"Didn't we all."

Then it hit her. "Going where?"

"Back into town. You need to check with the mechanic - unless you don't care if Peter's charged with operating an unsafe vehicle - someone somewhere has to know who has the skill to make those shots so I suggest we go where the boys are, and Donald has to be picked up and brought home."

"Yeah? So?" She folded her arms across her chest. "What does any of that have to do with you?"

"I've decided to stick around." He inclined his head toward Nadine. "No extra charge."

Vicki bit off thef.u.c.k you! before she actually vocalized it. It almost choked her, but her pride, measured against the lives of the wer, meant nothing. On the other hand, in spite of what he thought, Mike Celluci did not have a direct line to truth and he had no right to b.u.t.t in.

"What's up?" Peter followed his sister into the kitchen and looked from Vicki to Celluci, nostrils flared.

There were some strange scents in the air.

"Vicki's just deciding who's going to be driving into town," Nadine told him.

"Rose," Peter said promptly. "I'm still traumatized from yesterday."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You want to sit with your head out the window."

He grinned. "That, too."

"I'm driving because we're taking my car."The twins turned as one to look at Vicki.

Ishould tell him to go home and this time make it stick, even if I have to break a few bones. I don't need his high-handed help.

Reading her indecision, Peter moved a step closer, and lowered his voice. "Uh, Vicki, abouthim being around, I don't think Henry's going to approve."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. What the h.e.l.l did Henry have to do with this? She grabbed her purse up off the floor and headed for the door. "What are you standing around for?" she snapped as she pa.s.sed Celluci. "I thought you were driving."

Celluci glanced speculatively at Peter, then followed.

"What was all that about?" Peter wondered as the twins hurried to catch up. "Why did Aunt Nadine start laughing?"

"You really don't know?"

"No. I really don't."

Rose sighed and shook her head. "Peter, you are such a dork sometimes."

"Am not."

"Are too."

They'd have continued the argument all the way into London if Vicki hadn't threatened to muzzle them both.

Twelve.

"There's your problem."

Vicki peered down into the engine of Henry's BMW. Nothing looked obviously wrong. "Where's the problem?"

"There." The mechanic pointed with the screwdriver he held. "Brakeline, up by the master cylinder."

"There's something wrong with the brakeline?"

"Yeah. Holed."

"What do you mean, holed?"

The mechanic sighed. His expression said"Women!" as clearly as if he'd spoken the word aloud.

"Holed. Like, not solid."

"Someone put a hole in it?" It took a moment for the implications of that to sink in. Had the stakes just gone up? Had the killer become aware of her involvement and decided to do something about it? She frowned; that didn't fit the established pattern. Suddenly the air in the garage, already redolent with iron and oil and gasoline, grew thicker and harder to breathe.

"Didn't say someone did it. See here?" He lifted the black rubber hose on the end of his screwdriver.

"Rubbed against that piece of metal. Rubbed just right between the ribs and broke through." Shrugging, he let the hose drop. "Happens. Brakes work for a while but lose fluid. Lose enough fluid and. ..."A greasy finger cut a line across his throat.

"Yes, I know." Vicki straightened. "I was there. So you'll be telling the police ... ?"

"Accident. Tough luck. n.o.body's fault." He shrugged again and turned to shake his head at the destroyed side of the car. "Hard to believe everyone walked away. Lucky."

Very lucky, Vicki realized. Death had missed her by less than a couple of feet and if Rose had been riding on the pa.s.senger side, she wouldn't have survived. Holding her gla.s.ses on her nose, Vicki bent over the brakeline again; something didn't look right.

"Why the h.e.l.l would anyone build a car so that the brakeline rubbed?"

She could hear the shrug in the mechanic's voice. "Could be 'cause it's an old car. Built in '76, things go wrong. Could've been a mistake on the line. No two cars are exactly alike."

All right, it made sense, bad luck and nothing more had put her and Rose and Peter in the car when that little mistake had paid off. Jesus, if you can't count on a BMW. ...

Except. ... There were two spots bracketing the tear where the yellow markings on the hose showed brighter, places where acc.u.mulated dirt could have rubbed off on someone's fingers as they gave that little mistake a helping hand. Careful not to touch the rubber, Vicki pressed her finger against the protruding bit of metal that had done the actual damage. While not exactly sharp, it held a definite edge.

"Suppose you wanted to hole someone's brakeline and yet made it look like an accident," she gestured down into the engine, "how long would it take you to duplicate that?"

The mechanic looked speculative. "Not long."

They'd been in the restaurant for an hour and a half. Plenty of time.

Intrigued by the idea, he reached down into the car. "I'd grab it here ...""Don't touch it!"

He jerked back as though stung. "You don't think. ..."

"I don't think I want to take any chances. I want you to call the police. I have the number of the officer at the scene if you don't."

