“You seem to be doing a pretty good job so far. Poison gas . . . That's the only one who died like that, isn't it? Drownings, incineration, smothering. For a serial killer he doesn't seem to be consistent in his methods. They usually have a weapon of preference, don't they?”
“He's consistent. Each one of those deaths occurred to the citizens of Herculaneum during the eruption. He's killing Cira over and over in every conceivable way she could have died that night.”
“My God.”
“Are you okay?” Trevor's gaze was narrowed on her face.
“Of course I am.” She looked out at the lake. “How did Cira die?”
“I don't know. Every scroll in the library concerned Cira's life, not her death.”
“Then maybe she didn't die at Herculaneum. There were survivors, weren't there?”
“Yes.”
“Then she could have been one of them.”
“I'd think a woman like Cira would have been heard from in the years after the disaster if she'd lived. She was no shrinking violet.”
“Maybe she had a reason to disappear.”
He was silent a moment. “That had a note of desperation. You really want her to have survived, don't you? Why?”
“Don't be silly. I'm not desperate about anything. She just didn't deserve to die in that tunnel.”
“Tunnel?” He was gazing at her oddly. “Why should she have died in a tunnel? She had a fine home in Herculaneum.”
“Did she? I must have been thinking about the gold in the tunnel.” She changed the subject. “I just remembered that Joe wanted to know if you'd figured out how Aldo found all those women with Cira's face. You said one woman's photo was in the newspaper and I guess he could have stumbled on one or two of them, but not all. And he was moving so fast in the past few weeks that he couldn't have just gotten lucky.”
He shook his head. “I've been concentrating more on getting Aldo, not the whys and wherefores. But tell Quinn I'll work on it.”
“Good. You won't be alone. Joe may figure it out before you do. He doesn't like to ask for help.”
“He didn't. You did it for him. Did Bartlett come by and introduce himself?”
“Yes, he's very unusual. How did you get together with him?”
“I was backtracking after I saw that photo of Peggy Knowles and questioned all the families of the victims I ran across. Bartlett was on Ellen Carter's list. I was pretending to be from Scotland Yard at the time. I'm pretty good and no one else was suspicious. But Bartlett is a hell of a lot smarter than he looks. He followed me back to my hotel and pulled a gun on me.”
“Bartlett?”
He smiled. “He surprised me, too. He was scared to death but he was determined. His hand was shaking so badly that I thought I'd better talk fast or he'd shoot one of us by accident.”
“Why didn't he call the police on you?”
“Because he wasn't happy with the way the investigation had been going. He loved Ellen Carter.”
“He said he had three ex-wives.”
“She was number two. Bartlett stays close to his wives even after they divorce him.”
“Why would they divorce him? He seems . . . sweet.”
“He has a talent for choosing the wrong partners. Some men marry the same type of woman over and over. He has no problem acquiring wives. Women seem to melt and want to take him home. Didn't you?”
She nodded. “And Eve's taken him lunch and coffee today. And she had to leave a reconstruction she's working on to do it.”
“See?”
“Well, evidently you weren't immune either.”
“You're right.” His lips twisted ruefully. “He's stubborn as hell and he wouldn't leave me alone after he knew that I was trying to find Aldo. He quit his job as an accountant and he's been with me ever since.”
“I like him.”
“All women—dammit, I like him, too.” His gaze went to Bartlett. “But he drives me crazy. I'll probably have to rope, tie, and drag him away or he'd stay out there all night. He was happy as hell he could do something constructive to help you.”
“Sweet.”
“And you're melting, too.” He sighed as he got to his feet. “I'll take the mail into the house.”
“I can do it.”
He glanced at the computer. “You're busy. What are you doing?”
“Homework. I like to work out here on the porch.”
He made a face. “Homework. I keep forgetting how young you are. Maybe it's Freudian.” He headed for the door. “Make sure no one picks up the mail every day but me.”
“Tell that to Joe.”
“Quinn is willing to let me do the donkey work. He knows I'm not dumb enough to step on his toes. We're gradually coming to an understanding.” He opened the screen door. “It's Eve I'm worrying about.”
“Because she doesn't melt around you like she does Bartlett?”
“Because she's a mother protecting her cub. Talk about unpredictable.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you going to tell me why you want so badly for Cira to have survived that volcano?”
He obviously hadn't been deceived and wasn't about to let it go. Well, she wasn't about to confide in him. “Since everyone seems to be equating the two of us maybe I just want her to have come out on top. It would be a good sign.”
“Yes, it would.” He studied her expression and then shook his head. “But I don't think that's it. . . .”
“Think what you like.”
“I always do.” He paused. “But I need to know. I need to know everything about you. It's safer for both of us.”
“Why?”
“He'll use any secret, any memory, any feeling that will draw you to him. He's done it already once with Toby.”
“I made a mistake. I won't do it again. And I'm not about to bare my soul to you. You've taken it upon yourself to learn entirely too much about me on your own.”
“Yes.” A sudden smile lit his face. “And it was my pleasure. It's still my pleasure.” He went into the cottage.
She had to force herself to look away from that door. Sweet Jesus, he was handsome. Most of the time when she was with him she was only aware of that magnetic personality and the sense of wariness it brought her. But in that last moment it had hit home what a beautiful man Trevor really was.
Beautiful? Trevor would not have been pleased. Where had that word come from?
Cira had been thinking of Antonio when those words had sprung to her mind. Antonio, intelligent, cynical, and totally charismatic. Antonio, who had seduced and dazzled and betrayed her. But in the end had he also tried to save her, or was that another deception?
What difference did it make? She was treating a dream as reality. And if this was some kind of psychic connection she'd made with Aldo, she'd evidently embroidered and enhanced it on her own. She was rooting for Cira every step of the way and Aldo certainly saw her as a villainess.
And what about Antonio?
Maybe she had to have a hero to save Cira. Though he was more of an antihero.
Like Trevor.
She stiffened. Cira's view of Antonio was remarkably like Jane's opinion of Trevor. And from that first moment she had felt a strange familiarity with him. She'd even told Eve he reminded her of someone.
Antonio?
She couldn't even remember what Antonio looked like. Cira was seeing him, not her. Cira was feeling the
