In silence, she moved to the staircase and put her foot on the first step, then the next and the next. He didn't rush to her or make any other abrupt movement, which might have shattered the charmed hush between them. She continued up the spiral. She didn't need to see him there, any more than she had needed to see him before she'd turned around to face him in front of the window below. His image was a bright picture in her mind as he followed her up the staircase to the bedroom of this suite she must have meant all along to be reserved for two rather than just one.

He was suddenly behind her then, where she had stopped next to the bed. His strong hands gripped her shoulders, but gently. Without a word, she turned to face him and lifted her face toward his. She had pulled her hat off in the lobby below. His fingers twined into the ma.s.s of her hair, and his mouth met hers. The kiss that followed was long and deep, and Katherine was not aware of herself breathing through any of it. She leaned against him, absorbing his warmth and his strength. At last, he lifted his lips from hers and stared down into her eyes.

"I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life," he said.

His voice was husky and even deeper than usual. Before she could answer, or even know if she had thoughts enough left in her head to put words together, he had swept her up in his arms and was carrying her the short distance remaining to the bed. Katherine had never been lifted off the ground in that way, so swiftly or with such command.

She tensed for a moment at the newness of being so totally taken charge of. Then, in the next instant, she gave herself up to all of ita"the strength of his arms, the scent of his jacket against her cheek, the softness of the bed beneath her as he laid her down on it.

He stood above her and stripped off his jacket first, then his sweater. There was only one low-level ceiling light lit near the doorway that led to the fifteenth-floor corridor. She could see him all the same, not in her mind's vision now, but real and entirely beautiful, standing over her. The poWer of his torso enthralled her, and the tightness inside her became even more intense as she antic.i.p.ated touching him across the broadness of his chest and down the muscles of his arms, which hardened now as he clasped his belt and pulled the buckle loose. He would be disrobing her with just as much urgency very soon now. She could hardly wait for that moment to come.

Chapter Seventeen Vic woke up and knew immediately where he was. The feel of the place and what had happened in it had followed him into his dreams and surrounded him now as bright morning sun streamed through the filmy curtains over the tall, wide window of the duplex suite. On another morning, he might have flung his arm up to shut out the light or groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. Facing the dawn of a new day hadn't always been his favorite thing. Now, Vic faced the brightness and smiled to himself. Today would be different from those other mornings. Except that. He had turned slowly from the window. He was still at least Partly caught up in the dream of last night, a dream that was almost too wonderful to be true. He had stretched his arm across the pillow, as if to take hold of that dream once more in the morning light. Except that Katherine was gone.

Vic sprang fully awake and upright in the same instant. He was alone in the bed, and for a moment he wondered if he could have imagined last night after all. Maybe he'd fantasized about Katherine so much and pictured so vividly how she would look beneath him with her halo of hair spread out against the pillow that he'd finally convinced himself the vision had to be real.

Not a chance, he told himself with relief as he drew in his next breath. Katherine had been in this bed, all right. He could smell her still everywhere around him. He'd heard how scents can remain in the memory, but this was more than that. Her sweetness rose from the sheet as he tossed it away from his naked body. Too bad she wasn't actually in those sheets herself.

He leapt out of bed, propelled by disappointment and something more.

He'd have to call that other feeling exasperation. She'd run out on him.

She'd made love to him through most of the night. Then, she'd crept out of bed while he was still asleep and left him without so much as a goodbye. He knew exactly what it meant when a guy did that to a woman. He figured it meant just the same when the situation was reversed. He'd been the one-night stand this time. He should probably be glad she didn't wake him up on her way out of here. He didn't know if he'd have been able to stand hearing her say the most obvious brush off line of all, "I'll call you sometime."

