Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [61]
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.