“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.”
“Can't you identify who he's trying to punish by killing these women? Records? Databases?”
“It would be a needle in a haystack, Eve,” Joe said.
Trevor nodded. “And unfortunately we don't have any technology that sophisticated. We have no central photographic database. However, we did make the attempt to check all our records and came up with nothing.” He paused, his eyes sliding to the window before he brought his attention back to Eve. “However, I have a theory that even if the odds weren't so huge we might not have been able to find him in our records.”
“Why not?”
“When I was digging for information after the last killing in Brighton, I found records of a killing in Italy and one in Spain before the first murder in London. Both women smothered, both with faces destroyed.”
“Christ, we can't even narrow down his country of origin?” Joe asked in disgust. “What about Interpol?”
Trevor shook his head. “Do you think I haven't scanned every bit of info during these last years? If he did kill other women, there's no record I could find.”
“And he didn't leave any calling cards as some serial killers do?”
Trevor was silent a moment. “Well, yes, he did.”
“What? Why the hell didn't you tell us that to begin with?” Eve said.
“I thought you might already know.” He turned to Joe. “Haven't you received your forensic report on your Jane Doe?”
“Not everything. It's coming in bits and pieces.”
“Then they haven't analyzed the ashes yet?”
“Ashes,” Eve echoed.
“They found ashes with Ruth's body,” Joe said. “We thought it might be evidence she was killed in the woods and the campfire was—”
“Not wood ashes,” Trevor said. “And no cozy little campfire. The report will come back volcanic ash.”
“Shit.” Joe started to dial his phone. “You're sure?”
“Quite sure. Particles of volcanic ash were found with every body. Your Birmingham police were understandably negligent in having the ashes analyzed in a case where the victim burned to death. They'd naturally assume any ashes were produced by the fire itself.”
“Then why didn't you notify them?”
“I'm notifying you now. It's your case.” He rose to his feet and moved swiftly toward the window. “Hadn't you better check on her?”
Eve was suddenly aware of Trevor's tension. The easy composure was gone and he was alert, restless, totally focused. She stiffened as she remembered how his gaze had slid to the window moments before. “Jane?”
He nodded curtly. “You said she was right behind you.”
She glanced at Joe.
He shook his head and hung up the phone. “I didn't discuss her with him.”
Trevor stiffened, his gaze narrowing. “There she is.” He turned to Eve. “You shouldn't have left her alone.”
“If you'll look a few yards behind her, you'll see that she's not alone.” Eve went to stand beside him at the window. Jane was coming up the path with Toby at her heels and the two policemen trying to keep up with her. “I'd never leave her without protection.” Her voice was cold. “You can never tell who you can trust in this world. How did you know about Jane?”
He turned to look at her. “I'm sorry. Of course you'd protect her. I spoke impulsively.”
“How did you know about Jane?” she repeated.
“Your suspicions are very healthy. I approve. But I'm the last person you should be concerned about. To make sure that she's safe is the reason I'm here.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a creased and faded newspaper clipping. “I've had my assistant scanning all the major city newspapers for some time and lo and behold he came up with this photo of Jane MacGuire.”
Eve recognized the photo. It had been taken when Jane had entered Toby in a charity dog show for the Humane Society three months ago. It was a little blurred but Jane's face was clear. Terror iced through Eve.
“He may not have seen it.” Trevor was reading her expression. “I don't know how he picks his victims. Some have to be random. The Millbruk woman in Birmingham. Peggy Knowles in Brighton. She was a prostitute, too. Neither of them had their photos in the newspaper.”
“And the others?”
“One had just won a gardening award a week before.”
“So he does look at the newspapers.”
“Possibly. But he can't be sure of finding his victims by reading the newspapers and, if they were a source, he'd have to limit himself to certain areas because of the sheer magnitude of the task. I'd say he has some other way of targeting.”
“Another theory?” She was chilled. “You found her, dammit.”
“But the chances were against it. I was really having my colleague Bartlett doing routine checks to see what he could come up with.”
“And you came up with Jane.” Joe took the photo from Eve. “And it's too damn clear. Why didn't you notify me if you thought she was in danger?”
“The e-mail,” he reminded him.
“Damn the e-mail. You should have been specific.”
“I didn't even know he was in your area until the Millbruk murder and that was two months after this photo was taken. And if he'd seen this photo, it wasn't likely that he'd waste time and effort on any other target. He'd have come straight to her.”
“Why?”
“Look at her.” Trevor's gaze went to the photo. “She's so vibrant she almost jumps out of the picture. When you compare her to the other victims, they're like counterfeits compared to the real thing.”
“All the more reason why you should have let us know.”
“There might have been no threat to her.”
“You bastard, we should have been told.”
“I assure you we've been keeping an eye on her. The moment I saw this photo, I sent Bartlett here to watch her. But I'm sure I would have felt the same way if I were in your shoes.”
