Blind Alley

ELEVEN

Molten lava yawning before her feet.

“Jump!” Antonio held out his arms. “Now, Cira. I'll catch you.”

Jump? The crack was too wide and getting wider every second.

No time. No other choice. She leaped across the crack. The heat seared her legs even as her feet touched the opposite ledge.

It crumbled beneath her!

Then he was yanking her upward and forward in one movement.

“I've got you.” Antonio's hands grasped her forearms and they were stumbling backward.

Another rumble.

“We've got to get out of this passage.” Cira glanced over her shoulder.

The crack was widening, gaping.

“You said you knew the way,” Cira gasped. “Prove it. Get us out of here.”

“Only you'd be stubborn enough to wait until you saw the gates of hell to say that to me.” Antonio grabbed her hand and started at a dead run down the tunnel. “The crack seems to be going across the tunnel. We can't go back, but it's not following us.”

“If it doesn't cause the roof to cave in when it tries to devour the other wall.”

Heat.

The lava behind them was gobbling what little air was still in the tunnel.

“Then we'd better be out of this branch of the tunnel before it happens. There's a turnoff just ahead that should lead us to the sea.”

“Or to Julius.”

“Shut up.” His hand tightened with bruising force on hers. “I'm not taking you to Julius. If I'd wanted you dead, I'd have taken his money for your face when he offered it two weeks ago.”

“My face?”

“When you told him you were leaving and wouldn't give him back the gold, he asked me to kill you.”

“What's that got to do with my face?”

“He said he'd commissioned a dozen likenesses of that wonderful face and didn't want anyone but him to possess it. Not even you. He wanted me to kill you and take my knife and remove your face and bring it to him.”

She felt sick. “Madness.”

“I agree. And, as I have a fondness for that face, I declined his offer. But it meant I had to leave Herculaneum for a few days. There was a good chance he would have put a price on my head as well. He knew I was your lover. It was why he thought I might have a chance of killing you.”

“If you could have gotten past Dominic,” she said fiercely. “Dominic would have cut your head off and served it to me on a silver tray.”

“That was why Julius resorted to bribery. Everyone knew how well guarded you were. Where is Dominic? He should be here with you.”

“I sent him home to the country.”

“Because you didn't want Julius aiming his arrows at him. That's what bodyguards are for, Cira.”

“He served me well. I didn't want him— I can take care of myself. Shouldn't we have reached the end of the tunnel by now?”

“It winds around. Julius didn't want to make getting out of the villa too easy.”

“And how do you know how to get out?”

“I made it my business. I spent many nights in these tunnels while we were together. It would hardly be intelligent to steal the gold and then not have an escape hole.”

“Bastard.”

“I was willing to share.”

“My gold.”

“There was enough for both of us. I would have earned it. I would have provided safety and treasured you as much as the gold.”

“I'm to believe you? Good gods, what nonsense you're—”

Rumbling.

Rocks tumbling around them.

A sharp stone pierced Cira's skin. She felt the warm blood pouring down her arm.

“Hurry!” Antonio was jerking her through the tunnel. “The structure of the tunnel's weakening. It could go any moment.”

“I am hurrying. What a stupid—” Another rock struck her cheek.

More pain.

More blood.

More pain.

More pain . . .

Wake up. Stop moaning, dammit.”

Blood . . .

She opened her eyes. “Blood,” she gasped.

“Wake up.”

“Antonio . . .”

No, it was Trevor standing above her beside the porch swing.

Of course it wasn't Antonio. . . .

“I'm awake.” She tried to catch her breath. “I'm fine.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”

“Only a little after midnight. I saw you curled up in the porch swing when I took over for Bartlett an hour ago. But you were sleeping so soundly I thought I'd let you sleep until you stirred.” His lips tightened. “But that was before you started whimpering. It was damn disconcerting. You're not a person given to whimpering. What the hell were you dreaming?”

Rocks flying, blood, pain.

“I don't remember.” She arched her back to ease the stiffness. She must have been curled in that fetal position for hours. Or maybe not. How long did a dream last? “Is everything okay?”

“No problems. The security team is sharp. I just have to remind them to keep sharp. Boredom is our worst enemy.” He was frowning. “You don't have to be afraid.”

“Of course I do. I'd be an idiot not to be afraid.”

“Scared enough for it to give you nightmares?”

“Everyone has bad dreams.”

“Not about blood.” He paused. “And not about Cira.”

She stiffened. “I take it I was doing more than whimpering. What did I say?”

“I couldn't make out very much. I think you said, ‘Watch out, Cira. Rocks. Too late.' When you woke, you were talking to someone named Antonio.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “And, if you know what I'm talking about, then you do remember that nightmare.”

“And you should have waked me right away and not eavesdropped.”

