Stalemate

10

"Montalvo's phone is off," Galen said. "That could mean that he's not in the clear or that he's been captured by Diaz."

"Or that he's dead," Eve said.

"Don't be pessimistic." He paused. "Or maybe it's optimistic. That would end your obligation to do a job you don't want to do."

And it would end a chance to find Bonnie.

"You're not answering," Galen said.

"He didn't lie to me. I saw everything just the way he described it. I think what he told me about Diaz and his wife's skull was true."

"And that means you want him to live."

"Our aims aren't so far apart." She thought about the Montalvo she had come to know. "And I think he deserves to bring his wife home."

"And to blow Diaz out of the water?"

"Hell, yes. He almost killed Joe."

Galen chuckled. "And that deserves every punishment under the sun. For a complicated woman, you have a very simple code, Eve."

"I'm not complicated."

"No more than Lucrezia Borgia mixed with Mother Teresa."

"Call Montalvo again."

He dialed the number and this time Montalvo picked up.

"Ah, you're alive and kicking," Galen said. "We were wondering if you were dead. We had an interesting conversation on the pros and cons of your demise. Yes, we're out of the line of fire. Where are you? Oops." He hung up. "He started cursing. Can't blame him. I heard gunfire in the background. He probably only picked up because he wanted to know if you needed help."

"Evidently he's the one who needs help."

"We can't go back. He's on his own. He'll either get out or not." He glanced at her. "It's not our fault. As I said, if anything, we were a distraction. He had a plan, he has trained men. I think he'll wriggle out of it."

"I hope you're right. How close are we to the compound?"

"Not too far. Who knows? Montalvo may meet us at the gates."

Montalvo didn't meet them at the gates. It was Soldono who came toward them when they stopped the jeep in the courtyard.

"It's evidently not been a stress-free jaunt." Soldono's gaze was fixed on the bullet-splintered windshield. "Is either of you hurt?"

"No." Eve got out of the jeep. "But I don't know about Montalvo and his men. Have you heard from them?"

Soldono shook his head. "But I'm not someone in his confidence. He'd have no reason to report to me. Is there any reason why he shouldn't be?"

"Gunfire." Galen came around the jeep. "That's usually a pretty good sign of trouble, don't you think?"

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But I can't pretend to be concerned. I've told you how I feel about gang wars, Eve. I don't see why you risked your neck when you should be trying to walk away."

"You don't have to see. It was my decision. Did you check on Joe?"

"Once." He held up his hand as he saw her frown. "It's only been four hours since you left."

"Four hours?" She checked her watch and he was right. It was still hard to believe. Those hours had been crammed so full with tension, it seemed as if days had gone by. "Montalvo estimated six hours."

"He's not always right. He must have built in time for disturbances like the one he ran into." He started up the steps. "I had the cook make a pot of coffee and bring it to the front parlor. I imagine you could use a cup."

"Not now." She sat down on the top step. "I think I'll wait for Montalvo."

Soldono shrugged. "Suit yourself." He disappeared into the house.

"Want company?" Galen asked.

"No, go check on Joe. I'd go myself but I believe he sensed something wrong when I went to see him before I left. He can read me even half knocked out with drugs."

"That doesn't surprise me," he said as he went inside the house.

Her gaze was fastened on the gates. Where the devil was Montalvo? If he hadn't been caught, he shouldn't be that far behind them.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Another ten minutes passed before she heard the roar of the truck engine. Two minutes later the truck and jeep entered the courtyard.

Relief poured through her. She jumped to her feet.

Jesus, the truck looked like it had been through a grenade attack in Iraq. Bullet indentations spiked the doors and hood, the passenger door hung half off its hinges. The jeep driven by Montalvo appeared to be in almost as bad shape.

"What happened?" she asked as Montalvo stopped the jeep and jumped out. "Galen said he heard gunfire."

"We got out of the cemetery and through the woods to the vehicles okay." He grimaced. "Well, almost okay. We were intercepted by a troop of Diaz's men and had a few tight minutes. We got out of it, but they radioed ahead and more were waiting for us on the road. They followed us into the jungle and we got out of the vehicles and staged an ambush at the tower."

"What tower?"

"There's a crumbling ancient tower used for religious ceremonies by the Chibcha Indians about forty miles from here. They probably threw down sacrifices from the top of the battlements. At any rate, the windows offer great views for snipers."

"And?"

He shrugged. "We're here, aren't we?" He reached into the jeep and pulled out a muddy leather container. "And we got what we went for. Nalia." He handed her the box. "She's in your hands now."

