Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [16]
But there weren't any teenagers like Jane. She was an original and her reactions were distinctly her own.
She'd kept his telephone number, dammit.
She sighed. Who knew which way Jane would jump? She might be worrying for nothing.
After all, she'd kicked him out of the house just because he'd upset Eve.
This is the Peachtree Plaza.” Joe pulled up before the front entrance. “I made reservations for you for two days. I didn't think you'd be here any longer.”
“And now you hope I won't be.” Trevor got out of the car as the doorman opened the door. “My assistance is no longer required.”
“I imagine I'll be able to find out all I need from those files you brought. We don't need you.”
Trevor smiled. “But you've got me. And how do you know I put everything I know into those files?”
Joe's gaze narrowed on his face. “For instance.”
“The volcano that produced those ashes. You'll notice the geologists couldn't come to any conclusion.”
“But you know where they originated?”
“I have theories.”
“Theories aren't proof.”
“But they're a starting point.”
“And do you have a theory about why he scatters those ashes?”
“Maybe.” Trevor tipped the doorman as he grabbed his duffel. “What's certain is that we could be valuable to each other, Quinn. And you're coming in late on a case that I've lived and breathed for years.”
“Do you think I don't know you're trying to play me?” Joe said coolly. “You're dangling little morsels of information in hopes that I'll forgive all and let you edge back into the investigation. But you haven't given me anything. Zilch.”
“Jane used that word too.” Trevor smiled. “It's a warm and heartening thing the way families pick up words and traits from each other.” He pretended to think. “You're right. I've told you nothing really. Theories are so difficult to substantiate. And you have all the time in the world to formulate your own and then investigate, don't you?” He didn't wait for a reply but turned and walked into the hotel.
Bastard.
Joe sat at the wheel, his gaze fixed on the door. Trevor would take a sly pleasure out of having him run after him. He'd be damned if he'd do it. Even if logic told him he should wring every bit of information Trevor possessed out of the mocking son of a bitch, he'd wait until he was certain that he couldn't get it any other way. Trevor was a force to be reckoned with and he didn't need a wild card spinning the investigation out of Joe's control.
He pressed the accelerator and glided back to the street.
Ashes from a volcano . . .
Weird. Maybe the scientists they had on this side of the Atlantic could come up with an answer. But if they did, they'd have to be damn quick. Trevor's last remark had hit the bull's-eye. They might be running out of time for Jane.
The thought sent a bolt of panic through him and tempted him to turn around and go back to Trevor. To hell with Anglo-American cooperation. There were other ways than persuasion to get information from the son of a bitch. Two could play that game. Trevor had violated his position by not informing him about the danger to—
His phone rang and he glanced at the ID. Eve.
“I've just dropped him off,” he said. “I'll be home in forty-five minutes. Everything okay?”
“No, I don't think it is.” Eve's words came hard and fast. “I was sitting here going over these files and something occurred to me. I think everything may be wrong as hell.”
Trevor watched Quinn's car disappear around the corner before he turned and moved toward the registration desk.
He'd done all he could. A few tantalizing tidbits and a subtle threat to someone Quinn loved. Either one might do the trick. God, he hoped it would be enough. Today hadn't been his most shining hour. He'd come here prepared to be clever and conquer on all fronts and he'd made a gigantic mistake that was impossible to cover. Maybe if Eve Duncan and Quinn had been less smart, less perceptive, he might have been able to smooth it over, but they were as formidable as Bartlett had told him. He was lucky