“Neither one,” Margaret said. “I’m heading for Wrigley Field right after breakfast to check out that clock at the stadium. You tend to Harriet Weber and let me do the advance work.”

“Advance work?” Trevor’s brows rose. “And that is?”

“Rats,” Margaret said flatly. “I took a look at that clock. It’s in the scoreboard and maintenance has to be done on the scoreboard and the clock. That means that there are places inside where a device could be placed. I don’t think it would take that much space.”

“Rats,” Trevor prompted.

“There are rats everywhere,” Margaret said. “Particularly around the rivers and lakes. Rats are always hungry and looking for food. They don’t care what it is and will try anything.”

“Even a nuclear cocktail?” Caleb asked.

“Anything,” Margaret repeated. “And they may remember the taste, or the death of another rat from ingesting, or location. If there were human food scraps in the area where the device was planted, it would be particularly memorable.”

“You mean if Kevin dropped a few bites of a McDonald’s Big Mac when he was planting the bomb, it might be a giveaway?” Jane asked. “That was over five years ago, Margaret. How long do rats live?”

“Wild rats can live from five to seven years.” She shrugged. “I’m not hoping for that kind of contact. But you can never tell. Rats tend to breed in the same area if food is readily available, and a baseball stadium and an office complex have that advantage. There might be places in either that they use as a pathway or—”

“And you expect to be able to pin those rats down to a location?” Trevor said skeptically.

“Possibly. It’s worth a shot. At least, I won’t attract much attention the way you would. Both you and Caleb are very memorable. People generally sort of take me for granted.” She made a face. “As for the rest, no promises. Rats aren’t really reliable.”

“Pity,” Caleb murmured. “If they were, I think you might pull it off.”

“Really?” Margaret tilted her head. “You mean it?”

“You’re remarkable,” Caleb said. “Annoying but definitely remarkable. And Jane told us about the way you charmed that wolf in the mountains.”

“You don’t charm wolves; you accept them and hope they accept—”

The machine on the table by the balcony doors pinged softly.

“Our Harriet’s moving.” Caleb rose swiftly to his feet. “It may take her a while to shower and dress, but I’m not going to take a chance. I’ll go down and watch the suite until she takes off to meet Cartland.” He glanced at Jane. “Stay here. The last thing we want is for Harriet to see you. I’ll call you when she’s left the hotel.”

The next moment the door closed behind him.

Stay here?

Jane got to her feet. She did not want to stay here. She wanted to be on the move, part of the action. But there was no doubt it was the sensible thing to do. At least, she was here in the same hotel as Harriet, close to the action and not parked “safely” a block away.

“Jane,” Trevor said.

“I know, I know. I’ll do what’s smart and discreet.” She turned to Margaret. “Okay. But I’ll go with you to Wrigley Field. Maybe I can do something to—”

“Perhaps we’d do better to stay here and explore that driftwood thread that Ben Hudson—” He stopped as he saw her expression. “Problem?”

“I’m not going to stay cooped up in a hotel room doing computer research on driftwood. I’ll leave that to Catherine and Joe. I spent all those days in the hospital doing the same kind of research to find that place in Colorado where Doane was keeping Eve.”

“And you found it,” Trevor said softly.

“I only did it because I wasn’t strong enough to go after Doane myself. I had to rely on others to do my job.” She met his eyes. “I won’t do that again. I’m strong, Trevor. Thanks to Caleb, I’ve never felt stronger.” She grimaced. “Damn him.”

“But that isn’t all, is it?” Margaret was studying Jane’s expression. “You don’t believe Ben Hudson?”

“Of course I believe he’s telling the truth as he knows it. Who wouldn’t? When I was drawing that sketch of Doane from Ben’s description, it was like looking into a crystal-clear pool. He’d never intentionally lie.”

“Intentionally seems to be the key word,” Margaret said quietly. “You’re saying that his dreams are hallucinations? Yet you’ve evidently had some very strange dreams yourself. Were your dreams of Cira and her Anthony hallucinations?”

“Maybe. I’ve never ruled that possibility out.”

“Because you have problems accepting anything that’s not strictly black-and-white.” Trevor smiled. “But I believe that Cira managed to suspend your disbelief on occasion.”

She was silent a moment. “But I never claimed that she was a ghost who talked to me and told me how to run my life.”

“Ah, there we have it,” Trevor said. “The crux of the issue is Bonnie. I had a few reservations myself when I heard the story, but I was willing to go along since Quinn appeared to be taking it seriously. He’s a cop, and I thought there might be minimal substance.” He tilted his head. “He believes in ghosts?”

“I don’t discuss it with him.” She saw him gazing quizzically at her. She would not lie to him even by omission. “I don’t know about ghosts in general. I think he believes in Bonnie. I know that Eve believes in her.”

“But you can’t bring yourself to do it?” Margaret asked.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with me. If they want to cling to Bonnie even beyond the grave, if it brings them peace or happiness, why should I mind? All I want is for Eve to be happy.” She tried to steady her voice. “And safe. I want her to be safe. And I can’t go chasing off on a wild-goose chase that could waste time and kill her.”

Margaret nodded. “Then you shouldn’t do it. Let Kendra and Catherine work on it.” She chuckled. “That’s actually funny. There aren’t two more hardheaded women that I know and I’m tossing a ghost at them.” She got to her feet and gave Jane a hug. “Personally, I don’t know if you’re right or wrong. But it doesn’t matter. I’m here for you no matter how you want to handle this. By all means come along to Wrigley Field and we’ll play hickory dickory dock. Only substitute rat for mouse.” She glanced at Trevor. “You can come, too.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly.

“You’re welcome. You can keep an eye on Jane while I’m busy up behind the clock.” She smiled. “You’ll like doing that. You can hardly stop staring at her anyway.”

Trevor’s gaze shifted to Jane. “Yes, I will like that very much, Margaret.”

Jane was caught, held. She could not look away from him.

Today. Tomorrow. Ever After.

“We’ll leave right after we get the call from Caleb that Harriet has left the hotel,” Margaret said. “In the meantime, I’ll call Kendra and see if she’s come up with anything else.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m feeling a little de trop at the moment. You’re practically glowing, and Trevor is … I don’t know what.” She waved her hand as she started to dial. “But go ahead, continue. It’s interesting, and I think I like it. It’s kind of … warm.”

*   *   *

“A BANK, HARRIET?” Cartland gazed at the BANK OF AMERICA gold lettering as he opened the glass door for her. “It’s not what I expected.”

“Why not? A bank is where treasures are stored.” Harriet smiled. “And Kevin and I decided that Bank of America, the king of capitalism, should be where we kept the key to our kingdom. Don’t you find it amusing?”

“No, there was nothing amusing about Kevin’s shifting those nukes without telling me or anyone in the cell,” Cartland said bitterly . “It wasn’t a one-man operation. We had a right to know where they were.” He scowled as he followed her through the plush marble halls. “And it caused the entire project to go down the drain when he was killed.”

“But now it’s resurrected,” Harriet said. “And Tehran will be more pleased than if you had been able to set off those bombs five years ago. The political climate is much tenser now. Every victory is shouted from Tehran. You do agree that virtually destroying this fine city and Seattle will be a great victory?”