“His photo.” He pulled up Drogan’s photo on his phone to reveal dark hair, olive skin, and large brown eyes set in a narrow face. “He may not look quite the same. This was taken years ago. And I found out a few other things. I tapped the FBI database and found out that Drogan is the pseudonym of an ex–Army Ranger who was kicked out of the service after a friendly-fire incident that killed his commanding officer and was suspected of being far from friendly. His name is Carl Saglet, age forty-three, born in New Orleans. His mother, Zela Saglet, was a prostitute who was heavily into drugs and belonged to a voodoo cult that had monthly ceremonies at an abandoned plantation outside the city. There’s no doubt that Drogan attended those ceremonies. He bragged about it at his school, and the welfare workers tried three times to take him away from his mother for child endangerment. But the police couldn’t prove that there was anything criminal taking place at the ceremonies.” He shook his head. “But years later they discovered a small graveyard near the swamp, in which seven bodies were buried. They couldn’t identify all of them, but they were able to trace two who were known homeless vagrants on Bourbon Street.” He paused. “And Drogan’s mother, Zela. She was found in a makeshift coffin with the skeleton of a large water moccasin wrapped around her throat.”
“Drogan?” Beth whispered.
“Probably. The FBI had records of three suspected kills years later with the same M.O.”
“Suspected? Why haven’t they been able to arrest him?”
“He’s very careful, very smart. He became a contract killer a few years after he got out of the service, and he’s been moving around the world and gaining a reputation for himself. He worked for the Italian Mafia for a while, then moved to Mexico. But he didn’t do well down there; the drug cartels don’t have any use for either caution or subtlety. They just hang their victim’s heads on bridges as warnings. So the last word on him was that he’d moved to somewhere outside L.A. and was taking lucrative assignments from his base there.”
“And Pierce found someone who put him in touch with Drogan?”
“It’s logical. If he didn’t want to get his hands dirty killing you himself.”
“Why, dammit?” Beth asked. “Was I just in his way?”
“Not in his way,” Joe said. “I imagine that Pierce would have been happy to continue with the arrangement for the foreseeable future. Why not? He was being paid a handsome fee, and you were no trouble.”
“No trouble,” Beth repeated bitterly. “I was like one of the zombies at Drogan’s voodoo ceremonies. No wonder Pierce felt comfortable hiring him. It was entirely fitting, wasn’t it?”
“Until you woke up. No one could call you a zombie now.”
“No, I’m not,” she said fiercely. “And I’ll never be that way again. I won’t let Drogan kill me or Pierce put me back in that stupor. I’ll kill them first.”
“Easy,” Joe said. “There’s no question of that’s happening. We just have to work on catching Drogan so that we can get him to testify against Pierce.” He paused. “And anyone else who’s involved.”
“Not Rick. It wasn’t Rick. And I never met my grandmother or grandfather Avery but there’s no reason for them to want to hurt me. Why would they do that?”
“Maybe they don’t want to hurt you. But they paid the bills for your stay at the hospital. Now, since we suspect that you should never have been there in the first place, wouldn’t it be smart to dig a little deeper?”
She reached up and touched the golden key at her throat. “Maybe Pierce lied to them and said that I had an injury that was incurable. Maybe it wasn’t their fault at all.”
“And you’d rather believe Pierce was the villain than anyone else. I don’t blame you. He’s a bastard and should burn in hell.” He met her gaze. “But unless we get to the bottom of this and prove he hired Drogan to kill you, there’s a chance he’ll be able to manipulate the system and put you back in that hospital.”
“No!”
“You’ve been studying what’s been going on in this wicked old world since you got out of the hospital. Truth can be twisted, and the good don’t always come out on top.”
She tried to smile. “But I’ve got you and Eve to help me.”
“And your friend, Newell.”
Her smile faded. “Billy’s been hurt enough. I want you to find a way to send him somewhere where he’ll be safe. Can you do that?”
“Possibly. If he’ll agree to leave you.”
“Make him do it.” She moistened her lips. “I know neither you nor Eve will be persuaded to go away. I have to accept that you feel it your duty to help me because Eve is my sister. That’s crazy, too, since I’ve been nothing but trouble. But Billy has no reason to run the risk.”
“He thinks he has a reason.” He shrugged. “I’ll try to send him out of the line of fire. I can’t guarantee anything.” He got to his feet. “And now I’m going upstairs to tell Eve what’s been going on.” He glanced at the TV newscaster, who was repeating the story of Drogan’s triple homicide. “Not a pleasant way to wake up.”
“Ugly. I’ve known her for such a short time and yet brought so much ugliness into her life.”
“She can handle ugliness. She can handle anything that comes along.” He turned and headed toward the door. “I never got around to telling you about her. Sometime, check her out on the Net. It won’t tell you about the steel inside her, but it will give you an idea why she had to develop it.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost five in the morning. Why don’t you try to take a nap? You were up all night staring at that TV.”
She watched the door shut behind him and felt suddenly lonely. The hours of shared effort aimed at a common goal had been interesting and a little exciting. But now he was going to Eve, and Beth was alone again.
They would be together in that closeness and bonding that even Beth could recognize as being both rare and special. She felt a pang of envy. Oh, not of Joe or Eve but the relationship, the love itself, that she had never known.
And she might never know it. So just take life and drink every pleasure. She wouldn’t behave like a hungry beggar at the gates. She’d make herself valuable to herself and become Eve’s equal and maybe it would work out.
And maybe it wouldn’t.
If it didn’t, then she’d move on and open herself to other people, other experiences. But not now, when she could explore this tentative bond that was forging with Eve.
She tossed off the throw covering her and moved over to sit at the desk. She turned the computer back on and brought up the Net.
Find the steel and the reason behind it.
She typed in the name.
Eve Duncan.
* * *
JOE …
Eve rolled over in bed and went into his arms. Warmth, strength, love without end …
Then her lids flew open as she felt the cotton of his shirt press against her. He was still dressed.
Of course he was!
She lifted herself on one elbow and looked down at him. “Dammit, I fell asleep. One minute I was awake, then— Did you see anything that—” She stopped as she saw the red streak on his cheek. She reached out to touch it. “Joe?”
“It’s nothing.” He took her fingers and brought them to his lips. “And, yes, I did see something.”
“That’s pretty obvious. It’s almost dawn. You said that you were only going to do a preliminary scouting trip to the house next door, then come right back.”
“I saw his footprints. One thing led to another. But I didn’t get him, dammit.”
“I knew I should have gone with you.” She got out of bed and turned on the lamp. “What else did he do to you?” She shook her head as she saw the dirt on his shirt and pants. “You’re a mess.”
“A couple bruises on my hip. He tried to run me over with a Lamborghini.” He smiled. “At least if he’d taken me out, it would have been done with class.”
“That’s not funny. If you weren’t going to come right back, you should have let me go with you.”
“No, it’s not funny. But to be fair, I wasn’t gone for more than an hour, and I did come upstairs to check in with you. I decided not to wake you.”