His adopted daughter had grown up on the streets and she was very shrewd. Jane had been with them since she was ten years old and could read both him and Eve like the proverbial book. She'd recently graduated from college and was making a name for herself in the art world. Yet that artistic streak was balanced by toughness. "Okay, it will be easier if I don't have to talk to her. I don't want her asking questions."

"Why not?" She stiffened. "You've found Kistle?"

"I think so. I've found a Henry Kistle. I tracked him to Bloomburg, Illinois."

"He's the man who might have killed Bonnie?" she whispered.

"So Eve's been told. Montalvo's investigators unearthed three possible suspects. Kistle is one of them and the only one we were able to trace." He fastened his duffel bag. "It could all be a bunch of crap. I don't want Eve's hopes raised until I investigate Kistle."

"I don't think she thought it was crap. She trusted Montalvo."

"That she did," he said curtly. "He played her like a song."

"No one plays Eve," Jane said. "You should know that, Joe." She studied his expression. "What the hell happened down in Colombia?"

"Eve told you when she got back."

"She told me she was on a forensic sculpting job for Montalvo and that you were shot and almost killed." She paused. "She didn't tell me you hated his guts. Even though he was once a weapons dealer, she doesn't feel that way."

"We have an entirely different take on Montalvo." He started toward the door. "And we agree to disagree."

"You don't generally disagree on many things."

"Then this is the exception that proves the rule. Are you taking me to the airport?"

"Of course I am." She stood aside so that he could pass. "I need some more answers before you get on that plane."

"You won't get them."

"I can but try." She grinned. "I've been out of the loop too long because I've been closeted finishing those paintings for the last show. I should never have accepted Eve's story at face value. I had a hunch that there was something brewing…"