"She was carrying a gun when you met her, Joe," Eileen said. "Concealed carry permit. n.o.body is going to mess with Joni again."

"I like that," Joe said slowly. "I don't want anybody messing with Joni either."

"Time for coffee and dessert," the waiter said with a grin, rolling a cart to the table that was packed with confections. "Don't try to get away without dessert."

"We have to have coffee," Eileen said, eyeing the cart.

"But of course," Joe said gloomily. "I'll just run about twelve miles tomorrow to work this off, that's all."

The night fizzed around her like champagne as she laughed, and Eileen understood in the cold and rational part of her that the danger was a part of the fizz. The danger that she might be falling in love with a madman and a murderer. Eileen knew with all her heart that Joe Tanner was innocent, that he was intelligent and good. But the tiny rational voice in her head stayed awake and aware, looking with cold lizard eyes out of her head and a.s.sessing every movement and nuance of Joe Tanner. The rational part of her, her lizard part, would not trust Joe Tanner until she had the real murderer in custody. No matter what her heart was telling her.

The night breeze blew through the car windows and stirred Eileen's hair as they drove to Joe's home.

"That was the best dinner I ever had," Joe said after he pulled to a stop. "Do you want to come in for coffee or something?"

"I don't-"

"Please? Just for a bit. I don't want the night to end."

He leaned forward and kissed her, and his mouth was as soft as she imagined it to be. His kiss was maddeningly gentle.

"All right," she said.

His apartment was small and indifferently decorated, as she knew it would be. There was no particular style, just nice furniture and lamps and a couple of prints.

"Let me fix decaf," he said, "or I'll be up all night. I'll probably be up all night anyway."

Eileen didn't answer. She was looking at a framed picture of Harriet Sullivan. Eileen felt a withering rage and jealousy of this dead woman, for the second time. She couldn't help it, even though she knew it was useless.

"It was two years ago," she said.

"It feels like yesterday," he said, his face abruptly as expressionless as stone.

"I've heard a lot of stories about Sully," Eileen said. "Sharon told me what she did when she thought she was going to lose her job. I think-"

"You think I killed Terry because of Sully," Joe said sharply. He was clenching the coffee grinder in his hands. He looked furious.

"I don't know," Eileen said, from the lizard part of her. Then she folded her arms and bowed her head. "No," she whispered from her heart. "Not you."

The coffee grinder thumped to the counter with a clatter.

"Not me, Eileen," Joe said. He walked to her and took her in his arms, as naturally as though he'd done it a thousand times. "It wasn't me." Eileen could feel his heart beating under her ear, and she put her arms around him and held him tightly. Lost, she was lost, and she didn't care.

"I know it wasn't you."

Great Falls, Virginia.

"Lucy, Lucy," Ted called to her.

Lucy could hear her husband's voice, but the smoke swirled around her and she couldn't see. There was a frantic crackling sound that had to be fire. There were sharp rubble and rocks under her feet. She looked down, in the queer fishbowl vision of a dream, and saw that her feet were encased in stout boots. Underneath her feet were brick shards and sh.e.l.l casings and tiny white sticks that she understood were children's bones.

"Ted!" she screamed, but the scream came out of her throat as the tiniest of whispers. She tried to look around, but the smoke was choking and thick and studded with particles that glistened like crystals. The smoke was shimmering, but the taste was foul, like death.

The smoke haze lifted and she saw the Tower of London, broken, one part of the spire sticking up like a brutally sharpened pencil, and then the shimmering clouds swirled it away again. She'd visited London as a college student on spring break and never forgotten her first breathtaking glimpse of the Tower. Now it was destroyed.

Lucy felt the scream sticking in her throat, and knew she was walking through radioactive clouds. Then she realized she was carrying a child, and knew that the worst part wasn't that she was dead, but that her child was too.

That broke the scream free and sent her up and out of the nightmare, and she opened her eyes in the darkness and Ted was there, holding her. There was no smoke.

"Lucy," Ted said. He was near tears. "Don't scream, Lucy, don't."

Lucy put her arms around his neck and sobbed, feeling her sweat running down her body and soaking her nightshirt.

"Oh, Ted," she said. "I had the most horrible nightmare."

"It's okay now, baby, it's okay, it was just a dream," he soothed, and held her.

But it was a long time before Lucy fell asleep again.

29.

Oklahoma.

"Have you finished Chapter Twelve yet?" Major Stillwell asked Richard, the pilot. They were sitting in a Greyhound bus stop in Oklahoma. The bus stop also served as a gas station and liquor store. The bugs swarmed around the light at the front of the station.

"Almost done," Richard said absently. Richard was bringing home a romance novel for his wife, a gift. She loved romance novels. This was the only reading material anybody had. They'd split Richard's book into chapters and were sharing the chapters around as they read. They'd tried reading it together, but Gwen was too fast and Stillwell was too slow. The gas station's one video game had an Out of Order sign on it that was so sun-faded as to be illegible.

The friendly broken-legged farmer's wife had fed them some terrific fried chicken for lunch and some cherry pie for dessert that Stillwell thought he might remember forever, it was so good.

After the lunch-the farmer's wife called it dinner-there was a long, boring wait for the farmer to return from the fields, and a long, boring drive to the nearest town, and then a long, boring wait for the bus.

The bus tickets weren't that expensive, but all three groaned when they found out the next bus wouldn't pull into town until two that morning.

"I was supposed to be in Colorado Springs tonight," Stillwell said.

"We all were," Richard said gloomily.

