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?