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Zusatztext "Johansen is at the top of her game....an enthralling cat-and-mouse game...perfect pacing...the suspense holds until the very end."— Publishers Weekly Informationen zum Autor Iris Johansen Klappentext A merciless killer on the hunt...an innocent child in his sights...a woman driven to the edge to stop him... The killer knows Eve Duncan all too well. He knows the pain she feels for her murdered daughter, Bonnie, whose body has never been found. He knows that as one of the nation's top forensic sculptors she'll insist on identifying the nine skeletons unearthed on a bluff near Georgia's Talladega Falls. He knows she won't be able to resist the temptation of believing that one of those skeletons might be her daughter's. But that is only the beginning of the killer's sadistic game. He wants Eve one on one, and he'll use his ace in the hole to make sure she complies. And he won't stop playing until he claims the prize he wants most: Eve's life. Talladega Falls, Georgia January 20 6:35 A.M. The skeleton had been in the ground for a long time. Joe Quinn had seen enough of them to recognize that. But how long? He turned to Sheriff Bosworth. "Who found it?" "Two hikers. They stumbled on it late last night. Those rains the past few days washed it out of the ground. Hell, that storm slid half the mountain into the falls. A real gully washer." His gaze narrowed on Joe's face. "You must have hotfooted up here from Atlanta as soon as you heard about it." "Yes." "You think it's connected to one of the Atlanta PD's cases?" "Maybe." He paused. "No. This is an adult." "You're looking for a kid?" "Yes." Every day. Every night. Always. He shrugged. "The initial report didn't say whether it was an adult or a child." Bosworth bristled. "So? I never have to make reports like this. We're pretty crime free here. Not like Atlanta." "You knew enough to recognize possible knife wounds to the skeleton's rib cage. But I do admit our problems are a little different. What's your population?" "Don't come up here and slam me, Quinn. We've got a strong law enforcement body. We don't need any city cops messing around our jurisdiction." He'd made a mistake, Joe thought wearily. He hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours, but that was no excuse. It was always an error to criticize local police even when they were taking potshots at you. Bosworth was probably a good cop, and he'd been polite until Joe cast aspersions on how he did his job. "I'm sorry. No offense." "I do take offense. You have no idea what our problems are here. Do you know how many tourists we have every year? And how many get lost or hurt in these mountains? We may not have murderers or drug dealers, but we take care of every one of our citizens besides those tenderfeet who come up from Atlanta and camp in our parks and fall down in gorges and mess up--" "Okay, okay." Joe held up his hand in surrender. "I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to downplay your problems. I guess I'm a little jealous." His gaze wandered out over the mountains and the falls. Even with Bosworth's men climbing all over, taping and scouring the area, it was still unbelievably beautiful. "I'd like to live here. It would be nice to wake up every morning to all this peace." Bosworth was slightly appeased. "It's God's country. The Indians used to call the falls 'the place of tumbling moonlight.'" He scowled. "And we don't find skeletons like this. This must be one of yours. Our people don't kill each other and toss the bodies into the ground." "Perhaps. It's a long way to transport a body. But in this wilderness, it would be quite a while before a corpse is discovered." Bosworth nodded. "Hell, if it hadn't been for the rains and the mud slide, we might not have found it for twenty, thirty years." "Who knows? It might be that l...
