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  Or Jock could be at risk. Svardak didn’t know about Jock, but that didn’t mean he was safe either.

  The thought sent a bolt of frantic fear through her.

  No! Both of you stay away. Let me fight this alone.

  Last night, she had been full of hope because she had thought that all she had to worry about was convincing Jock they could have a life together. How could it have changed this quickly?

  Well, life had changed, and she had to change with it. Her mind was suddenly brimming, full of Svardak’s words and images. Think about them while she was trying to fight off the cold.

  Tribute.

  A violin with blood pouring from it.

  Anna, a woman Svardak had not wanted to talk about.

  Marian Napier, that poor frightened, young violinist who Svardak had tormented and eventually killed.

  All terrible visions, but she had to remember so that she would be able to put this picture together when she confronted Svardak again.

  It’s really only you and Marian alone together.

  Her gaze was drawn helplessly to the darkness of the abyss a few yards away. Marian was down there, lost in the darkness. Had he taken her music from her when he’d used her violin in that horrible way? No, Cara had to believe the music went on even though what people called life did not. Nothing else made sense to her. Beauty and nature and the sounds of all heaven and earth had to continue.

  “Did you find that, Marian?” she whispered. “I hope you did.”

  No sound but the wailing of the wind through the canyon.

  What had she expected? It must be because she was feeling so desperate that she wanted to believe this horror could not be totally without some kind of hope. She leaned back against the tree, huddling to retain what body heat she had left. “He’s a terrible, terrible man. I wish someone had been here for you. But I’m here for you now. Neither one of us is alone.”

  Just the sound of the wind whipping through the deep gorge.

  But she could still hear the strains of Marian’s Mendelssohn concerto pouring from the house.

  Why was she feeling that the heartbreaking pain and fear in Marian’s music that had previously torn Cara apart had vanished? The notes were there, the terrible vulnerability was there … but she was no longer feeling the woman’s pain.

  An answer? Imagination?

  No way of telling.

  She was just feeling that she was not as alone as she’d been only minutes before.

  “He wants to hurt me as he did you,” she whispered. “He might do it. But maybe we can fight this part of it. I’ll think about you, not about the horror, but about the music, because in the end that’s what both of us are about. Okay?”

  Did the wind in the abyss sound a little less sharp and cruel?

  “I want you to know that in spite of him, you performed the Mendelssohn very well. The beauty was there beneath everything that he made you do. That’s why it was hurting me so much. I don’t believe I do justice to Mendelssohn. Tchaikovsky seems to suit me more.”

  Was she talking to herself, or Marian Napier, or just the music itself?

  What the hell? It could be that she was starting to experience the first signs of hypothermia.

  If she was, then she would fight it off as long as possible. She started to shift, to move, to open and close her hands. She would do what she could and hope to make it through the night.

  And it would not be so bad to have the company of someone else who loved the music as much as she did …

  CHAPTER

  4

  “What have you found out?” Jock asked, when Joe answered as he was driving away from the lake cottage. “Any word from Interpol about Kaskov’s present location?”

  “Not yet. He doesn’t appear to be at his Moscow estate.”

  “Appear? I need definite.” He paused. “Has Eve called you yet?”

  “No. Should she?”

  “Don’t get protective. Yes, I upset her. But she upset me as well. She made me show her the photos.”

  “I knew she would.” He paused. “What did she say?”

  “She said she didn’t believe it was Kaskov.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Monster. I suppose I don’t have to explain to you what she meant.”

  “No.”

  “Well, she had to explain it to me. And I didn’t like what she said. But I’m still going after Kaskov because I have no other choice.” His hands clenched on the steering wheel. “And Interpol just struck out. I have to get someone who can find him now, not later.”

  “By all means. Choice?”

  “Dima Palik. He has his ear to the ground in half the countries in Europe and particularly Moscow and sells that information to the highest bidder. I’ve worked with him a number of times before.”

