Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [83]
Generic ears. She had no idea whether they had protruded or if the lobes were longer.
Nose? Another mystery.
You solve it, Jeremy.
It became shorter, slightly turned up.
Mouth?
Generic again. She had figured the width, but the shape was unknown. No expression. That could change everything, and it might affect the measurements.
Eyes?
Incredibly difficult. She had no measurements and practically no scientific indicators. Don’t get frustrated. For heaven’s sake, don’t rush. Just study the shape and angle of the orbits. The size of eyeballs was all pretty much standard and grew very little from infancy. Study the angle of the orbits and the ridge above and decide whether Jeremy’s eyes should protrude or be deep-set or fall somewhere in between.
All right, you’ve done it. Now leave the orbits. Don’t put in the glass eyes yet. It always disturbed her concentration to see the reconstruction watching her as she worked.
No offense, Jeremy.
More smoothing along the line of the cheek.
Not quite right.
Fill in.
Smooth.
Mold.
Don’t get carried away. You can’t let go yet. Don’t forget to check the measurements.
Nose width. Correct.
Projection. As accurate as she could make it.
Lip height. Correct. She’d brought the top lip down because it was usually thinner than the bottom. There’s a major muscle under the mouth, build up around the area.
Shape.
Mold.
Smooth.
Deepen the creasing around the nostrils.
Cheeks fuller.
Fill in.
Okay, now let go.
Let’s come home, Jeremy.
Her fingers flew feverishly over the child’s face. Forget the measurements. Forget the science.
Smooth.
Mold.
Fill in.
Come out, Jeremy.
Help me.
Who are you?
I don’t want you to be lost any longer.
Smooth.
Mold.
We’re almost done.
Smooth.
Mold.
Enough.
She drew a deep breath and pushed the hair back from her face. She was shaking, and her face was flushed as if she’d been racing.
She had been racing. It had been over three hours since she’d started the final phase, but the time had flown.
Don’t look at his face. Not yet.
She opened her wooden eye case. Brown eyes. They were the most common. She carefully inserted the eyeballs into the cavities. “We’re done, Jeremy. We did it together.”
The brown eyes stared back at her from the reconstruction.
Jeremy or Luke?
Step back. Look at him.
No, don’t look at him.
She turned on her heel and strode toward the bedroom. She threw open the door. “Catherine.”
Catherine jerked awake. “What is it?”
“I promised you I’d tell you as soon as I finished.”
She inhaled sharply. “Is it—”
“I don’t know. I never see the reconstruction as a whole while I’m working on it. It’s just a blur. I thought it was your right to see it first. Get the photo of Luke at age five.”
Catherine was already out of bed and going through her duffel. Her voice was shaking. “I’m scared, Eve.”
“So am I.” Eve tossed Catherine her robe. “Let’s go see if that fear is warranted. I hope it’s not.”
Catherine was clutching the photo as she walked slowly into the kitchen.
Eve followed her.
Jeremy or Luke?
Sadness or total heartbreak?
Catherine stopped in front of the reconstruction, her gaze focused on the face.
Sweet face. Round cheeks. Turned up nose. Slightly pouty lips.
Not Luke’s face.
“Thank God.” The tears were running down Catherine’s cheeks. “It’s not him.” She was looking at the photo, then the face of the reconstruction. “I’m right, aren’t I? I’m not just fooling myself? It’s not Luke.”
“It’s not Luke.” Eve was staring critically at the reconstruction. The child was heavier boned than the age progression she’d done of Luke at age five. The corners of the eyes had a slightly Slavic tilt. “No, he’s still Jeremy until we find out who he is.”
“But he’s not Luke!” Catherine grabbed Eve and whirled her around in a circle. “Rakovac lied. Luke could still be alive. No, he is alive. I know it.”
“Stop.” Eve pushed her away. “I’m dizzy enough from lack of sleep. I don’t need you making it any worse.”
“I’m sorry.” She was staring again at