Shattered Mirror by Iris Johansen
Smooth.
Mold.
Mouth. She knew the width, but not the shape. She made the lips closed and without expression. She’d come back later if Sylvie came through for her.
Smooth.
Mold.
Fill in.
Eyes. Terribly difficult. Study the shape and angle of the orbits. The size of the eyeballs was all pretty much the same. She could make them protruding, deep-set, or somewhere in between. The angle of the orbits and the bony ridge above would help her decide. They were ready for work, but not now.
They were always the clincher as far as she was concerned, and she saved them for last.
Nose. Not too long. Delicate.
More smoothing along those cheekbones.
Smooth.
Fill in.
Build up a little more around the mouth, there’s a major muscle under there.
Smooth.
Mold.
Almost ready to let loose.
Check those measurements one more time.
Nose width. Okay.
Nose projection. Okay.
Bring the top lip down, it’s usually thinner than the bottom lip.
Deepen those cheekbones. Why?
Just do it.
Smooth.
Mold.
This is it, Sylvie.
Tell me.
Yes.
Her hands were working feverishly now.
More shaping to the nostrils.
The jaw wasn’t quite right.
Change it.
Smooth.
Mold.
Fill in.
Don’t look at the face.
Just do what she was supposed to do.
The eyes now.
The shape, the tilt.
Now the other one.
Are we almost finished, Sylvie?
Smooth.
Mold.
Fill in.
Almost through. I can feel it.
Her hands flew over Sylvie’s face.
Smooth.
Mold.
Done!
She sat back and tried to catch her breath.
Don’t look at Sylvie right now.
Get her eye case and choose the eyes.
She gazed down at the glittering glass orbs. She almost always chose brown because that was the most common color.
She placed the brown eyes in the orbital cavities.
Not right …
Okay. That was purely a personal and creative choice. She’d leave it for right now and come back to it later. It was dangerous to stray too far from what was common when you were trying to ID a subject and bring them home. She and Sylvie had gotten this far together, and she wasn’t going to do anything that would tip the balance and—
She inhaled sharply.
She was looking at the finished reconstruction for the first time.
Good Lord, Sylvie. Why would anyone do that to you?
She reached out and gently touched the high cheekbone, then the mouth. Sometime during that reconstruction she had parted those lips. Sylvie appeared much more vulnerable and alive than with them tightly closed.
Vulnerable. Yes, that was the overwhelming affect Eve was receiving as she looked at the reconstruction. Beauty and wistfulness and vulnerability.
But weren’t all of her reconstructions vulnerable? All victims, all prey of the monsters in their midst. Why was the idea of what had been done to this woman making her ache with sorrow? It didn’t really matter why, Eve thought wearily. She was tired and on edge and emotional, but the important thing was that she had done her job.
“Welcome back, Sylvie,” she murmured as she got to her feet. She arched her back to rid it of stiffness. “I told you that he wouldn’t get away with doing that to you. Now we just have to do the computer photos…” She turned off her work light over the pedestal. “But that can wait until tomorrow…”
A few moments later, she had shed her clothes and was slipping naked into bed beside Joe.
His arms were immediately around her. “You’re finished?”
“I think so. Except for the final photos.” She nestled her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder. “I just don’t feel … finished. I want to do … something for her.”
“We will. As soon as you give me the photos, I’ll shoot them through every database I can access.”
“I know. And we’ll ask the TV stations to run the photo, too. We’ll do everything possible to ID her.” She was silent. “I’m just afraid nothing will help, and whoever did that to her will get away with it. I promised her he wouldn’t.”
“Well, then, we’ll have to make sure you keep that promise.” He brushed his lips on her temple. “But not tonight. You’re tired, and she’ll forgive you if you get a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m not that tired.” She suddenly turned over in his arms. He was warm and strong, and she could feel the love like a living force between them. She wanted to forget that aching sadness she’d felt when she’d looked at the final reconstruction. “Unless you are.”
“Never.” He pulled her over on top of him. He kissed her, long, deep, hot. “Not in this lifetime or the next, Eve.”
* * *
“She is beautiful, isn’t she, Mama?” Michael was standing by her worktable gazing at the Sylvie reconstruction when she hurried out of the bedroom the next morning. Joe had let her sleep late, and she had only woke when she’d heard Michael’s voice in the hall. “I told you she would be.”
“Yes, I remember.” She came to stand beside him. “And you had remarkable judgment considering what I had to work with. It just goes to show you that if you work past the ugliness, you can usually find something special.”
“What happens now?”
“The photos I always take, so I can find where she belongs.”
“May I have one?”
“I don’t see why not. Why?”
“That way she’d kind of belong to me, too.” He reached out and touched Sylvie’s lips. “I think she wants to belong.”
Trust Michael to have sensed that same vulnerability of which Eve had been so poignantly aware. “I’ll make sure you get one.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Have you had your breakfast?”
