Countdown

by Iris Johansen

  “No? How would you feel if it was your kid, Fox?”

  Lake Cottage

  Atlanta, Georgia

  What are you doing out here on the porch?” Eve asked as she came up the steps. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” Jane pushed her dog, Toby, to one side to make room for Eve on the top step. “I thought you’d be staying with Sandra at her condo.”

  “I was planning on it, but Ron showed up and I felt a little de trop. They may be divorced, but they both loved Mike. I’m glad he’s there for her.”

  Jane nodded. “I remember all the fishing trips he took Mike on when he was a kid. Is he going to the funeral tomorrow?”

  “Today,” Eve corrected. “Probably. Did Joe go to bed?”

  “Yes. He wasn’t expecting you either. You’d better get some sleep. It’s going to be a difficult day.” She looked out at the lake. “A nightmare of a day.”

  “For you, too. It’s been a nightmare since the moment you met Mike in that bar.” She paused. “Do you ever have those dreams of Cira anymore?”

  Jane looked back at her, startled. “What? Where did that come from?”

  Eve shrugged. “Nightmares. It just popped into my mind.”

  “Now? It’s been four years and you’ve never mentioned anything about them.”

  “That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about them. I just figured it would be better if we forgot about everything connected with that time.”

  “That’s not easy to do.”

  “Obviously,” Eve said dryly. “You’ve been on three archaeological field trips back to Herculaneum since you entered Harvard.”

  Jane gently stroked Toby’s head. “You never argued with me about it.”

  “That would have been placing too much importance on something I wanted to fade from your memory. That didn’t stop me from hating it. I didn’t want you to spend your youth chasing an obsession.”

  “It’s not an obses— Well, maybe it is. I only know I have to find out about Cira. I have to know if she lived or died when that volcano erupted.”

  “Why? It was two thousand years ago, dammit.”

  “You know why. She had my face. Or I have her face. Whatever.”

  “And you dreamed about her for weeks before you actually knew she existed.”

  “I probably read about her someplace.”

  “But you haven’t been able to verify that.”

  “That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” She made a face. “I like that explanation better than some wacky psychic bullshit.”

  “You didn’t answer me. Have you dreamed about her?”

  “No. Satisfied?”

  “Partially.” She was silent a moment. “Have you been in contact with Mark Trevor?”

  “What is this? Twenty questions?”

  “It’s me, loving you, and making sure that you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay. And I haven’t talked to Trevor since that night he left Naples four years ago.”

  “I thought you might have run into him on one of those excavations.”

  “He wouldn’t be on his knees spooning dirt with college kids. He knows where those scrolls are buried, blast him.” Trevor had been involved in the smuggling of ancient Roman artifacts when he was contacted by a less than legitimate professor of antiquities and his son, Aldo. They’d discovered a library in a tunnel leading from the villa of Julius Precebio, one of the ancient town’s leading citizens. The library had proved to contain a number of bronze tubes holding priceless scrolls, which had escaped the lava flow that destroyed the villa. Many of the scrolls had been devoted to describing Julius’s mistress, Cira, who had been a bright star in the theater at Herculaneum. Aldo and his father had blown the tunnel to kill everyone who had knowledge of its location, including Trevor. But he’d managed to escape. “Trevor’s the one who camouflaged the site after the cave-in. He doesn’t want anyone to find that tunnel before he can go back and get that chest of gold Julius mentioned in the scrolls.”

  “Maybe he’s already found it.”

  “Maybe.” Jane had often wondered that same thing, but she had still kept searching. “But I have a feeling . . . I don’t know. I have to keep looking. Dammit, I should be the one to find those scrolls. I deserve it. I’m the one who had that crazy after me trying to slice off my face because I looked like Cira.”

  “Then why didn’t you tackle Trevor and get him to tell you where they were?”

  “Persuading Trevor to do anything is never an option. He wants the gold, and he believes he deserves it after he lost his friend Pietro in that tunnel. Besides, how was I supposed to find him when Interpol couldn’t keep track of him?”

  “I rather thought he might have contacted you when you were over there.”

  “No.” On Jane’s first expedition she had fought that irrational thought for the entire time she was in Herculaneum. She had found herself looking over her shoulder, remembering Trevor’s voice, fighting the feeling that he was around the corner, in the next room, somewhere—near. “It’s not likely that he’d stay in touch. I was only seventeen and he thought I was too young to be interesting.”

  “Seventeen going on thirty,” Eve said. “And Trevor was no fool.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Nothing Trevor would do would surprise me. He was one of a kind.”

  Eve’s tone was almost affectionate, Jane realized. “You liked him.”

  “He saved my life. He saved Joe. He saved you. It’s hard to dislike a man who’s stacked up that kind of credit. That doesn’t mean I approve of him. His intelligence may be off the charts, and he definitely has a way about him. But he’s a smuggler, a con man, and God knows what else.”

  “What else indeed? He’s had four years to get into all kinds of nefarious pursuits.”

  “At least you’re not defending him.”

