"I believe him."

"Who could have known that was a special place for them? Who would have known his number? Who would have-"

"Are you kidding? Nick has such a big mouth. I think every one of my friends knew about that spot. We all knew about Bakker Beach, too. We all grew up together here in Woodbridge. There aren't many well-kept secret make-out spots among teenagers."

"Maybe one of your friends was involved."

"You can forget that idea. By the way, if you guys hadn't splintered the door, Nick wouldn't have jumped out the window and I might have found out something useful. I can't believe that you think-"

"Stop saying that."

"What?"

"That we splintered the door."

"Well, you did. You didn't yell a warning, either."

"We didn't."

"But I distinctly heard that back door being broken down."

Tierney shrugged. "We heard that, too, and that's why we rushed the house. I took the back, and I can tell you that door had already been kicked open."

"But I used keys and I locked it behind me. Nick must have had an extra set. Most people do. Anyway, he was already upstairs with me, and we both heard the door being kicked in. I thought it took you long enough to get upstairs."

Tierney stared at me, apparently not quite ready to accept this latest revelation.

I said, "But that means there was someone else in the house. Someone who was following Nick perhaps. Or me. It could be the person who attacked Pepper."

"I doubt that was the case."

I said, "Well, I realize you think Nick attacked her, but I don't. Plus I know what I heard here. And if that intruder didn't go out the back or the front door, then he might still be here. That's the person who's after Nick and who injured Pepper."

He glowered at me and left the room to call out to the uniformed officers. I could hear him instructing them where to look. I thought I heard him say, "Humor her," but I could have been wrong. I was glad he'd left the room, because I hadn't given up on the idea that, like all of us, Nick would have some secret in his closet. And I'd had an idea of a good place for Nick to stash something. I stuck my hands into the pockets of his spare uniform and came up with a small rectangle of paper, thickly folded. I slipped it into my own pocket and went to find Tierney again. I'd already decided I'd fill him in if it proved relevant to the investigation, but not if it turned out to be some kind of confession or private note to Pepper.

Call me sentimental.

When I bumped into Tierney, he announced that the search showed no one hiding in the house. I said, "Tell me, how did you know I was here?" I didn't mention that I'd been careful to dodge the squad car out front on my second visit.

"We got a call."

"Really? From whom?"

"Apparently someone called 911 and said there was a break-in. Must have been a neighbor. Of course, we had a uniform keeping an eye, and he figured Nick must have gotten into the house. And look at that, we nabbed you instead."

"Just lucky," I said. "So no idea exactly who called 911?"

"I don't have any idea, but if I did, guess what?"

"Well, only a minute or two elapsed between the splintering of the back door and your arrival. So it couldn't have been that 911 call."

"Charlotte, let me make this clear. You are not a detective. I am. You should stop looking for clues and perpetrators and let us do our job without interfering. Do you understand that? I hope so, because I mean it."

"No need to be nasty," I said.

There was no more talk of dates, and that was fine by me as I left, head as high as I could hold it, rolling the suitcase behind me. As I walked through the front door this time, one of the cops shouted out from the back of the house. "Looks like whoever it was got the security tapes. Didn't want to leave an image of himself." I wasn't sure which cop was talking. I wondered briefly if Nick had taken the tape. After all, what did he have to lose by being on the tape? No, my money was on someone else.

Tierney was right behind me. The key jingling was truly annoying by this time. I had just opened my mouth to suggest that the tape must have been taken by the person who kicked the door in, when he said, "By the way, did Nick have his cell phone with him?"

I blinked. "Yes, it rang and when he saw it was you, he turned it off."

He said, "So he has that phone? Good. We have evidence that a text was sent from Nick's phone to Pepper's twenty-five minutes before you found her at Bakker Beach. That's about enough time for her to drive out there, get attacked, and have you arrive. Still think Nick didn't have anything to do with that?"

