“Jane may be in trouble. I'm afraid for her.”
Bonnie nodded soberly. “I'm afraid for her too. He's close.”
“Who's close?”
“The bad one.” She unfolded her legs and they dangled above the floor of the porch.
Such a little girl, Eve thought. So small and dear . . . “You don't know who he is?”
She shook her head. “Only that he's bad.”
“Like the man who killed you?”
“I can't think of that time, Mama. It's gone. So I can't answer you. But I know that the man who killed Ruth is twisted and dark.”
“I'm glad you can't remember that time, baby.” She cleared her throat. “But it's damn convenient you can't tell me any concrete facts. What good is a ghost if she's not useful?”
Bonnie threw back her head and laughed. “I'm useful. I keep you from going around all gloomy and suicidal. Besides, I don't have to be useful. You'll love me anyway.”
“Yes, I will.”
“And you'll love Jane, no matter what.”
“I'm not sure she believes that.”
“She's afraid to believe it. She's been hurt too many times.”
“That was a long time ago. Joe and I have tried to make up for all those years.”
“She's not like me. The bad times are still with her.”
“So what the hell can I do?”
Bonnie shook her head. “She has to work her way through it.”
“If she has time. If some bastard doesn't kill her like he did you.”
“You won't let that happen.” She tilted her head, listening. “I think Joe's almost finished talking on the phone. I'd better leave you. Do you know when I'll know you don't need me any longer?”
“I'll always need you.”
She shook her head. “You won't need me when you're so close to Joe that you'll share me with him. When you tell him I come to see you.”
“And have him tell me I'm nuts?”
“See, you're not ready.” She suddenly frowned. “Jane's dreaming again. She's scared. You'd better go to her.”
Eve rose to her feet. “She was fine before I came out here.”
“She's not now. Wake her. She can't do anything right now. She wants help, but there's nothing that— Wake her.”
Eve headed for the front door. “If she's not dreaming, your credibility is going to be zilch.”
Bonnie smiled. “Wake her. Good-bye, Mama. I'll see you soon.”
“You'd better.”
She opened the screen door and saw Joe still sitting on the couch talking on the phone. She glanced back at the porch swing and saw what she expected. Vacant. No Bonnie.
“I'll be right with you,” Joe said when he saw her in the doorway. “Give me a few more minutes.”
She nodded. “I'm going to check on Jane anyway.” She moved down the hall toward Jane's room. “It shouldn't take me long.”
Joe had hung up the phone and was pouring coffee from a freshly brewed pot when she came back in the room. “Okay?”
She frowned. “No, she was having another nightmare. I got her a glass of water and talked to her for a few minutes.”
“Did she tell you about it?”
She shook her head. “She said it was probably indigestion from too much of that ice cream cake after dinner.”
“Well, at least she didn't blame my steaks.” Joe handed her the cup and poured one for himself. “Did she settle down?”
“Yes, or pretended she did.” She sat down on the couch and glanced down at his notepad. “I gather you got through to Trevor?”
“Actually, he called me back before I started placing the call. He said he was an early riser and thought since I sounded so urgent that he'd take a chance on reaching me.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Not much. He said that they'd virtually come up with nothing in all these years. That they had no idea of the identity of the killer.”
“Then how did they track him here?”
“By following a trail of murders with the same MOs. He said he knew that killings like these were a compulsion that wouldn't stop and there were no more reports in the U.K. . . . So he started monitoring the killings in Europe and on this side of the Atlantic.”
“Then he has to know more than we do. Couldn't you get him to talk?”
“I did most of the talking. He zeroed in on Ruth and wouldn't let go. He was very interested in the fact that her fingerprints were obscured.”
“You told him about Jane?”
“No, I told him I wanted a complete report on all the victims sent to me immediately.”
“Good. When can we expect it?”
“One-thirty this afternoon. He's bringing it himself.”
“What?”
“He's catching the first flight from London. He wants to be here on the scene. He offered his assistance.”
“We don't need Scotland Yard.”
“But we may need Trevor.” He stared thoughtfully down into the coffee. “I caught something in his . . . I think this case may be an obsession with him. Sometimes it happens that way when you devote years to trying to find a killer.”
“‘Years' is the key word. Why hasn't Trevor found him before this? Before he came to the U.S.? Before he became a danger to Jane, dammit?”
“I'm sure you'll ask him,” Joe said. “As soon as he walks through that door.” He took a final swallow of coffee and set his cup down on the coffee table. “But in the meantime I'm going to take that reconstruction back to the precinct and see if we can find out who Ruth is and set the wheels in motion to track down who she might have been with in the days before her death.”
