Eight Days to Live (16 page)

“Why wouldn’t he have just taken her with him? Why kill her?”

“Maybe he meant to do it anyway, and he just had to advance his plans a bit.” He stood up. “So he stabbed her and came down those steps firing.”

Firing at her. Firing at Jock.

The memory jarred her out of the shock that had left her dazed and bewildered. “Jock. He should have come back by now.” She turned. “I have to make sure he’s all right.”

“Jane to the rescue,” he murmured. “Nursemaid to a baby tiger.”

“Shut up, Caleb.” She started down the stairs. “He’s my friend.”

“I know. I suppose that’s what’s bothering me.” He went on, “I’ll go after him. I’m the one who told him to take off after Weismann.” He grimaced. “Not that he would have obeyed any order I gave. All he cared about was that I was here to take care of you so he could run him down without feeling guilty. I would have—”

“He got away. Hell, he was fast.” Jock stood in the front doorway. “He had a car parked two blocks away. He was already in it and a half a block down the street by the time I caught up with him.”

“Damn,” Caleb said.

“My sentiments,” Jock said.

“It was definitely Weismann?” Jane asked.

“Yes, what about Adah Ziller? Did you find out anything from her?”

“She’s dead,” Jane said. “Stabbed.”

“Dead end,” Jock said. “Then we’d better get out of here. As I was coming back, I saw lights popping on in several houses on the block. They must have heard those shots.”

“Not yet,” Jane said. “I won’t have this be a dead end.”

“Jane, they’ve probably called the police.”

“Then we’ll have to hurry. Ten minutes, and we’ll be out of here. Weismann killed that woman because he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t tell whatever she knew. I want to see if she can still tell us.” She turned to Caleb. “You said you were searching in the office earlier. Did you find anything?”

“I didn’t have a chance before you came into the house.”

“Then go back and search it again until you do.”

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Caleb asked.

“I have no idea. Anything that might be different or out of place I guess. How do I know? You’re the hunter. Jock, pull the car directly in front of the house and try to find some mud to hide the license number.” She braced herself. Lord, she didn’t want to do this. “I’ll go back into her bedroom and search there. Women often keep things that mean something to them close to them. There’s nothing closer or more intimate than a bedroom.”

“Ten minutes.” Caleb was already down the stairs and heading for the library. He added dryly, “Or when we hear the first sirens.”

Jock turned and left the house.

Stop hesitating, Jane told herself. There isn’t time to give in to emotion. Turn around and go into Adah Ziller’s room and search. It wasn’t a violation. Whatever Jane found would help to punish that bastard who had betrayed Adah.

She wheeled and flew back up the stairs.

She carefully avoided looking at the woman lying on the floor.

Bedside tables, first.

She opened the drawer. Birth control. Pad, pencil. She went around the bed to the other bedside table. A small, malachite-studded Derringer pistol. Very pretty, like its owner. It was a pity she hadn’t had a chance to use it.

Bathroom.

Nothing but the usual products.

Where else?

Luggage.

She opened the closet door and checked the overhead shelf. Zero.

She pulled out the small Louis Vuitton overnight case.

Empty.

No.

Tucked in an elastic pocket on the side was a small but thick leather book.

She grabbed it and shoved the suitcase back in the closet. Jewelry box on the lingerie chest.

Very nice, very expensive costume jewelry. She seemed to be very fond of heavy silver bangles. She lifted the tray. More jewelry.

And a small chamois pouch pushed to the back of the tray. She opened the strings. Not jewelry. Coins.

“Jane! Get down here.”

Jock’s voice.

She slipped the pouch into her jacket pocket and ran toward the door.

Jock was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “I think I heard sirens.”

Caleb was coming out of the living room. “Get going. Keep watch for them. Start the car.”

“Right.” Jock was out the door and running down the walk.

Jane started to follow him.

Wait.” Caleb grabbed a silk runner from the hall table and draped it over her head and shoulders. “Keep your head down. There are probably a dozen neighbors peering out their windows by now.”

“It’s a little late. Our fingerprints are probably all over this house.”

“It’s never too late. We had no idea we’d need gloves when we came here but you have to take precautions where you can.”