“You have to admit that it's natural that my attention should be caught by Cira's name.”

“I don't care if it's natural. You shouldn't have eavesdropped.”

“Granted.” He was silent. “What were you dreaming?”

She looked away from him. “What you'd expect me to dream since you told me about her. Tunnels. A volcano erupting. A woman running for her life.”

“Is this the first time you dreamed about her?”

“No.”

“When did it start?”

“None of your business.” She rose to her feet and picked up her laptop. “We've let you inveigle yourself into our lives, but keep your hands off my dreams, Trevor.”

“If I can.”

“What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I'm having trouble not being drawn into every aspect of your life. Believe me, I've tried to keep my distance. It's not working.”

“Try harder.” She took a step toward the door. “I don't need you to confide in. I have Eve and Joe. If I want to talk about Cira or anything else, it will be with them.”

He held up his hand in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you.” He stood looking at her as she opened the screen door. “If you change your mind . . .”

“I won't. Why should I?”

“Curiosity.” He smiled faintly. “Did it ever occur to you that you're not the only one who dreams of Cira?”

Her gaze flew to his face. “What?”

“Why the surprise? She seems to dominate all of us. I started dreaming about her years ago after I read those scrolls.”

She moistened her lips. “What . . . kind of dreams?”

He shook his head and said softly, “You tell me your dreams, I'll tell you mine.”

“And you'll probably make up yours.”

He chuckled. “O ye of little faith.” He started down the steps. “If you decide you want to talk, you know where I'll be.”

“I won't want to talk. I don't care about your blasted dreams.” She slammed the screen door behind her.

But she did care, dammit. He had known that little alluring tidbit would intrigue her. Someone else who dreamed of Cira?

If it was the truth.

And she wasn't about to lay herself open to possible ridicule just to satisfy his curiosity.

And her own curiosity, blast his soul.

Dahlonega, Georgia

Three days later

Eve Duncan.

Joe Quinn.

Mark Trevor.

Aldo closed the lid of the laptop computer and leaned back with a sigh of contentment as he stared at the printout. He knew enough now to launch the plan into action. What a pity Cira's enemies had not had access to the Internet. Information would have been a formidable weapon to bring her down. She had been soft in many ways. About that bodyguard she had saved from execution. About the street child she had taken into her home. All Julius would have had to do was to find her weak spot and capitalize on it to kill the bitch. And information was always the key.

Maybe Julius had killed her. But if he had killed her, he hadn't prevented her from remaining a presence, able to torment and destroy. He should have wiped her from the face of the earth.

As he would do.

He'd cleared the path to Jane MacGuire as much as he could. Now he would reconnoiter, find out the obstacles, and then he'd be ready to move with all due ritual.

He smiled as he looked at the suitcase across the motel room.

Green fire. Lovely deadly fire.

Are you waiting for me, Cira?

Mail,” Trevor announced as he came up the steps. “Bills, a postcard from Eve's mother from Yellowstone. Two FedEx boxes. One for Eve and one for you.”

“I hope you enjoyed the postcard.” Jane set aside the computer. “You're learning a little too much about us.”

“There can't ever be too much.” He smiled. “And I didn't read the postcard, just the signature. Eve's package is from a university in Michigan. Your package is from a Mail Boxes Unlimited in Carmel, California. Do you know anyone in Carmel?”

She nodded. “Sarah Logan. She and John live on the Seventeen Mile Strip. She gave me Toby.”

“So of course she's a very good friend, indeed. Come on inside and we'll open the packages.”

“I can open mine here.”

“No, you can't. You don't open anything. I checked the box out and it seemed okay but you can never tell.”

“What?” she lifted her brows. “No bomb? No anthrax?”

“Not funny. As a matter of fact, I had Quinn get me a portable scanner to detect the presence of a bomb.”

“Why? A bomb is a modern weapon of destruction. They didn't have them in Herculaneum.”

“Right. But a volcano explodes and so does a bomb. It's a very tenuous linking but I'm not taking any chances. As for anthrax, I don't think so. But he may have found some other volcano-related powder, that's why I'm opening it.” He opened the door. “Coming?”

She rose to her feet. “It's not unusual for Sarah to send me presents. She has to travel all over the world and she picks up toys for Toby and little surprises for me and Eve.”

“Nice lady. Let's see what she sent this time.”

He was holding the door open for her and it was clear he wasn't going to give her the package. She shrugged and preceded him into the house. “I won't argue. But you said yourself that you thought Aldo would want a close kill.”

“I'm not the one who'd bear the consequences if I was wrong.” He smiled at Eve, who was working on a reconstruction in her studio across the room. “Mail, Eve. Your mother is enjoying Yellowstone.”

“You said you didn't read her postcard,” Jane said dryly.