Of course, there was no way to get into Pepper's hospital room at that time of night. And it was too late to bring back Rose's car and collect the Matrix. I drove home, tired and worried. To my surprise, Jack was heading up my staircase with Little Nick in tow. "We've been watching the full moon in the backyard until the little dude fell asleep. It was awesome."

The baby's eyes popped open at the sound of Jack's voice.

"We dropped off to see the little dude's mom, didn't we fella?" Jack said.

"How is she?"

"Glad to see us. And maybe not quite herself." Jack paused. "Little dude reacted a bit to her face. Those injuries were horrible. How could anyone do that to Pepper?"

"I have no idea how. Or who."

"Did you know she's trying to make sure someone locates her parents to tell them not to come to town? I can't imagine doing that."

"Think back, Jack. It will all make sense. Contrast your wonderful childhood and her horrible one."

For the first time, I asked myself if that was why Pepper valued Nick: He didn't hit her, he didn't physically intimidate her or put her down. He was no prize, but maybe he was what she needed. But what do I know?

Jack said, "Oh right. I guess it's hard to understand what it was like to grow up in her family."

"Yes, and by the way, you have some kind of green baby food in your hair," I said helpfully. "I'm not sure that's a good look for you."

"All part of the package."

"What package?"

"The practice daddy package. Babies are complicated. I think I needed more training, but we're keeping afloat. Aren't we, little dude?"

The child did seem happy enough. But how long would that last? I wondered if Jack would be cured of his baby fantasies by the time Pepper got home.

I said, "I ordered pizza. You need to keep your strength up if you're going to keep doing this."

"Why wouldn't I keep doing it? I love this little dude, and it's mutual, in a nonverbal way. I'm here as long as he needs me. I rearranged CYCotics to make it a bit more baby friendly."

"Huh," I said.

"And I thought of a new product line."

"What?"

"You know if I had one of those baby trailers for my bike I could take the little dude to work without stuffing him into the car. So I ordered them for the shop."

"Let me repeat. Huh. Oh wait, there's more. If Pepper ever got wind of you driving her baby through the streets of Woodbridge in a canvas-sided conveyance on the back of a bike, you would have to find Nick and join him in hiding. I would then have to start hoping that you were alive, too. Don't you think I have enough to worry about already, Jack?"

"I'll let you worry about that. I'm going to try to attract young parents in, try the family promotion. Expand a bit from the racing and mountain-biking crowd. It still needs work, but we'll get there."

Luckily the pizza arrived and ended that conversation. I told myself that tomato sauce was a vegetable and anchovies were fish and so Jack and I were on the right track. I watched Jack reading to Little Nick from one of my shoe catalogues. He was making up a pretty good tale about Mr. and Mrs. Shoe and all the little sneakers. I let my mind wander. Truffle and Sweet Marie had gone from apprehensive to jealous to bitter and were ignoring me, although I was totally available to them. My mind drifted back to Pepper. How had it come to be that we had her baby in my apartment in the care of the two most unparent-like adults I could imagine? And even more worrisome, what would happen to Pepper? What had happened to her? And on a less important note, what were all those photos of me about?

I reminded myself not to dwell on the box in Jack's so-called closet. I had bigger issues to worry about.

Eventually Jack conked out on the sofa, which came as no surprise. Little Nick fell asleep beside him and didn't wake up when I placed him gently in his portable crib, safe from any territorial behavior by the pooches. I placed myself in the bathtub with a large capful of jasmine-scented bath salts and a new mix on the iPod. I tried to let the strains of the day slip away.