“What about you and Jock?”

“I’m not worried about anyone remembering me. It’s too late for Jock.”

No, that’s right, Caleb could change their perceptions, she thought as she ran down the walk.

But, dammit, Jock was very recognizable. People always remembered that incredibly handsome face.

“Get in.” Jock’s face was grim as he threw open the passenger seat door for her. “Those sirens aren’t more than a few blocks away.”

She could hear them herself. Loud, staccato, not like the wailing sirens at home in the U.S.

“Go south two blocks and make a turn and double back on a parallel street to the subdivision entrance,” Caleb said as he jumped in the backseat. “And keep your lights off.”

“I’m driving. Stop telling me what to do,” Jock said as he gunned the engine. “Why do you think I haven’t got my headlights on now?”

More lights were going on in the houses they were passing, Jane noticed tensely.

The sirens were louder.

Hurry.

As Jock made the turn, a dark police car with red lights flashing came into view. Before Jane lost sight of it, she saw the patrol car pull up before Adah’s house.

“We have time, Jane,” Caleb said quietly. “They’ll have to go inside and verify what’s going on and if there’s actually a crime. And, even if all those peeping Toms stream out into the street and try to talk to the policemen, it will take a few minutes for them to sort out what’s happening.”

“And we should be out of the subdivision and miles away before they get it together,” Jock added. “I was only worried about getting a little head start.”

“Very little,” Jane said. But she was relieved to see that they were passing through the stone-framed gates at the entrance of the subdivision. “And it was my fault we cut it so close, so will you both please stop comforting me and get us back to the inn?” She had a sudden thought. “Is the inn still safe?”

“It should be. But we’ll move tomorrow,” Jock said. “I’ll call Venable and see if he can do anything to smooth over what happened tonight. I don’t have much hope. It won’t be easy for him to come into an ongoing investigation.”

An ongoing investigation. He sounded like Joe with that phrase. She was suddenly so homesick for Joe and Eve that she ached with it. She didn’t want to be here in this foreign country, where death seemed to be around every corner.

“You could go to Joe and Eve,” Caleb said softly. “I can find Weismann for you.”

Her gaze flew to his face. How had he known what she was feeling?

He shook his head as he realized what she was thinking. “Just common ordinary insight. I’ve always been attuned to you. Now I’ve begun to know you. It’s not exactly comfortable for me.” He added simply, “I don’t like to see you hurting.”

She studied his expression. He was telling the truth.

And that truth was having an impact on her that was very disturbing. She tore her gaze away from his. “I’m not going to run back to Joe and Eve. This isn’t their fight.”

He shrugged. “Well, I tried. It wasn’t the way I wanted it anyway. As I said, it made me uncomfortable.” He turned to Jock. “You’re being very quiet.”

“I was hoping you’d convince her to go to the Run,” Jock said. “It’s what I want, and it doesn’t matter to me how it’s done. I’ll fade into the background and let you do it.”

Caleb was silent a moment. “I don’t think you’d ever fade into the background, Gavin.”

“I’m not going to the Run,” Jane said. “Not yet. Did you find anything in the office, Caleb?”

“A couple possibilities. You?”

“I’ve no idea. A book. A pouch.” She leaned wearily back in the seat. She was suddenly feeling exhausted, and the memories of Adah Ziller lying back in that house, memories that she had tried to push away, were here with her again. She had been full of hope and determination earlier that night, and now everything was in confusion and shambles. “They could be worth absolutely nothing. I’ll have to go through them when we get to the inn. I don’t want to think about it now.”

“Or you could come up with a bonanza,” Caleb said. “I’d bet on you. I’ve always said you have great instincts.”

Why did those words give her such a sense of pride? In just a few sentences, he’d been able to lighten the depression that was starting to blanket her. It shouldn’t have meant that much to her. It indicated a power she didn’t want to give him.

“But on the other hand, no one has ever said I’m a particularly good gambler. So you’d better disregard any opinion I might have.”

Clever. He’d sensed her rejection of his words and immediately set out to dissipate any damage. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

He smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He looked out the window. “Then you might as well ignore me entirely until we get back to the inn. Try to rest.”