  “No way. He’s probably the most brilliant man I’ve ever met and could coax the birds from the trees. Other than that, he’s an enigma, he’s proficient in all manner of violence, and he has an addiction to walking a tightrope. None of those qualities tend to endear themselves to a hardheaded, practical woman like me.”

  “Woman . . .” Eve sadly shook her head. “I still think of you as a girl.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll stay.” Jane leaned her head against Eve’s shoulder. “Whatever you want me to be. You name it.”

  “I just want you to be happy.” She brushed her lips against Jane’s forehead. “And not waste your life chasing after a woman who’s been dead two thousand years.”

  “I won’t waste my life. I just have to have my questions answered before I can walk away.”

  Eve was silent a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was wrong to want to bury the past. Maybe it would have been healthier to just let you go for it.”

  “Stop blaming yourself. You never said a word to me when I went back to Herculaneum.”

  Eve stared out at the lake. “No, I never said a word to you.”

  “And it’s not as if I’m devoting all my time to Cira. I’ve won a couple art competitions, I’ve gone on several search-and-rescue missions with Sarah, and I’ve kept my grades up.” She looked up with a smile. “And I haven’t been toying with gorgeous ne’er-do-wells like Mark Trevor. I’m golden.”

  “Yes, you are.” Eve straightened and rose to her feet. “And I want to keep you that way. We’ll talk more after this funeral is over.” She headed for the door. “We’d both better get some sleep. I told Sandra we’d pick her up at eleven.”

  “I’ll come in soon. I want to stay out here with Toby for a while.” She gave the dog a hug. “Lord, I miss him when I’m at school.” She paused. “Why did all this come tumbling out now, Eve?”

  “I don’t know.” She opened the screen door. “Mike. That horrible, senseless murder. I guess it reminded me of Aldo and his fixation on Cira, all those killings . . . and the way he stalked you. And now Mike’s murder may have something
to do with you too.”

  “Maybe not. We don’t know anything for sure.”

  “No, we don’t.” The door closed behind her.

  It was odd that Eve had connected Mike’s murder with that nightmare time in Herculaneum. Or maybe not so strange. She, Joe, Eve, and Trevor had been bound together in a common purpose to put an end to that monster, Aldo, and then had put it behind them. Only how could you truly abandon the memory of an experience like that and walk away? She and Trevor had been knit so closely that she felt as if she had known him forever. It hadn’t mattered that his past was murky or that he was totally ruthless and self-serving. She had been motivated by self-preservation and he had been driven by greed and revenge. Yet they had come together and gotten the job done.

  Stop thinking about him. Talking to Eve about Trevor had caused the flood of memory to rush back to her. She had put him firmly in the back of her consciousness and only brought him out at her convenience. That way she remained in control as she had never succeeded in doing when she was with him.

  What could you expect? She had only been seventeen and he had been almost thirty and experienced as hell. She had handled him very well considering the emotional storm she’d been going through at the time.

  She stood up and moved toward the door. Forget Trevor and Cira. They didn’t belong in her life right now. She had to concentrate on her family and the effort it was going to take to get through today.

  3

  She hated funerals, Jane thought numbly as she stared down at the coffin. Whoever thought they were some kind of catharsis must be nuts. Every moment hurt, and she could see no healing coming from this ritual. She’d said her own good-byes to Mike during these last three days since that senseless murder. She was only here for Sandra.

  And Sandra looked like she was going to collapse any moment and was paying attention to no one. Eve was standing beside her, but Sandra probably didn’t even know she was there. Several of Mike’s friends were gathered at the grave site. Jane knew a few of them: Jimmy Carver, Denise Roberts, and Paul Donnell. Her roommate, Pat, had also flown down for the funeral and was looking uncharacteristically solemn. Nice of her to come. Nice of all of them.

  Only a few more minutes and they could leave the cemetery. Those minutes seemed to take a lifetime.

  It was over.

  She stepped forward to throw her rose on the coffin.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Pat asked as Jane turned away from the grave. “I’m supposed to get back to school, but I’ll bail if you need me.”

  Jane shook her head. “Go on. I don’t need you. I’ll see you tomorrow or maybe the next day.”

  Pat made a face. “I should have known. You don’t need anyone. You’re always willing to step up to the plate if I’m in a jam but heaven forbid if I try to return the favor. Did it ever occur to you that I’d feel good to be on the giving end?”

  “You don’t know how much you’ve already given me.” She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. “I should have told you. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to . . . When I first met you, I was so serious and responsible I couldn’t even think about just relaxing and having a good time. You taught me that having a good time isn’t a crime and that joy can come from some pretty bizarre situations.”

  Pat smiled. “You mean like the time we got stuck in the car in that snowstorm because you had to come and get me when I drank too much? Not much joy there. You gave me hell.”

  “You deserved it. But even from that fiasco there will be good memories. We sang stupid songs and talked for hours while we waited to be rescued. It . . . enriched me. You enriched me.”

