“There we go. Thank God for this shaky ironwork. Not exactly high tech, but it sounds pretty and it’s loud enough to alert me if we have a cat burglar.” He looked back over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Or if Quinn decides to pull a Romeo and Juliet scene. ‘Once more unto the breach…’ ”

“That last line is from Henry V.”

“I never let accuracy get in the way if a quote fits.”

“And Joe is too pragmatic to play Romeo.”

“He didn’t impress me as being that pragmatic. He was seething tonight, and he didn’t like me this close to you. It amused me at first, but then my defense mechanisms kicked in and I’m afraid I was a little naughty.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, this and that.” Galen jiggled the spoke again, instigating another shower of silver sound. “That is pretty.” He left the balcony, closed the doors, and locked them.

“Eat your sandwich and try to get some sleep. I know what Quinn told you upset you.”

“Of course it did.” Eve shuddered. “I feel… violated. That bastard used my little girl and tried to twist my life to suit himself. And what he did to Capel…”

“I’m surprised that bothers you. Capel did some heavy manipulating of you himself.”

“No, that was Joe. He manipulated Capel and me. When Joe makes a decision, opposing him is like trying to stop a tornado.”

“I got that impression.” Galen moved toward the door. “But you may be being a little rough on him.”

“You don’t know anything about it, Galen.”

“You’re right, but that never stops me from offering an opinion.” He smiled back at her as he opened the door. “Good night, Eve. Be sure to eat that fantastic ham sandwich I made so you can praise me in the morning.” She shook her head as the door shut behind him. He was completely impossible.

She looked at the sandwich without enthusiasm, but picked it up and started to eat.

He was right. She needed strength. Not only to work, but to get through this nightmare that was escalating whenever she turned around. She had to plow through all that Joe had told her and everything that had happened since she got here, and make a decision.

She should probably pack up and go back to Atlanta.

But Victor was waiting. She could feel him calling her. She was getting closer to bringing him home every day.

She had to think, and it was impossible with the emotional upheaval she’d been thrown into when she’d seen Joe again.

Jesus, she wished he hadn’t come.

The bells on the balcony jingled softly in the darkness.

Eve stiffened in bed, her gaze flying to the French doors.

The bells jingled again.

“Stay put.” Galen was at her bedroom door. “We have a visitor.” He moved in darkness toward the balcony. “And not too bright a one if he’s still trying after he heard that first jingle.”

“Be careful,” she whispered. She could barely see him in the darkness, but then the door was flung open and he was outside on the balcony. She heard a crash and jumped out of bed and ran after him.

Galen and another man were struggling on the floor of the balcony.

Galen’s arm lifted and his fist came down on the jaw of his antagonist.

The man went limp.

“Also not much of an opponent,” Galen said as he got off him and dragged the man past Eve into the bedroom. “This job is proving no challenge at all.” She followed him into the room. “I’m sorry you don’t believe he’s worthy of your talents, but I find men crawling over my balcony threatening enough.” The man, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, had heavy Slavic features and dark hair peppered with gray. “Did you hurt him?”

“Nah, he has a glass jaw.” Galen squatted beside the man and searched his pockets. “And a potbelly. He’s in lousy shape for this kind of—”

“Shit.” The man’s hazel eyes had opened; he was glaring up at Galen. “I think you broke every bone in my face. What the hell did you do that for?”

“It seemed appropriate.” Galen put a knee on the man’s chest. “Eve doesn’t like second-story men.” He opened the man’s wallet and checked the driver’s license.

“Bill Nathan, age forty-seven. Eye color is right, but the weight’s wrong. He’s a good fifteen pounds heavier than it says here.”

“So I gained a little weight when I quit smoking.” Nathan’s glance shifted to Eve.

“Will you call this… bastard off me so that I can talk to you?”

“My name is Sean Galen, and you’re in no position to call me anything but sir.” Galen finished searching him. “He’s clean.” He handed her a card. “Press ID. He’s with the Times Picayune… maybe.”

Nathan scowled. “Are you going to let me up?”

Galen glanced inquiringly at Eve.

She nodded.

“Maybe I shouldn’t—” Galen shrugged. “Oh, well, he’s not much threat either way.” He stood, pulled Nathan to his feet, and then pushed him into the chair beside the bed. “Talk to me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a rescue mission, dammit. And I don’t like being tossed around like this.”

“Why the balcony?”

“I wasn’t sure whether the front door was being watched. Do you think I like crawling up the side of a house like some nutty superhero comic-book character?”

“It’s definitely not your area of expertise,” Galen said.

“Let him talk, Galen,” Eve said. “What do you want from us, Nathan?”

“In the short term, I want to save your necks. In the long term, I’m hoping for a Pulitzer.”

“Save us from what?”

“From finishing your reconstruction.” Nathan gingerly touched his bruised cheek.

“God, I need a cigarette.”

“You’re saying that finishing the reconstruction is dangerous.”

“I think so. If you finish, they don’t need you anymore, and you may know too much.”

Galen lifted his brows. “You think so?”

“That’s what I said,” he said sourly. “I can’t look into a crystal ball and know what they’ll do. I’m still digging. I don’t know what the hell’s happening yet.”

“You evidently know more than we do,” Eve said. “Who are ‘they’?”

“The Cabal.”

“Sounds like a witch’s coven,” Galen said.

“It’s not funny.” Nathan gave him a poisonous glance before turning back to Eve.

“Don’t you think I was tempted to just let you go on with the reconstruction until I could find out who you were working on? If you don’t finish, I risk losing my story.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He grimaced. “Ethics. The bane of my existence.”

“Inspiring,” Galen murmured.

“The truth.”

The man’s reply was both bad-tempered and defiant, but Eve thought she could also sense honesty. “How did you know I was working on the skull?”

“I didn’t. I followed the skull and staked out the church.” He paused. “I’m not the only one. I almost stumbled over two guys near the church.”

“Guards. There are four, sometimes five,” Galen said. “And much more talented than you.”

“I’m a journalist, not a thug.”

“From where did you follow the skull?” Eve asked.

“Well, I didn’t exactly follow it. Etienne told me it was going to be taken to the church.”

“Etienne?”

“Etienne Hebert.” He drew a deep breath. “Look, I can’t have a cigarette, so will you at least give me a cup of coffee? I need the caffeine.”

“This isn’t a social occasion,” Galen said. “Conversation first.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. If I hadn’t intended to tell you everything I know, I wouldn’t have come here tonight. As you’ve pointed out, I’m no great shakes at this kind of thing.”

“True. But it could be a ploy.”

Eve made a decision. “We’ll go down to the kitchen and get some coffee. He looks like he could use it.”

Galen shrugged. “Whatever.” He stood aside as Nathan got up and headed for the door. “I hope you don’t regret it, Eve.”

“A cup of coffee?” She followed them out into the hall. “I don’t think that’s being particularly soft. I have questions to ask, and he may as well be comfortable while he answers them.” She gave Nathan a cool glance. “And I assure you that you will answer them.”