"That's what Cassie is trying to find in the tunnel."

Jessica went still. "You're sure?"

"Oh, yes."

"But that's a good thing to know. We can build on that. Maybe Travis's idea about using the Wind Dancer isn't too bad if we can figure out a way to-"

"No." Melissa tried to temper the sharpness of her tone. "You don't understand. It's not…it's a bad…feeling. Delving into it might hurt Cassie."

"She's afraid of it?"

She didn't answer directly. "You don't want to open that can of worms."

"I know you're concerned for Cassie, but you don't understand all the psychological ramifications of her condition. You'll have to trust me to work it out."

"Forget about the statue."

"I can't forget anything that might help Cassie. You can't either, Mellie. We have to work together."

"Half the time you don't even believe what I tell you about Cassie's nightmares."

"So I have a few problems in that area. But I do believe what you say about Cassie trying to find the Wind Dancer, because when I showed her the photograph, she-"

"You told me you didn't actually see a reaction." She smiled sardonically. "What are you? Some kind of spook like me?"

"Not fair. I've never called you a spook." She paused. "The Wind Dancer is the only lead we have. We have to pursue it, Mellie. I want you to promise me that you won't reject Cassie if she opens up the subject."

Melissa was silent.

"Please." Jessica sighed. "We have to help Cassie, and I don't know which way to turn."

What difference did it make? Melissa thought wearily. The dominoes were falling and she couldn't stop them by pretending they didn't exist. "I won't encourage it, but I won't reject it. Is that enough?"

"That's enough." Jessica leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Thank you." She stood up. "Now I've got to check on Cassie and then go to bed. Are you coming in?"

"Pretty soon."

"Don't study too late."

" I won't." She leaned back on the swing. "Have a good night."

"Let's hope we all do." Jessica went into the house.

The conversation had been a complete bust, Melissa thought in despair. She had hoped that if she introduced a hint of a threat to Cassie, Jessica would veer away from the Wind Dancer. She hadn't counted on Jessica's total obsession with bringing Cassie back. If Melissa had just left the subject alone, maybe Jessica's interest would not have been piqued.

Or maybe it wouldn't have mattered. Fate?

To hell with fate. That was defeatist thinking. Travis certainly wouldn't rely on a whim to shape his destiny. He was already trying to find a way to have his cake and eat it too. Now, thanks to Melissa's own clumsiness, she might have driven Jessica into his camp. In her heart Jessica would always consider Melissa the dependent child she had been all those years ago.

The lights were on at the gatehouse. They often stayed on most of the night. She had learned in the past several days that Travis seldom got more than four hours' sleep a night and that he was a great reader. Was he delving into that pile of books she'd seen delivered yesterday afternoon? Insatiable curiosity and a thirst for knowledge could be dangerous qualities in an enemy.

It was the first time she had acknowledged to herself that Travis could be an adversary. She had been wary of him, but she hadn't believed he offered any challenge she couldn't meet. In a weird way, she had felt a kind of bond with him. Crazy. It was probably a carryover of Cassie's trust in him and view of him as a savior. But she had enjoyed their battles of wits and admired his sharpness and intuitiveness.

She didn't admire them now. His intuitiveness was striking too close to home. He had brought the Wind Dancer out of the darkness into the light.

She could handle it. Crush down the panic. If she wasn't strong enough, she would concentrate, learn, and develop.

She only hoped she had enough time.

Lyon

"Don't answer it," Danielle Claron said.

The doorbell rang again. Henri started for the door.

"Don't be a fool," she told him.

"If it's van der Beck, I'd be a fool not to answer it. We've already discussed this, Danielle. We need to leave Lyon, and I've no intention of leaving it a pauper."

"You'd rather leave it in a hearse?"

"Haven't I always taken care of you? During these last ten years you've never lacked food on the table, but now we have a chance to live the way we deserve to."

"I'm the one who gave you that chance. And I'm telling you that you shouldn't-"

The bell rang again.

"Very well, answer it. But be careful." Danielle moistened her lips . "We should never have gotten caught up in this. We didn't need that extra money."

"You never complained before. This is no different, only bigger. Now leave me to bargain."

She moved toward the bedroom. "Believe me, I've no desire to be here."

"That's good. You're too transparent. I saw van der Beck watching you when he was-" He suddenly tensed as he looked through the peephole. It wasn't van der Beck. This mail was tall, fair-haired, powerfully built, and only in his late thirties.

"Yes?"

"Monsieur Claron?" The man smiled. "My name is Jacques Lebrett. I've been sent by Jan van der Beck. I have something for you."

"Why didn't he come himself?"

"He's a busy man. I believe he told you he might send someone?"

Van der Beck had mentioned the possibility, but Claron was still uneasy. "Tell van der Beck if he wants to have the-"

"He's involved in some very delicate negotiations." Lebrett flipped open his briefcase and held it up so that it was visible through the peephole." But he's not too busy to furnish you with suitable funds for your information."

Money. Stacks and stacks of francs. He'd never seen so much.

"Can we talk, Monsieur Claron?"

So much money…

Henri unlocked and threw open the door. "Come in."

"Thank you." The man smiled. "I'm sure we can come to terms."

The wife had escaped.

No problem. Edward Deschamps had disabled the car in the driveway and the house was miles from the road. Henri Claron had died too easily, but tracking his wife down would be a challenge. He had needed this kill. He had been on the hunt for Travis too long, and that made him edgy. When the need for removing the Clarons had become clear, he had eagerly leapt at the chance.

Deschamps washed the bloody knife, carefully wiped his fingerprints from the sink, then did a pass around the house. Not that these precautions would do much good. Forensic tests made it very difficult for a man to do his job these days. Yet he still did as he'd been taught as a boy. Habits were hard to break.

He left the house and scanned the yard and surrounding woods. Which way would she go? The fields that eventually led to the highway?

No, the woods. She'd think she could hide in the trees.

But he would find her. This was the game in which he excelled. He'd known that Claron would open the door. Money was always the key. Several authentic bills on top and paper below and the man had thought he was rich. What a fool.

He went down the steps into the farmyard, flicked his lighter, and lit the taper he'd brought with him. He tossed the taper on the gasoline-soaked boards of the porch.

The house exploded in flames.

"Henri Claron is dead," van der Beck said.

"What?" Travis's hand tightened on his phone. "How?"

"His house burned to the ground, but the police think he was dead before the fire started. They haven't found his wife yet."

"She escaped?"

"Maybe. But if she did, she dug a hole and isn't going to come out."