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“That I’m her
granddaughter
?” Tash’s voice was a strained whisper.

“Look at the pictures again. Can you think of another explanation?”

“I don’t know what to . . .” Tash hugged herself. “Take me out of here.”

Before Coltrane knew what he was doing, he put an arm around her. “Yes, you’ve been through a lot. Let’s get you upstairs where it’s warm.”

COLTRANE’S NEED TO HELP WAS SO GREAT THAT, unusual for him, he didn’t take the time to put the photographs back into the chamber and secure its entrance. His arm still around her, feeling her shiver, he walked with her from the vault. Immediately, as they stepped outside, a jangling sound startled them.

From Tash’s purse.

Coltrane had picked it up as they started across the vault. Tash was so preoccupied that she didn’t at first seem to recognize the shrill insistence of her cellular telephone.

“Don’t tell me he found out
this
number,” Tash said.

The phone rang again.

“Would you like me to answer it for you?” Coltrane asked.

The phone rang a third time.

“No,” Tash said. “If he hears a man’s voice, it might make him do something more extreme.”

The phone persisted.

“Then don’t answer it at all,” Coltrane said.

“But what if it’s . . .” Apprehensive, Tash reached for the bag, fumbled inside it, pulled out the phone, opened it with an unsteady hand, and pressed the talk button.

“Hello?” Her voice was tentative, but as she listened, she visibly relaxed. “Walt? Thank heaven. I was afraid it’d be . . . No, I’m fine . . . I went out. Mitch had something he needed to show me about the estate I inherited. We drove into Los Angeles. . . . You’ve been trying to call me for the past hour? But I had the phone with me all the time. It never rang. I don’t know why it . . .” Her dark eyes focused on the open door to the vault. “Wait a minute. I was in a storage area that had a lot of concrete around it. It must have shut out the signal. . . . Slow down, Walt. What’s wrong? You sound . . . Jesus.” Tensing again, she listened harder. “He did
what? Were you hurt? Was anybody
. . .” She stared at the wall across from her, but her eyes seemed so black with despair that Coltrane had the sense she wasn’t seeing anything except nightmarish visions in her mind. “I don’t know what to do. . . . That’s kind of you to offer, but I can’t go back there tonight. I didn’t bring my car. Mitch would have to drive me all the way to your place, and rather than have him do it, I’ll check into a hotel around here. . . . Yes, I’m sure. . . . Of course I feel safe with him.”

“Let me talk to him,” Coltrane said.

“I don’t know the address here. I wasn’t looking when . . .”

“I need to ask him something.” Coltrane held out his hand.

“Just a second, Walt.” Tash gave him the phone.

Coltrane felt the heat from her hand on it. He smelled her lingering fragrance. “It’s Mitch Coltrane.”

A dead silence was followed by Walt’s husky voice saying, “The son of a bitch poured gasoline through the metal bars in front of Tash’s house and set fire to the garden.”

Coltrane tensed.

“The fumes were everywhere. If I hadn’t stopped by to see if everything was okay, the house would have been destroyed,” Walt said. “I phoned the fire department and used a garden hose to wet down the house until help arrived. It was damned close for a while.”

“
Gasoline
?”

“That tells you something?” Walt asked.

“I once helped put a stalker in jail by taking his photograph while he poured gasoline on a woman’s lawn.”

“Well, too bad you didn’t stay here instead of driving to Los Angeles. You might have gotten his picture,” Walt said sarcastically.

Coltrane ignored it.

“What’s your address?” Walt asked. “I’ll come get Tash and make sure she spends the night somewhere safe.”

“Are you using a cellular phone?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. What difference does it—”

“A couple of years ago, in Beirut, a man who knows about these things told me never to say anything important on cellular phones. It’s too easy to eavesdrop on conversations over them. I’ll bring Tash back tomorrow morning. But thinking of Ilkovic reminds me of something else. Did you ever have Tash’s house checked for hidden microphones?”

“What?”

“Ilkovic specialized in planting bugs. That was how he anticipated my movements, by overhearing my conversations,” Coltrane said. “Do you suppose this jerk knows all about Tash’s movements because he planted bugs in
her
house? That would be one way for him to learn her new telephone numbers — when the service person told her what they were, she wasn’t the only one listening.”

