Gathering his notes at the front of the rapidly emptying lecture hall, Garth looks up.All the way up, past the three open b.u.t.tons on the coeds blouse. He forces himself to focus only on her facea pretty face.

Whats up, Danielle?

She looks pleased that he remembers her name. She should be. Its six weeks into the semester, but this is a popular course, held twice weekly in a packed lecture hall. And at this point, Garth recognizes most of his students on sight, but knows only a handful by name, mostly the intense intellectual types who sit down in front and engage themselves in active discussion.

Danielle isnt one of those, but the lithe brunette is memorable for a different reason.Two reasons really, and theyre currently threatening to spill out of her too-tight, silky blouse.

Garth encounters one or two Danielles almost every semester: femme fatale types who engage in a subtle seduction with the professor.This professor, anyway.

Some of Garths department colleagues claim that it doesnt happen to them. Some, hes inclined to believe. Others, he suspects, are carrying on clandestine flirtations or even full-blown affairs.

Im not sure I understand what you were saying about the Grounded Theory Methodology, Danielle tells Garth.

Ah, Glaser and Strauss. Well be going over the four dying-awareness contexts in more detail at the next lecture.

We will?

We will. He smiles at her. Okay?

Okay. She hesitates. This is an interesting course.

Her voice echoes a little; the lecture hall is empty now. She adjusts her backpack, slung over her shoulder, giving him an ample view of her large b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Im glad you think so. He taps the sheaf of notes on the podium, aligning the edges. Ill see you next week, then.

Right. She looks disappointed.

But she goes.

He doesnt let himself watch her walk away, though he knows the view from behind is as spectacular as the full frontal.

There are things a married man just shouldnt do. Or even think about. But hed have to be dead not to notice someone like Danielleand not to be flattered by the way she watches him, every lecture.

Yes, he encounters at least one Danielle every semester. Sometimes shes someone hes initially overlooked; sometimes shes a blatantCoeds Gone Wild candidate.

And sometimes, he thinks grimly, shes a sophisticated Boston blonde whose blood is bluer than her eyes.

Yes, and now, that blood has been shed in the most horrific murder case to strike Back Bay in years.

The police reportedly do have a suspect, thank G.o.d.

But what if they start delving into Matilda Harringtons past?

What if they come knocking on Garth Saddlers door?

You wouldnt have to worry about that at all,he reminds himself,if it werent for what happened in June.

Yes, there are certain things a married man just shouldnt do.

Listen, Ray. Its time for you to tell us what you know. Deb keeps her voice as level as her gaze, so as not to jolt Wilmington when hes teetering on the brink.

Its okay, Ray, Mike tells him, just as evenly. We know you want to get this off your chest.

The man remains silent, chewing his lip, clearly deliberating whether to elaborate.

For his part, Quincy fights the urge to grab his skinny shoulders and shake it out of him, whatever it is. If not a confession, then some kind of revelation.

Theyre forced to wait for a long time, though, for a response. So long that Quincy has given up on a potential break in the case today.

Then Ray unexpectedly announces, She had someone.

You mean Matilda Harrington, Mike clarifies, and Ray nods.

Now that we know who were talking about,Quincy wants to say,what are we talking about?

She had someone in her life? A man? There, Deb gets it. Quincy will let her do the talking for now.

Ray is nodding.

Deb asks, Who was he?

Another hesitation.

Ray ignores the question, saying instead, I saw him one night, going into her house. He had his own key.

When was this? From Mike.

I dont know. A few weeks ago. Right around the time I found out about her party.

The birthday party she didnt invite you to? Quincy asksa little too harshly, his impatience spurred by his furiously cramping stomach.

Dammit. Ray looks skittish.

What was this man doing there? Deb asks quickly. Gently.

How should I know? All I know is he went in late and he came out when the sun was coming up.

Its pretty clear, then, Ray, what he was doing there, isnt it?Quincy almost feels sorry for the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

You stayed there all night, Deb asks, just watching the house?

Ray nods. It isnt even a sheepish nod at this point, merely resigned.

And you dont know who this man is.

Deb isnt asking a question, per se Yet Ray is nodding as if in answer to one.

Youdo know who he is? Quincy asks.

Wilmington shrugs.