I should have known better. Lounging in the bathtub always triggers buried thoughts. Sure enough, they rose to the surface. Pepper was so badly injured, it was highly unlikely she could have locked the doors of the Edge. The person hit her but didn't shoot her. Why? Crime of passion? Impulse? Or just didn't have a gun? How had the person gotten close to her in the first place if it wasn't Nick? Was Nick right, that the purpose of this attack was to get Pepper? If so, I figured there was a second purpose and that was to frame Nick for the attack. I had no clue who would want to frame Nick, but I was pretty sure that same person had kicked in the door of Pepper and Nick's house. I couldn't imagine any woman I'd ever met striking Pepper that way. And most women wouldn't have the physical strength to kick in that door. But this was playing the odds. I had no idea who the attacker was. But this would-be killer knew Pepper and Nick and must have had something to gain by harming one or both. An angry husband perhaps? Someone who might want revenge for one of Nick's poaching parties? I couldn't rule this out. Or a criminal? There would be great satisfaction in bringing down two members of Woodbridge's foremost police families. Something else struck me: That person saw me arrive at Bakker Beach and stole my car. Did he or she think that I might be a witness? My address was on my documents in the glove compartment. Was I in danger, too? In that case, was Jack? Or Little Nick? What should I do about that?

I glanced at the clock. Should I mention this latest series of brain waves to Connor Tierney? It was close to midnight by this time. How would he interpret a phone call from me? And would he take it seriously? Or would he have it all figured out by this point?

I got out of the bath less relaxed than I went in. Jack was still snoring on the sofa, and I didn't want to wake him up, although that's not so easy to do at the best of times.

I prepared my To Do list for the next day and then chose my outfit for the morning, making sure it would be practical enough for Wendy's project yet sufficiently elegant for the Beauchamps and-though I hated to plan for it-also suitable for television, in case I made Todd Tyrell's news and commentary. I picked charcoal pants instead of a skirt, a fine cotton cardigan in cream, and a pair of medium heels in bronze with gladiator details.

I exfoliated my face, took care of toothies, slathered on body lotion, straightened up the living room (not including Jack and Little Nick), and found myself wide awake. I have a personal rule about not working at night, a holdover from my former job where that was the normal state of affairs. So no work. I looked around for something that needed dealing with. My apartment consists of a living room, a spacious bedroom, which includes a small office space, a tiny galley kitchen, and a vast bathroom. I am only one person and I keep it under control.

What to do?

I decided to get ahead of schedule on the routine maintenance. I packed away the last of my cool weather gear and my early spring outfits in labeled containers. I took out the rest of my summer clothing at the same time. I put aside items that wouldn't make it another season, planning to take them with me on my next trip to the women's shelter. I washed and pressed what needed to be freshened up.

After an hour of this, I went to bed. Every sleep trick in the book wasn't enough to let me have a good night's rest. My mind was whirling. I saw Pepper. I saw Nick. I saw poor Anabel. I saw people from my past, the dead and the dangerous. When I finally fell into a deep sleep somewhere around four, I was awakened by a siren. I sat up and gasped. Were we on fire? I raced into the living room, sniffing for smoke and tripping over a pair of panicked dogs.

I shrieked, "Where is it? Call 911!"

Jack sat up and yawned. "What?"

Turned out that Little Nick has quite the set of lungs. Could have fooled anyone. I guessed he'd been saving it all up for the middle of the night.

"It's the baby, Jack. I don't know how you could have missed hearing him screaming."

Jack said, "The little dude? Okay, that's all right then," and immediately fell back to dreamland. It takes more than loud noises to bring him to full consciousness. I picked up Little Nick and tried to make soothing sounds. What had I seen Sally do with her babies? He howled as I prepared a bottle for him, desperately trying to remember how it was done. Why hadn't I paid more attention? It all looked so natural, even easy, but apparently there are techniques.

Truffle and Sweet Marie joined us in the kitchen and barked. I took that as a suggestion that they, too, could be calmed by warm milk.

It took an hour of feeding and burping, interspersed with howling, before Little Nick settled down. In another five minutes, Truffle and Sweet Marie got their groove back. I crawled back to bed wondering how mothers do it. And why.

