“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 he 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?”
“No, I don't think it is.” Eve's words came hard and fast. “I was sitting here going over these files and something occurred to me. I think everything may be wrong as hell.”
Trevor watched Quinn's car disappear around the corner before he turned and moved toward the registration desk.
He'd done all he could. A few tantalizing tidbits and a subtle threat to someone Quinn loved. Either one might do the trick. God, he hoped it would be enough. Today hadn't been his most shining hour. He'd come here prepared to be clever and conquer on all fronts and he'd made a gigantic mistake that was impossible to cover. Maybe if Eve Duncan and Quinn had been less smart, less perceptive, he might have been able to smooth it over, but they were as formidable as Bartlett had told him. He was lucky to have gotten out of there with—
He stopped short in the marble foyer as the realization sank home.
Perhaps not so lucky.
They were both smart and very, very perceptive. He had the experience to recognize those qualities and he'd seldom met anyone who'd filled him with more wariness.
And that experience was sending out vibrations that were triggering every instinct he possessed. He reached for his phone and dialed Bartlett. “I'm in Atlanta. Are you at the flat?”
“Yes.”
“Get out of there. You may have company.” He glanced around the lobby and then headed for the restaurant. There was almost always a street entrance to a hotel restaurant. “I blew it.”
“I can't believe it.” Bartlett chuckled. “All that slickness and you were knocked for six? I would have liked to have been there to see it.”
“I'm sure you would,” he said dryly. Yes, there was a street door at the back of the restaurant. He headed straight for it. “And I'd deserve to have you give me a hard time. Jesus, I was stupid. I behaved like a stinking amateur. I never expected to have that reaction.”
Bartlett was silent a moment. “Jane MacGuire?”
“I'd been waiting too long. I got panicky even before she walked in the room.”
“Panic? I've never seen you panic in any situation, you icy son of a bitch.”
“Well, you would have seen it today. I was scared to death she'd be lost before I even got a chance at her. And then I saw her and I tried to mend my fences but it was too late.”
“Is it her?”
“God, yes. She took my breath away. Even Aldo would be satisfied.” He opened the street door and hailed a
