Eight Days to Live

by Iris Johansen

  “Right,” Caleb said. “We’ll have to ask the lady. I’m sure she’ll be cooperative.”

  “Is everyone?” Jane asked curiously.

  “Almost everyone. One way or the other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes . . . it’s difficult.”

  “Difficult for whom? You or the person who’s mind you’re manhandling?”

  “Both of us. And occasionally I run into someone that I can’t push at all. But it’s very rare.”

  Jock was skeptically shaking his head.

  “You might be one.” Caleb was gazing at him in the rearview mirror. “Jane is being very protective, almost maternal about you, but it might not be necessary. Sometimes when a mind is broken, it grows back ten times stronger.”

  Jock smiled faintly. “Is that supposed to make me feel more secure? I never felt insecure with you, Caleb.”

  “I can see that,” Caleb said. “You don’t feel insecure with anyone, do you? You’ve gone way beyond that place.” He was silent, then said to Jane, “I can work with him. I was concerned, but it will be fine.”

  “But can I work with you?” Jock asked. “And do I want to? You haven’t proved to me that you can do anything but talk. Jane and I can get through this by ourselves.”

  “But it will take longer. Jane doesn’t want to wait or she would never have called me.” He asked Jane, “How are Eve and Joe doing?”

  The change of subject was definitely pointed and intentional. “Safe at MacDuff’s Run.”

  “So far.”

  “MacDuff will keep them safe,” Jock said. “Stop making her worry.”

  “She’s already worried. That’s why we have to work together. I’d prefer not to do it either, but I can’t leave you out. She wouldn’t permit it.”

  “Would you please stop talking as if I weren’t here?” Jane asked impatiently.

  “Yes, soon. This is important,” Caleb said. “Gavin?”

  He was silent, then slowly nodded. “Conditionally.”

  “Good enough.” Caleb’s gaze left the mirror and focused on the street. “Now you can ignore me.”

  “Not yet,” Jane said. “Why do you want to get there before dawn? What difference does it make?”

  “Darkness heightens the senses and changes perceptions. Some things are done better in the dark.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. We don’t even know for sure if this woman is anything but an innocent dupe. What things are easier in the dark?

  “Fear, intimidation.” He smiled. “I’m not talking about any particularly foul deeds. I just want everything to be on my side if I have to ask her a few questions. That way I can glide on the surface instead of going deep.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

  “I know, and I won’t explain. You wouldn’t like it any more than you would anything else that I do.” He added, “But from the moment I met you, I knew that you could sense more about me than most people. You’re a little fey, as our Scottish Jock might say.”

  “Ridiculous.” She didn’t speak for a moment. “But I’m grateful that you’re helping me. And it’s partly my fault that I’m finding this difficult. My instinct is to question, not meekly accept. Yet I knew what I was doing when I phoned you. That makes any argument I give hypocritical.”

  “How extraordinarily honest and clear thinking of you.”

  “But I’ll still argue anyway.”

  He chuckled. “You should. Because you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. I only let you see the tip of the iceberg. It’s a form of self-preservation. I’m not like Gavin. I still have moments of insecurity.”

  “Bullshit,” Jock said.

  “Ditto,” Jane echoed.

  “It’s a terrible burden not to be understood. Well, perhaps not insecurity. I suppose I just like the idea of feeling that sense of companionship I knew with you and Eve. It was very unusual for me. I was feeling quite wistful after I left the lake cottage.”

  She wished he’d look back at the mirror so that she could see his expression. Wistful? Caleb?

  It had to be mockery.

  “You’re trying to make up your mind whether I’m telling you the truth or not. I can’t recall ever lying to you except by omission. I guess you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

  “Or maybe she’ll just decide it doesn’t matter,” Jock said coolly. “The only thing she cares about is if you can find Weismann. So I can’t see her fretting about whether you’re mooning wistfully for old times.”