“I didn't. From what I understand, everyone enjoys Yellowstone. I must go sometime. Where do you want your mail, Eve?”

“On the coffee table.” She held up her clay-coated hands. “If I handled it now, I'd mess it up and wouldn't be able to read it.”

“How's the reconstruction going?”

“Pretty good. I've done the measuring and I'm starting the molding. But I never know until the final stages.”

“That's what you told me.” He began to separate Eve's mail on the coffee table. “Interesting stuff . . .”

Jane gazed at the two of them in bewilderment. She hadn't realized until this moment how at ease they'd become with each other during these last days. She'd seen him talking to Eve on occasion and even having a cup of coffee with her when she'd taken a carafe down to Bartlett, but Eve seemed perfectly accepting of Trevor now.

Eve turned back to the pedestal. “Did Jane get anything?”

“A package. She thinks it's from Sarah Logan.”

“Again? She just sent her a leash from Morocco a few weeks ago. . . .” Her hands were moving, sculpting, and her tone was absent. A moment later Jane knew she was completely absorbed in the work and no longer with them.

“Where's Quinn?” Trevor asked as he finished stacking the bills.

“At the precinct. Christy set up a conference call with Scotland Yard and the Rome police to discuss Aldo.” Jane gave him a cool look as she sat down on the couch. “And the local Italian police have found no trace of any tunnel in the countryside outside of Herculaneum. And no villa belonging to a Julius Precebio.”

“I told you they wouldn't find it.”

“Because you did your best to hide it. When this is over, you're going to have a lot of questions to answer.”

“Hmm.” Trevor was tearing the strip on the FedEx box. “I'm duly intimidated.”

She scowled. “You are not.”

“No, but I'd hate to disappoint you.” His smile faded as he opened the lid. “There's another package inside.” He moved away from the couch on which she was sitting to the screen door. “It's small, velvet, and doesn't look like it would contain a dog toy for Toby. I think I'll just open this on the porch.”

She tensed in spite of herself. “Stop it. Aren't you overreacting?”

“Perhaps.” He looked in the FedEx box. “No note.”

“Maybe it's in the velvet box.”

“Possibly.” He dropped the FedEx box and slowly opened the blue velvet box.

“What is it?”

“A ring.”

“Jewelry?” Relief surged through her as she jumped to her feet and followed him across the room. “Let me see it.”

“In a minute.” He was holding the ring up to the light.

“Now.” The ring was a broad band of intricately carved gold and the stone it held was a brilliant pale green, too pale to be an emerald, probably a peridot. “Do you think Sarah would send me a Borgia poison ring or something?”

“No.” He held the ring away from her. “But I don't believe this ring is from Sarah. Why don't you call her while I look it over?”

Her gaze shifted from the ring to his face and what she saw there made her eyes widen. “Why?”

“Call her,” he repeated. “If it's from her, it will give you the opportunity to thank her. I'll stay here and wait for you.”

She hesitated, tempted to refuse and confront him. Then she went inside, picked up her phone, and dialed Sarah in Carmel.

Trevor was standing underneath the porch light when she came out of the house five minutes later.

“She didn't send it,” Jane said flatly. “She didn't know anything about it. Aldo?”

He nodded. “My guess.”

“Why would he send me a ring? That's a peridot, isn't it?”

“I don't think so. It's similar and most people would mistake it for a peridot.”

“Then what is it?”

“It's a vesuvianite.”

“What the devil is that?”

“When a volcano erupts the tephra sometimes forms a glasslike substance that can be polished and refined to resemble fine gems. You may have seen helenite, the dark green stone that became popular after the Mount Saint Helens eruption.”

“But this came from Vesuvius?” Her gaze was fastened in sick fascination on the ring in his hand. “I was joking, but could it be some kind of poison ring?”

He shook his head. “I examined it. It's exactly what it appears. He obviously didn't mean to kill you.”

“It's beautiful. . . . Why would he want to give me something this beautiful?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Angry, confused.”

“And afraid?”

Was there fear at the core of her emotions? She only knew she felt chilled and shaken. “It's only a piece of jewelry.”

“That's disturbing the hell out of you.”

“And that's what he wanted. He wants me scared and panicked.” She reached out and touched the gold of the ring. It was warm from Trevor's touch but it didn't pierce the chill surrounding her. “And he wants me to know he's not forgotten me.”

Trevor nodded. “It's a mind game.”

“Bastard.”

“If he knows he can't touch you yet, it will probably get worse. A little long-distance torment will be very satisfying to him.”

“Do you think he's watching me?”

He shrugged. “Not from anywhere close. I'd guarantee that, Jane.”

