Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“You said you didn't read her postcard,” Jane said dryly.

“I didn't. From what I understand, everyone enjoys Yellowstone. I must go sometime. Where do you want your mail, Eve?”

“On the coffee table.” She held up her clay-coated hands. “If I handled it now, I'd mess it up and wouldn't be able to read it.”

“How's the reconstruction going?”

“Pretty good. I've done the measuring and I'm starting the molding. But I never know until the final stages.”

“That's what you told me.” He began to separate Eve's mail on the coffee table. “Interesting stuff . . .”

Jane gazed at the two of them in bewilderment. She hadn't realized until this moment how at ease they'd become with each other during these last days. She'd seen him talking to Eve on occasion and even having a cup of coffee with her when she'd taken a carafe down to Bartlett, but Eve seemed perfectly accepting of Trevor now.

Eve turned back to the pedestal. “Did Jane get anything?”

“A package. She thinks it's from Sarah Logan.”

“Again? She just sent her a leash from Morocco a few weeks ago. . . .” Her hands were moving, sculpting, and her tone was absent. A moment later Jane knew she was completely absorbed in the work and no longer with them.

“Where's Quinn?” Trevor asked as he finished stacking the bills.

“At the precinct. Christy set up a conference call with Scotland Yard and the Rome police to discuss Aldo.” Jane gave him a cool look as she sat down on the couch. “And the local Italian police have found no trace of any tunnel in the countryside outside of Herculaneum. And no villa belonging to a Julius Precebio.”

“I told you they wouldn't find it.”

“Because you did your best to hide it. When this is over, you're going to have a lot of questions to answer.”

“Hmm.” Trevor was tearing the strip on the FedEx box. “I'm duly intimidated.”

She scowled. “You are not.”

“No, but I'd hate to disappoint you.” His smile faded as he opened the lid. “There's another package inside.” He moved away from the couch on which she was sitting to the screen door. “It's small, velvet, and doesn't look like it would contain a dog toy for Toby. I think I'll just open this on the porch.”

She tensed in spite of herself. “Stop it. Aren't you overreacting?”

“Perhaps.” He looked in the FedEx box. “No note.”

“Maybe it's in the velvet box.”

“Possibly.” He dropped the FedEx box and slowly opened the blue velvet box.

“What is it?”

“A ring.”

“Jewelry?” Relief surged through her as she jumped to her feet and followed him across the room. “Let me see it.”

“In a minute.” He was holding the ring up to the light.

“Now.” The ring was a broad band of intricately carved gold and the stone it held was a brilliant pale green, too pale to be an emerald, probably a peridot. “Do you think Sarah would send me a Borgia poison ring or something?”

“No.” He held the ring away from her. “But I don't believe this ring is from Sarah. Why don't you call her while I look it over?”

Her gaze shifted from the ring to his face and what she saw there made her eyes widen. “Why?”

“Call her,” he repeated. “If it's from her, it will give you the opportunity to thank her. I'll stay here and wait for you.”

She hesitated, tempted to refuse and confront him. Then she went inside, picked up her phone, and dialed Sarah in Carmel.

Trevor was standing underneath the porch light when she came out of the house five minutes later.

“She didn't send it,” Jane said flatly. “She didn't know anything about it. Aldo?”

He nodded. “My guess.”

“Why would he send me a ring? That's a peridot, isn't it?”

“I don't think so. It's similar and most people would mistake it for a peridot.”

“Then what is it?”

“It's a vesuvianite.”

“What the devil is that?”

“When a volcano erupts the tephra sometimes forms a glasslike substance that can be polished and refined to resemble fine gems. You may have seen helenite, the dark green stone that became popular after the Mount Saint Helens eruption.”

“But this came from Vesuvius?” Her gaze was fastened in sick fascination on the ring in his hand. “I was joking, but could it be some kind of poison ring?”

He shook his head. “I examined it. It's exactly what it appears. He obviously didn't mean to kill you.”

“It's beautiful. . . . Why would he want to give me something this beautiful?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Angry, confused.”

“And afraid?”

Was there fear at the core of her emotions? She only knew she felt chilled and shaken. “It's only a piece of jewelry.”

“That's disturbing the hell out of you.”

“And that's what he wanted. He wants me scared and panicked.” She reached out and touched the gold of the ring. It was warm from Trevor's touch but it didn't pierce the chill surrounding her. “And he wants me to know he's not forgotten me.”

Trevor nodded. “It's a mind game.”

“Bastard.”

“If he knows he can't touch you yet, it will probably get worse. A little long-distance torment will be very satisfying to him.”

“Do you think he's watching me?”

He shrugged. “Not from anywhere close. I'd guarantee that, Jane.”

“And I can guarantee he'll want to see if sending me this . . . thing made a sniveling wreck of me. What kind of satisfaction can he get just from imagining the upset?” She could feel her anger growing by the minute. “Oh, no, he'll want to see that he's hurt me.”

“Possibly.”

“No, certainly.” She snatched the ring from his palm and jammed it on her index finger. “So let's let him see it doesn't mean a damn thing to me.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I should have known. Aldo may have been carrying this bauble around for years but don't you think Quinn will want the ring to try to run a tracer?”

“He can take a photo.” The ring felt heavy and tight on her finger, like a python curling around its victim. But she wasn't a victim and she'd prove it to him. Her anger remained but it was now mixed with exhilaration and excitement. “I'm wearing it.”

His smile faded. “You're liking this a little too much. What do you have in mind? A little goading to stir the tiger?”

“He's not a tiger, he's a slug. And what do you care if I goad him? It might bring him out into the open.”

He was silent a moment. “You're right. It might do that, if he doesn't pounce and tear you to bits.” He started down the porch steps. “And, strangely enough, I would care if that happened.”

“But you're not trying to talk me out of it.”

“No, but then I've always been a son of a bitch. Do what you like. I'll be there for you.”

Sarah just called me.” Eve had left her studio and was standing in the living room when Jane walked into the cottage a moment later. “She was concerned. She said you didn't sound like yourself. What's this about a ring, Jane?”

Jane held up her hand with a hint of bravado. “A present from Aldo. A vesuvianite. Pretty, isn't it?”

Eve stiffened. “Don't be flip. What's happening?”

“So much for him forgetting about me and going on to bigger and better kills.”

“Sarah said it was mailed from a Mail Boxes Unlimited in Carmel.”

“He's not in California. He'd want to see if the ring had the right effect.” Her lips tightened. “He probably hopes I'm cowering under the bed.”

“You seem very certain.” Eve crossed the room and took her hand. “It looks Byzantine.”

“I'm sure it's supposed to look Roman. But what can you expect? He probably took what he could get. Vesuvianite can't be that readily available.”