Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“I didn't think. It was pure guesswork. I got to wondering after you left how unusual Trevor's behavior was for a policeman. Proper procedure is drummed into all of you and he violated one of the cardinal rules.” Eve's lips tightened. “And then I started playing the what-if game. Could we be certain Trevor was who he said he was? What proof did we have? I'm sure he showed you his credentials, but they could be forged. And this e-mail could have been bogus too. It would have been difficult and nervy for him to infiltrate the Scotland Yard Web site and use it to send official e-mails, but not beyond the skills of an expert hacker. It was worth checking out.”

“Yes, it was. I only wish I'd been able to collar him before he slipped out.” His gaze went to the hall. “Did you tell Jane?”

“I told her we were checking on him. She didn't say much. She probably thinks I'm paranoid.” She headed for the kitchen. “I heated up a leftover steak for Jane when I knew you wouldn't be picking up Chinese. Do you want one?”

“I'm not hungry. But I'll take a glass of milk.” He got up and sat down at the bar. “Christy asked Scotland Yard to try to run a computer check on Trevor. She needs a good description.”

“They'll need more than that. Trevor's probably not his real name. I saved the coffee cup he used, to dust for fingerprints.” She set the glass of milk before him. “Jane might be able to help. She could give Christy a sketch of him.” She grimaced. “If she'll do it.”

“If she knows he's lied to us, she's not going to protect him.”

“Maybe. She was talking about how she used to do bad things for good reasons when she was a little girl. I don't like the way she was identifying with him.” She moistened her lips. “Do you think it's him? Do you think he's the one who killed Ruth?”

Joe didn't answer for a moment. “I was thinking about that all the way home. Pretending to be an investigator would be a smart way to get close to Jane.” He glanced at the file on the coffee table. “And he paved his way with very tempting bait.”

“Bastard.”

He nodded slowly. “It's safer to assume he's a danger to Jane until we know different.”

Her gaze narrowed on his face. “But you have your doubts.”

“I think he wanted to be part of the investigation.”

“It's not completely uncommon to have a serial killer trying to insinuate himself into the investigation. Look at Ted Bundy.”

“I know that.” He finished his milk. “I just think I would have spotted that kind of sick reaction. He pissed me off but not for one moment did I doubt that he wanted—” He shrugged. “Who the hell knows what he wanted? We'll find out when we find him. If he's still in the city.”

“Oh, he's still in the city,” Eve said jerkily. “Didn't you see his face when he was talking to Jane? There's no way he'd leave her.” She rinsed out the glass. “Did you get a report on Ruth?”

“Give it some time. Her photo will be in tomorrow's paper. Maybe someone will identify her.”

“I hope so. I wanted something good to come out of this.” She paused and then whispered, “I'm scared, Joe. What if that murderer was in this cottage, shaking Jane's hand?”

“Jane's safe, Eve.”

“Is she? God, I hope so.” She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Of course, she's safe. And we'll keep her that way.” She put the glass on the sink and came around the bar. “And now I'm going to see if Jane's still awake so I can talk to her about that sketch. Why don't you check and see if Christy has heard anything more?”

Aldo smiled as he studied the photo in the newspaper. It was an amazingly close likeness. The artist who had rendered the reconstruction was obviously very talented. Almost as talented as he'd been when he'd carefully removed those features with his surgical knife. He'd thought it would take much longer to put a face to the woman they were calling Ruth.

Her name wasn't Ruth. It was Caroline and someone would probably identify her soon. She wasn't a prostitute or vagrant this time. He'd seen her coming out of a downtown office building and he'd done his duty and removed the Cira possibility.

Jesus, he was getting weary of that duty. There was always an explosion of pleasure when he performed the act but he was tired of the searching. There was no doubt that her likeness must be banished from the face of the earth but he had to find the true Cira. Every night before he closed his eyes he murmured a prayer that he be given that one gift.

And he had the feeling that his prayer was to be answered soon. The excitement was too intense, the anticipation escalating with each passing day.

He pushed the newspaper away and scooted his desk chair back to the computer. He couldn't count on finding Cira by random chance. He'd decided long ago he wouldn't deserve that final pleasure if he just cruised the streets looking for her.

So type in the stolen password.

The monitor screen lit up.

He was in!

Now avoid all the security walls they had put up to protect Cira.

He settled down and began to flip through the pages. There were thousands but he was very patient. Even though his eyes grew blurry and his back ached from hours of leaning over the computer, he wouldn't give up.

It was the road that led to Cira.

Here it is.” Jane dropped the sketch on the table in front of Joe the next morning at breakfast. “It's as good a likeness as I can do.” She went to the refrigerator and got out the orange juice. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Send it to Scotland Yard and they'll probably send it to Interpol.” He studied the sketch. “This is very good. You've caught him perfectly.”

“He's easy. Very strong features.” She poured orange juice into her glass. “Besides, as I told Eve, he reminded me of someone. He felt . . . I don't know . . . familiar.” She sat down at the table. “Where's Eve?”

“Outside taking coffee to Mac and Brian, who are on the stakeout.” He looked up from the sketch. “Eve thought that you might object to doing this for us.”

“Why? I don't even know this Trevor. And my loyalty is to you and Eve.” She smiled. “Always, Joe.”

“That's good to know.”

“That being said, I don't think Trevor wants to hurt me. And I can't see him skinning any woman's face off.”

“Just because he has such a pretty face himself?”

“No, I told you I hardly noticed that he was good-looking. He's got a lot more going for him than what's on the surface.”

“How can you judge? As you said, you don't even know him.”

“You have to trust your instincts.” She sipped her orange juice. “You've always told me that, Joe. I'm just following your lead.”

“Now you blame it on me?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because your character was already formed by the time you came into our lives. If anything, you're the one who nudges us along.”

“Not true. I wouldn't presume. So when do you think you'll hear about Trevor?”

“Soon, I hope.”

“Good. I'm curious about him.” She finished her orange juice. “He's interesting. I'd have offered to do the sketch even if Eve hadn't asked me.”

“Now, that surprises me.”

“Why? He pushed into our lives and he deserves to have us push back a little.”

“Maybe a lot,” Joe said grimly.

“We'll see.” She scooted back her chair. “Now I'm going to find Eve and ask her to take me to school to get my assignments.” She smiled. “Of course, I could borrow your car and go by myself. I'm legal now.”

“I think we'd prefer you to have company for the next few days.”

“I thought you would.” She headed for the door. “So much for my brand-new license.”