Jean Rizzo followed. Neither of the males was anywhere to be seen, but he was determined not to lose Elizabeth again. He followed her down into the tunnels and onto a train that was heading uptown. Keeping Elizabeth in sight, and staying close enough to the doors that he could follow her out at a second’s notice, Jean scrolled through the pictures on his phone. The tech guys at Interpol could work wonders with images, but even Jean knew that these looked unpromising. Two distant figures in a sea of people. Damn it. How did I screw this up?
Elizabeth got off the train at Central Park West. She seemed in no hurry, back in tourist mode. Jean followed her through the park at a discreet distance. It was four o’clock. Light was fading and the earlier crowds had begun to thin. Snow began to fall again. Thick heavy flakes like goose down stuck to Jean’s hair and coat. Where is she going?
Suddenly Elizabeth stopped. She looked around her briefly, perhaps to ascertain if she was being followed, then sat down on a bench, clearing off the newly fallen snow with a sweep of her arm. Jean kept walking. Once he reached the top of the hill, he slipped behind a small clump of trees. It was a perfect vantage point, close and completely hidden. Jean pulled out his phone and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. A tall gentleman in a cowboy hat began walking purposefully toward the bench. There was no hint of subterfuge, no attempt at discretion. As the man drew near, Elizabeth stood up and smiled broadly, holding out her arms. Then the man took off his hat and gave Jean a clear view of his face. It was the first time Jean Rizzo had seen those handsome features in the flesh but he would have known them anywhere.
Well, I’ll be damned.
He lifted his phone and began taking pictures. Click, click, click.
TRACY WAS AT THE top of a ladder, fixing a dog-eared Christmas angel to the top of the tree when the phone rang.
“Would you get that, honey?” she called down to Nicholas.
They’d spent a lovely afternoon decorating the house together, with Blake Carter helping to put up the enormous Norwegian pine. Tracy loved Christmas. This house had been made for it, with its high ceilings, roaring open fires and log-cabin charm. Blake rolled his eyes every year at Tracy’s over-the-top decor, including tacky carol-singing dogs from CVS and a life-size plastic Santa with flashing boots and hat who said “Ho! Ho! Ho!” whenever you rubbed his belly. “It looks like an elf threw up in your living room.” But Tracy suspected Blake secretly loved the display as much as she did. Especially when he saw the delight in Nicholas’s eyes.
“Oh, hi, Jean.” Nicholas’s cheerful voice sent chills through Tracy’s body. “How are you? Did you want to talk to Mama?”
Tracy descended the ladder, a fixed smile on her face. Nicholas handed her the phone. “It’s your friend Jean,” he said, heading back to the tree and the big cardboard box of decorations.
Tracy walked into the kitchen, out of earshot.
“I thought we agreed. No calls to the landline,” she hissed. “Not until after he’s asleep.”
“This couldn’t wait. I just saw Jeff Stevens in Central Park.”
Tracy’s stomach lurched.
“He was meeting Elizabeth Kennedy. They looked close, Tracy.”
The elevator hit the ground. Tracy felt her knees start to give way. She leaned against the table for support.
“I sent you pictures. Check your phone. They talked for about half an hour and then went back to his hotel together. Elizabeth’s planning a hit on Bianca Berkeley. It looks like Jeff’s involved. Can you open the pictures?”
Silence.
“Tracy? Are you there?”
“Yes.” Tracy’s voice came out high-pitched and strangled. “I’m here. Go on.”
Jean filled her in on the events of this afternoon. The two men at Barneys. His certainty that Bianca Berkeley was the target and that the heist would go down at the Winter Ball, just like Gunther Hartog predicted. And his growing suspicion of Jeff Stevens.
“She was in his hotel for an hour. She left first, then he did. I followed him.”
“Where did he go?” Tracy asked calmly.
“He went to the Meatpacking District and picked up a hooker.”
Tracy’s heart cracked. She felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience. She looked at her son, hanging glass reindeer figurines onto the Christmas tree. Carols were playing in the next room. Jean Rizzo’s voice didn’t belong in this picture. Nor did Jeff.