He nodded, his gaze still on the reconstruction. “Dad made me pancakes.” His finger went up to the right eye. “Why did you put in the wrong eyes?”
“What?”
“It’s the wrong color. They should be blue.”
“Brown are more common.”
“They should be blue.” He turned, and his arms slid around her waist as he hugged her. “Make my photo with blue, okay?” Then he was running across the room to pick up his canvas bag from the couch. “Dad’s waiting in the car, I just ran back for my book bag. Bye, Mama.”
“Bye.”
She watched the front door slam behind him.
Then her gaze shifted again to Sylvie.
She should really keep the brown eyes. It was practical, and the odds were they were correct.
They’re wrong. They should be blue.
Oh, what the hell.
She went to the drawer in her desk and pulled out her eye case.
CARNEGIE RESIDENCE HALL NEW YORK CITY
“What the hell’s wrong? You’re too quiet, Cara.” Jock was frowning as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs in the reception room. “I don’t like it, dammit.”
“Maybe I’m tired.” She smiled with an effort. Lord, she’d tried to avoid this. But Jock was always conscious of her every mood. She’d hoped that Darcy would be able to join them again for dinner, but she’d had a voice lesson already scheduled. So Cara had been forced to face Jock by herself. Ridiculous to feel this strain after all the years of being together. But it seemed as if just trying to pretend an emotional change had not taken place was making it more acutely obvious that it had. It would be okay, she assured herself. She just needed a little more time to make the adjustment. “Or maybe you’re too sensitive. You’ve
“Not long.” His lips tightened. “Not if you’re set on going to New Orleans the week after. You haven’t given me your word that you’ll call Kaskov and cancel.”
“And I won’t. I still have a week to decide.” She shrugged. “And maybe you’ll be able to find a reason why I shouldn’t go in that time. I haven’t seen any sign yet that anything Stanton told you had anything to do with my grandfather.” She took her violin case from him and turned toward the stairs. “Until then, I’m not going to think of anything but being with Eve and Joe and Michael. I can’t tell you how I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a tough quarter for me.”
“And I didn’t make it any easier.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said. “But perhaps I didn’t react as reasonably as I should have done. I have to realize that you have a life that has nothing to do with me. I’ll try to do better.”
“What?” He was frowning again. “That’s pure bullshit. Since when have you ever been coolly reasonable? There’s nothing cool about you, Cara.”
“Then I can’t blame you for feeling that being around me is sort of overwhelming.” Everything she said appeared to be upsetting him, and that was the last thing she wanted. She was only trying desperately to give him his space so that he wouldn’t think he’d have to take it. She’d better get away from him before she completely blew it. She quickly started up the stairs. “Good night, Jock. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“You bet you will,” he said grimly. “I’ll be close as glue to you until I put you on your flight to Atlanta.”
“That’s nice, I’ll miss you when I’m at Eve’s.”
“Will you?” His gaze was narrowed on her. “Then why do I feel you’re trying to escape?”
She was ruining everything. She stopped on the steps and turned to smile at him. “Why would I do that? You’ve always been my best friend. You always will be.”
It was true. She stood there looking down at him as all those years of caring and friendship flooded back to her. That was enough. That had to be enough. “See you tomorrow.” She turned and ran up the stairs.
She didn’t slow down until she had reached the second floor. She stopped and took a deep breath before she started down the hall toward her suite. Now she was glad that Darcy had not been able to join them. Darcy’s eyes were far too keen, and though she’d been trying to stifle that curiosity that was so inherent, Cara had no desire to have it focused on her tonight.
She just wanted to take a shower and crawl into bed and try to convince herself that she hadn’t been as obvious as she feared.
She took out her key and unlocked her door.
No light.
She reached for the wall switch. She’d thought she’d left the lamp in the bathroom on. Maybe Darcy had come back and turned—
Brutal hands on her throat, jerking her into the room!
Pain.
Her violin case dropped from her grip and she reached up to desperately grab at those hands.
He cursed as she bent back his index finger.
Move.
Get away!
She tossed one arm out and knocked the lamp on the hall table to the floor.
Crash!
She reached for the violin case and slammed it into his stomach.
More cursing. Low, full of venom, full of hate.
Then the case was torn away and skittered across the room.
And his hands closed on her throat again.
Fight him …
They pressed tighter, digging.
She couldn’t breathe …
Darkness.
CHAPTER
4
Darcy’s face above her …
Darcy’s hand, bathing her throat with a cold cloth.
“Awake?” Darcy gave a sigh of relief. “Jock said you’d regain consciousness soon, but I wasn’t too sure. I don’t know about this kind of thing. You scared me.”
“Jock?” It hurt to talk. She cleared her throat. That hurt worse. “He’s here?”
She nodded. “He just left. You roused a little, and he knew you were going to be okay. He ran down to the street to meet the EMTs.”
“You called an ambulance?”