  Caleb burst out laughing. “Mooning? What a sickly image that brings to mind. You do know how to deflate a man. Gavin, I believe I like you.”

  “Caleb, I don’t give a damn.”

  “I know. And that gives me still another reason.”

  Jane was tired of their personal interchanges. Even when they weren’t edged with tension, the remarks seemed to breed an intimacy that she would rather stop before it took form. “How long before we get to Versailles.

  Caleb glanced down at the GPS. “About forty minutes.”

  Forty minutes. They might find out absolutely nothing, but they had a chance. There was only a slim possibility that Weismann was with Adah Ziller, but she might be able to lead them to him. She leaned back in the seat. Try to relax.

  At least she wasn’t back at the inn twiddling her thumbs. She was moving, and any move forward was progress.

  EIGHT

  THE HOUSES IN ADAH ZILLER’S subdivision were obviously meant to look like quaint, thatch-roofed farmhouses. To Jane they resembled the small rural homes she’d seen in the English countryside rather than a French village.

  “Not exactly grand,” Jock murmured. “I was expecting more presence. It’s only a few miles from the palace of Versailles.”

  “I’m sure they found it more economical to mirror Marie Antoinette’s fantasy of being a French peasant than the palace of Versailles.” She had a vague memory of visiting the village adjoining Versailles that Antoinette had created so that she could play milkmaid with her ladies and gentlemen of the court. “I wonder why Adah Ziller decided to settle here. Why not settle in Paris?”

  “It’s close enough,” Caleb said. “And she’d have to pass Versailles every day as she drove to work. It could be that she liked that tiny connection with royalty.” He pulled the car over to the curb. “Her house is down the block. Number 42. It’s better if we park here and walk the rest of the way. Surprise is always more effective.”

  “Then let’s go.” Jane got out of the car. Excitement was tingling through her. “What do we do? Surely not just knock on the door?”

  “Not if there’s any possibility that Weismann is in there with her,” Jock said. “And, even if he’s not here, I don’t think Caleb is planning on a civilized chat with the lady.”

  “I’ll be as polite as I can be. Sometimes it’s not possible.” Caleb was moving ahead of them. “I’ll go around the back and see if I can get in the rear door.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Stay with her, Gavin. I’ll let you both in the front door.”

  “I should go—” Jane stopped as Caleb disappeared around the side of the house. “Damn him.”

  “Come on.” Jock took her elbow. “I don’t like taking orders either, but this isn’t the time to argue. I want to get off the street. It’s the middle of the night, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be seen.”

  No, they needed to get into the house and out of view with as much discretion as possible. “But we’d be a lot less noticeable to any neighbors if we went in the back way, too.”

  “Yes.” Jock’s lips twisted. “I’m sure Caleb realized that, too. But that wouldn’t allow him the time he wants inside alone.”

  Her gaze flew to his face as they reached the front door. “You’re saying that you think he doesn’t want us to know what he’s doing in there.”

  “Judging by what he was saying in the car, I got the impression that he really doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s
doing at any given time. Of course, you know him better than I do.” He bent over the lock on the door. “But I don’t like the idea of waiting patiently for him to let us in. Does he think he’s the only one who can pick a lock?”

  “The alarm?”

  “Caleb should have any alarm disabled by this time. I’ll just open the door and we’ll—” The lock clicked, and he slowly swung the door open to reveal a dark foyer. “No alarm. But no Caleb either,” he whispered as he closed the door. “He didn’t exactly hurry to open the front door for us, did he?”

  Jane didn’t answer as she followed him into the foyer. What could she say? Dammit, Caleb may have said he was going to give me the opportunity to share in his hunt, but he was obviously playing his own games.

  Jock paused, looking around, then glided silently across the hall toward a wide, curved opening. A library or office? The darkness wasn’t as intense as Jane had first thought. The two beveled-glass panels on either side of the front door let the lights from the street filter into the hall and dimly lit the desk and bookcases against the far wall of the room. She followed Jock toward the doorway, trying to imitate his silent movements.