  Pat didn’t speak for a moment. “I do believe I’m choking up. I’d better get out of here.” She gave Jane a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Jane watched her walk away. Pat was almost as awkward at personal interchanges as Jane was. Strange they shared that reticence when they were so different in other ways. Pat had been caught off guard by Jane’s words at this sensitive moment. It was because of the very sadness of this time that the words had tumbled from Jane’s lips. She had lost one friend, and she wished with all her heart that she’d been able to tell him how much he meant to her. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  “Jane.” Paul Donnell was standing beside her, his face pale. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before, but I want you to know how— I can’t tell you how I regret not walking you back to the car that night. I didn’t think— I hope you don’t blame me for—”

  “I don’t blame anyone but the bastard who killed Mike. And how could you know it would happen?”

  He nodded quickly, jerkily. “That’s right. I couldn’t know, but I still regret— I liked Mike. I never wanted anything to happen to him. I just had to tell you that I—” He turned away. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  She watched him walk away. He was truly upset. Upset enough to disturb that slick facade he usually maintained. Perhaps he and Mike had been closer friends than she’d thought. Or perhaps he did feel guilty for not being there when Mike had needed him. A thought occurred to her. Or perhaps it was—

  “Come on, Jane.” Joe was beside her, taking her arm. “I’ll drive you back to the cottage.”

  “Okay.” Then she suddenly shook her head. “No, I have to go to the airport. I’m going to say good-bye to Sandra and then go back to school. There’s something I have to do there.”

  “Jane, take a few days off. You need—”

  “There’s something I have to do.” She turned away. “I’ll be okay, Joe.”

  “The hell you will. You’re not okay right now. Look, Sandra’s upset. She doesn’t really blame you. It wouldn’t make sense.”

  “She blames me,” she added sadly. “She blames everyone and everything right now. She can’t even stand to look at me. I know she doesn’t want to hurt me. She can’t help it. Her world’s upside down. You and Eve need to comfort her and it’s better if I’m not around.”

  “She’s not the only one who needs comforting,” Joe muttered. “You need us, dammit.”

  “I have you. You’re always with me.” She tried to smile. “I don’t have to have you in the same room or holding my hand. I believe Sandra does right now. I’ll call you after I get back to my dorm. Okay?”

  “No. But I guess it will have to be. You’re not going to give in.” His lips tightened. “But I’m not going to let you go back there unprotected. I’ve hired a security guard to tail you until Manning’s investigation turns up a reason for that attack. He’ll be waiting at your dorm when you get there.”

  “I don’t care. If it makes you feel better.”

  “You’re damn right it makes me feel better.” He opened the door of the car for her. “No one is going to hurt you.”

  It was too late. She was already hurting. She couldn’t erase the image of Mike lying in that car with the blood pouring from his chest, begging her to help him.

  She could feel her eyes stinging. Not now. Don’t start crying again now.

  The time for tears was over.

  Paul.”

  Paul Donnell stiffened and turned around as he was climbing the steps to his dorm. “Jane?” He smiled. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be staying behind in Atlanta. May I help you?”

  “I believe you can.” She reached over and opened the passenger door of her car. “Get in.”

  His smile faded. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. I’m behind in my homework since I took time out to go to the funeral. Suppose I call you tomorrow.”

  “Suppose you get in the car,” she said curtly. “Don’t play games with me, Paul. Do you want to talk to me or do you want to talk to the police?”

  “That sounds like a threat. I’ve been upset enough because I lost my friend, and I don’t need—”

  “Was he your friend? Do you betray your friends, Paul?”

  He moistened his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”


  “Do you want me to explain? Do you want me to get out of this car and shout it so that everyone on the campus can hear me? I’ll do it. Mike must have told you that I’m not in the least shy.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Yes, he told me.”

  “He confided a lot of things to you. Because he trusted you. Mike was vulnerable to anyone he thought was his friend.”

  “I was his friend. I resent you—”

  She opened the driver’s door and started to get out.

  “No!” He strode around the car. “If you won’t be reasonable, I’ll have to—”

  “I’m not reasonable.” She locked the doors as soon as he got in the car, and took off. “I’m angry and I want answers.”

  “You have no reason to be angry with me.” He paused. “Just what do you think I did?”

  “I think you set Mike up.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I think you worked on him until he was so depressed and scared that he was like putty in your hands. I think you got him drunk and then called me. I think you knew someone was waiting in that alley.”

  “Crap. Look, I know Mike said some weird stuff that night, but he was drunk.”

  “That’s what I believed until it all came together after the funeral and I was wondering why you were so nervous. There were plenty of parking meters available on that street. Why risk being towed off by parking in the alley?”

  “There weren’t any spaces when we got there.”

  “When I got to the airport today, I went straight to the Red Rooster and questioned the bartender. He said that it was a slow night and there were plenty of available spaces on the street when he came on duty at seven. You got there at seven-fifteen, right?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s what the bartender said.”

  “Pull over. I don’t have to take this.”

  “Yes, you do.” But she pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car. “Talk to me. Who paid you to set Mike up?”

  “No one.”

  “Then you did it because you had a grudge against him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then we’re back to square one.”