“Is anything wrong?” Agent Harley asked. “I used three sources. It all checked out. And Catherine Ling is usually very accurate.”

And Harley would be careful, Venable thought. He was new, but he was eager and conscientious.

“No, I’m sure you verified it correctly.” He shrugged. “I can just see a blowup looming on the horizon.”

“But Catherine Ling’s e-mail said that-”

“I know.” Venable held up his hand to stop him. Harley had met Catherine Ling only once, but he had been dazzled by her. Most men had the same response to Catherine. She was not only a top CIA agent, but she was part Caucasian, part Asian, and was one of the most gorgeous and exotic women Venable had ever met. “Catherine may be accurate, but that doesn’t mean she might not trigger an explosion. She’s ramming her way through every source I have to get that information, and she’s not going to stop.”

“Eve Duncan,” Harley repeated tentatively, glancing at the report. “I’ve heard of her. I saw some photos. Skulls and stuff. She’s a forensic sculptor, isn’t she?”

“Have a little respect. She’s theforensic sculptor,” Venable said. “She’s probably the best forensic sculptor in the world. Every police department in the country is standing in line to get her to work on their cold cases involving skeletal remains. Totally dedicated.”

“Not totally.” Harley smiled. “I read that report. She’s been living with her lover police detective, Joe Quinn, for a number of years. In real life, she obviously prefers a warm body to those skeletons.”

“He’s a good guy,” Venable said. “And tough as hell. He’s an ex-SEAL. As I said, have a little respect, or you might regret it. He’s been with Eve since her daughter Bonnie was kidnapped by a serial killer years ago. The kid was only seven years old, and it nearly destroyed Eve.”

“I can see how it might be traumatic. Was she murdered?”