wanted. She set the remote on the nightstand. Sorry if I woke you, but John says I screwed up on the lab. How the hell was I to know you wanted pretty? What do I need to get? Pillows? Rugs?

Nothing. Eve sat up in bed and gazed curiously at Margaret Wilson. The woman was probably in her early forties. The gray gabardine pantsuit she wore slimmed her plump figure and complemented her dark, sleek hair and hazel eyes. I told him that I wasnt going to be here long enough for it to matter.

It matters. John likes things right. So do I. Whats your favorite color?

Green, I guess.

I should have known. Redheads are pretty predictable.

Im not a redhead.

Well, almost. She looked around the room. This kind of thing okay?

Eve nodded as she threw back the covers and got out of bed.

Good, then Ill get on the phone and order some stuff. It should be Oh, my God, youre a giant.

What?

Margaret was glowering at her. How the hell tall are you?

Five nine.

A giant. Youll make me feel like a midget. I hate tall, skinny women. They do something to my psyche and I become over aggressive.

Youre not that small.

Youre patronizing me. She grimaced. And Im being defensive. Oh, well, Ill have to fight it. Ill just keep telling myself that Im much smarter than you. Get dressed and come on down to the kitchen. Well grab some cereal and then Ill take you for a walk around the grounds.

Thats not necessary.

Sure it is. John wants you kept happy and he says you dont have anything to do right away. If youre anything like me, youll go crazy. She headed for the door. But well take care of it. Fifteen minutes?

Fine. She wondered what the response would have been if she had said otherwise. Margarets tac-tics made a steamroller look subtle.

But it was hard not to like her. She hadnt smiled once, but she exuded a vibrant energy and cheerful-ness. She was blunt, bold, and like no one Eve had ever met. She was a breath of fresh air after the dark tension she sensed in Logan.

The Barrett family graveyard. Margaret waved a hand at the small iron-fenced cemetery. Theres no grave later than 1922. Do you want to go in?

Eve shook her head.

Thank God. Cemeteries depress me, but I thought you might be interested.

Why?

I dont know. All those bones and stuff you work with.

I dont hang around graveyards like some kind of ghoul, but they dont bother me. Particularly family cemeteries. No lost ones here, and it was ex-tremely well kept. All the graves were even covered with pallets of fresh carnations. Where did all the flowers come from? Are there Barretts still in the neighborhood?

No, the direct line died out about twenty years ago. She pointed at a gravestone. Randolph Barrett. The family scattered over the years and Randolph Barrett was the last to be buried here back in 1922. The graveyard was in pretty sad shape when John bought the property. He gave orders for it to be cleaned up and fresh flowers brought in every week.

Im surprised. I wouldnt think Logan would be that sentimental.

Well, you never know what John is going to do. But Im glad he brought in a landscaper for this job. Like I said, cemeteries depress me.

Eve turned and started down the hill. They dont depress me. Sadden me, maybe. Particularly the babies graves. Before modern medicine, so many children didnt live to grow up. Do you have any children?

Margaret shook her head. I was married once, but we both had careers and were too busy to think about kids.

Your job must be very demanding.

Yep.

And varied. She paused. Like this one. You cant say that skeleton hunting is in many peoples job description.

I dont hunt, I just do what Im told.

That could be dangerous.

John will keep me clear of trouble. He always has before.

Hes done this before?

Bones? No, but hes been known to walk some mighty thin lines.

But you trust him?

Hell, yes.

Even if you dont know what hes looking for? Or do you?

Margaret grinned. Stop