The exit was there, and he eased into the lane. Once off the expressway, they were only a few miles from the prison.

"What if we can't . . . you know, make it as anything other than friends?" she asked.

"You really think that's going to happen?"

"I don't know what will happen. I've never seen this type of thing work out."

"Of course you have. Look at Genna and John. You don't have to look far to find relationships that work when both people want them to work. Stop looking so hard for a reason not to . . ." He paused, then said, "Unless, of course, you don't feel that way toward me. If that's the case, then-"

"I don't know what to call what I feel for you. I can tell you very honestly that I've never felt that way about anyone else, though." She leaned back into her seat, her blue eyes focused on his face. "Do you really think that things would have been the way they were between us if I hadn't felt something really strong for you?"

"A guy can hope."

"It's hard to put a name to something you've tried to avoid thinking about for so long."

"Well, I think that's my point. We've both been avoiding this whole relationship thing for years." He pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. "We never talked about it, but we're talking now."

"I'll give you this much"-she unsnapped her seat belt and leaned over and took his face in her hands-"there's never been anyone but you. I've never known what to call what I feel for you, but the whole time since we've known each other, there's never been anyone else."

"I can live with that, for today. For now." He drew her close and kissed her, almost weak with relief. He held on to her as if to a lifeline, his heart pounding. He wondered if he'd ever tell her how the thought of this conversation had struck terror in his gut. He'd been so afraid she'd shoot him down.

"I think we can work this out somehow," she whispered, returning his kiss and running her top teeth along his bottom lip, because she knew it made him a little crazy.

"We'll work on it."

"Day and night until we get it right."

He laughed and kissed her again, wanting to feel her pressed against him, but there was the console, and the steering wheel. So he kissed her one last time and said, "We can do this. No more joking around. We can do this."

"I've missed you, Will. Missed the closeness. Missed this." She was as close to him as she could be, and still be in her own seat. "Maybe you're right, maybe it's time to . . . like you said . . ."

"Take it to the next level."

"Right."

"Move the relationship ahead."

"That, too."

"See where the road leads."

She began to laugh softly. "See how many more really tired cliches you can come up with."

"I got a million of them." He rubbed the back of her neck gently.

"Save a few for after we chat with Vince."

"Don't worry, babe. There are plenty more cheesy lines where those came from." He turned the key in the ignition. "But you know, I'm thinking maybe we don't need to be at Mara's until tomorrow. Maybe if Jayne and Aidan are there to keep an eye on things . . ."

"There's always the Fleming Inn. Just about forty minutes from the prison." She grinned as she leaned back into her seat. "Less, of course, if I'm driving . . ."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

"So, do I get to ask him anything?" Will asked as he and Miranda made their way across the parking lot toward the entrance to the prison. "Or are you really planning on doing all the talking?"

"Hey, Vince and I are old buddies. This will be like a reunion." She grinned, ignoring the look on the face of the guard when he saw her come through the door. She pulled her credentials out of her bag and smiled. "Agents Cahill and Fletcher. We're here to see Vince Giordano."

The guard glanced from her badge to Will's, then at the visitor's log for the day.

"You're not on the sheet," he told them. "You weren't expected?"

"When did 'not on the sheet' ever keep a federal agent out of a prison?" Miranda narrowed her eyes and stared the guard down.

"I was just saying . . ." the guard mumbled, then grabbed the phone. He turned away for a minute or so, then turned back and told them, "Warden said to put you in the room down the hall, not in the visitors' area. He's sending someone up for you, and he'll have the prisoner brought down."

"That's better." Miranda flashed a million-dollar smile and paced the reception area until the guard arrived to take them through the building.

Their escort arrived within minutes, and they followed him down a short hall to a small room.

"In here." The guard unlocked the door. "The prisoner will be down in a minute."

"Thanks," Will said as they entered the room.

"I'll bet I've been in a hundred nasty little rooms, just like this, over the past six years, but I never get used to the way they look or feel."

"Or smell," Will noted.

"That, too." She wrinkled her nose.

The door on the back wall opened, and Vince Giordano shuffled in, his ankles in chains.

His eyes lit up when he saw Miranda.

"Hey! When they said there was a babe here, wanted to see me, I thought they were kidding. Agent Cahill," he said as he sat down clumsily in the yellow chair. "Last time I saw you, you were holding a gun on me."

"Hey, don't thank me. It was my pleasure," she told him.

"No hard feelings. If it hadn't been you, it woulda been someone else. At least I got to feast my eyes on the finest the Feds got to offer."