“It's nearly four in the morning, Joe.”
“I couldn't sleep.” He got to his feet. “I called and arranged for a police car to set up a stakeout to watch the cottage. They should be here soon.”
“Jane will wonder why they're here when she gets up.”
“Then you'll have to think of an explanation. Because they're staying here when I'm not around.”
“I'm not arguing. I want all the protection I can get for her.” She took her cup and Joe's to the sink. “It was just an observation. And I won't lie. She wouldn't forgive me for not being honest with her.” Her lips twisted ruefully. “And she'll probably think I'm stupid for being so terrified. She's braver than I am.”
“She only has different experiences.” He kissed her lightly on the lips and headed for the door. “No one has more guts than you do.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He glanced over his shoulder and saw her weary expression. He muttered a curse, turned on his heel and came back to her. He gave her a kiss that was definitely not light. It was hard and passionate and completely dizzying. She found her arms sliding around him, pulling him closer.
He lifted his head. “No one has more guts or endurance or beauty and don't you ever forget it.” He stepped back. “I'll try to get back in a few hours, but if I don't, I'll be here to lay this Scotland Yard whizbang at your feet this afternoon.”
“Okay,” she whispered. She didn't want him to go. She wanted to go to bed and forget Ruth and the danger to Jane and everything but the raw, wonderful sex that always bridged every abyss that threatened them.
“Me, too.” As usual, Joe had read her thoughts. He touched her lips with his forefinger. “Double. Say the word and I'll call the squad car and say I'm staying here for a few more hours. I probably won't be able to find out much at this hour anyway. I can leave at six.”
Her arms tightened around him. Joe . . . He was strength and life, and, Jesus, she needed him.
“Call them,” she whispered. “Six is soon enough.”
London
Trevor hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. “That was Quinn. I think he was impressed to find we start work early over here. I leave for Atlanta at nine.”
Bartlett smiled. “You said you'd get him. Do you want me to go with you?”
“Not now.”
He got up and headed for the closet. “I'll call you if I need you. Dig out that file on Quinn and Eve Duncan for me while I pack. I've got to be prepared for them. I need to know them inside out.”
Bartlett had already retrieved the file and was glancing through it. “You may have a problem. They're both pretty complicated. Eve Duncan grew up in the slums with a drug addict for a mother. She had an illegitimate daughter as a teenager and it turned her life around. She went to college and worked at straightening out her mother. Her daughter, Bonnie, was taken and presumably killed by a serial killer when she was seven. The body was never found. It was thought that Bonnie was recovered a few years ago, but it was discovered later that it was another child.”
“And Quinn?”
“Born of privileged parents and was an FBI agent for a while before becoming a detective for the ATLPD. He owns a lake cottage and extensive acreage near Atlanta. That's where Quinn and Duncan live.” He glanced up at Trevor. “He's tough and smart and tenacious as a bulldog.”
“Weakness?”
“Eve Duncan. No doubt about it. He's been with her from the time of her daughter's death and he may have stayed in Atlanta instead of continuing with the FBI to be near her.”
“A button to push.”
“Not unless you want to set off a chain explosion.”
“Sometimes explosions are necessary.” Trevor smiled recklessly. “I'll risk it.”
“You always do.” Bartlett's smile faded. “They're tough. Both of them. Be careful that explosion doesn't take you out.”
Trevor snapped his suitcase shut. “Why, Bartlett, I believe you're worried about me.”
“Nonsense. I'm just too lazy to look for a new contact. Are you taking this file with you?”
“Not if you've covered the high points.” He set the suitcase on a chair. “I'll just glance at the MacGuire file while you go downstairs and hail me a taxi.”
“Again? You should have it memorized by now. There's not much there. Jane MacGuire's only seventeen, grew up in foster homes, and she's been with Duncan and Quinn since she was ten. She's an honor student and never been in trouble. But she's too young to have much experience or history.”
“I disagree. Look at her face. She's young, but there's a world of experience in that face. And he'll see it. It will draw him like a magnet.” He gazed down at the face of the girl staring boldly out of the photo. “The taxi, Bartlett.”
“Right away.”
Trevor barely heard the door close behind him. Excitement was soaring through him and he had to suppress it. He had to think coolly and clearly if he was to win this battle. And he would win it, dammit.
His finger delicately touched the cheek of the girl in the photo. She was close. Remarkably, marvelously, close.
“Close enough, Aldo?” he murmured. “Cira?”
THREE
Ruth really looked like me?” Jane gazed in disappointment at the empty pedestal. “I wish I could have seen the reconstruction before Joe whisked it away. May I go down to the precinct and take a—”
“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?”
Blind Alley Page 3