Quincys patience is wearing thinner than Ray Wilmingtons hair. He gets in Rays face and barks, Tell us, dammit!

Wilmingtons slack jaw clamps shut like a clam thats just been overshadowed by a predator.

And Quincy can tell by the stubborn gleam in the suspects eye that the moment is lost.

Dozing on the couch, Brynn hears the front door start to open, only to be caught by the thick bra.s.s chain.

Startled, she sits up on the couch and in a second, confirms that the boys are still right in front of her, on the floor, absorbed in the Disney DVD she put on for them when Caleb got home from school.

In the next second, she sees that dusk has fallen beyond the picture window, remembers Tildys murder, and panics at the sound of someone pushing the door against the chain.

Then she hears Garths voice. Brynn? Open up. Its just me.

Hes home early.

Today, of all days.

Coming, she calls, standing and catching her disheveled reflection in the mirror above the couch.

She looks rumpled, pale, exhausted But not pregnant.

Garth will never know unless she tells him. And she wont tell him today. Or tomorrow.

She wont tell him until shes had a chance to absorb the news herself, and figure out the easiest way to break it to him.

Easiest way?

Ha.

Least excruciating way would be more like it.

As she hurries toward the door, she remembers, with a pang, the night she told Garth she was expecting Caleb. She found out around Memorial Day but somehow managed to keep the news to herself until mid-June.

Early on a Sunday morning, she presented Garth with breakfast in bed.

Whats the occasion? he asked groggily.

Its Fathers Day.

But Im not a He broke off, seeing the look on her face. Then he exploded in an exhilarated frenzy of bear hugs and questions, phone calls and plans.

He was almost as excited the second time around. It was Caleb who broke that news, informing his father that, Im gonna be a big brudd-ah.

Brynn has a momentary lapse of joy, imagining two big brudd-ahs leaning over her shoulder to see a precious bundle cradled in her arms.

Then she realizes she forgot to insert Garth in her imaginary picture. And when she does, hes in the background, arms folded, mouth set in a straight line.

Which is ridiculous of her. He wont be that way after the babys born. h.e.l.l love it as much as he loves his sons.

And h.e.l.l still love me,Brynn a.s.sures herself.

Of course he will. Hes her husband.

She just hopes h.e.l.l believe that she didnt do this on purpose.

But you dont have to worry about that yet.

She glimpses a wedge of Garths face through the crack in the door. Sorry, she calls, and pushes the door closed so that she can unfasten the chain.

Opening it, she steps aside to let him in. Youre home early. Really early, she realizes, grabbing his arm and turning it so she can check his wrist.w.a.tch.

I was worried about you.

Their eyes collide.

Hes not talking about the pregnancy, she reminds herself. Hes thinking about her and the boys being alone in the house after what happened to Tildy. And, maybe, hes thinking about the dead bird on their countertop.

But she doubts hes thinking that it has anything to do with what happened in Boston.

He did mention, that first day, how coincidental it was that something so unnerving had happened here on the night of Tildys death. But he said it in pa.s.sing.

And he hasnt brought it up again, other than to tell Brynn at one point that he called Officer Demuth to see if the police had uncovered any leads.

Of course they havent.

The Cedar Crest police arent concerned with finding the culprit in a minor neighborhood prank; they have their hands full, with the Stonebridge semester in full swing and Greek rush season kicking off as well.

They did say that they had tested the blood they found on the counter, and that it had come from a cat.

You know, you dont have to leave campus early every night to come running home to me and the boys, Brynn tells Garth, secretly glad he has. She doesnt like to be alone here after dark now, and shes dreading tomorrow, his late night.

I know I dont have to, but I cant help it. He leans over and kisses the top of her head, brushing her hair back from her eyes. You look worn out.

Im fine, she says quickly. Just tired. Im upset, you know Do you want me to stay here this weekend, so you can go to Boston for the funeral by yourself? he offers, not for the first time.

No, she says firmly. Im driving out to the Cape on Friday when Caleb gets out of school and my father and Sue will watch them Sat.u.r.day. You have to go to Arizona and present your chapter at the symposium. Thats important for you to do.

Its not as important as you are.

She shrugs, smiles. Publish or perish, right?

Right. Garth returns her smile, but his smile doesnt reach his eyes.