“Jock did. I’m glad. I was too shaky to do much of anything. And I wasn’t about to argue with him about anything in his present mood.”
Cara couldn’t blame her. Jock could be totally lethal and intimidating when anything triggered a slip back into the man he’d been all those years ago. Evidently what had happened here had provided the trigger. She looked around her. She was lying on the couch in the sitting room. But the entire room was in chaos. Overturned chairs, drawers opened, and the contents scattered all over the floor. A broken lamp on the floor by the front door. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me,” Darcy said shakily. “I came home from class and the front door was wide open and you were lying on the floor.” She looked around the room. “It looks like a robbery, doesn’t it? The bedroom is just like it.”
“My violin.” She sat upright in alarm. “Did they get my violin?”
Darcy shook her head. “No, it’s over there against the wall. Maybe they were on their way out, and you surprised them.”
Cara breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t have anything else of value, but her violin was a gift from her grandfather and was worth a small fortune. To her, it was priceless. “No ‘they.’ It was only one man. I remember hitting him with the case. But he lost his biggest score if he didn’t take the violin.” She looked at Darcy. “Did you lose anything?”
“Not that I’ve been able to tell. I haven’t had much time to look through my stuff.” She put another cold cloth on Cara’s neck. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad that you weren’t badly hurt.”
“So am I,” she said dryly as she gingerly touched her throat. “He was very strong.”
Darcy nodded. “Your throat is turning three colors even as we speak. Did you let him in?”
“Why would I do that?” She was frowning. “The door was locked. I had to use my key.”
“That’s crazy. How could that happen?”
“I have no idea. Maybe the police can tell us.”
“A skeleton key.” Jock was standing in the doorway. “Not all that difficult. Or a bumper key that opens ninety-five percent of the locks around town. I would have had no trouble.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Cara said hoarsely.
“Shut up. You sound like a frog.” He was suddenly beside her. He gently tilted her head up to look at her throat. He muttered a curse. “The EMTs should be up here in a few minutes to take you to the ER. Just keep quiet until they come.”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” Cara said. “I have a few bruises. Otherwise, I’m fine. I won’t spend all night being checked out.”
“The hell you won’t.”
Her jaw set. “No. If I did, they’d probably call Eve, and she’d just worry.”
“And nothing must make Eve worry,” he said dryly. “Not even an attack that could have killed you.”
“It was a robbery.” She veered in another direction. “How did you get here?”
“I called him,” Darcy said. “When I found you, I panicked. He told me to call 911 and get someone to help you, and he’d be here as quick as he could. He was here in seven minutes.” She swallowed. “Thank God. I was scared to death.”
“So was I,” Jock said curtly. “That seven minutes was too damn long. You have to go to the hospital and be checked out.”
Cara shook her head. “I’ll make a police report and have them check to see how he got into our suite. I won’t go to the hospital.”
Jock stared at her in frustration, his fists cle
Darcy nodded. “I can handle it from here. I just have to be pointed in the right direction. I’ll make certain those EMT guys will give her a going-over that will make her wish she’d chosen the ER.” She smiled at Cara. “Sorry. I told you I hold on to friends when I find them. I can’t afford to let you do anything to sabotage me.”
“Whatever.” Cara wearily closed her eyes again. “I just want this to be over.”
“Oh, it’s over as far as you’re concerned,” Jock said curtly as he headed for the door. “For me, it’s just begun.”
* * *
Jock didn’t return for over three hours. In that time, Cara had undergone one of the most rigorous and thorough checkups to which she’d ever been subjected. Darcy had been gorgeous, tearful, and helpless, and the EMTs had fallen all over themselves to turn those tears into smiles. After they had left, Cara had a visit from a police detective who had taken her statement; and then the building supervisor had come to express her concern and assure her that nothing like this had ever taken place at any of the academy’s residence facilities before and would never happen again.
Darcy had stood beside Cara, letting her answer the police queries but after ten minutes had sent them on their way, the supervisor had received only five minutes before she’d been whisked out of the suite. Then she’d helped Cara undress and get to bed after tidying up the chaos in the bedroom. She gave Cara the painkiller the EMT had given her to soothe her throat and made her a cup of tea and honey.
“Wasn’t I magnificent?” Darcy smiled triumphantly at Cara as she plopped down on her own bed. “Though I have to admit I had to be, to make up for falling apart when I found you looking like a broken doll sprawled on the floor.” She sipped her own tea. “No one ever expects me to rise to the occasion, so I really had to work at it.”
“You were wonderful,” Cara said in perfect truth. It was hard for her to swallow, but the hot tea felt amazingly healing. “Thank you.”
Darcy nodded. “You know, I like gratitude. I don’t believe I’ve ever earned it before and it’s … refreshing.”
“Happy to oblige.” She reached up and rubbed her temple. “And you shouldn’t have felt guilty about relying on Jock for help. He knows about things like this…”