More dead silence. “Christ.”

“You
didn’t
check for bugs?” Coltrane asked.

“I’m sure as hell going to.”

“And after that, I’ll bring Tash back.” He gave the phone to her.

But Tash didn’t raise it to her ear. She just kept staring at Coltrane. “
Microphones? You honestly think there might be
. . .”

“Tash? Are you there?” Walt asked faintly from the phone.

Slowly, she raised it. “Walt, I don’t feel up to talking right now. But thanks for everything. I’m really grateful. . . . No, stay there. I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She pressed a button on the phone and put the phone back into her bag.

Neither spoke for a moment.

“
Microphones in my house
?”

“It’s a possibility. It has to be checked.”

“But the house has an alarm system. How would he get in to plant the microphones?”

“Before this started, did you have any maintenance work done around the house?”

“The carpeting was put in recently. You don’t suppose . . .”

Coltrane spread his hands.

“Jesus, I feel so . . . violated.”

“I’ve been there. I know what you mean.”

“Do you think he set the fire to pay me back for trying to trap him today? Or did he figure out I drove away with you and he was jealous?”

“I was sure he couldn’t have known you were in the car,” Coltrane said. “But . . .”

“What is it?”

“I’m a little late wondering about the possibility of hidden microphones. If your house is bugged, he would have overheard us planning how to hide you in the car. I’m sorry. I might have made a mistake.”

“I’m not into blaming people. You did your best.” Tash controlled a shudder. “On the positive side, he couldn’t have followed us and at the same time have started the fire. So we know I’m safe for now.” She looked at him. “Can you recommend a hotel in the area?”

“One.”

She waited for the name.

“Right here,” Coltrane said. “There’s a guest bedroom. I’ve got plenty of spare toothbrushes. If I can fit into one of
your
robes, I know you can fit into one of mine.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“Why not? Because you barely know me?”

Tash shrugged.

“In the last few hours, I’d say we’d gotten to know each other fairly well.” Coltrane locked the door to the vault.

“After going through those photographs? I suppose you’re right.”

They started up the stairs.

“Look, I made a killer marinara sauce last night,” Coltrane said. “There was plenty left over. I can cook up more pasta and—”

Another shrill noise startled them. They froze at the top of the stairs into the living room.

But this time the sound wasn’t from the phone in Tash’s purse. It came from the doorbell.

Coltrane frowned. “Who would
that
be?”

“Are you expecting anyone?”

“No. Sometimes Randolph Packard’s assistant drops by, but he has a key, and he usually just lets himself in. Maybe he’s decided to be polite and ring the doorbell.”

With the second jangle of the doorbell, Tash looked more uneasy.

“It’ll be fine. No one knows you’re here,” Coltrane said.

But he himself did not feel assured. He went to the door, looked through its peephole, and felt something inside him contract when he saw who it was.

Oh no, he thought.

He was tempted not to open it, but he couldn’t be certain that his and Tash’s voice hadn’t carried faintly to the person on the other side. Preparing himself, he gripped the dead bolt’s knob, turned it, opened the door, and tried not to look self-conscious when he smiled at Jennifer.

“HEY, WHAT A SURPRISE,” Coltrane said.

“Surprise?” Jennifer looked confused. She still wore her black Armani dress. The same pearl earrings and necklace highlighted it, glinting from the outdoor lights. “You didn’t get the message I left on your answering machine?”

“I just came in awhile ago. I haven’t had a chance to listen to my messages.” Coltrane remained at the partially opened door. “What have you got there?”

She held a cardboard box that contained several Tupperware bowls, each covered with a plastic lid. “New Year’s dinner. There was plenty of food left over at my parents’ house, and I wasn’t sure how much you would have gotten to eat when you visited Greg’s widow this afternoon. So I thought I’d bring you a care package.”

“That was really thoughtful.”

“But it’s getting heavy. You’d better move out of the way so I can bring it in.”

“Ah . . . sure. I’m so surprised to . . . Here, let me help.”

Coltrane reached to take the box from her. His movement opened the door wider, causing Jennifer’s previous look of confusion to become one of concern as she glanced past him.