  Not a sound. So quiet, so deadly. This is the Jock Gavin who had been trained as an assassin all those years ago, she thought bitterly. How quickly he had fallen back into the old skills. Her fault. He was doing all this for her.

  It would do no good to feel guilty. She just had to work through this nightmare.

  She moved after him toward the opening.

  A bullet whistled by her cheek!

  “Down!” Jock turned and pushed her to the floor.

  Another bullet, this time splintering the spindle of the banister on the stairs beside her.

  Someone was running down those stairs. Male. White shirt, dark pants.

  Jock was rising to his knees, pulling a gun from his jacket.

  But the man had reached the door and jerked it open. The light from the streetlight illuminated him for the briefest instant.

  Tall. Muscular. Red hair.

  Then he was gone.

  “Damn! That’s Weismann.” Jock jumped to his feet and started for the door. Then he stopped. “I can’t leave you here. I don’t know if there’s anyone else in the house. Where the hell is Caleb?”

  “Here.” Caleb came out of the room with the arched doorway. “Get going.”

  Jock was out the door in two seconds.

  Caleb pulled her to her feet. “I told you to wait outside.”

  “Go to hell.” She was shaking. “And if I had waited out there, whoever was shooting at us would have run right into me.” She shook her head as she remembered Jock’s words. “It was Weismann. Jock must have recognized him.”

  “Then let’s hope he catches the bastard.”

  Jane glanced at the arched doorway of the room from which he’d run. “What were you doing in there?”

  “Just a little advance reconnaissance—”

  “Closing us out. That’s what Jock said would happen.”

  “Gavin is a smart man.” He gazed at the door Jock had left open when he’d started after Weismann. “I hope he’s as fast as he is clever.”

  “Why don’t you go after him?”

  “I trust Gavin to catch him if it’s possible. I understand he’s exceptional.” He glanced up the stairs to the second floor. “If there were anyone up there with him, I’d think they’d be barreling down those steps. Of course, if there’s only Adah Ziller in the house, she could be hiding.”

  “Or trying to climb out a window and get away,” Jane said dryly. “Maybe Weismann was trying to distract us.”

  “It would be quite a jump for her.” He looked up the stairs again. “I think I’d better go upstairs and take a look around.”

  “What were you doing in the office?”

  “I told you, I thought I’d see if I could find anything interesting in case Adah Ziller proved difficult.” He looked up the stairs again. “Where are you, Adah Ziller?” he murmured. “I don’t hear a sound . . .”

  Neither did Jane, and she didn’t like it. “Maybe she’s not here. Or maybe she wants us to think she’s not here.” She drew a deep breath. She was making guesses because she was afraid to face another ugly reality. “I’m tired of maybes.” She moved toward the stairs. “Let’s have a few certainties.”

  Caleb was beside her, then ahead of her, moving up the steps. “By all means. I don’t suppose you’ll let me go ahead and—”

  “No.” Her gaze was on the room at the top of the steps. “That door is open.” It was all the way open, as if jerked wide when someone had run through it. The other two doors on the floor appeared to be closed.

  Which could be—

  Caleb muttered a curse. He was at the top of the stairs, his gaze on the interior of the bedroom. “Damn. I was afraid of this. I had a feeling. I’m not going to be able to—” He was striding toward the bedroom. “I’m not going to tell you to stay out. It wouldn’t do any good. Just don’t blame me if you don’t like what you see.”

  “What are you—” Then she saw the woman huddled on the floor, one arm flung out before her, blood that had poured from a wound in her chest.

  Death.

  Dear God, another death.

  She sank back against the doorjamb.

  She stood there in the doorway, watching as Caleb knelt beside the woman. It had to be Adah Ziller.