Nalia, his wife.

His voice was without expression, as was his face. No, not quite, she noticed. There was an almost indiscernible twitch at the corner of his mouth. His shoulders were squared and tense as if carrying a burden.

Burden? My God, he had yanked her skull from the grave with no care, no reverence. How would she have felt if she'd been forced to do that to her Bonnie?

"She'll be in very respectful hands," she said gently. "I'll treat her as if she were my friend. She'll be my friend before this is over."

"Thank you," he said jerkily. He turned on his heel and went into the house.

"It was hard for him." Miguel had gotten out of the jeep and was standing beside her. "It's good that you gave him comfort."

"I only told him the truth." She stared down at the box. "He did it himself, didn't he?"

"Yes. He wouldn't allow anyone else to touch her." He held out his hand. "Would you like me to take the skull to the library for you? The Colonel had me set up your equipment this afternoon. You should be ready to start tomorrow."

She ignored his outstretched hand. For some reason she didn't want to release the skull to anyone else. "I'll start tonight."

His brows rose. "Tonight?"

"Tonight." She started up the steps. "I can do a lot tonight. She's got to be cleaned up and I can start the measuring. Bring me a pot of black coffee."

"You must be very tired. You're not well."

She didn't feel tired. She felt alive and tingling with the excitement and drive of the project ahead. She had a purpose again.

Nalia, we have you safe. We're going to bring you home.

She repeated, "Black coffee."

It was three in the morning when Montalvo came into the library. "Go to bed. This isn't necessary."

She didn't look up. "This is what you brought me here for. Now let me do my job."

"I have every intention of doing that. I just don't want to have to pick you up off the floor if you pass out."

"I won't pass out." She arched her back to ease it. "It doesn't happen when I'm working. No matter how bad I feel, it goes away when I'm working."

His lips twisted. "Divine intervention?"

Divine? Bonnie?

"I never rule any help out." She looked back at the reconstruction. "But purpose and determination can also work miracles."

"I don't want miracles from you. Just a good job. Go to bed and get some rest."

"I will. I was almost ready to stop. I just wanted to get her cleaned up and see what I have to work with."

"And what do you have to work with?"

"All the bones are intact. That's a big help. She's Caucasian, a mature woman." She reached down and handed him an object in a small Ziploc bag. "A tooth. There should be a chance for a DNA match if you have any of her intimate belongings. I suppose you couldn't get her father to give you a DNA blood sample?"

"No way on this earth."

"Well, the tooth may be enough for definite proof."

"He'll think I bribed the lab. I'm relying on your reconstruction to break through to him."

"Don't count on it. I'll do the best I can but I'm not perfect." She glanced at him. "And this may not be your wife. What if it's some other woman that Diaz murdered? What if the man who dredged her from that swamp was just trying to score big money?"

"He would have been too scared to betray me."

"He wasn't too scared to bury the skeleton instead of turning it over to you."

His lips set. "It's Nalia."

"Because you want it to be?"

"God, no. I want her to be the crook her father thinks her and basking on a beach somewhere in Australia. I want her alive." He started to turn away. "But it was Nalia in that grave."

"We'll find out."

"When? How long?"

"A few days." She paused. "You don't have to come in here while I'm working. I don't need you."

"But I need to know what's happening." He stopped, gazing at her. "Why shouldn't I come? Will I bother you?"

"No, once I end the preliminary measuring I won't even know you're in the room. But it will bother you. Her skull is going to look like a voodoo doll while I'm working on it."

"Christ, you're talking to a man who tore her skull from her skeleton tonight," he said harshly.

"I'm talking to a man who hasn't looked once at his wife's reconstruction since he walked into the room," she said quietly. "And I'm telling you that you don't have to see it again until I've finished. You don't have to go through that pain."

He stood looking at her for a moment. "Is that why you were in such a hurry to clean her up?"

"Maybe." She glanced back at the skull. "And maybe I thought she wouldn't like to be such a mess. I gather she was a very special woman."

"Yes, she was. Beautiful." He cleared his throat. "And very fastidious. What are you calling her? I know you never assume your reconstruction's identity."

"I'll call her Nalia."

"Because you believe me?"

"No, because it seems right to me. If I don't have any photos or descriptions, a name isn't going to throw me off." She wiped her hands on the towel on the workbench. "She'll be what she will be."

"But you do believe me or you wouldn't have started the reconstruction."

"I believe what my eyes saw tonight. You could have embroidered the background story."

"You don't think that."

