Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

The circle. Inescapable, always there, always repeating.

But she couldn't say that to Eve. Why should she understand when Jane couldn't? “A hunch.” That was as true as any other explanation. She changed the subject. “I saw his face. Not clearly, and just for an instant. But I'll be able to give Joe a sketch.”

“Good. But he would rather have had Trevor.” Eve raised her head. “Here comes Mac with the stretcher for Toby. I'll be glad to get both of you home.”

He was bleeding.

Aldo could feel the blood running down his shoulder, but he couldn't stop to tend it. He had to reach the bank where he'd hidden his car and get out of here before Quinn chased him down. It didn't hurt anyway. He was too full of rage and frustration to feel pain.

The bitch. She had sunk her fangs in him and then lived to see him run like a fox from the hounds. He'd not even been able to punish her by killing the dog.

Trevor's fault.

Trevor barging in and interfering. Trevor stepping in front of Cira and keeping him from punishing the whore.

Whore. Yes, that's what she was. She'd managed to ply her wiles on Trevor and he was now as much her slave as all the others. Why else would Trevor have tried to save the dog when he could have taken his shot at Aldo?

Bitch. Whore. She was probably laughing at him.

Not for long, Cira. I almost had you. You're not such a difficult target.

Next time.

Move!” Trevor said to Bartlett as he jumped into the car. “Get out of here.”

“I take it we're being chased?” Bartlett stomped on the accelerator as he moved onto the freeway. “Aldo?”

“Quinn and the ATLPD.” Trevor glanced at the side mirror. “No one yet,” he murmured. “Maybe she did toss him a red herring.”

“The girl?”

Trevor nodded. “I wasn't sure. She's not predictable. She could just as well have told me to go this way and then had a covey of police cars waiting for me.”

“Maybe she's grateful to you for saving the pooch.”

He grinned. “And maybe she's mad as hell and not going to take Aldo's crap anymore. That's more likely.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“More or less.”

No, that was exactly what she had told him. Every glance, every angry word had been layered with determination. “She was a little pissed about her dog.”

“I can't blame her,” Bartlett said. “Dreadful fellow, Aldo.”

“You're a master of understatement.”

“And apparently considerably more competent than you. You were so sure you'd get him this time.” He gave him a sly glance. “But don't be upset. Every man meets his Waterloo.”

“Shut up.” He closed his eyes. “Just get me out of here. I need to sleep and then do some thinking. One step forward, two steps back. It's been a hell of a night.”

“All may not be lost. Quinn may have caught Aldo.”

“Then we'll know about it when we see the news tomorrow. Until then we'll assume the bastard got away.”

“We're going to the lodge?”

“It's as safe as anywhere. Safer than staying here in town. Quinn is bound to have put out an APB on me.”

“No doubt. It would be much smarter to move on.”

“I can't move on. Aldo isn't going to budge from the area as long as Jane MacGuire is here.” His lips tightened grimly. “And that means I have to dig in, too.”

No sign of either of them,” Christy said. “We've scoured every acre of your property and the APB is coming up zero so far.”

“Dammit.”

“It's only been two days. How's Jane doing?”

“Cool as a cucumber.”

“Toby?”

“He had to have stitches, but he'll be fine. He's fine now. He's lying on his dog bed in Jane's room getting belly rubs and eating turkey.”

“Has Jane finished the sketch of Aldo yet?”

“I'll go in and ask her. She's been working on it long enough.”

“If she only saw him in poor light, it must be difficult to remember every feature.”

“Everything about this is difficult. Jane has a memory that would make an elephant look bad.”

“You think she's stalling?”

“I can't figure out why she'd stall. But what do I know? She's done some things lately that have boggled my mind. And don't tell me about teenagers again. 'Bye, Christy.” He pressed the disconnect.

“I'm not stalling,” Jane said from behind him.

He turned to see her standing in the doorway with the sketchbook in her hand. “It took you a hell of a long time,” he said curtly.

She crossed the porch and sat down beside him on the top step. “I had to be careful. It was funny. . . . When I was drawing him, it was too clear. I saw every feature as if he were standing before me. But I'd only seen him for a few seconds and I didn't see how I could be that sure.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I was afraid that I could get it wrong. So I let myself have plenty of time for second guesses.”

“And you're sure now?”

She flipped open the sketchbook. “Aldo.”

A square face, high forehead and a roman nose. His hair was long but slightly receding. His eyes were deep-set and dark and were glaring out of the sketch with an expression of boundless animosity.

“I know you prefer for the portrayals to be expressionless because no one goes around looking like Jack the Ripper. I tried. I really tried. I redid the sketch three times, but it kept coming out the same. I think it's because I know that whenever we're together, he's going to look like this.”

He kept his eyes on the sketch. “And does it frighten you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Then why the hell did you go traipsing off after him when you should have come to me?” He lifted his head and his gaze was as hard as his tone. “And why did you lie to me about Trevor?”

“It seemed the right thing to do at the time.” She smiled ruefully. “And it didn't do any good. You saw right through me.”

“I've known you and Eve long enough to read you. But it was damn hard to believe you'd gang up on me like that.”

“And it hurt you.”

“Damn straight.”

She laid her hand tentatively on his arm. “We didn't gang up on you. It wasn't Eve's fault.”

“You don't have to defend her. Silence is a statement of its own.”

“She didn't want you to have to make a choice.”

“I'm used to making choices. It's a hell of a lot better than not being given one.” He looked back at the sketch. “I know you and Eve are so close you're practically joined at the hip, but I thought we had a relationship too.”

“We do.” Her voice was uneven. “When I came to you, it was hard for me to get used to having— I never knew my father. I had no brother. I'd never trusted anyone in my life. Not really. Eve was easy. She was like me. You were different. It took time, but I came to . . . like you. I knew you'd never let me down.”

“Then why didn't you come to me when you knew what that bastard was doing to Toby?”

“He was my responsibility. I had to make the decision.”

“You're seventeen years old.”

She nodded. “But don't you think some people are born old?”

“You mean old souls?”

She shrugged. “I don't know about that. That sounds a little wacky. I just never remember feeling like a kid.”

And he couldn't remember a time when she'd acted like a kid. The closest she'd come was when she was tearing across the hills with Toby. “That's pretty sad.”

“No, it's not. It's just the way things are. I bet Eve feels the same way.”

He smiled slightly. “Ah, your role model.”

“I couldn't have a better one.”

His smile faded. “No, you couldn't.” He covered her hand that still lay on his arm. “But both of you could be a little more trusting.”