  “I’m familiar with his work,” Joe said harshly. “Do what you have to do. But notify me as soon as you hear anything. Do you hear me, Jock? You don’t go off on your own.”

  “I hear you. Have you been able to run anything down about that violin?”

  “It’s only been a few hours. They have to be careful not to destroy any forensic evidence from the blood as well as the violin itself. But you were right, there seems to be something inscribed inside the left F-hole when they can manage to safely clear the blood away.”

  “Safely?” Jock swore beneath his breath. “There’s nothing safe about any of this. Get them to do their damn jobs.”

  “That’s what they’re doing,” Joe said quietly. “Just not the way we want it done. I’ll give them just a little longer; and then I’ll go in and see that it’s done our way.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Now, I’m going to hang up and call Eve and make sure you didn’t do any damage. I’ll call you when I find out about the violin.” He ended the call.

  More nothing, Jock thought with frustration. Blind alleys all the way. But it couldn’t go on. He couldn’t permit it to go on.

  He pulled over to the side of the road and accessed the number for Dima Palik.

  Palik answered in three rings, and he did not sound pleased. “I don’t wish to be involved in this, Gavin. I deal in information, not services. Find someone else.”

  “Really?” Jock stiffened. “It seems you might already be involved if you refuse a job before it’s offered. Which means I have no intention of finding someone else. What’s happening, Palik?”

  Silence. “You’re a good customer, but I won’t be made a go-between for anyone. The man in the middle invariably gets chopped. I intend to lead a long and prosperous life.”

  “You won’t live more than the very short time it will take me to get to you,” Jock said softly. “If you don’t tell me what the hell you’re talking about, Palik. I don’t have much time, and I’m not going to waste a second of it. I do hope you don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’ll allow you to survive if you cause me a problem in this.”

  Another silence. “I shouldn’t have answered the phone. I just wasn’t certain how you’d react later if I didn’t.”

  “Palik.”

  “Okay, but you keep me out of it from now on. He’s not going to care what happens to me, but you protect me.” He added harshly, “Go ahead, you want to know. Ask the question.”

  “There’s only one thing I want to know, and evidently I’m not going to have to ask. Only Kaskov could intimidate you to this extent. Did he tell you to set a trap for me?”

  “No, I dealt with Nikolai, and he’s intimidating enough for me. He just called today and told me to expect a call from you very soon. He said that if you offered me a job, I was to take it.” He paused. “And if part of that job was to find Kaskov, that I was also to accept it.”

  “And you’re saying that’s not a trap?”

  “Nikolai said that Kaskov had assured him it was not. He just wished to facilitate your finding him in the least amount of time. And in the safest manner for Kaskov possible.” Palik added sourly, “Nikolai was most adamant that Kaskov rem
ain safe. It surprised me since Kaskov is probably more protected than Putin. What did you do to Kaskov?”

  “We’ve had a few encounters. We have a mutual acquaintance that brings us together.”

  “I don’t want to be present at the next encounter. You’re on your own after I text you the address Nikolai gave me. It’s not really an address, just a general location. Nikolai said that they’d get in touch with you when you arrived.”

  Jock pulled up the text with the address. “Coal Town, West Virginia? Not what I expected.”

  “Nor I,” Palik said. “I checked it out when Nikolai gave me the address. Less than three thousand people. Most below the poverty level. Not exactly up to Kaskov’s standards. The entire area would fit in that opera house he patronizes in Moscow.”

  “He must have a reason,” he said absently. “He always has a reason.” And if Kaskov was still in the U.S., then that reason must be important to him. “Did he give you any other message for me?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” Palik asked. “I expect you to pay me, you know. I might not have had to do the work, but the risk is there anyway.”

  “Aye, the risk is there.” The risk of dealing with Kaskov was always present, and he couldn’t blame Palik for backing away from him. “But I’ll need you anyway. Purely on the fringe … but when I call for information, I want you to be ready to give it to me.”