“Oh . . . I beg your pardon. I didn’t know you had company.”

Tash had remained standing at the top of the living room stairs.

“Well, a couple of things happened today, and . . .” Coltrane didn’t know how to get out of the sentence. “Jennifer, I’d like you to meet Tash Adler.”

“Hello.” Jennifer had trouble saying the word.

“Tash, this is my friend Jennifer Lane.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Smiling, Tash came down the stairs.

By then, Coltrane had overcome his awkwardness enough to finish taking the box from Jennifer. Her hands were free, but she waited a moment before she gripped the hand Tash offered.

“You look awfully familiar,” Jennifer said, then frowned toward Coltrane. “I don’t understand.”

“Familiar?” Tash looked puzzled.

“Jennifer knows about the photographs,” Coltrane explained.

“You’ve seen them?” Tash asked.

“Yes.”

“
All
of them?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said.

Despite Tash’s tan, the embarrassment that colored her cheeks was obvious. It was almost as if she felt the nude photos were of her and not of Rebecca Chance.

“Tash Adler?” Jennifer searched her memory. “Are you the person who inherited Randolph Packard’s estate in Mexico?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Jennifer’s been helping me do my research,” Coltrane said. He felt awkward standing between the two women, holding the box of Tupperware containers. “Jennifer, after I visited Greg’s widow, my curiosity got the better of me. I went up to Malibu to see if I could find where Tash lived.”

“You’ve certainly had an eventful day.”

“I brought Tash back here to see the photographs and try to figure out why she looked so much like Rebecca Chance.”

Jennifer couldn’t take her eyes away from Tash. “And did you come up with any answers?”

“We’re beginning to suspect she might have been my grandmother,” Tash said.

“There you are, Mitch. I’m impressed by the progress you’re making.” Jennifer looked uncomfortable in the doorway.

“But why are we standing here?” Coltrane made room. “Come in, and we’ll—”

“No, that’s all right,” Jennifer said too quickly. “I just wanted to stop by and leave this food. I wasn’t planning on staying. I have a lot of things to do at the office tomorrow. I planned on getting an early start.”

“Can’t you come in for a little while at least?” Coltrane asked. “I was going to open a bottle of wine and . . .”

“Yes,” Tash said. “Stay and we’ll talk. It’s awfully nice of you to bring the food. I’m sure Mitch is glad not to have to eat leftovers. He was going to reheat some marinara sauce he made yesterday.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jennifer’s voice sounded a little choked. “He makes great marinara sauce.” She backed away. “I really have to be going. It was a pleasure to meet you, Tash. I’ll talk to you later, Mitch.”

“But—”

“Happy New Year.”

“. . . Happy New Year.” Conscious of the heavy box of Tupperware in his hands, Coltrane watched Jennifer walk to the curb, get in her BMW, and drive away. She didn’t look back.

ONLY AFTER HER HEADLIGHTS VANISHED OVER THE HILL DID Coltrane nudge the door shut. “Lock this for me, will you?”

“Sure,” Tash said. “I have the uneasy feeling I got in the way of something. Are the two of you . . .”

“It’s complicated. We’re trying to see if we can work things out again.” He climbed the stairs toward the living room.

“This misunderstanding couldn’t have helped any.” Tash followed. “Is she the friend you mentioned, the one who emphasized that this was the time of year to concentrate on new beginnings?”

“I’m afraid so.” Coltrane felt terrible about what had happened. “I suspect this wasn’t the kind of beginning she had in mind. I’ll call her first thing tomorrow.”

When they entered the dining room, Tash faltered. “These strings of beads on the walls . . .”

“Yes, they’re unusual, aren’t they?”

“But . . .” Tash shook her head, baffled. “They were in one of the photographs downstairs. One of the nudes.”

“Rebecca Chance used to own this house.”

“
What
?”

“After she disappeared, Randolph Packard bought the place and kept it exactly as it was when she lived here.”

“What in God’s name is going on?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

“Never mind the wine,” Tash said abruptly. “Have you got any scotch?”

Worried about her manner, Coltrane poured it. “Do you want ice or—”

“No.” Tash grabbed the glass and took two quick swallows. She closed her eyes, then opened them. “Now you can add ice and water.”