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