"No. I got it."

"Good. Tell him you've found suspicions of tampering and, if nothing else, they should take prints." She had her own small kit, not exactly high tech but certainly up to lifting prints off greasy hoses. If, however, police technology could be brought to bear, so much the better.

"Why don't you call?"

"Because you're the expert."

He scowled at her for a moment then sighed and said, "Okay, lady. You win. I'll call."

"Now," she suggested.

"Okay. Now. You don't touch nothing while I'm gone."

"Fine. And you don't touch anything until the ident man has come and gone."

The scowl returned. He went two steps, stopped, and looked back. "Someone tried to kill you, eh?"

"Maybe." Or Peter. Or Rose.

He shook his head, his expression hovering between respect and disgust. "Bet it isn't the first time." He continued to the office without waiting for a reply.

Vicki rubbed her right thumb against the faint scars on her left wrist, saw again the inhuman smile, and heard the demon say,"So you are to be the sacrifice." A trickle of sweat that had nothing to do with the heat ran down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and behind it, she could feel her heart begin to race. Death had been so close that a shadow of it remained long after the substance had been defeated. With practiced skill, she pushed the memory away and buried it deep.

The world outside the memory seemed strange for a moment then she shook her head and forced herself back to the present. Out by the car, Rose was telling Celluci some kind of story that involved a great deal of arm waving, Peter hovering protectively at her side. When Celluci laughed at something Rose said, Vicki saw Peter's shoulders stiffen.

"Peter! Could you come here, please?"

Reluctantly, he came.

She nodded toward the car. "What are the odds that you could pick up someone's scent off a rubber brake-line?"

Peter glanced down into the engine and wrinkled his nose. "Slim to none. The smell of the brake fluid is kind of strong. Why?"

Vicki saw no point in lying, the wer already knew they were under the threat of death. "I think someone engineered yesterday's accident."

"Wow. Henry's going to be p.i.s.sed."

"Henry?"

"Well, they totaled his car."

"And almost killed us," Vicki reminded him.

"Oh. Yeah."

The office door opened and the mechanic walked back into the garage. He didn't look thrilled. "Okay. I called. He says someone'll come around. Later." He glared at the car and then up at Vicki. "He says he wants to talk to you. Don't leave town."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Thanks, you've been a big help."

He returned her smile with a snort and pointedly bent to work on a late model, blue Saab that had seen better days.

Vicki recognized a dismissal when she saw it. As there was nothing more she could do here, she even decided to pay attention to it. "Come on, Peter."

Frowning thoughtfully, Peter followed her out of the garage.

"What?" she asked as they crossed the parking lot to Celluci's car.

"It's probably nothing, but while you were talking to Mr. Sunshine I had a sniff around the edges of the hood. I mean, if someone messed with the brakes they had to get the hood open first." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, for just a second there, I thought I caught a scent I recognized. Then I lost it. Sorry."

"Would you know it again?"

"I think so."

"Okay, if you do come across it, tell me immediately. This guy is dangerous."

"Hey," he protested. "I know. It's my dad that got shot."

Vicki wondered if she should tell him that the person who'd shot his father and the person who'd tampered with Henry's car weren't likely to be the same man - the actions were far too different - and in her book this new threat, with no pattern to make it predictable, was a lot more dangerous. She decided against it. What good would it do?

Celluci watched until Peter and Rose had gone inside then he backed out of Dr. Dixon's driveway and headed downtown. "It's hard not to like them, isn't it?"

"What's not to like?"

"This from the woman who once said that teenagers should be against the law?"

"Well, they're not exactly your typical teenagers, are they?"

Celluci glanced sideways at her. "All right, what's bothering you? You've been in a mood since we left the garage."

Vicki shoved her gla.s.ses up her nose and sighed. "I was just thinking ..."

"That's a first."She ignored him. "... that if someone's taking the trouble to try to kill me, I must know something I'm not aware of knowing. The killer thinks I'm getting too close."

"Or you weren't the target, Rose and Peter were. You were just there."

"No, there's already a system set up to kill the wer, why change it? It's still working. I have a feeling this was aimed at me."

"A hunch?"

"Call it what you like, but if you call it woman's intuition, I'll rip your face off."

As he had no intention of saying anything so blatantly suicidal, he ignored the threat. "So let's go over what you do know."

"Shouldn't take that long." Knees braced against the dash, Vicki ticked the points off on her fingers. "I know Barry Wu didn't do it. I know Dr. Dixon didn't do it. I know Arthur Fortrin didn't do it.Anyone else might have, up to and including a chance acquaintance either of those three might have bragged to in a bar. Once Barry tells me who around London is capable of that kind of shot, well, I'll make some comparisons with those lists of the people who use the conservation area regularly. Hopefully we can decode these directions to his apartment before he leaves for work."