Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“I'll work on it.” She squeezed his hand. “But you're on your own with Eve. It should help that you know she's in your corner.”

“With a hell of a lot of reservations.”

She shook her head. “Did you ever wonder why you stayed with Eve all these years?”

“No, I love her.”

“But it must have been very difficult to love someone like Eve. She'll tell you herself how scarred she is.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “What are you getting at?”

“I just think you hate anything easy. It bores you silly.”

“You're crazy.”

“You love Eve. You like me. I rest my case.” She stood up. “I'm sorry I lied to you. I'll try not to do it again. Good night, Joe.”

“Good night.”

She stopped at the door. “Have you heard anything about Trevor?”

“I don't know if I should discuss him with you. I'm still pissed.” He scowled. “No word about his apprehension. Christy told me this morning that there may be a report coming in soon from Johannesburg. Something popped up on their computer database.”

“Will you let me see it?”

“Maybe.”

“Ignorance is dangerous, Joe. Isn't that what you've always told me?”

“You should have thought about that when you kept us in the dark.”

“Joe.”

He was silent a moment. “Okay.” He got up and moved down the stairs. “I'm going for a walk. I need to release some nervous energy. Tell Eve I won't be long.”

Her gaze went to the woods. “Be careful.”

“I'm not the one who has to be careful. That's the pot calling the kettle black.” He paused. “The woods are crawling with officers, Jane. No one is going to try to get to you right now.”

“You're probably right.” She pulled her gaze from the line of trees. But as she turned and opened the screen door she repeated, “Be careful.”

SEVEN

Jackpot,” Christy said when Joe answered the phone the next morning. “We've got a fix on Trevor.”

“Talk to me.”

“He was born in Johannesburg thirty years ago and his name is Trevor Montel, not Mark Trevor. His parents were planters who were killed by guerrillas when he was ten. He was placed in an orphanage and was in and out of trouble until he ran away at sixteen. The reports of the teachers were definitely mixed. Some wanted to toss him into jail and throw away the key. Others wanted to give him a scholarship and send him to Oxford.”

“Why?”

“He's brilliant. He was something of a phenomenon. One of the finest minds his teachers had ever run across. Mathematics, chemistry, literature. You name it, he aced it. His test scores went off the charts. Genius territory.”

“Hence the card counting.”

“That's his most well-known profession. You know about his years as a mercenary and there were several years after that when we have no info on him. Then he started to do the casino circuit and he's also been known to do a little smuggling and deal in ancient artifacts. He was picked up in Singapore once for trying to remove a valuable Tang Dynasty vase from the country. He talked his way out of it but not before they booked him on suspicion. We seem to have a lot of suspicion and no convictions connected with Trevor. He's either been treading very cautiously or he's as smart as they say.”

“Smart. There was nothing cautious about the way he conned his way into my home. We have to look for a connection between Trevor and Aldo. Did Aldo's sketch bring any response?”

“Not yet. Too bad you couldn't get fingerprints.”

“No chance. He even wiped them off the dog collar. What about the volcanic ashes?”

“They've narrowed them down to Krakatoa in Indonesia, Vesuvius, or Montserrat.”

“Sweet. That's not what I call narrowing. Talk about opposite ends of the earth.”

“They're working on trying to refine the tests. According to the lab it shouldn't be this difficult. Every volcano has its own signature tephra.”

“Tephra?”

“Unconsolidated fine-grained pyroclastic material.”

“Ash.”

“Yeah, I'm beginning to sound like the lab guys, aren't I? God help me. Anyway, the glass-shard particles have their own signature. The volcano from which they're taken can usually be pinpointed. In fact, it's possible for scientists to tell from which hole in the volcano the tephra was taken.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“Mixed signals. They're puzzled.”

“Great.”

“I'm pushing them. They'll get there.” She paused. “I know this must seem to be taking forever, Joe. I'd hate every minute of delay if I were in your shoes. I just want you to know that everyone in the department is with you and working at top speed.”

“I know that. Thanks, Christy.”

After he hung up he went to the window and looked out at Jane sitting by the lake. Toby was lying at her feet. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the lake was clear and placid. The scene should have been peaceful.

It wasn't.

“She's waiting.” Eve had come to stand beside him at the window. Her gaze was on Jane. “She's been spending hours down there by the lake for the last two days. She says she's just enjoying the sunshine. But she's waiting for him.”

He nodded. He'd also noticed the slight tension of Jane's body, the almost visible air of expectancy. “Aldo?”

“Or Trevor.” Eve shrugged. “Or both. Since she won't admit she's waiting for anyone, we're not about to find out. I don't know how she thinks they're going to get near her.” She added grimly, “If they do, I'll personally strangle every one of those men on stakeout.”

“You'd have to stand in line,” Joe said. He looked away from Jane. “Christy called with some info on Trevor. I'll fill you in.”

“Good.” But Eve's gaze remained on Jane. “I know how she feels,” she whispered. “I'm waiting for them too.”

Charlotte, North Carolina

She wasn't perfect, but she'd have to do.

Aldo cruised slowly behind her as she walked down the street watching the sway of hips in her short skirt and fur-trimmed jacket. He knew her hotel room was five blocks away because he'd watched her take two of her tricks there this evening. He'd waited until she was far enough from it to make it reasonable for them to drive rather than walk. Once in the car it was always much easier for him.

He accelerated, pulled over to the curb beside her, and rolled down the window. “Cold night, isn't it.” He smiled. “But you look like you could warm any man. What's your name?”

She moved toward him and leaned her elbows on the window. “Janis.”

This close he could see that she was even less perfect than he had thought. She bore only a slight resemblance to the true thing. Her skin was acne marked, her eyes were too close together, and her cheekbones were not nearly as defined as Jane MacGuire's.

But he could make do with the woman even though he might ordinarily have questioned if she was worth the kill. Now that the search was over he didn't have to be so selective. He pulled out the hundred-dollar bill he'd stuck in the visor. “Do you have a place we can go?”

Her eyes widened. “On Fifth Street.” She opened the car door. “I can show you a good time, but I don't do kinky stuff. No whips or ropes.”

“No whips or ropes. I promise.” He locked the door as she settled on the passenger seat. “Janis is a pretty name but do you mind if I call you Cira?”

Joe hung up the phone and turned to Eve. “A woman was found in a ditch on the side of the road outside Charlotte, North Carolina. No face. Same MO as Aldo's other victims.”

“Charlotte? That's hundreds of miles from here. Has he moved on? Should I be relieved?”