Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [44]
Trevor smiled. “You asked me that before. Actually, I expected that to be Quinn's first question too.”
“Tell me.”
“He's looking for a woman he thinks turned his father against him and was then responsible for his death.”
“Did she?”
“Maybe.”
“So he hates her.”
“And desires her. Sometimes the lines blur when you're insane.”
“He wants her so much that he tries to destroy her image wherever he finds it?” Joe shook his head. “He's a butcher.”
Trevor nodded. “But he had sexual intercourse with the first few victims. He probably had hopes he'd actually found her and sex was the ultimate humiliation. But then he realized that it was a big world and there were many women who had some resemblance. He felt bound to kill them, destroy the likeness, but he had no desire to have sex with them. Since they weren't really her, it was only a duty.”
“Duty,” Jane repeated. “Why?”
“Because they looked like her and mustn't be allowed to escape,” Trevor said. “He couldn't bear to have anyone who resembled her left alive. They had to die.”
Jane shook her head. “That doesn't make sense. Those women . . . They came from all walks of life. If he followed them, hunted them, he'd have to know something about their history. He must have known they couldn't be the woman who seduced his father.”
“According to his way of thinking there was a chance.”
“Bull. And if Aldo was so clever about tracking down all those women with her face, my face, why didn't he investigate?” She gestured with one hand. “Why not go to the police or hire private detectives and find the right one?”
“It would have been difficult.”
“Not as difficult as killing eleven women on the chance of getting the right one.”
“Yes, it would.”
“Why?” She was shaking, she realized. She didn't want him to answer. What the devil was wrong with her?
He gazed directly into her eyes. “Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you.”
“I don't need you to take care of me. Just tell me why he couldn't find her.”
“Because Cira's been dead for over two thousand years.”
She felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. At first, only the name he'd spoken was clear to her. “Cira . . .” she whispered. “Her name is Cira?”
Joe grunted with disgust. “A two-thousand-year-old corpse? What the hell are you trying to pull, Trevor?”
“Wait, Joe,” Eve said, her gaze on Jane's face. “Let him talk.”
“He's scaring Jane, dammit.”
“I can see that. Let him talk.”
Jane scarcely heard them. “Cira?” Her hands clenched into fists. “He's looking for Cira?”
“Cira who?” Joe asked.
“No one knew her last name.” Trevor's gaze never left Jane's face. “She was only Cira. Cira the magnificent, Cira the divine, Cira the enchantress.”
“Cut to the chase,” Eve said curtly. “We're losing patience. How could a two-thousand-year-old corpse kill Aldo's father?”
“Sorry.” Trevor pulled his gaze away from Jane to smile at Eve. “Actually, Cira wasn't really responsible. His father killed himself when he set off an explosion to seal off the tunnel.”
“Tunnel?” Eve repeated.
He nodded. “The selfish bastard wanted everything for himself. He sealed the entrance, but he wasn't good with explosives and blew himself up too.”
“Where did this happen?”
“Northern Italy,” Joe said. “Four years ago. Right?”
“Close,” Trevor said. “You've been busy, if you traced me that far. It was four years ago and the job was supposed to be in northern Italy. But something more interesting popped up.”
“Aldo?”
“No, Aldo was in the shadows back then. Aldo's father, Guido.”
“What was his whole name?”
Trevor hesitated before answering, “Guido Manza.”
Joe swore. “Dammit, you've known Aldo's last name all this time and you've never told the police? Some of those women might be alive now.”
“I didn't know what the bastard was doing until he left Italy and went to England. I thought he was just running from me until I saw the photo in the Times of that woman he killed in Brighton. I made the connection as soon as I saw the resemblance and started backtracking.”
“Why would