When she returned from her quick tour, Sebastian was still in the kitchen, going through the cupboards and drawers. She wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to him, but now that her anger had dissipated, there didn’t seem to be any point in holding a grudge. Not if sharing information could help them both. Maybe he was reckless, but he seemed to be very capable. His approach to the house had been breathtaking in its confident precision.

“I smell only cleaning chemicals and room deodorizer,” she said, leaning against the doorway. “Makes the place feel as if it’s been vacant for a while.”

He looked up at her, met her eyes, then moved to a different drawer. “I think it has been. I’m guessing whoever lived here moved away months before the girls were abducted.”

“I’ll have to contact the owner to see for sure,” Jane said. “Maybe he can provide a forwarding address. Someone obviously went to some trouble to salvage his security deposit.”

“I’m guessing the only address the owner will have is the P.O. box connected to the phone,” he said.

“I could always do surveillance on the post office where that box is located. See if Malcolm shows up.”

“Problem is, you could be sitting there for a while. He could go days, weeks, even months without checking it.”

“It might be the best lead we have.”

The slam of another cupboard resounded in the empty house. “Not if I can convince him to meet me.”

Via their Internet chats. That did seem a lot less random. “What do you think the chances are?”

“Tough to say, but…” His words fell off. He’d found a drawer with something in it. From what Jane could see, they were manuals for the various kitchen appliances. She expected him to close that drawer like every other, but he didn’t. He riffled through it. A minute later, he pulled out the dishwasher manual and began to read some words that’d been written on the back.

“What is it?” Jane took a step toward him, but he tore off the cover and slipped it inside his coat.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

Nine

“So now you’re shutting me out?”

Sebastian glanced over to see Jane watching him with narrowed eyes. They were on their way back to Sacramento, but she hadn’t spoken for the first thirty minutes of the trip. He’d cranked up the radio and the heat to fill the void.

“I’m not shutting you out,” he said.

She turned down the radio until the squeak of the windshield wipers, beating frantically against a fresh onslaught of rain, was the only sound. “You found something at that house. What was it?”

He scowled at the gray sky. The constant damp made the car feel more like a cocoon. “It’s nothing, like I said.”

“Then why’d you take it?”

Realizing she wouldn’t let the subject go, he pulled the cover of the dishwasher manual out of his coat and handed it to her.

She read it, then frowned at him. “This is directions to an Indian casino.”

“See what I mean?”

“No, I don’t. Why do you want it?”

He adjusted the heat coming into the car. “It’s written by hand.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You think Malcolm Turner wrote this?”

“I think he could’ve written it. The gambling would appeal to him. That’s what caught my attention.”

“I doubt handwriting evidence would ever trump DNA evidence,” she said, but she spoke slowly, as if she was still considering his find, wondering about its value. “But I guess if the handwriting matched, it would show us that your Wesley Boss and my Wesley Boss are indeed the same man. Right now, all we have to connect the murders and the kidnappings is the name and those cryptic comments your Wesley Boss made about the ‘sisters.’”

“Handwriting is unique to each individual. And handwriting evidence is more than I’ve got now, which is just a pile of missing money, along with a missing gun, badge and police uniform.”

She put the torn-off cover on the dash. “The gun concerns me.”

“It should. He definitely knows how to use it.”

“What would you have done if Malcolm had been there?” she asked.

He wanted to believe he would’ve called the police. But Malcolm knew how to work the system, was a product of it. If he had sufficient ID to “prove” he was Wesley Boss, they’d start by questioning him about the kidnappings, and he’d know how to play that. If they couldn’t get anything on him, they’d release him pending further investigation-and he’d be gone long before they ever got around to identifying who he really was. It wasn’t as if they’d send him back to New Jersey on Sebastian’s word, or get a court order compelling him to provide a DNA sample. They had certain procedures they had to work through. Police involvement equaled bureaucracy, and bureaucracy was never efficient.

But what did that mean? Did it mean Sebastian would’ve shot him?

Maybe. He might not have been able to stop himself.

“Do you plan to answer me?” she asked.

He turned the radio back up. “He wasn’t there.”

Jane hesitated as she stepped out of Sebastian’s Lexus. Unless the landlord of that house could provide a new address, he was suddenly in a much better position to find Wesley Boss than she was. He was in contact with him, wasn’t he?

That meant she needed to continue working with him, enlist his help, regardless of how she felt about the way he’d handled the situation in Ione. “So you’ll call me? You’ll let me know if you arrange a meeting with Boss?” she asked.

Sebastian leaned forward until she could see his face. “I’ll think about it.”

She didn’t like his attitude. “I shared my information with you.”

“Your information turned out to be a bust.”

“Not a complete bust,” she argued. “You got directions to that Indian casino.”

“Which might mean nothing more than an enjoyable night of craps.”

She adjusted her purse. The gun inside made it unusually heavy. “What about my kidnap victims? Surely you’re not so consumed with revenge that you don’t care what happens to them.”

He scowled. “That isn’t it at all.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t see how bringing you along will help save them.”

His arrogance irritated her. “Oh, really? Who backed you up in Ione, even though you had no business doing what you did?”

The barest hint of a smile curved his lips. “I wish I could’ve caught that on tape.”

Jane stiffened. “What?”

“You, trying not to get your shoes muddy while hurrying toward me with that gun.”

She hadn’t realized he’d paid enough attention to notice. “Little good it did me,” she grumbled. “My shoes are ruined.”

He sobered. “Could’ve been worse.”

“I think that was my argument.” Besides, it was easy for him to say. He was obviously used to having money. No one she knew rented a Lexus. At least, no one she knew these days. “Point is, I could’ve stayed warm and dry in the car,” she said. “So will you cooperate with me or not?”

Wearing a scowl, he stared off into the distance.

“Sebastian?”

His gaze moved her way, and he studied her as if seeing her for the first time. She might’ve been flattered, except there was a calculating air to the appraisal that told her he wasn’t necessarily admiring her figure. “Maybe there’d be some benefit to having you involved.”

“Meaning…”

“Maybe you could provide a woman’s perspective.”

“Considering I am a woman, that shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said dryly.

Another flash of his pearly whites told her he understood why she was a little piqued. “Good. Mary works until four. Then she does homework with her kids and takes them to various sports practices. Most nights she doesn’t get on the computer until eight. I need to stick with the same pattern as much as possible, so I’ll sign on with her screen name about that time. If you want to be part of this, come to my motel room at seven-thirty.”