He did a final check on the books in the built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace and found two more bugs. He smiled as he realized one had been tucked behind a book by Dr. Jessica Riley, Into the Light. Not very clever. A book written by the owner of Juniper would automatically attract attention.

He sat in a chair, took out his digital phone, and called van der Beck. "I'm settled. Is everything set up?"

"In place."

"Then start negotiations."

"You're safe?"

"Stop being a mother hen, Jan. You're the one who's dealing with the bad guys. I'm surrounded by America's Finest."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"I'm safe, Jan."

"See that you stay that way."

"I'll call you tomorrow." He hung up and leaned back in the chair. Everything was set. He'd done the best he could. Would it be enough?

At least he had Jan doing the negotiations in Amsterdam. He could count the people he trusted on one hand. How long had it been since he'd accepted anyone at face value? Not since he'd been Cassie's age. He hadn't yet learned cynicism or that greed had a dazzling way of blinding a man. During those days when Jan and his father had taken him on their trips to Algiers, life had been full of excitement.

He went over to the window and looked up at the lighted window in the manor. He had a fleeting memory of Cassie's face that night at Vasaro. She'd never accept anything at face value again. She'd been torn away from childhood.

It wasn't his business. She was being cared for by experts, by this Dr. Riley. Just because he was plagued by the nagging feeling of leaving something unfinished was no reason to endanger his position here.

He turned away from the window. He'd take a shower and then hit the sack.

He stopped in the bedroom doorway, went back to the bookcase, and picked up Jessica Riley's book. It didn't mean anything. He often read himself to sleep. Besides, he made a good part of his living dealing in information, and it never hurt to know everything about his situation.

It had nothing to do with Cassie Andreas.

"You understand?" Andreas demanded.

"You've made yourself more than clear" Jessica said as she walked him out. "No contact with the gentleman in the gatehouse."

"I don't t hink you'd consider him a gentleman."

"According to you, he saved Cassie's life. That qualification is hard to dismiss."

"A single action doesn't eliminate the instability of a lifetime."

"I deal with instability all the time. It's how I make my living."

"Well, you have no cause to deal with this particular instability." Andreas walked down the front steps. "Ignore Travis. He won't be here long. You have your hands full." He looked back at Cassie's window. "No nightmare tonight. That's good, isn't it?"

"It's always good. They tear her apart." And Cassie's nightmares were becoming more violent. The aftereffect was that she went even deeper into withdrawal. But Jessica wasn't about to mention that to her father. He had little enough hope. "Will you be here tomorrow night?"

He shook his head. "I have to go to Japan for trade talks. I'll be gone almost two weeks, but my wife will be calling every day for a report. You know how to get in touch with me."

Jessica watched the car move slowly down the driveway before her gaze switched to the gatehouse. A light was burning in the bedroom at the back of the house. Evidently, the unstable Mr. Travis was still awake.

His arrival was an interesting development. Interesting and perhaps…promising. She might be able to use Michael Travis.

God knows, she'd use anything or anyone to stop Cassie from descending any deeper into the darkness.

"I'm here." Melissa took the front steps two at a time to envelop Jessica in a bear hug. "Roll out the red carpet. Strike up the band."

"I think that line's from Hello, Dolly! and you're no Barbra Streisand." She gave her sister a fierce hug in return. "But I'm glad to see you anyway. Good trip?"

"Until I got to the front gates." She stepped back and looked down at Jessica. "Have you shrunk? I'm too old to have grown an inch."

"You're just annoying enough to do it. Why couldn't I be the one to take after Dad?"

"It comes in handy on the basketball court. But you're more the southern belle clinging-Who is that?" Melissa had caught sight of the runner at the far end of the driveway.

"Our guest. He's staying at the gatehouse. He takes a run every morning."

"Really?" Melissa gave a low whistle. "You didn't tell me about him. Sexy."

Was he sexy? Jessica had studied him. Michael Travis was not really good-looking. He had a great body-tall, slim, and muscular-but his features were irregular. His nose was too big, his mouth too wide, and his dark eyes set deep. But she knew why Melissa had made the comment. He exuded an energy that was almost electric, and it was difficult not to keep looking at him. The first time Jessica had seen him two days ago she had experienced…what? Surprise?

Melissa grinned. "You think so too."

"He's too old for you. He must be in his mid-thirties."

"For Pete's sake, I'm twenty-six. You keep thinking of me as a baby. I just may pay a visit to the gatehouse." She glanced slyly at Jessica. "Unless you have dibs on him."

"I've never said two words to him."

"Then you've been hanging out too much with children."

"The President says he's off limits."

"Great. Forbidden fruit always tastes better."

"You didn't ask why he was living in the gatehouse."

"I thought you didn't want to have your gigolo in the house with the kid. The gatehouse is much more private."

"Mellie."

She giggled. "Lighten up." She picked up her suitcase and carried it into the house. "I'll just take this to the dreaded blue room. Put on some coffee, will you? I need some caffeine after going through that gauntlet at the gate. Any minute I expected them to ask me to submit to a strip search. Now; if it had been your guy at the gatehouse…" Before Jessica could answer, she was running up the stairs.

Jessica felt a surge of relief as she headed for the kitchen. Melissa seemed perfectly normal. No apparent tension. Good spirits. The usual half-teasing, half-mischievous attitude. If anything, her demeanor was even more vivacious than customary. She was practically glowing.

"Want me to make some sandwiches?" Melissa breezed into the kitchen. "I'm hungry."

"There's ham and cheese in the refrigerator." She poured coffee into two cups. "I'll do it."

"Nope, I need to move. I'm charged."

Melissa was always charged, Jessica thought. She was constantly moving, talking, laughing. She had once said that she had to make up for those lost years, and Jessica could believe it. She had never seen anyone more alive than Melissa.

Except for the man in the gatehouse.

Strange that comparison had popped into her mind. They were nothing alike. Melissa had the eye-catching beauty their mother had possessed. High cheekbones, shining chestnut-colored hair, and blue eyes that tilted up at the corners. Her only similarities to Travis were their tall, athletic bodies and that air of feverish energy.

Feverish.

Michael Travis was not feverish; his every movement seemed controlled and deliberate. And the word didn't usually describe Melissa. Yet there was a restless, fevered air about Melissa today.

"What are you looking at?" Melissa was gazing at her over her shoulder. "Do I have a smudge?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"Oh, nuts, you're in analytical mode." She put the sandwich down in front of Jessica and sat across from her. " I'm fine. I just wanted to see you. Is that such a surprise?"