Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [59]
“She’s doing so well. I’d hate to have—”
A gentle ping from Eve’s computer on the console across the room.
“E-mail!” Eve jumped from her chair and was at the bureau where she’d left the computer in seconds. She flipped open the laptop as she carried it back to the chair. “It’s about time.”
“The institute?” Joe asked.
She nodded absently as she pulled up the message. “And it seems to be fairly inclusive by the size of it.” Her gaze was flying over the e-mail. “The twisted tree near the grave appears to be pine. Under intense magnification, they discerned another tree in the background that they’re sure is birch. The earth is slightly damp and suggests either recent rainfall after the exhumation or that the grave is located in a marsh.” She leaned forward. “They’re leaning heavily toward the latter because of the piece of fungus on the left thigh.”
“The moss?” Catherine asked.
“Only it’s not moss, it’s lichen. Which is usually a cross between alga and fungal filaments.”
“And does it exist in a marsh?” Catherine was suddenly beside her, looking down at the e-mail. “Birch and pine are found in marshes.”
Eve nodded. “There are over twenty thousand different kinds of lichen known, but that gray lichen with orange markings is from a peat bog. And it’s not that common, thank God. It exists in several places in northern Europe, but in Russia it’s been found only near the Caspian Sea and in the marshes of the Ivanova region.”
“Ivanova,” Kelsov murmured. “Oh, yes, I know those marshes.”
Catherine’s gaze flew to his face. “And that means Rakovac would know them.”
“Like the back of his hand.” Kelsov’s lips twisted. “I can still feel the chill of the nights we spent in those marshes. Russia had given refuge to our enemies, the Ossetians, and a large number settled there. We went after them. I killed my first man near there and threw his body into a peat bog. I was twelve, and I had nightmares for years of watching that yellow mud suck him down.”
“So if Rakovac was going to hide a grave, it could be near there?”
“Much more likely than the Caspian Sea,” Kelsov said. “But that marshland area extends for miles. The grave won’t be easy to find if he didn’t decide just to throw the skeleton into the bog instead of returning it to the grave.”
“I think he buried the skeleton again,” Eve said. “He kept taunting me about working on Luke’s skull. I’d have to have access to it if I’m to do a reconstruction. He wants me to find it. Or, at least, he wants to dangle it in front of us. If Rakovac can kill us, then he’ll probably do it, but I think he’d prefer that he stretch it out a bit.”
“Yes, he would,” Natalie whispered. She was standing in the doorway, carrying a tray, and her face was parchment pale. “He likes to take his time and make you hurt.”
“I’ll take that.” Joe was on his feet and taking the tray. “Sit down. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”
“No, I’ll do it. My job…”
Kelsov pushed her into a chair. “You’re officially on vacation.” He poured a cup of coffee and put it into her hands. “But only for the next twenty minutes. Then you’re back on the clock.”
She lifted the cup to her lips. “I’m sorry.” She took a deep drink of coffee. “You’ve found him?”
“We’re close. We think we can find the place where he’ll set up an ambush. We might be able to turn it on him.”
She shook her head. “That’s not good. You’re not sure. You have to be sure with him. I had no plan. I just ran. I should have had a plan.”
Such simple words but threaded with pain, Eve thought. Through this woman, her vision of Rakovac was becoming vividly alive and hideous. “We’ll have a plan. First, we have to see if we can find that grave.” She looked at Kelsov. “Do you have any contacts in that area who might be able to tell you anything?”
He nodded. “If they’re not too afraid to talk. Rakovac still has both friends and enemies in that area.”
“Can you call them?”
He shook his head. “I have to see them in person. It’s the only way I can judge whether they’re lying to me. I have friends and enemies there, too. Most of them in the village of