In the old days, his temper would have carried him straight over the top as soon as he realized Katherine was gone. Lucky for him, and for whoever might be in the room next door, he'd worked on that explosive side of himself. Otherwise, he'd be kicking the bedside table right now instead of just standing here, clenching and unclenching the fists he'd clamped resolutely to the sides of his thighs. Besides, kicking furniture wouldn't be a very good idea, at least not as long as his feet were as bare as the rest of him. All the same, he'd like to vent his frustration somehow. Vic considered punching the pillow, but he couldn't do that either, not as long as he still remembered Katherine lying there.

He tore his gaze away from the memory of that sight and sensed a similar tearing in his heart. He could hardly believe how deserted he felt. He picked up the hotel bath- ii robe at the bottom of the bed and pushed his arm into one , of the terry-cloth sleeves. It occurred to him that this robe hadn't been there the night before. He and Katherine had inhabited every inch of this king-size bed from top to bottom and side to side before they finally fell asleep. He" would have noticed a bathrobe placed so neatly on top of the also neatly folded quilted spread. Katherine must have left the robe here for him.

"How considerate of her," he said aloud.

"She thinks to leave me something to put on but doesn't care enough to stick around till I wake up."

Unless. He shoved his other arm through the remaining empty sleeve of the bathrobe. Maybe Katherine had only gone downstairs. He'd temporarily forgotten that this fancy hotel room of hers had two floors. He hadn't heard so much as a whisper of sound from below. Still, she could be down on the lower level. Maybe she'd used the bathroom down there so she wouldn't wake him up. She'd thought to leave him the bathrobe. Maybe she was being just as thoughtful about letting him sleep undisturbed. If she had the bathroom door closed, he might not be able to hear her from way up here.

Vic hoped almost desperately that scenario would be true as he hurried halfway down the spiral stairway. One glance told him he was more likely than not thinking like a fool. The living room of the suite was as empty as the hollow that had begun to echo inside him. He continued to move down the staircase all the same, but more slowly now. He'd check the bathroom just in case, but he'd already resigned to what he would probably find. he : didn't manage to resign himself enough to prevent another stab of disappointment when the bathroom turned out to be as empty as the rest of the place.

"I suppose I'll be checking the closets next," he said to himself, feeling exactly like the jerk she'd set him up to be.

He was trying not to let it register too deep just how much he hated being in this situation when the buzzer rang at the door a few feet from the bathroom. The sound set his heart dancing in his chest.

Katherine was at the door. She'd only gone down to the lobby for a newspaper, or to the health club for a morning swim, or whatever. He didn't care where she'd been. He only cared that she was back. He had his wits about him just enough to pull his robe closed and tie the cloth belt across the front on his way to open the door.

"We're looking for Katherine Fairchild. Is this her room?"

The question came in the few seconds it took for Vic to absorb the disappointment of not finding Katherine at the door. Meanwhile, his mind was doing its best to click through the changes it had to make before reacting to the man and woman in uniform standing on opposite sides of the hotel suite's doorway.

"Is Ms. Fairchild on the premises, sirS: the female officer asked.

Vic didn't feel much like talking, but what was left of his common sense told him he'd better come up with something to say to the policewoman's question.

"Mrs. Fairchild isn't here," he said.

The words were already out of his mouth before he realized he had called Katherine by her previously married t.i.tle. Too late to take it back, even though he could feel this situation getting harder to explain by the second. He'd il guess the lady cop might be thinking the same thing because, while he was speaking, she'd been checking out what he had ona"or maybe what he didn't have on. He didn't kid himself for a minute that she was sizing up his masculine charms. He'd bet a year's salary she was busy taking notes. He could almost see them written down in her pocket pad even now.

Unidentified male wearing bathrobe with hotel monogram and clutching front of same, on alleged premises of subject said male refers to as Mrs. Fairchild. Said male possibly of suspicious character. Risk of concealed weapon negligible in his present attire.

"Do you know-Ms. Fairchild's current whereabouts?" the policewoman was asking.

Her partner had positiOned himself opposite her and at an angle from the other side of the doorway. He peered into the room behind Vic, who thought about stepping to his left to obstruct the shorter man's view, but decided against it. He was very much aware of how vulnerable he had to look standing here in this d.a.m.ned robe. He was also very aware of how dumb it would be to provoke these officers into taking advantage of that vulnerability. They had the drop on him in more ways than one.