She wearily shook her head. "No, I don't believe that you told me fairy tales. I hope I'm not wrong."

"I know you won't trust any pat assurances on my part. I guess time will tell." He left the library.

She stood there for a moment, gazing at the skull. "We're beginning, Nalia," she whispered. "He wants to bring you home. I want to bring you home. What happened to you was terrible but I hope there's peace for you now. There's no peace for him…"

No peace. No end to the anger. No end to the hurt. She knew that chaos of feeling.

But he might have reached the end of his search in this skull before her. She hoped it was true.

"I'll see you in a few hours, Nalia. I have to get some sleep." She started toward the door and then impulsively turned and went back to the dais, grabbed a drop cloth, and tossed it over the reconstruction. "This is his library, Nalia. He'll probably have to be in here for some reason or other. You wouldn't want him to see you until you're at your best."

She moved across the room and turned out the light before closing the door.

Exhaustion hit her like a club. It was always like that once the day's work was completed. The weariness that had been held at bay was released.

Divine intervention.

Strange how Montalvo had used those words that had struck that note and had reminded her of Bonnie, she thought as she started to climb the stairs. Perhaps not so strange. Montalvo and she, who were so different, were on the same plane in some ways. She had felt very close to him in the library.

Mistake.

She was identifying too much with him and it could cloud her judgment. His personality was too strong to ignore and she felt as if she knew him. She was beginning to hurt when she thought of his loss.

She'd reached the top of the stairs, and hesitated. She hadn't meant to go to Joe. She didn't want to wake him because she was feeling disturbed.

Oh, what the devil. She needed him. She'd make sure that her presence didn't bother him. She strode toward the bedroom door and quietly turned the knob. A moment later she was at the bed, crawling in beside him.

"Eve?" he said drowsily.

"Shh." Her arms slid around him. "Go back to sleep. I just wanted to hold you for a while. I won't be here long. Okay?"

"Better than okay…"

Yes, it was better than okay, she thought. It was good and solid and treasure-bright.

Her arms tightened around him. "Yes, it is, Joe."

She was gone. It was as if Eve had never been in this bed with him.

Joe gazed at the indented pillow next to him that was the only evidence that she'd been here. But the memory of her was very clear even through that haze of heavy medications.

And there was something else. A familiar scent drifting to him from that pillow. Not perfume. Almost acrid and-

"Good morning." Galen came into the room, carrying a tray. "You're awake, I see. I brought your breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Lots of protein and enough caffeine to make you get up and walk out of-"

"Where's Eve?"

"Still in bed, I think." He set the tray on the bedside table. "How do you feel?"

"Hazy. No more drugs."

"The doctor says there may still be considerable pain."

"Screw it." He took the coffee Galen handed him. "I want to see Eve."

"I'm not going to wake her up. I'm sure she'll drop in to see you."

"She dropped in to see me twice last night. Both times I was so drugged out I barely knew she was here."

"Did she? How disappointing for you. Eat your breakfast."

Joe's gaze narrowed on the indentation in the pillow next to him. That maddeningly familiar scent was still drifting up to him.

Then he recognized it.

"Shit." His cup crashed down in the saucer. "She's doing the reconstruction."

"You almost broke the cup." Galen rescued the cup and saucer and put them on the tray. "And such fine china."

"She's doing the reconstruction, isn't she?"

"What makes you think that?"

"The smell of that alcohol on the hand towels she uses. When she's working, it clings to her like a second skin. I've smelled it a thousand times when she's working on a reconstruction. Her pillow is still smelling of it." He picked the pillow up and hurled it violently at Galen. "Now stop bullshitting me and tell me what's happening."

"I didn't bullshit you." He tossed the pillow back on the bed. "I was merely being evasive."

Joe tried to control his temper. "Galen, you're going to either tell me why she smells of-or I'll get up and go ask her myself."

"She wouldn't like that." He dropped down in the chair beside the bed. "And she wouldn't like me to confide in you either. But she deserves it since she tipped her hand by coming to see you and giving away the show."

"What show?"

Galen poured himself a cup of coffee. "Actually, it went off quite successfully. I didn't mean to go along, but it was an interesting…"

The skull was gone.

Diaz started to curse as he stared down at the skeleton.

"It seems Montalvo is on the move," Nekmon said as he shone the flashlight into the grave. "You think the forensic sculptor is still alive?"

"Montalvo wouldn't have come after the skull if he hadn't been sure he had someone to do the reconstruction."

"He took a big risk."