“You don't know how we would have felt,” Eve said fiercely. “You cold son of a bitch. I don't care if you catch your killer. I want to keep Jane safe.”
“So do I.” He met her gaze. “There's nothing I want more. Believe me.”
She did believe him. There could be no doubting either his sincerity or the intensity of his feeling. It didn't lessen her anger.
“And do you mean you've been spying on us without—”
“I think your policemen are afraid of Toby, Joe.” Jane was laughing as she came into the room. “He growled when they came too close behind me and they stopped so short they almost got whiplash. You'd think they'd realize Toby is—” She stopped as her glance went from Eve to Trevor. She gave a low whistle. “Do I sense a rift in Anglo-American relations?”
Trevor smiled. “Not on my part. I'm solidly in your camp. You're Jane MacGuire, aren't you? I'm Mark Trevor.”
Jane was silent, staring at him. “Hello. You're not what I expected.”
“You're everything I expected.” He crossed the room and took her hand. “And more.”
Jane was gazing at him in fascination and Eve could understand why. She had felt the same response to that smile and charisma when she'd first seen him. But that was before she'd realized how cool and ruthless he could be. In the space of minutes he'd changed from an ally into an adversary. She had an impulse to run across the room and jerk Jane away from him. “Mr. Trevor was just leaving.”
/>
Trevor didn't look away from Jane. “Yes, I'm afraid I've put myself in their bad books. I blew it.” He smiled ruefully. “I was skimming along famously and then I got worried they weren't taking proper care of you and I opened my mouth and let all my hard work go up in smoke.”
“What hard work?”
“They'll explain.”
“I want you to explain.” She gazed directly into his eyes. “You've been trying to catch that murderer. What have you been doing and how does it affect me?”
He chuckled. “I should have known you'd be like this. You're a delight.”
“And you're bullshitting me.”
“I'm not, you know.” His smile faded. “You want the truth? You're a target and I've known for some time that there was the possibility that you might be under the gun. I watched and waited. And Ms. Duncan and Quinn quite rightly are outraged that I didn't immediately surround you with all the protection you deserve.”
“Yes, we are,” Eve said. “Because I can think of only one reason why you'd wait. If you had her watched, then you may have wanted to set her up as bait.”
“The possibility occurred to me.” He looked back at Jane. “But I would never have let anything happen to you. No one's going to hurt you. I promise.”
“Which means zilch,” Jane said. “I'm responsible for what happens to me. Not you or Eve or Joe. I take care of myself. I don't care if you played some kind of game to trap that creep. As long as you didn't hurt anyone I care about.” She took a step back. “But I think you'd better leave now. You've upset Eve.”
His brows lifted. “And that's a sin, I take it.”
“Yes, it is.” She gestured to the door. “Good-bye, Mr. Trevor. If you can catch that creep, good luck to you. But don't come back unless you have a darned good reason.”
“And don't upset Eve.”
“You've got it.” She turned to Joe. “It's suppertime. Do you want me to warm up those leftovers from the steaks you grilled last night?”
“I appear to be dismissed.” Trevor smiled and headed for the door. “I'll be in touch, Quinn.”
Joe nodded curtly. “Like she said, you better have a good reason.”
“The very best. I won't darken your door until I do,” Trevor said. “May I commandeer one of your policemen to take me to town?”
Joe nodded again. “He'll drop you at a hotel.” He paused. “Or the airport.”
Trevor gave a mock shiver. “The welcome mat has definitely been yanked. I can only hope that I can reinstate myself in your good graces.”
“You were never in them,” Eve said. “We don't know you and now we don't trust you.”
He paused at the door. “You can trust me,” he said quietly. “If you searched the world over, you wouldn't find anyone who wants to keep Jane safe more than I do.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a card, and placed it on the table by the door. “That's for you, Jane. My cell number. If you need anything, call me. I'll be there for you.” The door closed behind him.
“Whew.” Jane went to the window and watched him as he moved toward the police car. “He's definitely not stuffy or slow moving, is he?”
“No.” Eve's gaze narrowed on her face. “What do you think of him?”
She glanced at Eve. “Why?”
“When you first met him, you couldn't take your eyes off him. He's very good-looking, isn't he?”
“Is he?” She frowned. “I suppose he is. I didn't really notice.”
“That's hard to believe. It was pretty clear you were fascinated.”
“He reminded me of someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't remember. Someone . . .” She saw Eve's expression and she smiled. “You're worried. You think I developed a crush on him in the few minutes he was here? I don't have crushes, Eve. You know that.”
Relief surged through her. She smiled. “There's always a first time. I'd be glad to see you have a crush or two. I keep hoping and waiting for a breakthrough.” She shook her head. “But pick a rock star or a football player. Not him, Jane.”
“Definitely not him.” Joe headed for the door. “I think I'll escort him into town myself. Don't bother to heat up the steaks. I'll pick up Chinese on the way back.”