Richard finished his chapter and handed it over to Stillwell. Stillwell set his chapter carefully on the growing stack by his chair. Gwen, the quickest reader, was the first in line.

"Chapter Twelve," Stillwell said to himself, " 'The Wolf and the Dove.' " This was his first experience with historical romance. Gwen told them she liked this one because the beautiful heroine was full-bodied and chunky, like Gwen.

"Those were the days," Gwen said.

Stillwell sighed and tried to find a comfortable position in the hard plastic chair.

Colorado Springs.

Joe's mouth was soft and salty and hot, just the way Eileen imagined it to be.

"I want you," he said against her mouth. "Everything is right when you're around me."

How long had it been? Forever. The rational part of her brain was calling to her, crying out in a sharp commanding voice, but it was far away and she didn't want to listen to it. She wasn't going to listen to it.

"I want you too," she said through the thudding of her heart.

He pulled her against him and kissed her. She could taste the salt and the softness of his mouth. His shirt was untucked at the back and she slid her hands underneath, hungry to feel his bare skin.

"Yes," he said, and pulled her to the couch so they could sprawl down upon it. The landing was awkward, which made them both laugh.

She opened her eyes as he stopped kissing her, because she wanted to look at him. Eileen wanted to look at his face. Joe showed everything. If he was doing this as a way to finish his mourning over Sully, or to forget his friend Art, Eileen wanted to know. She wanted to see more than desire in his face, because what she felt was more than just desire.

He let his head fall back against the couch cushion, as though he understood what she wanted. He smiled at her, his wicked and unabashed grin.

"I want you," he said. "Not somebody to take her place. Is that what you want me to say?"

"Yes," she said, laughing.

"I want you, Eileen," he said strongly.

Eileen kissed him again, fiercely, her hands moving to his shirt b.u.t.tons. She had to feel his skin against hers. She had to feel all of him.

Eileen fumbled with his b.u.t.tons as he fumbled with hers, which set them to laughing again while they were kissing.

"Oh, wait, dam it," she said as he tried to strip her shirt off. She unbuckled her shoulder holster and casually set it on the floor. She tossed his shirt on top of it. He finished stripping her shirt off, her thin cotton bra showing the hard points of her nipples. He murmured in admiration as he took the bra from her, his hands meeting across her back as he brought her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his mouth. Eileen pushed against his shoulders as his mouth pulled and licked at her nipples. His teeth closed softly around the hard point and she groaned, trying to pull away. He growled against her and smiled up at her, his lips against her breast. She laughed, cradling his head against her, twining her fingers through the thickness of his hair.

"Oh, it's so good," she whispered.

"Yes," Joe murmured, and unb.u.t.toned her pants, unzipping the zipper and letting the fabric fall down her hips, pulling them free and kissing her ankles as he stripped the khakis from her. She reached for his pants, the waistband. She was now clad only in the silkiest of panties. His hand smoothed downward and cupped her bottom.

"I'm very excited," she whispered, and he pulled her against him and kissed her hard, his breath nearly a pant.

"Oh, G.o.d, yes you are," he said. She struggled with his waistband, her hands clumsy, and finally the tongue of the zipper went down and she reached in to touch him. His head fell back as she struggled to release him. He stood up, impatient, and stripped his pants off. Eileen sat on her heels, knees apart, and as he tossed the pants aside she reached out with her own hands and caught his hips. Then she was nuzzling and kissing the smooth length of him, tasting him with her tongue and her lips. He stood, head forward, looking at her mouth against him, his hands reaching out to her shoulders to steady himself. Then he pulled away, shaking his head, needing to slow down, and it was her turn to smile. He pushed her back against the sofa and she lay back for him as he peeled her panties from her and covered her body with his.

"I can't wait," he gasped against her ear, kissing the curve of her neck.

"Here," she said. "Ahh, here." She tilted her hips to him.

"More," she said. "Oh please."

Soon she cried out and caught at him as he, too, groaned and sighed and then his weight came down on her, sweat slicked, and their hearts thudded together.

"Oh, yes, yes," she whispered. "Oh yes. Oh Joe."

"I think I love you," he said in a sleepy, blurred voice.

"I think I love you too," she said, and sleep took her under like a black wave.

Central Intelligence Agency, Langley, Virginia.

"I couldn't sleep," Lucy said shortly to Mills. She had her desk light on because the sun wasn't up yet. It was very early for Lucy.

"That's unusual," Mills said to her in a smugly friendly way. Lucy looked at him for a moment, puzzled, then realized Mills thought she was in there to impress him. He had her under his control now, or so he thought.

"Just couldn't sleep, that's all," she said shortly, and turned her head back to her computer screen, clearly dismissing him. He closed the door softly with a small chuckle, which she ignored.

After he left, Lucy took another donut out of her desk drawer. They were incredibly fresh at four-thirty in the morning, she had just discovered. The bakers were still putting them out on the racks when she stepped into the bakery. The smell of fresh-baked donuts was mouthwatering.

"I hate that man," she said, her mouth m.u.f.fled by donut. There didn't seem to be anything more on Muallah, any piece of information that could get her report off Mills's desk and into the DDCIA's office.

The phone rang. Lucy swallowed hard.

"Yeth," she said, because her voice was still mostly choked with donut.

"Is this Lucy Giometti?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, this is Lucy," Lucy said. She sat straight up in her chair. "Did you read it? What did you-"

"We've got all the confirmation we need now," Jefferson said grimly. "Kane wants you over at the Pentagon right away. You are now our Muallah expert."

"I have to talk to Mills-" Lucy started, grimacing. Mills was not going to be happy about this.