"Evidently not so big," Diaz said sarcastically. "When he invaded my territory and managed to steal this skull in the shadow of my mother's tomb."

Nekmon gazed down at the skeleton. "It's the Armandariz woman?"

"How do I know? She's just a pile of bones. But Montalvo must think she's Nalia Armandariz or he wouldn't have gone to the risk of claiming her skull."

"Can you get DNA from a skull that's been in the swamp for years?"

"I'd bet on it. They're doing all kinds of recovery with DNA lately." He turned away. "But that's not why he wanted the skull. He knows how difficult I could make it for any lab that ran the tests. No, her father is an emotional son of a bitch and Montalvo wants to stir him up against me."

"What do we do?"

"What do you think? We toss dirt into this damned grave and then we go after that skull."

"At his compound? You said it was too well-armed to attack."

"I want that skull. I'll do whatever I have to do to get it."

"We'll have to get more men from Bogota."

"You fool. There's no time. Of course we'll send for more men but we have to move quickly now. He wouldn't have brought that woman down here to cool her heels after he got the skull. She'll be working on giving that skull a face now. We have to buy time." He strode toward the cemetery gates. "No more mistakes. We have to take out Eve Duncan."

Eve was just out of the shower when there was a knock. She threw on a robe and opened the door.

"Quinn knows," Galen said. "You blew it."

"Damn. How?"

"He says you paid him a late-night visit smelling of those alcohol towels you use when you're working on a reconstruction."

"Stupid," she said in self-disgust. "Lord, I was stupid. I should have known he'd recognize that smell. He wasn't that far out of it. He even commented on my body lotion earlier in the evening."

"It wasn't bright," Galen said. "Couldn't you wait until today to see him?"

"Of course I could." She grimaced. "But I didn't want to wait."

"Because you were feeling a little bit as if you'd betrayed him by doing the reconstruction?"

She stiffened. "I'm trying to save his life."

"Very laudable motive." His eyes were narrowed on her face. "But weren't there a few other reasons why you wanted to do the reconstruction?"

"All right, I wanted it for me too. Montalvo gave me hope and I ran with it. There's nothing wrong with that as long as no one else is hurt. I did everything I could to keep Joe out of it."

"I'll testify to that. But you should have been more devious if you wanted to fool Quinn. Now you've got damage control."

"I'm not good at devious." She nibbled at her lower lip. "How did he take it?"

"He's royally pissed off. What do you expect? He tried to get out of bed and go to see you. Then he got grim and quiet."

She knew that mood. Joe was at his most dangerous when that first anger ebbed away. "I'll go to see him before I go to the library." She turned away. "Thanks for warning me."

"I tried to take some of the flak but he still has plenty of ammunition left for you. I don't blame him. I'd probably feel the same way. You had your reasons and they may have been good ones. But he doesn't like the idea of being protected and he doesn't like being left out."

"Too bad. This is my problem and I won't have him suffering for it. He's already gone through too much."

"But now you have another problem. Keeping him from exploding like a live grenade and blitzing all of us." He started down the hall. "I've already had a little taste of that and I'm not willing to stand still for it again. I'm patient, I'm not a martyr. Fix it, Eve."

Fix it, she thought in exasperation as she tossed on her clothes and ran a brush through her hair. How was she supposed to fix anything when every minute of her time, every iota of her mind, was going to be absorbed by the reconstruction of Nalia Armandariz?

The only thing she could do was be honest with him. She didn't have some sort of magical sticky glue to bond together all the pieces that seemed to be splintering. If she couldn't make him see her point of view, then she had to blast right through the situation in the only way she knew.

Ten minutes later she was opening the door to Joe's room. He was sitting up in bed and his expression was not encouraging.

"I had to do it, Joe," she said quietly.

"That's what I hear from Galen." His tone was cold. "It would have been nice to hear it from you."

"You would have argued with me."

"Considering the length of time we've lived together I believe that's my privilege."

"Maybe." She wearily shook her head. "I'm tired of arguing, Joe. We haven't been doing anything else since this business began. You're not going to change my mind. And evidently I can't change yours either. Stalemate."

"I can't accept that. I won't accept it."

"Then you'll have to suck it up and deal with it," she said bluntly. "I'm going to do the reconstruction and turn it over to Montalvo. Then I'm going to go home to Atlanta and wait for Montalvo to pay me back. I can't do anything else. I need to see if he'll go through with his promise. I need him to do that, Joe."

"Do you also need Diaz to cut your throat? That's what you're setting yourself up for."

"I'll take the risk. It's worth it to me. I'm close, Joe. I haven't been this close to finding Bonnie for years."

