And Sonny again, his voice so low and tense, Eve felt herself stretching taller, up on her tiptoes, straining to hear. “The fact remains-the little bastard stole those computer files from me. If he had ‘em on him when he went in that river, why weren’t they on him when they found his body? Huh? Tell me that. If they had been on him, or in his car, the feds have got ’em and I’m in jail by now. And if he didn’t? What’d he do with ‘em, huh? I’ll tell you what he did with ’em-he stashed ‘em somewhere, that’s what. Those damn files are sittin’ somewhere like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for somebody to stumble over ‘em. So where are they? Think about it… think about it…” After a prolonged and unresponsive silence, there was a disgusted-sounding snort, and then, “Okay, look-here’s what I figure. The little weasel wasn’t stupid. If he hid those files, he’d hide ’em someplace he’d be able to get back to without raising suspicions. Call it a gut feeling-I think he stashed ‘em with his ex and his kids.”

Sergei’s heavy voice interrupted. “No, boss. Rick and me we searched every inch of that trailer before we torched it. They were not in there, I would swear to it.”

Eve heard a faint whimpering sound and realized to her horror it had come from her own throat.

But now, incredibly, impossibly, there was Sonny’s voice again, edgy with annoyance. “No, no, no-not then. Robey had the files with him when he came back to the States. Hey-he must have. He was ready to deal. And where does he go? Straight to his ex. And what does he do? He leaves a package-a present, he says. For his kids.” He hissed a word so replete with disgust, it made Eve’s stomach cringe, then muttered, “You two choirboys…shoulda just done ‘em both and taken the smokin’ package while you had the chance.” Only he didn’t use the word “smokin‘,” but one he’d promised Eve faithfully he’d never use in her presence.

Rick said, “Don’t look at me. I was out cold at the time.”

Sonny’s laugh was derisive. “Yeah-tripped over a cat and took a header down a flight of stairs. I’d been better off if I‘da hired the Three Stooges.”

“Maybe it was only a present for his children,” Sergei muttered, sounding sullen. “If it was the files in that package, why did she not turn it over to the feds?”

“Because she obviously doesn’t have any idea what she’s got.” And Sonny’s voice, though still soft, was pure, cold steel. “It’s a damn computer disk-Robey coulda hidden it in just about anything. They just haven’t found it yet, is all. It’s just sittin’ there in that damn fortress-a smokin’ time bomb, is what it is.” He sounded as if his teeth were grinding together. “Do you know what it’s been like the last four months, waitin’ for that thing to go off? Here-help me with these studs, will you?”

There was a moment’s silence, then Ricky said, “Too bad Robey’s ex had to go and marry that damned lawyer-that house of his is like Fort Knox! If it hadn’t a‘been for that hurricane knockin’ out the power, we’d never have got in there.”

Sonny snorted. “I figure I’ll marry the sister, right? Then I can go in there as a member of the family-make some excuse to visit, you know?-so I can have all the time I need to look for the disk without anybody bein’ the wiser. And what does the broad do? She goes and gets it in her head she has to get married in Savannah, for God’s sake-in a blinkin’ church!”

Someone-Sergei or Rick, she couldn’t tell who-muttered something she couldn’t hear. Then Sonny’s voice came again, not loud, but tense and with a hard edge of fear. “I’ve got a bomb about to blow up in my face. If it does… if it does, I’m a dead man, you hear me? A goddamn dead man. I gotta find it, and I mean find it fast. Before-”

At that moment the two crystal champagne glasses slipped from Eve’s nerveless fingers and dropped onto the stone walkway, where they shattered with a horrible, splintering crash.

Chapter 2

Eve never knew how she did it-it wasn’t a conscious decision on her part-but the next thing she knew she was running. Running for her life, not even aware of her feet touching the ground.

But running where? She had no idea; hers was a purely instinctive, adrenaline-induced panic flight, like the gazelle’s stampede, or the skyward leap of a flushed quail. And with as much real hope of escape.

OhGodohGodohGod…

They couldn’t help but see her. All they had to do was look out the window! They would know who it was, know she’d heard. How could they not know? She had nowhere to go, no place to hide, and in that damned white dress she’d stand out like flashing neon. Why was she even bothering to run? They’d chase her down in a minute, and what would she say? What could she possibly say? “Hey, guys, I didn’t hear anything, I swear. I won’t tell anybody, honest I won’t!” Yeah, sure.