“And I can guarantee he'll want to see if sending me this . . . thing made a sniveling wreck of me. What kind of satisfaction can he get just from imagining the upset?” She could feel her anger growing by the minute. “Oh, no, he'll want to see that he's hurt me.”

“Possibly.”

“No, certainly.” She snatched the ring from his palm and jammed it on her index finger. “So let's let him see it doesn't mean a damn thing to me.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I should have known. Aldo may have been carrying this bauble around for years but don't you think Quinn will want the ring to try to run a tracer?”

“He can take a photo.” The ring felt heavy and tight on her finger, like a python curling around its victim. But she wasn't a victim and she'd prove it to him. Her anger remained but it was now mixed with exhilaration and excitement. “I'm wearing it.”

His smile faded. “You're liking this a little too much. What do you have in mind? A little goading to stir the tiger?”

“He's not a tiger, he's a slug. And what do you care if I goad him? It might bring him out into the open.”

He was silent a moment. “You're right. It might do that, if he doesn't pounce and tear you to bits.” He started down the porch steps. “And, strangely enough, I would care if that happened.”

“But you're not trying to talk me out of it.”

“No, but then I've always been a son of a bitch. Do what you like. I'll be there for you.”

Sarah just called me.” Eve had left her studio and was standing in the living room when Jane walked into the cottage a moment later. “She was concerned. She said you didn't sound like yourself. What's this about a ring, Jane?”

Jane held up her hand with a hint of bravado. “A present from Aldo. A vesuvianite. Pretty, isn't it?”

Eve stiffened. “Don't be flip. What's happening?”

“So much for him forgetting about me and going on to bigger and better kills.”

“Sarah said it was mailed from a Mail Boxes Unlimited in Carmel.”

“He's not in California. He'd want to see if the ring had the right effect.” Her lips tightened. “He probably hopes I'm cowering under the bed.”

“You seem very certain.” Eve crossed the room and took her hand. “It looks Byzantine.”

“I'm sure it's supposed to look Roman. But what can you expect? He probably took what he could get. Vesuvianite can't be that readily available.”

“Then it should be easier to trace. Take it off.”

“No.”

“Jane.”

“No.” She pulled her hand away. “I'm wearing it. He's not going to think he's scared me. I'll wear it and I'll flaunt it as if it were only a pretty bauble a lover had given me.”

“Lover?”

“That's what Cira would do.” She smiled recklessly. “He thinks I'm Cira? Well, I'll act like Cira. She'd never let a murdering bastard make her cringe. She'd face him and taunt him and find a way to bring him down.”

“Would she?” Eve's gaze was narrowed on her face. “And how do you know that, Jane?”

“That's how Trevor describes her.” Jane shook her head. “No, I won't lie to you. I feel it.”

Eve was silent a moment. “Or did you dream it? You never told me the name of the woman in your dream. Was it Cira?”

Smart, savvy Eve. She should have known that the empathy between them was so intense that she'd sense what was going on in Jane's mind. “Yes.” She rushed on, “But that isn't— For all I know, I'm picking up Aldo's view of her or maybe Trevor's. It could be I read something sometime and I just don't remember doing it. Or maybe I am having psychic flashes. It's not likely, but I'd rather think that than that I'm nutty enough to believe I know Cira because of a dream.”

“I think you're protesting too much,” Eve said. “You don't have to make explanations to me. I thought we'd settled that issue.” She glanced down at the ring again. “Take it off.”

“I told you that—”

“I know what you told me,” Eve said curtly. “And I know it's waving a red cape at a bull. Take it off.”

“He'll think I'm afraid.”

“I don't care.”

“I care.” She could feel her throat tighten as she looked at Eve. Lord, this was hard. “I love you, Eve. I never want to do anything that will make you unhappy.”

“Then take it off.”

She shook her head. “You're wrong. We can't give in to him. I might even be able to draw him out and into making a mistake if I annoy him enough. Otherwise, if I take one step back, he'll take one step forward. And I won't be backed into a corner where he can hack my face off.” She saw Eve flinch and she hurried on, “I'm sorry. But that's what he wants. He wants me scared and on my knees. We can't give him that.”

“I'm not going to give him you either. Why don't—” Eve closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I'm wasting my time.” She opened her eyes and added wearily, “And maybe you're right. I don't know. But I do know if you're going to wave that ring under Aldo's nose we're going to make sure that you're as safe as you can be.” She headed for the phone. “I'm calling Joe. Take that ring off, get the digital camera, and take pictures of it so that he can try to locate who sold it to Aldo.”

“Eve—”

“I'm not angry with you.” Eve picked up the phone. “I'm just tired and frustrated and I want this maniac caught before he drives all of us crazy.” She smiled. “And, no, I'm not saying you're crazy. Obstinate, opinionated, yes. Now go take those photos.”