Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“I like to think she's a dream. She tells me she's a bona fide ghost and that I'm in denial.” She smiled. “Sometimes I believe her. So I obviously have no right to question what you're experiencing, Jane.”

“You have the right to do anything you damn well please.” She moved toward the screen door. “And I'll fight anyone who says anything different. Good night, Eve.”

“Good night, Jane. Sleep well.”

“I'll try.” She smiled at her over her shoulder. “And if I don't, then I'll come running.”

“I'll always be here for you.”

Jane was still feeling the warmth engendered by those words when she reached her bedroom. Yes, Eve would always be there to comfort and support her. She had never had anyone to trust before Eve had come into her life, and after the confidences tonight, she felt closer to her than ever.

Now to go to bed and get to sleep and hope that she wouldn't be pulled back into that other place. Not yet. Each dream was becoming increasingly draining. It was like being on a treadmill whose speed kept escalating. She needed to recover strength before she faced it again.

“I'm coming,” she murmured as she pulled the covers up. “Just give me a little rest. I'm not abandoning you, Cira. . . .”

FIVE

It was too damn dark and they hadn't turned on the porch light.

Aldo lowered the binoculars with profound disappointment. When the two women had come out on the porch, he'd thought he'd be able to see them clearly but they'd both only been a shadowy blur.

But he knew which one was Jane MacGuire. He could feel the exquisite life force, the singing strength, the poetry that was such a part of her. When she'd knelt before the other woman and laid her head on her lap, it had been so characteristic, so familiar. She could move the heart with a gesture, control those around her with a smile or a tear, he thought bitterly.

She was doing that now with the woman who must be Eve Duncan. The woman was still staring after her and Aldo could almost feel the love radiating between them. He had not been surprised when he'd discovered that Jane lived with the same forensic sculptor who had reconstructed Caroline Halliburton. It had just been another sign that the circle was tightening.

Even the police car parked down the road had not intimidated him. He could move in these woods as silently as a forest animal. And those policemen standing guard were only an indication that she knew he was near and was filled with fear.

As she should be.

Joe was lying still in the darkness when Eve slipped into bed but she could sense that he wasn't sleeping.

“Jane had another nightmare,” she said as she pulled the blanket over her. “I had to talk to her.”

“And?”

“Running down a tunnel, unable to breathe, someone in the tunnel with her but no threat.” She cuddled closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “It sounds like typical stuff but nothing's ever typical about Jane. We'll have to keep an eye on her.”

“I don't think there's any question about that,” Joe said dryly. “Particularly under the circumstances. And if it was as typical as you're saying, I don't think you'd have been out there on the porch for so long.”

Eve was silent a moment. “She says sometimes she's not sure it's a dream.”

“Now, that's not commonplace.”

“And a little scary?”

“No, it just has to be handled.” He gently stroked the hair at her temple. “You had your share of dreams about Bonnie and we fought our way through.”

Oh, yes, she remembered those first years after Bonnie's kidnapping when he'd been her rock in a seething whirlpool of despair. But she hadn't shared these last years of healing dreams of Bonnie with him. It was too bizarre. How would he handle those visions if she did?

“Eve?”

“What if she's right, Joe? Sometimes I wonder. . . . How do we know what are dreams and what's real?”

“I know.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Don't get all philosophical on me. You want to know about reality? Ask a hardheaded cop like me. We live and breathe it.”

“That's right, you do.”

He must have sensed the slight mental withdrawal because his arm tightened around her. “Okay, I'm not the most sensitive guy in the world. But I'm here for you and Jane. So take what I can give you.”

“You are sensitive, Joe.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, sure. The only reason I'm sensitive to you is that I love you so damn much that you can't take a breath without me knowing about it. Otherwise, I'm a tough son of a bitch and that's the way I want to stay. Tough isn't bad. Not if it keeps you and Jane safe.”

That was Joe, she thought. Loyal, smart, and denying any hint of softness. Jesus, she loved him. She turned her head and kissed him. “No, tough isn't bad,” she whispered. But she knew she wasn't going to tell him tonight.

Not yet, Bonnie . . .

I'm on my way,” Bartlett said. “I'm changing planes at Kennedy now. I couldn't get on the direct flight but I should be at Atlanta in a couple hours. Unless the police pick me up.”

“I think you're still safe,” Trevor said. “They would have stopped you from entering the country if Quinn had been able to trace your connection with me.”

“That's comforting. Where am I supposed to meet you?”

“The lobby of the Best Western Hotel at Lake Lanier. Don't check in. We'll be leaving right away.”

“And where are we going?”

“Quinn's lake house. Well, not the house itself. I've been sleeping in the woods for the past two nights.”

“Why? As I recall, I leased you a nice comfortable lodge north of the city. I was quite proud of how thoroughly I buried the paperwork.”

“I have to keep close to her. Sooner or later Aldo will show up there.” He paused. “He may be there now. But I haven't run across him yet. Quinn's got a lot of acreage and Aldo is woods savvy.”

“So are you. But then I haven't come across anything you're not good at. It's very depressing. Of course, you're not as well versed in the outdoors as you are in a casino. I'd judge the odds aren't nearly as good. But what do I know? You've proved me wrong before. However, I'm here to state that I'm not looking forward to any damp, earthy sojourn in the forest primeval.”

“You'll adjust.”

“Promises. I'll see you at nine at the hotel if you don't get your ass caught flitting around there.” Bartlett hung up.

Trevor pressed the disconnect and looked out over the lake. Jane was in that cottage. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon and she should have been in school, they were keeping her home, keeping her safe.

Or so they thought. There was no safety where Aldo was concerned. He was totally relentless and his patience was inexhaustible.

So that's how patient Trevor must be. Jesus, it was hard. He'd never been this close before. Well, he had to be patient. Jane MacGuire was a bright beacon that Aldo wouldn't be able to resist and he only had to watch until the bastard ventured too close to the flame.

Aldo would want to kill Jane with all due ceremony. No long-range rifle shot for him. And if he was right, the chances were good that Trevor would have time to get him before he could murder the girl.

“The odds aren't nearly as good.”

Well, Bartlett was wrong. The odds were always as good as the effort you made to make them come up a winner. He just had to divorce himself from all emotion and use intellect and logic. He had to forget that moment when he'd looked at Jane and seen the spirit and the vitality that shone from her face. She mustn't matter to him as a person, only as a means to an end. He'd made one mistake. He couldn't afford another one.