Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [15]
Joe nodded again. “He'll drop you at a hotel.” He paused. “Or the airport.”
Trevor gave a mock shiver. “The welcome mat has definitely been yanked. I can only hope that I can reinstate myself in your good graces.”
“You were never in them,” Eve said. “We don't know you and now we don't trust you.”
He paused at the door. “You can trust me,” he said quietly. “If you searched the world over, you wouldn't find anyone who wants to keep Jane safe more than I do.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a card, and placed it on the table by the door. “That's for you, Jane. My cell number. If you need anything, call me. I'll be there for you.” The door closed behind him.
“Whew.” Jane went to the window and watched him as he moved toward the police car. “He's definitely not stuffy or slow moving, is he?”
“No.” Eve's gaze narrowed on her face. “What do you think of him?”
She glanced at Eve. “Why?”
“When you first met him, you couldn't take your eyes off him. He's very good-looking, isn't he?”
“Is he?” She frowned. “I suppose he is. I didn't really notice.”
“That's hard to believe. It was pretty clear you were fascinated.”
“He reminded me of someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't remember. Someone . . .” She saw Eve's expression and she smiled. “You're worried. You think I developed a crush on him in the few minutes he was here? I don't have crushes, Eve. You know that.”
Relief surged through her. She smiled. “There's always a first time. I'd be glad to see you have a crush or two. I keep hoping and waiting for a breakthrough.” She shook her head. “But pick a rock star or a football player. Not him, Jane.”
“Definitely not him.” Joe headed for the door. “I think I'll escort him into town myself. Don't bother to heat up the steaks. I'll pick up Chinese on the way back.”
Jane giggled as the door closed behind him. “He reminds me of the sheriff in a spaghetti western. Only he'd be running the outlaw out of town, not escorting him to the hotel.” She moved over to the door and picked up Trevor's business card on the table. “He really upset both of you. You'd think he was attacking me instead of only doing his job.”
“He should have notified us of any threat. That's what any policeman I know would have done.”
“Maybe Scotland Yard is different.”
“Are you defending him?”
“I suppose I am.” She stuffed the card in the pocket of her jeans. “Do you remember when I was little and stole food to feed Mike when he was hiding out in that alley? I didn't want to do it. I knew it was wrong, but Mike was six years old and would have gone hungry if I hadn't found a way to feed him. Sometimes you have to do bad things to keep worse things from happening.”
“It's not the same. You were only ten.”
“If I couldn't find any other way, I'd do it today. Maybe that's why I understand Trevor.”
“You can't understand him,” Eve said curtly. “You don't know him.”
“I just don't see what all the fuss is about. You told me that Joe thought he was obsessed with this case. I can see why anyone who felt that deeply would be willing to snoop around a bit and see if he could spot anyone suspicious before he let me be surrounded by cops that might scare him off.”
“That's more than I can see.” Eve's lips tightened grimly. “And why are you keeping his telephone number?”
“Because I believed him when he said he wanted to keep me alive.” She met Eve's eyes. “Didn't you?”
Eve wanted to deny it, but it wouldn't have been honest and Jane would have known it. “Yes. But that doesn't mean I'd trust his ways and means.”
Jane nodded. “I see what you mean. But sometimes you take what you can get. Trevor may be unconventional but I'd bet he's very good at what he does.” She moved toward the bedroom. “Now I'm going to do my homework so that I can enjoy that Chinese food Joe is bringing home.”
Eve watched the door shut behind her. Jesus, she wished Jane wasn't so damn smart. From the time she was a child she'd always known her own mind and trusted her judgments.
And her judgments were usually good, better than most adults'. That didn't mean that she was infallible. Trevor was smart