OhGodohGodohGod…

Then she saw something at the end of the walkway, just past the rectory door. Something in the stone wall that extended between the sanctuary and rectory buildings and enclosed the garden, making of it a peaceful refuge, a world apart from the alley beyond. A gate. A wrought-iron gate that would be chained and padlocked after dark, but which now, in midafternoon with a wedding scheduled, stood open to allow access from the parking areas across the alley.

Hope surged within her as she made for it with a fresh burst of energy, catapulted through it and into the arched breezeway and the alley beyond.

There she halted, quivering with indecision. Which way? Which way? Any minute now, they’d be after her. Any minute!

Once again it was instinct that decided for her, pointing her toward the right, the shortest distance to the corner, to the street, to people and cars. To witnesses. But as she ran down the alley behind the rectory building, she heard the sound she’d dreaded: running footsteps. And there were no shouts, no alarms, just those rhythmic swishing sounds, like sandpaper on stone, all the more sinister for their stealth.

It was still much too far. She’d never make it to the street before they caught her. Not on this cobbled pavement. Never in a million years…

Just before the rectory wall ended, it jogged inward into a small alcove, with stone steps leading down to a basement entrance. Her heart gave a leap. Would the door be unlocked? What if it wasn’t? She’d be trapped down there, cornered. No, no-she couldn’t risk it.

No, but in the alcove there was also a trash bin!

Eve didn’t have to think twice. The notion hadn’t even taken shape in her mind before she had the heavy metal lid lifted up and was hauling herself over the side of the bin, champagne bottle, satin skirts and all. But-oh God-now she was caught on something! Her veil had caught on the edge of the Dumpster, and while she was trying to pull it loose, down came the lid on her head, with enough force to make her see stars.

As she huddled in the darkness, dizzy and a little nauseated from the conk on the head, she could hear her pursuers’ footsteps out there in the alley, shuffling around in indecision. And while it was true that neither Sergei nor Rick had ever struck her as being overly endowed in the brains department, surely in another second it was going to occur to one of them that they should split up, one go one way, one go the other. Seconds-that was all she had before someone came running by her hiding place.

What an idiot she’d been! The bin was the first place they’d look! And here she was, like a rat in a trap. The Dumpster hadn’t much trash in it; and oh, what she’d have given for a couple of cubic yards of nice, smelly garbage to burrow under!

Half-smothered by her own air-starved lungs, all she could do was listen…praying…rubbing the knot on her head… while a few yards away in the alley, footsteps scraped on cobblestones, coming closer…running hard. Any second now. Any second…

They were running…running…right on by!

Was it possible? Was the notion of a bride hiding in a Dumpster simply too ludicrous to occur to those two idiots?

She felt an impulse to laugh, but discovered instead that she was crying. And trembling. Yes, she was, shaking like a leaf and making little whimpering, gasping sounds, just one degree from a humiliating-not to mention dangerous-case of hysterics. Because she wasn’t safe yet. Sonny’s goons would be back. Of course they would. How could they let her go? They’d have to keep looking until they found her. Until…

The thought made her feel chilled and sick. But she couldn’t lose control now-had to keep her wits, keep calm. Keep calm, Evie…don’t lose it now…

It was then that it occurred to her that at least part of the cold in the middle of her chest wasn’t fear after all, but a bottle of unbelievably expensive vintage French champagne.

For a moment she felt as if the bubbles from the champagne were in her nose, tickling and prickling behind her eyes. She took several quick, shallow breaths, then lifted the open bottle to her lips and drank. She choked a little, spilled a little, coughed and drank some more. The wine prickled her throat and made her eyes water, but the panic seemed less imminent. She drank again, and felt a subtle warmth spread through her chest.

She leaned against a plastic bag filled with foam plastic cups-the trash from a choir practice coffee break, perhaps? -hugging the bottle of champagne against the pearl-encrusted bodice of her wedding dress while shudders coursed through her body. When she felt the urge to cry creeping back she drank champagne until it went away again.

She tried not to think, but her mind insisted on bringing up the question: Evie, what are you going to do now?