"That's a disgusting thought, Vinnie. The thought of you feasting on any part of me in any way makes me want to throw up."

"So, I see you still care for me as much as I care for you."

"Vinnie, my feelings for you have never changed."

He laughed again.

"So, what sends you and . . . who is this guy?" Giordano pointed to Will.

"Oh, pardon my manners. You haven't met Agent Fletcher before. Agent Fletcher, this is the infamous Vincent Giordano. I get to call him Vinnie 'cause we go way back."

"Not back far enough," Giordano said, still appearing to size up Will.

"Heard a lot about you, Vince." Will sat on the edge of the table.

"Yeah, like what did you hear?"

"I heard you were the mastermind behind that whole 'Let's do some good deeds for each other when we get out' thing."

Giordano looked up at Miranda, his face blank.

"What's this guy talking about, Cahill?"

"Vinnie, we already know about the game," she replied.

"Game, what game? Someone betting on a game? Hey, gambling's illegal here," he deadpanned.

"Stop it." She slammed her fist down on the table unexpectedly, and he jumped. "Just . . . stop it, okay? We know. We know how you and Channing and Lowell were shoved into a room together last February and pa.s.sed the time away with a little game of hit list. You do mine, I'll do yours."

She rested her arms on the table and looked him straight in the eye. "Did you know that Channing was going to do it when he got out, or did that come as a big surprise to you? When did you know for sure that the game had really begun, Vince? Was it when they found your mother-in-law with a bullet between her eyes? Or when they found Judge Styler raped and murdered, just like the Mary Douglases were?"

"I remember reading something about that judge. Shame, wasn't it?" He shrugged, but did not blink. "And Diane's mother, well, hey, guess that was one of them wrong-place, wrong-time things, huh?"

"Eight o'clock at night, in her own house sound like the wrong place, wrong time?" Miranda met his stare.

"Hey, just goes to show-"

"Enough, okay?" She looked up at Will and said, "He's not going to tell us a d.a.m.ned thing."

"I got nothing to say." Giordano shook his head.

"So I guess if we were to ask you to tell us who Lowell's third victim was going to be, you'd just tell us to go to h.e.l.l."

"I prefer kiss my a.s.s."

"Well, I guess since you're not talking," Miranda pretended to study her nails, "you're not going to want to talk about how it is that the bullets from the gun that killed your family match the bullet that killed Albert Unger."

"Who?" Vince's expression never changed, but there had been a definite spark in his eyes.

"The man who murdered Curt Channing's mother."

"Never heard of him." Vince began to chuckle. "But I guess it just goes to prove what I been saying all along. Guess it proves that someone else killed my family. Just like I told you."

"Or maybe you told someone else where to find the gun. Or maybe you gave the gun away. But it doesn't prove that anyone other than you killed your wife and kids."

Ignoring Will's comment, Vince asked, "Aren't you wasting time sitting here talking to me? Shouldn't you be out looking for the guy who killed my wife and kids?"

"Waste of time, Cahill." Will shook his head. "I told you he was a waste of time."

"Hey, sorry I couldn't be of any a.s.sistance." Vince made no effort to hide his smirk.

"Vinnie, your sincerity is choking me up."

"And your interest is touching, you know? I don't get much company. A guy can get pretty lonely in here."

"Sooner or later, we all get what we deserve, I guess." She stood up to leave.

"I guess we do." Giordano stared at her, then grinned broadly. "Sooner or later, you're gonna get what you deserve, too, Agent Cahill. Wish I could be around to see it all go down."

Miranda looked at Will and smiled.

"I'd take that as a confirmation, wouldn't you?"

"I would."

"Thanks, Vinnie."

"For what?"

"For saving us the time we would have spent looking for that third victim."

"I don't know nothing about no victims." Giordano smiled back at her. "Except my own, of course."

"You know, you never did say how you came to choose those individuals to murder, Vinnie."

"They were in my way."

"Right. And I'm the Lone Ranger."

"You lonely, Cahill, I got something for you. Pretty lady like you should never be alone."

"Ugh, I'm gagging now." Miranda signaled to the guard. "Get him out of here."

"You want to talk, Giordano, you just give a holler," Will said.

"Cold day in h.e.l.l, Fletcher." Giordano headed back to the door, calling over his shoulder, "Be seeing you, Cahill."

"Not if I can help it." She tapped Will on the arm to let him know she was leaving, and he followed her through the door.