Free The Killing Game by Iris Johansen

LIKE hell,” Joe told Eve. “Couldn't you sleep?”
    “A few hours. My mind wouldn't turn off. Is Spiro going to give me a skull?”
    “He wouldn't commit. He said he'd discuss it when he finished talking to you.”
    “He's coming here?”
    “He'll be here by three this afternoon.” He checked his watch. “Another thirty minutes. You have time for breakfast or lunch. Which do you want?”
    “Just a sandwich.” She headed for the refrigerator. “I can't seem to get warm. I borrowed another one of your flannel shirts.”
    “I noticed. It looks better on you.” He sat down at the bar and watched her build a ham and cheese sandwich. “I don't mind sharing with you. I've become accustomed to it over the years. It's kind of comfortable.”
    She nodded in perfect understanding. Being with Joe was as comfortable as feeling his soft shirt against her body.
    “I have something to tell you.” Joe shook his head when she looked up in alarm. “It's not that bad, but you have to know.”
    “Know what?”
    “Mark Grunard's found out where you are.”
    She frowned. “Mark Grunard?”
    “TV journalist. He must have spent days digging into records to find this cottage. I had to make a deal. You've heard of him?”
    She nodded slowly. “He's on Channel Three. Investigative reporting. I remember him from Fraser's trial.” She grimaced. “As well as I can remember anyone or anything except Fraser.”
    “I told you I had to find a way to draw reporters away from here. I couldn't do it by myself, so I had to make a deal.”
    “What kind of deal?”
    “Mark Grunard's spot on the six o'clock news last night was about the search for you. He showed a shot of this cottage and expressed his disappointment that this wasn't the hideaway. However, he had been given a tip about a houseboat off the coast of Florida. After the broadcast he hopped a plane to Jacksonville, and I'd bet half the reporters in the city did too.”
    “And what did you have to promise him?”
    “An exclusive. He keeps quiet until we're ready to release. But you'll have to meet with him here a couple of times.”
    “When?”
    “The first one fairly soon. He's already paid his first installment on the deal. He'll want something in return. Do you have an objection to Grunard?”
    She tried to remember Mark Grunard more clearly. Older, graying at the temples, with Peter Jennings's warmth. “No, I guess not.” She smiled. “What would you have done if I'd told you I couldn't stand him?”
    “Ditched him.” He grinned. “But it makes my life easier that I don't have to go back on my word. Finish your sandwich.”
    “I'm eating.” She took another bite. “What made you choose Grunard? Do you know him well?”
    “Well enough. We have an occasional drink together at Manuel's. But he really chose me. He was camped out at Georgia State yesterday morning when I went to pick up the skull and made me an offer I couldn't refuse.”
    “And you can trust him?”
    “We don't have to trust him. As long as he thinks he's going to get a payoff, I guarantee he'll lay those red herrings all over the South.”
    “I guess we can't expect more than—”
    A knock on the door.
    “Spiro.” Joe started across the room. “You should have finished your sandwich, dammit.”
    “Dictator.” She pushed the plate away as Joe let Robert Spiro in. He nodded politely. “Ms. Duncan.” He turned to Joe. “I've been fending off the media all morning. They want to know how I knew there were two more skeletons in that gorge.”
    “And what did you tell them?”
    “That it was profiler instinct,” he said sourly. “Why not? After all we've done to debunk it, they still believe there's something spooky about our unit anyway.” Spiro turned to Eve. “Is there anything you have to add to what Joe told me?”
    Eve looked at Joe.
    He shook his head. “I told him everything.”
    “Then there's nothing else,” Eve said. “Except that he's going to call