"You're blind."

She smiled shakily. "Possibly. But you've known that for a long time." She turned and opened the door. "I'm not going to change."

"I won't sit back and let you do this. I'm going to get out of this bed and I'm going after Diaz. I don't care what Montalvo is planning for him. He's going down."

She didn't look back at him. "And I'll try to stop you." She tried to steady her voice. "I guess that makes the situation very clear."

"Eve."

She stopped in the act of closing the door. "What?"

"Why did you come to me last night?"

"Why not? I always come to you when I'm hurting." She drew a shaky breath. "But I guess I can't do that anymore."

She shut the door.

Jesus, her eyes were stinging. She wasn't accustomed to Joe being that hard and cold. Not with her. She felt… bereft.

"Not a happy visit?"

She looked up to see Montalvo coming down the hall.

"A lousy visit." She cleared her throat to ease it of aching tightness. "I hurt his pride. I hurt him. Sometimes I wonder why he stays with me."

"I don't." He smiled. "And I thought he was not that foolish either. It gives one hope."

"Don't play games, Montalvo. I'm not up to it right now."

"Games are for business, not the personal." He nudged her gently toward the stairs. "Go get something to eat. Miguel is waiting for you. I don't want you to go to the library until you have something in your stomach."

"I'd no intention of not eating. It's painstaking work right now. The end of a reconstruction is a different matter. That's all instinct and flow…"

He nodded and then said quietly, "Thank you for covering the reconstruction last night before you left. It made it easier to go in there this morning." His lips twisted. "I had no idea I was such a coward. I was actually dreading it."

"I know." She started down the stairs. "But you shouldn't. Come to peace with her." She stopped on the landing. "Any word about Diaz?"

"Ripples from my informants in Bogota. He's calling for reinforcements."

"Attack?"

"Probably."

"Can the CIA help you?"

"Why should they? The CIA considers me as troublesome as Diaz. I'll handle it. What do you want me to do about Quinn?"

She hesitated and then made the decision. "He's going after Diaz. I don't want you to let him do it. Stop him."

His brows rose. "He's not going to like you for asking this."

"Then he'll have to dislike me. I can't have him dead." She continued down the stairs. "If we're lucky, he may be too weak to make a move but I have to take measures in case he tries."

"And I'm the measure?"

"I can't watch him day and night. I'm going to be busy with your Nalia. You keep him safe."

"An exchange of caretaking of one significant other for another?"

"Yes, but my significant other is alive and I want to keep him that way." She saw Miguel hurrying toward her across the hall as she reached the bottom of the steps. "Will you bring me a sandwich and soup right away, please, Miguel? And another pot of black coffee in about two hours."

A few minutes later she was closing the door of the library behind her. The tears were gone but the sadness remained. She had a feeling that the rift that was widening between Joe and her was becoming more frightening with every spoken word.

She moved over to the dais and took off the drop cloth over the reconstruction. "You're causing an awful lot of trouble, Nalia. You remind me of one of those women from the court of Camelot who had all the knights fighting over her. Only I'm one of the knights who are trying to bring you-"

Camelot.

Jane had been talking about Camelot at the art show. Camelot and MacDuff's Run.

Jane.

Panic surged through her. Of course she was okay. Montalvo had promised to protect her family.

Screw it. She needed to talk to Jane, to hear her voice. She reached into her pocket for her phone and dialed Jane's number.

No answer. No voice mail. Nothing.

Keep calm. Try again later.

She turned back to the reconstruction. Concentrate. Don't let nerves keep you from thinking logically. There could be a reason why Jane wasn't-

Her cell phone rang.

No ID.

"Hello."

"I hope Montalvo's paying you well." It was a man's deep voice, the English slightly accented. "Funeral expenses can be exorbitant these days."

"Who is this?"

"But I'll be glad to take care of that for him. You can share the grave with the bones of his wife."

"Diaz?"

"Yes, Ramon Diaz, you bitch. You're playing on the wrong side. Shall I tell you what I'll do to you if you continue to give Montalvo what he wants?"

"I'm not listening to your threats, Diaz."

"You'll listen. I'll keep you around for a week or two to amuse my men. Then I'll kill you, slowly. Very slowly."

"And will you throw me into the swamp as you did Nalia Armandariz? That was pretty stupid. She's come back to haunt you." She kept her voice cool and steady. "I'll haunt you. I'll bring her back and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh, but there is something I can do. You lost one daughter. Are you prepared to lose another?"