"No, I don't know where Ms. Fairchild is right now," he said.

He didn't add that she'd taken a powder before he even woke up, though that infuriating fact was still on his mind.

"Could we step inside for a moment, sir?" the policewoman asked.

She said that in a completely noncommittal tone, with no sign of emotion or even curiosity. She might have been asking him if he would please step aside in an elevator or on a crowded street, as if they were nothing more than two strangers who just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Only, this situation was anything but that simple.

"How did you find out Ms. Fairchild was staying in this hotel?" Vic asked.

He was finally getting his head together enough to realize he had to be careful how he handled this unexpected visit from the law.

"She called Albany Hospital this morning to inquire about the condition of her friend." The policewoman checked her pad which she had, by now, taken from the pocket of her down-filled police jacket.

"Ms. Moran told us that Ms. Fairchild was staying in this hotel temporarily."

Her partner gave her a quick look then, as if he thought she was telling more than she should. Vic's mind started clicking again in the meantime. Katherine had called the hospital this morning, maybe from right here in this room while he was upstairs asleep. That made him more infuriated with her than ever, though he wasn't exactly sure why.

"Could we step inside, sir?" the policewoman asked again.

"Do you have a warrant?"

Vic asked the question almost automatically, just the way he would have done if the cops had shown up on his doorstep at home. He still didn't want to give these two an excuse to roust him. He didn't intend to give them access to anything more than they could see from this doorway, either. Not if he could help it, anyway.

"No, we don't have a warrant, sir," the female officer said.

"Then you'd better go and get one."

Vic started easing the door shut while he was saying that. The policewoman had been stand ing a foot or so back from [ the doorway, obviously giving herself a margin of safety from the suspicious character in the bathrobe. She took a step forward now and placed her left hand with the pad in it against the door to keep it from closing all the way. Vic could see the firearm she carried in a snap-top holster at her right side. Her right elbow was close to her body, between him and the weapon. Still, he could see that the holster snap was undone.

"Could you give me your name, please, sir?" she asked in a tone that was more demand than question.

He continued pressing the door shut against the resistance of her hand.

"I'm just a friend of Ms. Fairchild's. You don't need to know my name," he said.

"I have to go now."

Vic pushed the door shut the rest of the way then and was relieved to hear the automatic lock engage: He listened what felt like a long time, but the officers didn't knock again. If they talked the situation over between them after Vic closed the door, they must have walked off some distance to do it because he didn't hear even the sound of m.u.f.fled voices from the hallway. He kept listening until he was sure the cops had to be gone. He wished he also felt sure they wouldn't be popping up in his face some time again soon.

COYOTE BELL AWAY was worried about the police, too. They didn't know where he was. n.o.body knew that, but they could find out if he wasn't really careful. That's why he'd kept himself on the move. He'd thought a long time about where would be the best place to hide. Miss Fairchild's house was what he came up with first, except he didn't know her address. He had gone to Mr. Maltese's last year for his Christmas party. Coyote never forgot a place he'd been to already, or how to get back there either, but he didn't think he wanted to stay at Mr. Maltese's. He still wasn't too sure if he could trust the man. So, he'd been spending time in a build ing a few blocks away from Too-ley's apartment. It felt good to him to have a roof over his head and a place to sleep indoors instead of out in the snow.

He'd been worried at first that he wouldn't be able to get inside.

There was one place, though, that people tended to get careless about when it came to closing up their houses. The bas.e.m.e.nt windows, especially in the back of the building, could get forgotten. Maybe one would be cracked open to keep the bas.e.m.e.nt from going musty.

Then, since n.o.body was down there at the bottom of the house much, that window might stay unlatched. Sure enough, Coyote had found one he could push in and climb through.