Shadowy figures crowded my dreams, making trouble and noise. Go back, they exhorted in their shadowy way. Go back, total strangers cried. My mother flitted through, her arm linked with an elderly French count. Go back, she ordered. Even Pepper had a cameo appearance. Go back, she whimpered. I can't! I kept shouting. Naturally, all night long it was impossible to go back.

Tierney showed up in my dreams toward dawn. "Don't even think about going back," he said before fading into the woods at Bakker Beach.

20.

Attach an inexpensive double-hanging rod to your existing closet rod to dramatically expand your space for hanging tops, shirts, jackets, and pants.

In the morning, Jack and I were tied for worst-looking human being in New York State, but Little Nick was ready to party. I stumbled back from walking Truffle and Sweet Marie, shaking my head and trying to dislodge the clinging shreds of dreams. It's not like me to be groggy and inept in the morning. I hated it.

"You were sure making a lot of noise in your sleep last night," Jack said, rubbing his spectacular bed head and actually making it worse, although I wouldn't have thought that possible.

I glared at him. "In the greater scheme of things, how does my so-called noise stack up to your sleeping through a screaming baby opera and, might I add, with your mouth open and drooling?"

"You're such a kidder, Charlotte. The little dude didn't scream."

I rolled my eyes. "Before you get too deep into this daddy daydream of yours, you might want to work on the graveyard shift part of it."

"What's gotten into her this morning? Little dude's an excellent sleeper, aren't you?" He picked up the baby.

"Whatever."

"We're off to work right after breakfast. We know where we are appreciated and where we're not. But do you mind keeping an eye on him while I have a shower, Charlotte?"

I didn't argue. It wouldn't have done any good if I had. And I thought a shower would definitely improve Jack's public persona. I did my best to rustle up some grub for the baby and shovel it into him while the dogs eyed the child and the food. If I read their expressions correctly, they were not at all pleased to see the interloper still on the property.

As for Little Nick, he thought it might be fun to pull their ears. I put an end to that before there was an incident involving fingers.

Luckily Jack and the baby were gone before long, leaving a residue of pureed pears that was quickly hardening to cement on my coffee table. At any rate, I knew they'd end up having a good time at CYCotics while I was struggling with the junk in my head and the dream images I couldn't shake.

Go back? What was that all about? My dreams never make much sense, but they usually involve sorting things out. Striving to put things right despite the resistance of nightmarish dream clients. There is no going back in my dreams. I hate going back. I am all about moving forward, getting things done.

Tierney had been in those dreams and that reminded me. I picked up the phone and gave him a call. I noticed with a bit of surprise that I knew his number by heart. I left a message to the effect that, although he thought Nick was the bad guy, I knew he wasn't and Nick had been worried about his family. I suggested that Tierney might consider protecting Little Nick as well as Pepper.

After wasting too much time pacing, I pulled myself together and turned my attention to my To Do list. It did not have Go back on it. It didn't have anything about watching television, either. I clicked over to WINY and caught a blinding from Todd Tyrell's chompers.

Woodbridge Police continue their hunt for rogue police officer Nick Monahan. Monahan is suspected of having inflicted life threatening damage on his wife, star detective Pepper Monahan.

Nick's boyish features splashed across the screen followed by a shot of Pepper in all her pre-pregnancy glamour. A lovely image of the two of them at their wedding followed. Todd yattered throughout.

Monahan is considered armed and dangerous.

"He doesn't have his gun, you jackass," I shouted at the television. "And it's Nick. How dangerous could he be?"

I was scowling as I went back to the To Do list. Up until now, the day had looked simple enough: Take suitcase to Pepper Pick up and deliver organizing tools for Wendy Wendy wrap-up Decision re: Lorelei Dog training-bark project I stared at my list and added, Go back? I don't usually let my dreams dictate my waking hours, but I couldn't get this phrase out of my head.

I found a trusting young officer on duty at the hospital, and I was able to talk my way into Pepper's room with her suitcase. I was grateful but didn't predict a stellar career for him.