I came here to escape him, to escape that life.
Anger overwhelmed her. Wild, irrational anger.
How dare Jeff work with Elizabeth! How dare he sleep with prostitutes! How dare he still have the power to hurt me, after all these years!
And yet another part of her felt protective of Jeff and furious with Jean Rizzo.
Why was Jean telling her these things? Why did he keep pouring poison back into her life?
“What do you want, Jean?” Her voice was cold. “Why did you call me?”
“I want you to come to New York.”
Tracy laughed bitterly. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Christmas.”
“I need you. You know Jeff Stevens better than anyone.”
“Not anymore I don’t.”
“Aren’t you listening to me?” Jean’s voice rose in frustration. “Something’s going down here, Tracy! The Winter Ball is happening in less than a week. Elizabeth and Jeff are planning something together, something big. There may be others involved, a gang, I don’t know. Jeff’s already seeing hookers. He’s getting excited, aroused. His adrenaline’s up . . . This time next week, if we don’t do something, another girl could be dead.”
“Hold on a minute.” Tracy dropped her voice to a whisper. “Am I hearing you right? You think Jeff’s the Bible Killer?”
“I think it’s a serious possibility.”
Tracy shook her head. Is this a nightmare? Is this conversation even real, or am I going to wake up in a minute and laugh?
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Then come to New York and help me. Help Jeff. Prove me wrong.”
“Are you deaf? I’m not coming to New York. That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Tracy, you get on a plane!” Jean was yelling now. “Do you hear me? You get on a plane or I will tell your son the truth.”
Tracy hung up. She unplugged the phone from the wall. On the counter, her cell phone was flashing red.
Jean’s photos.
Jeff and Elizabeth.
Together.
Tracy picked it up and turned it off. Her hands trembled as if she were disarming a bomb.
“Mom?” Nicholas’s voice drifted through from the living room. “Are you done? Come and help me.”
Tears stung the back of Tracy’s eyes. “I’m coming, honey.”
IT WAS MIDNIGHT, BUT Jean Rizzo was too wired to sleep. He was wide-awake when his phone rang.
“Do you really believe Jeff’s involved in these killings?”
Tracy sounded as tired as he was.
“I don’t know. Do you really believe he isn’t?”
Tracy didn’t answer. The truth was she didn’t know what to believe anymore. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.
“There’s a flight leaving Denver tomorrow at noon. You can pick up your ticket at the American Airlines desk.”
“And you can kiss my ass. I already told you. I’m happy to help and advise you if I can. But I have a life here. I am not coming to New York.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Jean.
“It’s Christmas!”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“I mean it, Rizzo. I’m calling your bluff. I am not coming to New York.”
CHAPTER 17
WELCOME TO NEW YORK!”
Jean Rizzo met Tracy at JFK with a beaming smile.
“I’m so glad you decided to come.”
“I didn’t ‘decide to come.’ You blackmailed me.”
“Oh, now, now. Let’s not squabble.” Jean nudged her in the ribs jokingly. “It’ll do you good to get out of Steamboat. Small-town life can get so boring, don’t you think?”
“I guess you’d know all about boring. Being Canadian and all.” Tracy smiled sarcastically.
They ordered coffee at an airport café.
“Let’s talk about ground rules,” said Tracy.
“Do we have to?”
Jean couldn’t stop smiling. He still couldn’t quite believe she was here.
“I’m not going to help you catch Jeff Stevens.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I say. You asked me last night if I was certain Jeff had nothing to do with these murders. Well, you know what? I am.”
“But, Tracy—”
“No ‘buts.’ Let me finish. I looked at the pictures you sent me. I agree that Jeff is mixed up in this somehow.”
“Thank you.”
“But he’s no killer, Jean. He just isn’t.”
Jean Rizzo paused for a moment. Then he said, “Okay. But somebody’s killing these girls.”
“Yes.”
“Every time Elizabeth Kennedy pulls off a big job.”
“Yes.”
“Which she’s about to do, with Jeff Stevens’s help.”