He didn't have much in the way of furniture or other stuff, and he'd never been out of Albany in his whole life, but he pretended he was camping out. He let himself daydream for a while about a cabin in the woods, where he and Sprite and their mother and maybe Tooley could all live together. Then he stopped. Daydreams about things that weren't going to happen could make a guy sad. Being sad just slowed him down, and he didn't have time for that.

He'd come here in the middle of the night when the snow got heavy and the wind was too cold for the cardboard boxes on the roof across from Tooley's to keep him even sort of warm anymore. He'd already decided to get out of there anyway when he saw the police all over the place in the afternoon. Then he'd started figuring out where he should go and ended up coming here.

He'd shimmied through the bas.e.m.e.nt window and looked around, using the penlight he always kept in his pocket. He kept a jackknife in there, too, but the most important blade was broken. He'd tried three or four times to save up for a Swiss Army knife, but the money always got spent on something else. The penlight was what he'd ,J needed when he came here, though. He'd found an old, dusty couch and sat down on it and next thing he knew he was waking up there with the light coming through the bas.e.m.e.nt windows. He felt bad about sleeping so late when he should have been on the alert. He felt bad about spending a whole day stuck in this bas.e.m.e.nt.

He also felt bad about losing track of Sprite. He knew Miss Fairchild had taken an interest in his sister, and he had a feeling she'd make sure Sprite was okay. Still, she was his sister and he was supposed to take care of her, but how could he do that when he didn't know where she might be? Coyote had been worrying about that off and on ever since he got here. But he knew he had to stay inside, where he'd be safe, until he could figure out a plan.

He wished he had a father around to help him outsmart the bad guys.

But his father had taken off what seemed like so long ago. Thinking about that reminded Coyote of how his mom had told him he was the man of the family now. He didn't feel like he was old enough for that, but he knew he had to do it anyway. Which meant he had to find Sprite and make sure she was all right. She'd be getting out of school for Christmas vacation today. She might be out of there already. She'd go to the Arbor Hill Center, then on to the party Mr. Maltese was having.

He didn't like to think about it being almost Christmas. Thinking about it might start him daydreaming again, and he couldn't do that now. He had to get over to the center and see if he could catch a look at Sprite. The man of the family couldn't waste his time on daydreams.

Chapter Eighteen Katherine didn't realize she was humming along with the carols until she actually began singing the words to "O Come All Ye Faithful." The sound system had been playing Christmas music since shortly after she arrived at the center. Maybe that was why she'd been close to giddy in her meeting with the Board of Directors this morning. At least, she could blame the carols if anyone happened to notice how unusually exuberant she was today.

It turned out that n.o.body did notice, after all. They were too preoccupied with speculating about who the generous person with the big donation to the Most Needy Cases Fund might be. The story had been in last night's newspaper under Mariette Dugan's byline, just as she'd said it would be. And, just as she'd also said, Mariette had dubbed the center's benefactor Secret Santa. Curiosity about the contributor's ident.i.ty was running rampant from the center's kitchen to the conference room where Katherine had barely managed to arrive on time for the special board meeting called to discuss allocation of the half-million-dollar gift.

With everyone's attention directed elsewhere, she'd allowed herself a few precious moments to relive the details of her night with Vic. She hadn't wanted to leave him asleep in the hotel room that morning, and she'd had to drag herself from the cozy warmth of the bed they'd shared. She wondered what it would have been like to wake up together, to continue where they'd left off the night before. Still, she'd given a grateful sigh of relief that she'd checked her answering machine for messages that morning. She'd never have been able to explain her absence at the emergency board meeting. Instead, she'd left a note explaining her absence to Vic.