  “I thought it was going to end up that way,” he said, disgusted. “As long as you don’t pull me into Kaskov’s world. It’s a bit too nasty even for me.”

  “I need you close. Where are you?”

  “Paris.”

  “Too far. I want you in New York by tomorrow.”

  Palik sighed. “I’ll be there.” He hung up.

  Coal Town, West Virginia. Jock gazed down at the text. It was as unusual a location for Kaskov as Palik had said. When Kaskov wasn’t conducting his very criminal activities, he was a complete sophisticate. He was a patron of the symphony, the Bolshoi Opera, and various other cultural organizations in Moscow. He would have no business in a small town in West Virginia. So why was he there?

  Because it was probably within six to eight hours driving time of Atlanta?

  Guesswork. But it was also guesswork why Kaskov wanted to draw him to that small town. He had chosen to use Palik to do it because he knew as much about Jock as Jock did about him. He’d realized that Palik would be Jock’s choice when he was on the hunt.

  And he’d wanted to be sure that Palik would have the answers immediately, so that Jock would be able to reach him with top efficiency and speed.

  But Kaskov had not been the only one to push Jock to look deeper, to go faster.

  Hurry, Eve had said. You have to hurry, Jock. He’s a monster …

  * * *

  “What a fool you are,” Svardak said roughly. He untied the ropes binding Cara to the pine tree and jerked them off her. “Look at you. You’re nearly frozen. You could have spoiled everything. I don’t even have the tribute yet.”

  “You’re the one—who is—a fool.” Her teeth were chattering and she could barely speak. “You—tied me—to that tree.” So cold … She was shaking. She didn’t know how long she’d been out here, but it had been many hours. She didn’t think it had gone below freezing, but she couldn’t be sure of that either. She’d only been aware of the night, and the wind, and the need to force herself to move. “But nothing is your—fault? No, of course not. Did you blame Marian, too?” He was pushing her toward the house, and her feet were so heavy and cold, she could barely keep her footing. “Why didn’t you just let me stay out there for the rest of the night? I could have done it. Marian and I are both stronger than you.” She was so dizzy, she wasn’t sure what she was saying, but she had to let him know that he couldn’t destroy her as he had Marian. It didn’t matter any longer to her if she could figure out a strategy that would save her or not. She just couldn’t let him win. “And if you decided to pitch me down into that canyon, I would still be stronger. Because there’s the music … There will always be the music.”

  “Shut up.” He shoved her into the house, then toward the fireplace across the room. “Get closer to the flames. I won’t have you dying on me.” He pushed her to the floor. Then he was kneeling beside her, taking off her shoes and socks, then rubbing her hands. “And what if you’d done damage to your hands? Look at them. They’re stiff and cold as icicles. And you have to play…”

  The circulation was returning, and her fingers were beginning to throb. She’d thought she’d been exercising them enough to keep them warm enough during the night, but perhaps not …

  Then he was standing up and grabbing a fur throw from the easy chair. “All you had to do was call me.” He threw the fur over her. “Stubborn bitch. All you had to do…”

  “And beg you?” She looked up at him; he was only a dark blur against the firelight. “You said Marian begged you. How could I do that? I’d lose if I let you do that to me. Marian and I would both lose…”

  “Are you crazy? Marian’s dead.”

  “How—do you—know? She had a soul. She had the music…”

  He was muttering curses, but she could no longer bear to look at him. Later. When she was stronger …

  She closed her eyes.

  A stinging slap! “Don’t you die. I won’t have you die.”

  The words were harsh yet desperate. That desperation might give her a weapon. She slowly opened her eyes. “I’m not going to die. I’m just tired. I had to keep my muscles flexed and moving … Let me sleep.” Test him? “But first give me something hot to drink to take away the chill.”

  He didn’t move.

  She closed her eyes again.

  He was growling something beneath his breath. And then she heard movement.

