"Wait," Christina interrupted. "How did you get my father's voice on the recorder? How did you imitate his handwriting? What have you done with him? Where is he?"

"Ah, your father-Marcus Alberti, a very interesting man-some might say a man after my own heart. It's a pity really."

"What's a pity?" she asked, fear in her voice and in her eyes.

J.T. shook his head at her. He didn't want her to give Evan any more power, and there was nothing Evan enjoyed more than knowing someone was afraid of him.

"What's a pity?" she repeated desperately.

Silence greeted her words. Evan was gone.

J.T. slammed his fist against the door. The impact sent a massive pain from his wrist to his shoulder, but it released some of the tension in his body.

"He's gone," Christina said, terrified. "He left us here."

Her face was pale, and she was trembling. J.T. hauled her into his arms. She was stiff and cold. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "We're going to be all right."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. He set all this up so perfectly. God! What do you think he did to my dad?"

"Probably nothing," he said, wanting to reassure her.

"It didn't sound like nothing. He had my father's voice on tape. He copied my father's handwriting. I was completely convinced that note was from him."

"Evan is extremely clever. But just because he taped him and copied his handwriting doesn't mean he hurt him."

"If he didn't, where is he? Where does he think I am?" Christina pulled out of J.T.'s arms and began to pace in small, agitated circles. "We have to get out of here." She stopped abruptly. "My cell phone," she said, reaching for her purse. She frowned as she tried to dial. "No signal."

"I figured," he said. "Evan probably checked that out ahead of time."

"What are we going to do?"

He wished he had an answer. She was looking to him to save her and her father, and he very much wanted to do both. Restless, he roamed the room, running his hands along the sides of each mirror, wondering if any one of them might cover up another door or some sort of secret passageway. Was there really only one way in and out of this room?

"What are you doing?" Christina asked.

"Searching for another way out."

"I'll help. It's better than just standing here." She followed his lead, checking the opposite wall.

They didn't speak for almost ten minutes. By then they had covered every inch of the small room. They met in the middle. J.T. took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Christina, but I think we're going to be here until someone comes to find us."

"Which could be a long time from now. Who knows when the construction crews will be back?"

She let go of his hands and put her arms around his neck, pressing her face into the curve of his shoulder. He gave her a tight hug, knowing it wasn't nearly enough.

"At least we're together," she murmured. "If you hadn't followed me, I'd be all alone in here. I guess your nosiness paid off."

He smiled as he stroked her hair. She was already bouncing back. She certainly wasn't a woman who stayed down for long. He liked her spirit. "Following you is always interesting."

She stepped out of his embrace and sat down on the floor by the door, leaning her back against the only bit of wall space that wasn't covered by a mirror. He sat down next to her, suddenly tired. They hadn't slept more than an hour or two the night before. Not that he was complaining. He put his hand on her knee. She was wearing a tan business suit with a short skirt. He moved his fingers up her thigh. She swatted his hand away.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just passing the time," he said with a small smile.

She rolled her eyes. "How can you even think about that-now?"

"It's dark, we're alone...the mirrors are a little kinky."

"The mirrors are grotesque. If I see myself naked in one of those mirrors, I will probably never take off my clothes again."

"Well, we can't have that," he said.

"Then keep your hands to yourself.

J.T. picked up the doorknob that had fallen to the floor. "Look at this: The screws are missing. I'm guessing Evan jimmied with this when he set up the cassette tape." Getting to his feet, he slid his fingers into the hole where the doorknob had fit and tried to pull the door open. It didn't work. He took a few steps back and ran at the door, hitting it hard with his right shoulder. The door shook, but didn't open.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Christina commented.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing." He tackled the door again and again, groaning with the effort. His swearing grew louder and more colorful with each frustrated attempt. Unfortunately, he had nothing but bruises to show for his exertion.

Finally he gave up. He looked at Christina. She patted the floor next to her. Reluctantly he sat down.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Not really." He scanned the room. There had to be something in here he could use to pry the door open. Maybe he could take apart one of the mirrors. But they were sheer glass with a fine aluminum frame around the edges. That wouldn't get him anywhere.

"I keep wondering what's going on at Barclay's," Christina muttered. "People will be looking for me. There's so much I do before an auction. Alexis will probably fire me for this."

"Alexis may have more pressing matters on her mind. I'm sure the police will be questioning her about David's death."

Christina started. "Oh, my God, I almost forgot about that. David is dead. So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours I can't keep up. Do you think Evan is the one who ran David down?"

"I can't rule him out, but I think there are other, more likely suspects."

She shot him a curious look. "Who?"

"Jeremy or Alexis. Didn't I tell you that David spoke to Alexis on the phone before he was killed?"

"No, you didn't tell me that. I remember you looking at his cell phone, but you never said who you called."

"Didn't I? I guess you ran off before I could."

"Don't remind me," she said with a sigh. "It wasn't my finest hour. So tell me the rest. Is there some relationship between David and Alexis?"

"I don't know. They obviously spoke right before he was killed. I haven't had time to do any further research. I gave the police the cell phone, so I'm sure they'll be talking to Alexis, if they haven't already."

"If Alexis and David had a personal relationship, it would explain why David was at the party," Christina said slowly.

"Maybe she was having an affair with David," J.T. said.