WHEN THEY REACHED THE INN
, they went directly to Jane’s room.

Jock handed Jane her key after unlocking her door. “I’ll go to my room and call Venable. I should be back in five or ten minutes.”

Jane nodded. “Whatever it takes.” She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. “I think we’re going to need him. And ask him if he can trace any Syrian connection between Adah Ziller and Millet. Dammit, I was hoping that we’d get Weismann tonight.”

“Almost,” Jock said. “Next time.”

After he left, Jane went to the window and looked down into the hotel grounds. “It’s getting light.” She glanced at Caleb, who was sitting in a chair across the room watching her. “Dawn.” It seemed a long time ago that they’d talked about dawn and how darkness could be a weapon.

A weapon he hadn’t used. Weismann had been the one using weapons and dispensing ugliness and death. “Before tonight I wasn’t really thinking about Weismann in the same terms as those
other monsters in the group. He was an informer, it seemed to make him better somehow. I wasn’t thinking straight. He’s a killer. He’s just as bad. Maybe worse.”

“Certainly as ruthless. Perhaps not quite as bloody.”

“Blood.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You know all about blood, don’t you?”

“Enough.” He met her eyes. “I know how to take it. I know how to use it to kill. Do you really want to delve into my murky past? If you do, I’ll oblige you. But it’s not a confidence I’d make lightly. There would be a price to pay. Are you prepared to pay it?”

She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Why had she started this? She was tired and on an emotional edge, and the words had just tumbled out. Her curiosity and fascination with Seth Caleb had always been just been beneath the surface, ready to break free whenever she was with him.

“Are you?” he repeated softly.

Heat. That undercurrent of breathless recklessness. The exhilaration of walking too close to the precipice and wanting to plunge off into the unknown.

Yes. Any price. Just make it worth the cost.

Don’t say those words. She would regret it.

Or would she?

She forced herself to look away. Clear your head. It was only because she was disappointed and depressed because they’d not intercepted Weismann that she’d felt this compulsion. She wasn’t the type of person to indulge in recklessness. “I’m not that interested.”

“Liar,” he murmured. “You’re as curious about knowing everything about me as I am about you.” He smiled. “I almost had you, didn’t I?”

“No.” It wasn’t the truth. She had been very close, but to admit
it would be a step nearer to that precipice. She changed the subject. “What did you find in the office?”

He reached in his jacket pocket. “Two first-class airline tickets to Syria, for Adah Ziller and a Harry Norbert.”

“Norbert?”

“Weismann wouldn’t have booked under his own name. He probably has a few other phony passports.” He threw the tickets on the table. “The reservations are for tomorrow. But he won’t be using them after what happened tonight.”

“Anything else?”

“A couple keys. They were in an envelope with the tickets. They both are to a safety-deposit box at a bank in Zurich, together with account access information for Adah Ziller.”

“She had a Swiss account?”

“She had a number of important lovers. Maybe she kept track of letters and valuable memorabilia that might come in handy later.”

“Blackmail?”

“Possibly. Or maybe she put something in her deposit box for safekeeping for Weismann. But at least we have a place to start. A Swiss bank. Syria.”

“That’s a pretty lame start. There are too many holes to fill in.”

“Not so many. Maybe whatever you turned up might help to fill them.”

“That would be too lucky.” She pulled out the leather book she’d stuffed in her pocket. “This was tucked in a pocket in her suitcase. It looks like a daytimer or a journal.” She flipped open the pages. “Dammit, it’s not in English.”

“She was a Syrian.” He stood up and took the leather book and glanced at it. “Arabic.”

“Can you read it?”

“No, but I know someone who can. It’s not the first time I’ve had to have her interpret for me. She speaks twelve languages and is very discreet.”

“But is she close by?”

“She lives across the border in Switzerland. We’ll stop on our way to Zurich.”

“We’re going to Zurich? You think we can get into that safety-deposit box?”

“That’s the least of our problems.”

It seemed a huge problem to Jane. But it was clearly a necessity with which they’d have to deal.

“Anything else?” Caleb asked.