Page 12 of Preying Game

He felt a surge of alarm. You didn’t talk about me, did you?

No. I wouldn’t do that. She gave a mirthless laugh. But I thought of you, and he said my expression had changed. He said I looked hopeful. And when I tried to pretend I was thinking about something else—that didn’t work out so well either.

Jonah answered with a curse on the other end of the line. Sorry.

That’s okay. I agree completely.

What was the other thing you said?

Hemingway popped into my head. I, uh, said I was thinking about how he felt emasculated after the Spanish Civil War—and that came out in his writing.

Interesting. You think the guy’s impotent? That could be a reason he gets his kicks from keeping you captive.

I don’t know. But he did flush when I said it.

I’ll file that away. But we’d better get back to work, in case we lose the connection again.

That made her heart pound. Oh Lord, I hope not.

I have to ask you something.

The urgency in his voice grated against her nerve endings as she tried not to focus on her fear. Okay.

Is Alice Davenport your real name?

Yes.

I can’t find any record of your having gotten killed.

You can’t?

Jonah hesitated for a moment, then asked, Is there some reason you don’t want me to know your real name?

Of course not.

She sounded sincere. But he supposed she would if she had a reason to keep her identity secret. He wanted to press her on that, but he thought it would be a mistake. What if he scared her, and she cut off the communication? But why would she? She was the one who had begged for his help in the first place.

He put the puzzle of her name aside and focused on the verbal picture she’d given him. On her dark blond hair, her blue eyes, her pale skin.

He’d been unconsciously leaning toward the radio. He forced himself to relax in the seat. Screw the identity part. The important thing was to get her out of there. Unless this was some kind of con. Too bad he couldn’t record this conversation and let the other Decorah agents listen to it. But it was all in his head. There was nothing to record.

You say he’s going to kill you.

Yes!

How do you know?

He told me.

He could be lying.

He told me he’s killed five other women.

Jesus!

You said I’ve been here two months.

Yes. Has he hurt you, he asked, dreading the answer.

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