Jane giggled as the door closed behind him. “He reminds me of the sheriff in a spaghetti western. Only he'd be running the outlaw out of town, not escorting him to the hotel.” She moved over to the door and picked up Trevor's business card on the table. “He really upset both of you. You'd think he was attacking me instead of only doing his job.”
“He should have notified us of any threat. That's what any policeman I know would have done.”
“Maybe Scotland Yard is different.”
“Are you defending him?”
“I suppose I am.” She stuffed the card in the pocket of her jeans. “Do you remember when I was little and stole food to feed Mike when he was hiding out in that alley? I didn't want to do it. I knew it was wrong, but Mike was six years old and would have gone hungry if I hadn't found a way to feed him. Sometimes you have to do bad things to keep worse things from happening.”
“It's not the same. You were only ten.”
“If I couldn't find any other way, I'd do it today. Maybe that's why I understand Trevor.”
“You can't understand him,” Eve said curtly. “You don't know him.”
“I just don't see what all the fuss is about. You told me that Joe thought he was obsessed with this case. I can see why anyone who felt that deeply would be willing to snoop around a bit and see if he could spot anyone suspicious before he let me be surrounded by cops that might scare him off.”
“That's more than I can see.” Eve's lips tightened grimly. “And why are you keeping his telephone number?”
“Because I believed him when he said he wanted to keep me alive.” She met Eve's eyes. “Didn't you?”
Eve wanted to deny it, but it wouldn't have been honest and Jane would have known it. “Yes. But that doesn't mean I'd trust his ways and means.”
Jane nodded. “I see what you mean. But sometimes you take what you can get. Trevor may be unconventional but I'd bet he's very good at what he does.” She moved toward the bedroom. “Now I'm going to do my homework so that I can enjoy that Chinese food Joe is bringing home.”
Eve watched the door shut behind her. Jesus, she wished Jane wasn't so damn smart. From the time she was a child she'd always known her own mind and trusted her judgments.
And her judgments were usually good, better than most adults'. That didn't mean that she was infallible. Trevor was smart and charismatic and both qualities would appeal to a teenager like Jane.
But there weren't any teenagers like Jane. She was an original and her reactions were distinctly her own.
She'd kept his telephone number, dammit.
She sighed. Who knew which way Jane would jump? She might be worrying for nothing.
After all, she'd kicked him out of the house just because he'd upset Eve.
This is the Peachtree Plaza.” Joe pulled up before the front entrance. “I made reservations for you for two days. I didn't think you'd be here any longer.”
“And now you hope I won't be.” Trevor got out of the car as the doorman opened the door. “My assistance is no longer required.”
“I imagine I'll be able to find out all I need from those files you brought. We don't need you.”
Trevor smiled. “But you've got me. And how do you know I put everything I know into those files?”
Joe's gaze narrowed on his face. “For instance.”
“The volcano that produced those ashes. You'll notice the geologists couldn't come to any conclusion.”
“But you know where they originated?”
“I have theories.”
“Theories aren't proof.”
“But they're a starting point.”
“And do you have a theory about why he scatters those ashes?”
“Maybe.” Trevor tipped the doorman as h
e grabbed his duffel. “What's certain is that we could be valuable to each other, Quinn. And you're coming in late on a case that I've lived and breathed for years.”
“Do you think I don't know you're trying to play me?” Joe said coolly. “You're dangling little morsels of information in hopes that I'll forgive all and let you edge back into the investigation. But you haven't given me anything. Zilch.”
“Jane used that word too.” Trevor smiled. “It's a warm and heartening thing the way families pick up words and traits from each other.” He pretended to think. “You're right. I've told you nothing really. Theories are so difficult to substantiate. And you have all the time in the world to formulate your own and then investigate, don't you?” He didn't wait for a reply but turned and walked into the hotel.
Bastard.
Joe sat at the wheel, his gaze fixed on the door. Trevor would take a sly pleasure out of having him run after him. He'd be damned if he'd do it. Even if logic told him he should wring every bit of information Trevor possessed out of the mocking son of a bitch, he'd wait until he was certain that he couldn't get it any other way. Trevor was a force to be reckoned with and he didn't need a wild card spinning the investigation out of Joe's control.
He pressed the accelerator and glided back to the street.
Ashes from a volcano . . .
Weird. Maybe the scientists they had on this side of the Atlantic could come up with an answer. But if they did, they'd have to be damn quick. Trevor's last remark had hit the bull's-eye. They might be running out of time for Jane.
The thought sent a bolt of panic through him and tempted him to turn around and go back to Trevor. To hell with Anglo-American cooperation. There were other ways than persuasion to get information from the son of a bitch. Two could play that game. Trevor had violated his position by not informing him about the danger to—
His phone rang and he glanced at the ID. Eve.
“I've just dropped him off,” he said. “I'll be home in forty-five minutes. Everything okay?”
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