She went rigid. "What are you talking about?"

"Such a beautiful girl. Not to my taste. I prefer my partners younger and less independent. But there are many whorehouses that specialize in breaking the spirit of the women I send them."

"You can't touch Jane. I'll kill you if you lay one hand on her."

"Ah, that frightened you, didn't it? I can always find a way to reach out and get what I want."

"You slimeball."

"You're making me angry. You don't want to do that. Stop what you're doing and go back to your country. Your daughter may survive if you do that right away. Though I don't promise. It's hard to stop when you've set a plan of action in motion." He hung up.

Eve's heart was beating so hard she couldn't get her breath. Her finger was trembling as she pressed the disconnect.

Bastard. Slimy son of a bitch.

Jane.

She dialed Jane's number again.

No answer. No voice mail.

Oh, God.

She hung up and ran to the door.

Miguel was coming toward her carrying a covered tray. "I've brought your food. I hope-"

"Get Montalvo," she said through her teeth. "I want to see him now."

Miguel took one look at her expression and set the tray on a chest beside the door. "At once. Is there anything I can do?"

"Just get Montalvo."

He turned and moved swiftly down the hall.

She tried Jane again.

Same result.

Let her be safe. Please, let her be safe.

"What's wrong?" Montalvo was hurrying down the hall toward her. "How can I help?"

"You said you'd protect my family. You promised me."

"Yes, I promised." His gaze was searching her face. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, nothing. Except Diaz said that he was sending my daughter to one of his pet whorehouses."

He stiffened. "He phoned you?"

"Yes. Now tell me that my daughter is safe and that bastard is lying."

"She's safe. He's lying."

She stared him in the eye. "Now prove it. I can't reach her by phone."

He reached in his pocket and drew out his phone and dialed a number. "Montalvo. Let me speak to Jane MacGuire." He handed Eve the phone. "Proof."

"Eve?"

It was undoubtedly Jane's voice. Eve sagged back against the wall. "Thank God. Are you okay, Jane?"

"I'm fine. I'm getting a little stir-crazy. I wish you'd finish up that job and get back here."

"Where are you?"

"Some safe house in Tucson that Venable set up. It's pretty nice and they supplied me with canvases and paints to keep me occupied."

"Venable?"

"Didn't you know he was handling it?"

"No."

Silence. "Are you okay, Eve?"

"I was worried about you."

"I'm fine. But next time you take an internationally sensitive job, I want to go along. I'm bored silly."

"Sorry." She cleared her throat. "I'll be through here as soon as possible. I'll call you. Take care, Jane. I love you."

She hung up the phone and turned to Montalvo. "The CIA?"

He nodded. "I made a deal with them."

"What kind of deal?"

"I promised Venable I wouldn't sell weapons to a certain dictator on his hit list. He promised me they'd keep your daughter and mother safe. Would you like to call your mother? She's in a safe house in Griffin, Georgia."

"How did Venable persuade them to go underground?"

"They love you. He told them it would be safer for you if they were safe."

"How long have they been in safe houses?"

"Since the night Quinn and you were shot. I decided it would be better to take precautions."

"Why the CIA?"

"You'd trust them. Your daughter and mother would trust them." He shrugged. "I don't particularly trust them, but I have my own people watching the houses. And I do trust them."

"Why couldn't I reach her cell phone?"

"Venable didn't want to risk having her phone traced. I'll give you the number of the safe house. Satisfied?"

She nodded slowly. "I was frightened."

His lips tightened. "That's what Diaz wanted. What else did he say?"

"That if I didn't stop working on the reconstruction, he'd make sure I shared a grave with Nalia Armandariz. After suitable pain and degradation, of course."

"Of course." His gaze narrowed on her face. "That's enough to frighten anyone. Did he convince you?"

"He convinced me that I'd better finish this job quickly. I want that son of a bitch to go down. He's threatening people I love." She turned and started back into the library. "Now leave me alone so that I can start to work."

"In a moment." He picked up the tray Miguel had shoved hurriedly on the chest and carried it into the library. He set it on the table by the leather couch. "Miguel was very upset when you summoned me with such grimness. He'll feel much better if he picks up an empty tray a little later. Won't you oblige him?"

She nodded. "I told you, I'll eat. I'll take care of myself. It's part of the job."

He smiled faintly. "See that you do that part as well as you do the reconstruction." He turned toward the door. "Call me if you need me."

She sat down and took the cover off the tray. "I believe I've demonstrated I'm not in the least hesitant about that."

She heard him chuckle as he left the library.