“But you don’t feel as if it’s good news. You feel as if you’re treading water. I can—” His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. His brows rose in surprise. “Your Joe Quinn.”
Jane tensed. “Why would he call you?”
“You’re thinking bad thoughts,” Caleb said. “Relax. I assure you that he wouldn’t call me to cushion bad news for you. He wouldn’t trust my sensitivity.” He turned up the volume before he answered the call. “Caleb.”
“I’m sending you a file,” Joe said briefly. “I gave Venable the disk when I got in yesterday, and he had it processed within a few hours, then checked the data banks. The shooter’s name is Terence Blick, but he doesn’t appear to have much of a record.”
“What’s his connection to Jane or Eve?”
“Not a damn thing that I can see. At least not in the file that Venable gave me.”
“You think there are omissions?”
“I don’t know what I think. It’s possible. Venable is being entirely too enigmatic. I’m going to check some of my own sources and see if I can find out anything else. How is Jane?”
“Better. She’s right here. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No, just show her the file. That’s all I know right now. I’ll call her later. I kept my word, Caleb. Now we’re quits.” He hung up.
“He sounds tired. He didn’t have the strength to insult or abuse me.” Caleb pressed the disconnect and brought up the file. “I’m sending the file to your phone for you to study.” He dropped down in the chair beside her bed. “It will give you something to occupy you while you’re stuck here.”
He began to read the file.
She immediately grabbed her iPhone on the bedside table and pulled up the file.
Photo, first.
She didn’t even know what the man who had shot her looked like.
Thirties, curly red hair, freckles, large nose, and blue eyes. She had never seen him before. No, that wasn’t right. His curly hair and thick neck bore a resemblance to the photo of the man who had been at the dog day-care center, the man who had poisoned Toby. A slender, fragile connection that was totally baffling.
She began to quickly scan the file.
Terence Blick. Age thirty-four. Born in Chicago, lived for his first fourteen years in a suburb on the north side. Father, a bus driver, mother a waitress. Several charges of petty theft and shoplifting during that period, but he was never convicted. He had dropped out of high school and left town right after his fourteenth birthday. A few years later he had joined the Army and was sent overseas. He was honorably discharged eight years later and returned to Chicago. His mother and father died in an automobile accident shortly after he returned home. He sold the home that he’d inherited from them and began drifting around the country, taking minimum-wage jobs whenever he got low on funds.
Caleb was sitting waiting for her to finish when she looked up a few minutes later. “There’s not much here.” She frowned. “Nothing to tell me why he did this.”
“And no significant criminal record. Just a few petty crimes when he was a boy. Then, apparently, he straightened himself out and joined the Army. No trouble while he was in the service. He made sergeant.” He looked down at the file on his phone. “Evidently, even after he left the service, he didn’t get into trouble. A few speeding tickets, one for drunken driving, a barroom fight that was pretty violent but not fatal.”
“Then did he suddenly go crazy? He poisoned Toby. He tried to kill me.”
He shook his head. “I’m leaning toward Quinn’s theory and betting that we don’t have the full story on Blick. I think that there would be an entirely different picture if we could read between the lines. I’d be interested to see what else Quinn comes up with.” He grimaced. “But I don’t think that I’ll get a chance to do that unless you intercede with him. He considers me paid off and out of his way.”
“I’ll find out.” She looked down at the file. “It takes a certain vileness to kill a helpless dog. Yet none of that shows here. He’s either very clever or been very lucky.”
“Or there’s something in his past we’re not seeing.” He suddenly chuckled. “And only you would comment on the vileness of hurting an animal when you’re lying there with a bullet wound.”
She made a face. “Margaret would understand. She feels the same way about attacking those who can’t protect themselves. I’m not helpless.”
“And I’m very glad,” he said softly as he rose to his feet. “It makes the game so much more interesting.”
He was standing there, legs slightly parted, looking at her with that slight smile that was part sardonic, part wickedly sensual.
She felt the blood tingle through her, making her heart pound. She knew that he was capable of that kind of physical manipulation. Was he doing it?
He slowly shook his head. Dammit, he knew what she was thinking. He had always been able to read her.
No, it was just her basic physical response to him. Even her breasts felt tauter, and her breathing was shallow.
She would much have preferred it the other way.
It was just another sign of how Caleb could stir her even now, when she was so distraught and worried. The responses seemed to exist apart and on different planes from each other.
She looked away from him. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything more from Joe. I’d appreciate if you’d keep an eye on Margaret.”
“I told you I would.” His tone was rough. “I take it I’m dismissed?” He was moving toward the door. “Okay, I’m going. I’m not going to let you close me out forever, Jane. You might remember that I didn’t do anything to make you push me away. For God’s sake, you’d think Margaret was right when she said that you’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid—” She broke off as he strode out of the room.
Margaret had told Caleb that she was afraid of him?
Well, maybe she was right. She had always been uneasy and wary when she was with him. But it hadn’t stopped her from being drawn to him. No, what she felt for Caleb was so complicated that it was safer to keep the walls high.
Yet Joe and Eve had never clung to safety in their relationship. They had walked the edge and thought every step worth it.
But she wasn’t Eve. She didn’t have her trust.
Eve.
The tension washed over Jane again.
Call, Joe. Tell me you know where she is. Tell me you at least have a place to start.
Lake Cottage
“YOU SHOULD GET SOME SLEEP, Quinn,” Venable said quietly as he came up the porch steps. “You’re looking pretty ragged. I’ll call you if I hear anything about Eve or that kid.”
“I’m not sure you would,” Joe said coldly as he put away his phone. “That would require a certain amount of trust. I’m not willing to give you that trust at the moment. I think you know more than you’re telling me.” He looked him in the eye. “Do you?”
Venable hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
“At last,” Joe said sarcastically. “It’s about time you admitted it. Are you going to let me know how you involved Eve in this?”
“I didn’t involve her. It wasn’t my fault.”
“And that report on Terence Blick was completely undoctored?”
He grimaced. “For the most part. Perhaps a few things were left out.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Nothing that would keep you from finding Blick. Forget him, he’s not important.”
“I gathered that. Two-prong attack. Blick couldn’t have been in two places. He was on the island shooting Jane. Who was here, Venable? Who took Eve?”
Venable didn’t answer.
“You’d better tell me.” Joe’s voice was casual, almost conversational. “You do know I’ll kill you if anything happens to her?”
Venable nodded. “There are things I can’t tell you. I made a promise, and I’ll keep it. I’m in the dark, too. Nothing I can tell you is going to get you any closer to finding her. It’s not as if I haven’t got men looking for Eve, Quinn. I’m doing everything I can to find her.”