She tuned back in to the conversations at the meeting, where everyone still speculated about who the Secret Santa could be. That question didn't matter anywhere nearly as much to Katherine. The answer she cared about was the one to her prayers for the children and families she wanted to help, and that answer had arrived in the form of this amazing gift. As far as she was concerned, the check came from heaven, or a piece of heaven in somebody's heart, anyway. Now, all she wanted to do was hand out a holiday grant to every single person who'd applied for one. The directors were, unfortunately, in a more sensible mood than Katherine this morning. They had insisted on sticking to the customary practice of verifying the financial circ.u.mstances of each applicant. She supposed they were right about this, except she suspected that anyone who put themselves through the embarra.s.sment of asking for charity probably truly needed it. She was thinking particularly of the Bellaway children and Tooley Pennebaker and how hard they struggled just to get by. Maybe that's why Katherine said what she did when the police arrived.

"Yes, I'm Katherine Fairchild" was her answer to their first question.

"What can I do for you?"

Of course, she knew what they were here about, but she hadn't yet decided how much she'd tell them.

"We're investigating the a.s.sault on your colleague Megan Moran," the female officer said.

"We understand that } attack took place at your residence at..." She checked the small notepad she'd taken from the pocket of her blue shirt.

I.

"Four-forty-one State Street, apartment 2A."

"That's my address," Katherine said.

"Do you think the a.s.sailant could have been after you?" The other police officer, a man older than his partner, had asked that question from behind her, where he'd been standing, keeping the area outside Katherine's office in view and periodically glancing toward the adjoining corridor as if he might be expect ing a criminal to approach from that direction.

"The possibility has occurred to me," Katherine said.

She and Vic had talked about that. Still, hearing it said out loud again sent a shiver trembling through her.

"Do you have any idea who might want to harm you?" the male officer asked.

"Maybe a boyfriend you broke up with?"

The female officer looked pained for a moment.

"My partner means we're wondering if you've had any disagreements with anyone lately who might be angry enough to attack you."

"No old boyfriends I can a.s.sure you of that," Katherine i said. She'd understood instantly why the other female officer appeared uncomfortable with having her partner a.s.sume that any trouble a woman ran into, especially violent troui ble, would most likely have something to do with her love life. "Your friend, the one who got hit on the head, could have interrupted a thief in the midst of going about his business," the male officer chimed in again.

"Except this doesn't look like robbery to me. I was at your place, and the usual goods a robber takes are all still there." He'd turned his attention from the adjoining corridor and was staring at Katherine now. She could tell by the unflinching expression in his eyes that he wasn't going to move away from his spumed-lover theory without a lot of convincing. She considered encouraging them to go on thinking that. The problem there would be the possibility of Vic's name becoming inVolved. Whatever else she told these two police officers, Katherine knew she had no intention of mentioning Vic. But Coyote had never turned up again, and she was worried about the child's safety. It was time to involve the police.

She took a deep breath before speaking.

"We've been having some problems here at the center involving two children named Coyote and Sprite Bella-way," she began.

"Maybe you'd like to sit down. This is a rather long story."

The female officer took the chair across from Katherine's desk. Her partner stayed in the doorway, again dividing his attention between the corridor and what Katherine had to say. By the time she'd finished, she'd told them about Coyote's grant application, his night on the mats in the equipment room, his sister Sprite's claims about a man in a black car who was after Coyote, the break-in at Tooley Penne-baker's, the slashing of Daniel's portrait in Katherine's apartment, and the fact that Coyote was still missing. She'd told them almost everything. The parts she left out had to do with any mention of Vic Maltese.

"Are you antic.i.p.ating another break-in, Ms. Fairchild?" the female officer asked just when Katherine had hoped the interview was at an end.

"Is that why you're staying at the Omni Hotel?"

Katherine was taken more than a little by surprise. "How do you know that?"

"Ms. Moran told us."

Katherine came close to breathing an audible sigh of relief but stopped herself.

"We went there looking for you before we came here," the male officer added.

Katherine's relief was short-lived.

"You went to the hotel?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"We spoke to your friend."

He was staring at Katherine again. She had to force herself not to look away from his gaze.

"What was your friend's name?" he asked.

Katherine took a moment to steel herself before replying, so she wouldn't give in to her usual strictly law-abiding instincts.

"He's just a friend," she said and stood up from her desk.