Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“No, you may not,” Eve said firmly. “You can see the photograph. You're sticking close to home for a while.”

“Because of that creep?” She shook her head. “I'll stick around here today but I've got a trigonometry test scheduled for Monday and I'm not going to let him stop me from taking it.” She went to the doorway and gazed at the patrol car parked down the road. “He'd be crazy to make a move when he can see Joe has me under surveillance.”

“He is crazy,” Eve said. “Nothing could be clearer. No one goes around killing women just because they remind him of someone else unless they're nuts. So your argument doesn't hold water. And that test isn't worth any risk.”

Jane turned to look at her. “You're really scared.”

“You're damn right I am. I'm not having anything happen to you even if I have to tie you to your bed.”

Jane studied her expression. “You're remembering Bonnie. I'm not Bonnie, Eve. I'm not an innocent little girl who can be lured to her death. I intend to have a long, good life and I'll go for the jugular of anyone who tries to take that away from me.”

“You may not get the chance. This man has killed at least six women that we know about. All of them older and more experienced than you.”

“And they probably weren't suspecting anything. I'll be suspicious of everyone.” She smiled. “You know I'm not the most trusting person in the world.”

“Thank God.” Eve drew a deep breath. “I'm scared, Jane. Don't make me more scared by defying this monster. Please.”

Jane frowned. “I hate letting him keep me from doing what I need to do. Bastards like him shouldn't be able to control us.”

“Please,” Eve repeated.

Jane sighed. “Okay. If you're really going to worry.”

“I am going to worry. Count on it. Thank you.”

Jane's eyes twinkled. “Come on, I didn't have much choice. You threatened to tie me down.”

Eve smiled. “Only as a last resort.”

“How long do you think it's going to take to catch him?”

Eve's smile faded. “I don't know. Soon, I hope.”

“I'm not going to hide forever, Eve.” She glanced back at the patrol car. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time I think we're in control of our own destiny.”

“So do I. But this is a funny coincidence, isn't it? First Bonnie and then me. What do you think the odds are that you'd be faced with this kind of situation again?”

“Astronomical. But I am.”

“Then maybe . . .” She paused, working her way through it. “If there is some kind of fate, this might be a second chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe it's like . . . a circle and comes around again and again if it goes wrong the first time.”

“You're getting too deep for me. I don't know what the devil you're talking about.”

Jane shook her head as if to clear it. “Me, either. It just occurred to me that—” She started for the door. “All that thinking is giving me a headache. Let's go for a walk.”

“I have to be back in time to meet with Trevor.” She glanced at her watch. “An hour.”

“I don't think he'll leave if you're not on the doorstep. From what you said he wants to cooperate. Besides, he's probably one of those proper, methodical, slow-moving types.”

“Just because he's Scotland Yard? They're very efficient, from what I hear.”

“They didn't catch Jack the Ripper, did they? Joe would have caught him. He thinks out of the box.” She nudged Toby with her foot as she started down the steps. “Come on, lazy. Just because you like to run at night is no reason you get to sleep all day.”

Toby yawned and then got to his feet.

“You know those policemen in the car will be trailing us,” Eve said as she followed Jane down the steps.

“The exercise will do them good.” Jane smiled at Eve over her shoulder. “And it will do you good, too. You've been stuck in the house working on Ruth for days. You need fresh air and a change of scene. The sun's shining and there's not a cloud in the sky.”

She was wrong, Eve thought. There was a terrible, dark cloud hovering over them. But Jane's expression was radiant, bold and without fear. Eve felt her own spirits lift as she looked at her. “You're right. It's a great day for a walk.” She caught up with her. “But just to the head of the lake. Trevor may not be that eager to see me, but, stiff and proper or not, I'm damn interested in meeting him.”

Ms. Duncan? I'm Mark Trevor.” He rose to meet her as she came into the cottage. “I'm delighted to meet you.” He gestured to Joe, who was standing at the kitchen bar, before moving across the room with hand extended. “Quinn was telling me what a magnificent reconstruction you did. I can't wait to see it.”

“You'll have to go down to the precinct. Joe took it in this morning. I didn't even get a chance to take any photos.” He had a firm, hard handshake and as he met her eyes, she felt a ripple of shock.

Trevor was obviously courteous but that was as far as Jane's description applied. He couldn't have been more than thirty, was dressed in jeans and olive sweatshirt, and was tall, broad shouldered, and muscular. Every ounce of his body appeared charged with energy. Short, curly dark hair framed an amazingly good-looking face dominated by dark eyes that shone with interest and intelligence. His smile exuded a charisma that warmed and flattered at the same time. Good God, he looked more like a male model or actor than a policeman.

“I've already asked him for permission to take a look.” Trevor took the cup of coffee Joe handed him. “We have our own forensic sculptors that work with us at the Yard and I'm a great fan. They've done some amazing reconstructions.”

“So I've heard.” Joe handed Eve her cup. “Where's Jane?”

“Playing with Toby. She'll be along. She was right behind me.” Her gaze went to the briefcase on the coffee table. “Case histories?”

Trevor nodded. “But I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. As I told Quinn on the phone, we have nothing concrete.” He unfastened the briefcase. “The killings appeared to be random and we didn't make the similar facial connection until he'd moved out of the U.K. . . .” He sat down on the couch. “But please help yourself. You can keep these records if you like. They're copies.”

“You have to have found out something,” Eve said. “In this age of DNA no crime scene is sterile.”

“Oh, we have fiber and DNA, but we have to have a suspect for comparison.”

“Witnesses?” Joe asked.

Trevor shook his head. “One night the victims were alive, the next day they were dead. No one saw them with anyone suspicious. Aldo obviously saw them, stalked them, and then moved in when it was safe for him.”

Eve stiffened. “Aldo? You have his name?”

Trevor shook his head. “Sorry. I didn't mean to raise your hopes. Aldo is only my name for him. I made it up because after all these years of tracking I couldn't think of him on an impersonal level.”

“Why Aldo?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“I don't care what you call the bastard,” Joe said. “I just want to nail him. The woman in Birmingham was burned to death and the medical examiner says that there are signs that Ruth was smothered. No similarity.” He gestured to the files. “What about these women?”

“Jean Gaskin was smothered. Ellen Carter was burned to death. He seems to be fond of those two means of killing his targets.” He took a sip of coffee. “However, he doesn't limit himself. Julia Brandon died of a lethal poison gas she inhaled.”

“What?”

“Presumably forced to inhale. Unusual.”

“Horrible.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And Peggy Knowles, the woman from Brighton, had water in her lungs. She was drowned.” He set his cup down on the coffee table. “Aldo's never in a hurry. He allows himself the time to make his kills in the way he's planned.”