cab. “But you were right about Quinn and Eve Duncan. It's only a matter of time before they start asking the same questions I would.” He settled in the cab. “I'll call you back later. Don't leave anything there. Clean as a whistle.”
“You may have behaved like an ass, but I won't, and I value my efficiency. I'll do my job.” He hung up.
As he should have done his, Trevor thought in disgust as the cab pulled away from the curb. But who the hell would have expected him to fall apart like that? “Hartsfield Airport,” he told the driver.
He should have expected it. It had been too long and every day had seemed a century. He'd thought he was prepared but evidently you couldn't prepare yourself for something like this.
So pick up the pieces and start again.
No, not again. His clumsiness had only caused him to take a step back. Because Jane MacGuire was here, only minutes away. He'd seen her, touched her. He was ahead of the game.
He was ahead of Aldo.
So far.
FOUR
I'm sorry, Detective Quinn.” The desk clerk glanced up from the computer. “Mr. Trevor hasn't checked in yet.”
“Look again,” Joe said impatiently. “I know he's here. I dropped him off fifteen minutes ago.”
The clerk did another search and then shook her head. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “Maybe he stopped off in the bar. Or perhaps he was hungry and went to the restaurant.”
Or perhaps he'd flown the coop, Joe thought as he turned away and headed for the bar. He was going to find out in a hurry even if he had to question every employee in both places.
He went through the restaurant and hopped into a taxi,” Joe told Eve twenty minutes later. “I've called the taxi company and a cab dropped off a man of his description at the airport ten minutes ago. I'm on my way.”
“Can't you call and have him picked up by airport security?”
“Not without risking a lawsuit against the department or an international incident. No proof, Eve. As Trevor would say, pure theory.”
“I've heard enough of Trevor's theories,” Eve said. “Have you called the precinct?”
“I've asked Christy to do the work since she's the one who connected me with Trevor. I'll call you back when I know something.”
“Make it soon. I'll be waiting.”
You didn't get him,” Eve said as she saw Joe's face when he walked into the cottage three hours later. “How did he get away?”
“Well, he didn't get on a plane. I checked with all the taxi dispatchers and he didn't take a taxi from the airport.” Joe dropped down on the couch and wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “My bet is that he hopped on MARTA and took the subway back into the city. A nice slick exit, hard to track and easy to lose.”
“Very smart.”
“What did you expect? He is smart. And he has damn good instincts. I don't think he had any intention of going on the lam when I dropped him off. He was playing me for all I was worth.”
“Did you get the report from Christy?”
“Thirty minutes ago. She called Scotland Yard directly and spoke to Inspector Falsworth. No Inspector Mark Trevor. But there's someone by that name who works in the evidence lab. Trevor wouldn't want to impersonate a real inspector. It could be an instant giveaway. But a title could possibly be confused and he'd want a bona fide name in case someone called the office instead of his cell number. They never sent that e-mail regarding our serial killer. They never suspected he was here in the States. They're still looking for him in the U.K.” He glanced at her. “Why did you think Trevor might be a phony?”
“I didn't think. It was pure guesswork. I got to wondering after you left how unusual Trevor's behavior was for a policeman. Proper procedure is drummed into all of you and he violated one of the cardinal rules.” Eve's lips tightened. “And then I started playing the what-if game. Could we be certain Trevor was who he said he was? What proof did we have? I'm sure he showed you his credentials, but they could be forged. And this e-mail could have been bogus too. It would have been difficult and nervy for him to infiltrate the Scotland Yard Web site and use it to send official e-mails, but not beyond the skills of an expert hacker. It was worth checking out.”
“Yes, it was. I only wish I'd been able to collar him before he slipped out.” His gaze went to the hall. “Did you tell Jane?”
“I told her we were checking on him. She didn't say much. She probably thinks I'm paranoid.” She headed for the kitchen. “I heated up a leftover steak for Jane when I knew you wouldn't be picking up Chinese. Do you want one?”
“I'm not hungry. But I'll take a glass of milk.” He got up and sat down at the bar. “Christy asked Scotland Yard to try to run a computer check on Trevor. She needs a good description.”
“They'll need more than that. Trevor's probably not his real name. I saved the coffee cup he used, to dust for fingerprints.” She set the glass of milk before him. “Jane might be able to help. She could give Christy a sketch of him.” She grimaced. “If she'll do it.”
“If she knows he's lied to us, she's not going to protect him.”
“Maybe. She was talking about how she used to do bad things for good reasons when she was a little girl. I don't like the way she was identifying with him.” She moistened her lips. “Do you think it's him? Do you think he's the one who killed Ruth?”
Joe didn't answer for a moment. “I was thinking about that all the way home. Pretending to be an investigator would be a smart way to get close to Jane.” He glanced at the file on the coffee table. “And he paved his way with very tempting bait.”
“Bastard.”
He nodded slowly. “It's safer to assume he's a danger to Jane until we know different.”
Her gaze narrowed on his face. “But you have your doubts.”
“I think he wanted to be part of the investigation.”
“It's not completely uncommon to have a serial killer trying to insinuate himself into the investigation. Look at Ted Bundy.”
“I know that.” He finished his milk. “I just think I would have spotted that kind of sick reaction. He pissed me off but not for one moment did I doubt that he wanted—” He shrugged. “Who the hell knows what he wanted? We'll find out when we find him. If he's still in the city.”
“Oh, he's still in the city,” Eve said jerkily. “Didn't you see his face when he was talking to Jane? There's no way he'd leave her.” She rinsed out the glass. “Did you get a report on Ruth?”
“Give it some time. Her photo will be in tomorrow's paper. Maybe someone will identify her.”
“I hope so. I wanted something good to come out of this.” She paused and then whispered, “I'm scared, Joe. What if that murderer was in this cottage, shaking Jane's hand?”
“Jane's safe, Eve.”
“Is she? God, I hope so.” She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Of course, she's safe. And we'll keep her that way.” She put the glass on the sink and came around the bar. “And now I'm going to see if Jane's still awake so I can talk to her about that sketch. Why don't you check and see if Christy has heard anything more?”
Aldo smiled as he studied the photo in the newspaper. It was an amazingly close likeness. The artist who had rendered the reconstruction was obviously very talented. Almost as talented as he'd been when he'd carefully removed those features with his surgical knife. He'd thought it would take much longer to put a face to the woman they were calling Ruth.
Her name wasn't Ruth. It was Caroline and someone would probably identify her soon. She wasn't a