  A few minutes later, she felt a cup being pressed to her lips. Heat. Coffee. Black and thick, but hot. He was spilling it down her chin, forcing her to take it. “Wait.” She opened her lips and took a few swallows. The coffee did help. And the fire was performing its magic, and she was slowly becoming warmer. Over his shoulder, she could see the black-and-white photograph of Marian staring down at her from the wall. Pale, glowing skin, light eyes, shining brown hair curling beneath her chin. One lovely, graceful hand holding her violin …

  You were so young, Marian. You had so much to live for. Thank you for keeping me company tonight. It was good to have a friend …

  She pushed the cup away. “That’s enough. I’m better now.” She closed her eyes again. “Go away and let me sleep.”

  She could feel him staring at her. “I don’t obey your orders, bitch,” he said roughly. “I’ll do what I please.” But he was tying her wrists again. Not too tightly, she noticed. Heaven forbid he damage her hands, she thought bitterly. He’d been in a panic at the thought she wouldn’t be able to play again. And now he was going away, so he had obeyed her after all.

  That interchange had taught her a few things she hadn’t known before. She had won the first battle of wills. She was going to be safe until Svardak got what he wanted from her. He was confident that he could do that, but there was a slim chance she might be able to manipulate him and the situation. Though it wasn’t as if she had any talent in that direction. Jock always said she was too honest for her own good. She should have Michael here to teach her, she thought ruefully. Eve said he was fast becoming an expert.

  Eve, Joe, Jane, Michael, Jock … memories of them were surrounding her, banishing the cold and fear, veiling the terror she would feel in a few hours. Hold them close until she drifted off to sleep, and perhaps they’d linger and keep the nightmares from coming.

  Did you have people you loved help you through those last days, Marian?

  COAL TOWN, WEST VIRGINIA 5:40 A.M.

  “The violin belonged to Marian Napier,” Joe said the instant that Jock answered the phone. “Twenty years old, born and raised in Toronto, Canada. She was studying music at Fleming Conservatory. The violin had no real monetary value, but it be
longed to her grandfather, and she wanted to protect it, so she had that tiny gold ID plaque inserted inside the left F-hole.”

  “But she couldn’t protect it, could she?” Jock said grimly. “You’re all past tense, Joe. Where is she?”

  “They don’t know. She went hiking in the mountains over a month ago and never came back. There was a search, but the police never found anything. She lived with her grandfather, and she didn’t have any really close friends. The report was that she was only obsessed with her music. They haven’t ruled out an accident in those mountains.”

  “But they will now since you sent them the photo of the violin. That was more than self-explanatory. Anything else?”

  “Her teachers said she was very promising. I gather not on the level of Cara, but very good. The school had featured her in their last student concert. They said she was totally dedicated to her music. Sound familiar?”

  “Aye.” And that familiarity was chilling. “But Marian Napier disappeared over a month ago. We have no proof she’s dead.”

  “And neither of us want there to be proof.” He paused. “But the blood all over the suite was the same AB type as that Canadian girl’s. I’m trying to avoid telling Eve about her until I can balance it with a little hope. What did you find out from Palik?”

  “It’s debatable whether it’s hopeful, but at least I’m not standing still. According to Palik, I’ve received what amounts to a royal summons from Kaskov. He’s in West Virginia.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to descend on him with guns blazing. I want information from him first.”

  “Where in West Virginia?”

  “I’ll let you know after I talk to him.”

  “Damn you.”

  “If it’s any comfort, I had to scout an entire town to find him before he finds me. I have it narrowed down to two areas, and I should be able to give you a location soon.”

  “If the bastard doesn’t kill you. It could be a trap.”

  “Eve will say it isn’t. If you’re right, then just get in touch with Palik and squeeze him until he tells you what he told me. You’re exceptionally good at squeezing. Must be that SEAL mentality. I have to get moving. I’ll call you when I can.” He broke the connection.