Shadow Play

“So why did you give in to Sheriff Nalchek?”


“I don’t know.” She poured her coffee and came back to Joe. “He wore me down. He sounded young and eager and full of the horror that only comes the first time that you realize that there are vicious people out there who can do monstrous things to innocent children. I got the impression that he was an idealist who wanted to change the world.” She sat down beside Joe and nestled close, her head against his shoulder. He was warm and strong, and she loved the feel of him. She loved him. Lord, it was good to be home. That trip to the airport today had been achingly difficult. She had watched her adopted daughter, Jane, fly away back to London, and she had no idea when she would see her again. “He kept telling me that this little girl was different, that he was sure that he’d be able to find out who she was and who had killed her if I’d just give him a face to work with. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. In cold cases like this, the chances are always better if the officer in charge is enthusiastic and dedicated.”

“Like you.” Joe’s lips brushed her forehead. “Maybe he thinks he’s found a soul mate.”

“Oh, I’m dedicated. Enthusiastic?” She wearily shook her head. “Not now. I’m too tired. There have been too many children in my life who have been killed and thrown away. I’m not as enthusiastic as that young officer is. I’m only determined … and sad.”

“Sad?” Joe straightened and looked down at her. “Yes, I’m definitely feeling the sad part. But it’s not only about that skull in the box over there, is it?” His hand gently cupped her cheek. “Jane? I could have taken her to the airport. I thought you wanted to do it.”

“I did want to do it. It may be the last time we see her for a while. She’s off to new adventures and finding a life of her own.” She tried to steady her voice. “Just what we wanted for her. Look what happened when she came back from London to try to help me. She got shot and almost died. Now she’s well and going on with her life.” In her line of work, sometimes the evil came close to home. Most recently Jane had been one of the targets. Those weeks with her daughter, while she had been recuperating, had been strained and yet poignantly sweet. Jane had come to them when she was ten years old, and she had been more best friend than daughter to Eve. But that hadn’t changed the love that had bound them all these years. Now that Jane was out on her own and becoming a successful artist, it was terribly hard to adjust to the fact that most of the time she was thousands of miles away. “It’s exactly what she should be doing. What’s here for her? Hell, I’m a workaholic and always involved with a reconstruction. You’re a police detective who they tap to work cases that don’t give you normal hours either. It was just … difficult … to see her get on that plane.”

“And you didn’t let her see one bit of that pain,” Joe said quietly. “You smiled and sent her on her way.”

“That’s what every parent does. It always comes down to letting them go.”

Iris Johansen's books