Free For Every Evil by Ellen Hart Page B

more?”
     
    “Two.” She hoisted the next one up.
     
    “Uhm. Do you see — ?” He stepped up to it and took out his reading glasses. “Here.” He pointed. “What does that look like to you?”
     
    She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
     
    “Sure you do!”
     
    She leaned over to examine it more closely. “Well, it looks kind of like a sphinx — with fire between its paws.”
     
    Slowly Hale removed his glasses. “Exactly,” he whispered.
     
    “Does it mean something?”
     
    He didn’t answer. “Show me the last one.”
     
    She placed it on the easel.
     
    Instantly his hand flew to his mouth, muting the sound of a gasp.
     
    “Is something wrong?”
     
    He closed his eyes, feeling as if an ancient videotape was unwinding inside his brain. That horrible camp. That wretched barbecue pit. He could see it all. His heart began to pound. “Look at it! It’s that sphinx again, only larger. And look at the flames. There’s a face in it!”
     
    Kate stood back, shaking her head. “I have to tell you, I don’t see it.”
     
    “You’re a complete idiot! Just use your eyes!”
     
    She moved behind him and took him firmly by the arm. “Look, I think you’ve been under a great deal of stress lately. Someone took a shot at your wife. That’s got to be hard. Why don’t you come over here and sit down.”
     
    “Yes,” he said, running a hand over his eyes. Maybe, for once, Kate was right. He let her lead him to a chair.
     
    “I’ve got a bottle of brandy around here somewhere.” She began to rummage through a box on the floor.
     
    “Yes. Brandy. That’s a good idea.” He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
     
    “Here,” she said, finding it under some polishing rags. She moved to the sink and began washing out a coffee mug. “How much would you like?”
     
    “A stiff one.” He sneaked a peek at the last drawing. The image was still there. Damn her! Why couldn’t she see it?
     
    Kate handed him the cup.
     
    Though his hand shook badly, he took it, finishing it in one gulp.
     
    “Feel better?”
     
    “I think so.” He took a deep breath. “Yes. Better.”
     
    “Would you like me to call Ivy? Perhaps she should come get you.”
     
    “No.” Ivy was useless. Besides, she was never home. “She teaches a class on Monday evenings.”
     
    “I could call her office. Or leave a message with Morton information.”
     
    He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He stood, steadying himself on the edge of the framing table. “But I think I should be going.”
     
    “Do you want me to call you when we receive more of Ezmer’s work?”
     
    “Yes. Immediately.” He moved to the door, keeping his eyes away from the easel. “Where did you say Hawks was from?”
     
    “I don’t know exactly. Somewhere up near Soldiers Grove. At least, that’s the post office he uses.”
     
    Hale nodded. He turned to go, then hesitated. “How old is he?”
     
    “To my knowledge, nobody’s ever seen him. He’s kind of a recluse.”
     
    He felt a spasm in his stomach. “You don’t find that odd?”
     
    “I suppose it is.”
     
    “You suppose! That’s all you can say?”
     
    “Lots of talented people have quirks. It goes with the territory.”
     
    He gave her a freezing stare. “When you want to reach him, how do you do it?”
     
    “I send all correspondence to a post office box in Soldiers Grove. He usually writes back within a week.”
     
    “Would you give me that box number if I asked you for it?”
     
    “I suppose so.”
     
    “Good.”
     
    He left without a backward glance.
     

12
    Late Monday evening, Dr. Max Steinhardt pulled his Lincoln Town Car into the Micklenberg driveway and slipped the engine into neutral. “Well,” he said, reaching over and putting his arm around Ivy, “I guess we better call it a night. Unless you want me to come in.”
     
    Ivy glanced at the gate house. The light was on in Hale’s second-floor office. “No,