  A pretty woman, Jane thought dully. Elegantly slim in her gold silk nightgown. Cafē-au-lait skin and black hair cropped fashionably close around her face. But her expression wasn’t pretty, it held an incredulous horror.

  “She wasn’t expecting him to do it,” Jane said. “She looks . . . surprised. Was she shot?”

  “No, it’s a knife wound.” He looked up at her. “A fresh kill. I’d say only a few minutes.”

  “Right before we got here.”

  “No, probably when we got here. He either saw us approach the house or heard us when we came in.”

  “So he killed her? Because we came here looking for him?”

  “He might not have even been sure who we were. He could have thought Millet had found him. Or even Venable’s men. Either way, he’d have considered it prudent to silence anyone who might have known anything about him.”

  “She was trying to help him. She’d taken him into her home.”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the gold nightgown clinging to the woman’s slim body. “And probably her bed.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have just taken her with him? Why kill her?”

  “Maybe he meant to do it anyway, and he just had to advance his plans a bit.” He stood up. “So he stabbed her and came down those steps firing.”

  Firing at her. Firing at Jock.

  The memory jarred her out of the shock that had left her dazed and bewildered. “Jock. He should have come back by now.” She turned. “I have to make sure he’s all right.”

  “Jane to the rescue,” he murmured. “Nursemaid to a baby tiger.”

  “Shut up, Caleb.” She started down the stairs. “He’s my friend.”

  “I know. I suppose that’s what’s bothering me.” He went on, “I’ll go after him. I’m the one who told him to take off after Weismann.” He grimaced. “Not that he would have obeyed any order I gave. All he cared about was that I was here to take care of you so he could run him down without feeling guilty. I would have—”

  “He got away. Hell, he was fast.” Jock stood in the front doorway. “He had a car parked two blocks away. He was already in it and a half a block down the street by the time I caught up with him.”

  “Damn,” Caleb said.

  “My sentiments,” Jock said.

  “It was definitely Weismann?” Jane asked.

  “Yes, what about Adah Ziller? Did you find out anything from her?”

  “She’s dead,” Jane said. “Stabbed.”

  “Dead end,” Jock said. “Then we’d better get out of here. As I was coming back, I saw lights popping on in sev
eral houses on the block. They must have heard those shots.”

  “Not yet,” Jane said. “I won’t have this be a dead end.”

  “Jane, they’ve probably called the police.”

  “Then we’ll have to hurry. Ten minutes, and we’ll be out of here. Weismann killed that woman because he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t tell whatever she knew. I want to see if she can still tell us.” She turned to Caleb. “You said you were searching in the office earlier. Did you find anything?”

  “I didn’t have a chance before you came into the house.”

  “Then go back and search it again until you do.”

  “What are we supposed to be looking for?” Caleb asked.

  “I have no idea. Anything that might be different or out of place I guess. How do I know? You’re the hunter. Jock, pull the car directly in front of the house and try to find some mud to hide the license number.” She braced herself. Lord, she didn’t want to do this. “I’ll go back into her bedroom and search there. Women often keep things that mean something to them close to them. There’s nothing closer or more intimate than a bedroom.”

  “Ten minutes.” Caleb was already down the stairs and heading for the library. He added dryly, “Or when we hear the first sirens.”

  Jock turned and left the house.

  Stop hesitating, Jane told herself. There isn’t time to give in to emotion. Turn around and go into Adah Ziller’s room and search. It wasn’t a violation. Whatever Jane found would help to punish that bastard who had betrayed Adah.

  She wheeled and flew back up the stairs.

  She carefully avoided looking at the woman lying on the floor.

  Bedside tables, first.

  She opened the drawer. Birth control. Pad, pencil. She went around the bed to the other bedside table. A small, malachite-studded Derringer pistol. Very pretty, like its owner. It was a pity she hadn’t had a chance to use it.

  Bathroom.

  Nothing but the usual products.

  Where else?

  Luggage.

  She opened the closet door and checked the overhead shelf. Zero.