"It's hard to believe she would do that to Jeremy."

"Is it? Jeremy and Alexis strike me as kind of an odd couple. I take that back. She's beautiful. He has money. It's not like we haven't seen that combination before," J.T. said dryly.

"They could still love each other," Christina said. "Even if they didn't, I can't see Jeremy mowing someone down with his car."

"He didn't have to do it himself. He's a rich man. He can pay people to do his dirty work."

"I guess. It's weird how it's all happening at once-David dying, the diamond going up for auction." She turned to him with a puzzled look. "Do you think the car accident is related to the diamond? Or is it just a coincidence that it happened the night before the auction?"

J.T. considered her question. "I don't see the connection yet, but that doesn't mean there isn't one."

"It's more likely that Evan ran David down," Christina said. "He sounded so spooky. I wish I could see him, get a handle on what he looks like. I didn't recognize his voice."

"I think he was speaking into a microphone, something that distorted the tone," J.T. agreed. "He must have been afraid we would connect his voice to whoever he has been impersonating."

She nodded. "That's why he sounded so strange. What was the reference to the game playing about?"

"Football." J.T. drew circles with his fingers on the dusty floor, the word football making his stomach turn over. It had once been his passion, but it had become his nightmare.

"Go on," Christina urged.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, J.T. If Evan knows about it, why can't I?"

"Fine. I went to Cal on a football scholarship. I was the quarterback. I actually got drafted after college by the New York Jets."

"Really? You were that good?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Sorry. So how on earth did you get from the football field to the FBI?"

"It's a long story," he said, rolling his head around on his shoulders.

"Apparently we've got time." She settled herself more comfortably against the wall.

He had a feeling she was prepared to wait him out. What was the big deal? That part of his life was long gone. "All right. Here's the short version. My second year in the pros, I got hit and tore up my knee. I had to have surgery. It was a long recovery. When I eventually got better, I tried to play, but I quickly realized that I didn't have the will or the heart. Things got bad and then they got worse. So I quit." He paused, remembering those odd days of nothingness after he'd walked away from the game. He'd been focused on football for so much of his life he'd felt completely lost when it was gone. And yet strangely relieved.

"So you went into the FBI?" Christina asked. "Seems like an odd leap."

"I didn't do anything right away. I was exploring my options and dealing with my father's disappointment. It was his dream for me to be a pro football player. He groomed me to be a quarterback since I was six years old. He used to take me out every day after school, and I would practice throwing spirals to him. He was my coach all through the peewee leagues. He was at every game I ever played in high school and in college he never missed a home game. I thought I was living my dream, but when I got hurt, I realized it had been his dream. I'd just gotten tangled up in it. I hadn't wanted to disappoint him. The best times we ever spent together were on the football field. Those were some of the worst times, too."

He drew another breath, wondering why it was so easy to talk to Christina. He hadn't spilled his guts about his relationship with his father to anyone-not even his ex-wife, not that she'd been eager to talk about anything that didn't concern her.

Christina gave him a nod of encouragement. "Go on."

"My father didn't understand how I could walk away from the game while I still had so much promise, so much unrealized potential. We had a love/hate relationship even before Evan came between us." He gazed into Christina's eyes. "I think that's why Evan went after my dad. He knew my father was the one person who could get to me."

"Your father was your Achilles' heel," Christina said. "I'm so sorry, J.T."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry. You had unfinished business with your dad. You never had a chance to tell him how you felt about any of this, did you?"

He shook his head. "We said a lot in anger. I don't think either of us was even listening to the other most of the time. Anyway, that's it."

"Not quite. You still haven't told me how you went from football to the FBI."

"That was Evan. When he took my father down, he gave me a strong motive to go into law enforcement. Fortunately, that degree in prelaw I'd earned at Cal gave me an entree into the bureau. Once I became an agent, I specialized in fraud and started to track Evan. I've been on his trail ever since. Other cases come and go. I've caught lots of bad guys, but not him, not yet."

"You will," she said confidently.

"I will," he agreed. "I don't have one doubt about that. I'll stay on him as long as it takes."

"It sounds like everything worked out then, making the change from football player to special agent."

He tipped his head. "Not quite," he muttered. "My wife didn't like my change of job any more than my father did."

"Your wife?" she squealed, her jaw dropping in surprise. "You didn't tell me you had a wife."

"Relax. I meant my ex-wife. We met in college. Cheryl wanted to be married to a pro football player. When I quit the game, she quit me. It wasn't meant to be. We were young and stupid when we got married. We didn't know what the hell we were doing."

"I'm surprised she got you down the aisle at such a young age. You don't seem like the marrying type."

"That's because I've been married," he said pointedly. "It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"I wouldn't know. Paul dumped me at the first sign of trouble. I know it was probably better for me to find out sooner than later that his devotion could only go so far. When things got rough, he bailed."

"If he was that big a coward, you're better off without him."

"And you're better off without your ex-wife, who doesn't sound very nice, by the way, although I'm betting she was hot."

He grinned back at her. "I was the quarterback, Christina."

"And could get any girl you wanted. I suspect you still feel that way."

"Are you implying I have a big ego?"

"Absolutely," she said with a laugh.

"Hey, I'm not that bad. I have grown up a little since college."

"Don't worry, J.T. Your arrogance is part of your charm."

"That's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one."