"Good night."

"Mitch?" Taylor called quietly after him. "Thank you so much."

A wink. "Wait till you get my bill."

Taylor insisted on taking a shower to relax her muscles. Afterward, she didn't even bother blow-drying her hair. She just toweled out the excess moisture, then padded into Reed's bedroom, where she wriggled into one of his shirts and climbed into his bed.

By the time he came in with the cup of chamomile tea she'd requested, she was fast asleep.

He set down the cup, watching her for a few minutes and marveling at how deeply he'd come to care for her in such a short time.

With a tired sigh, Reed yanked off his clothes and chucked them aside. Between Jonathan's case and Taylor's crisis, he hadn't slept more than six hours in the past three days. He was wiped. And now that she was safe beside him, he could actually get a decent night's rest.

He slid into bed beside Taylor, taking great care not to disturb her. She murmured something in her sleep, then snuggled against him, curling up in his arms as if she belonged there.

The fact was, she did.

Reed turned off the light, tucked the blankets around them, and shut his eyes.

The scent of Taylor's shampoo was the last thing he remembered before drifting off.

6:35 A.M.

Reed had a.s.sumed he'd leave Taylor a note, check in with Jake to make sure he was still outside, and then leave for work. It didn't happen that way.

He opened his eyes to find Taylor propped on her elbow, gazing down at him.

"Good morning," she murmured.

"Good morning." He frowned, blinking away the final vestiges of sleep. "What are you doing up?

Did my alarm wake you?"

"Nope. It hasn't even gone off yet. Nor will it. I turned it off about ten minutes ago."

"Now, that sounds intriguing." Reed was instantly and totally awake. "Any particular reason why?"

Taylor laughed at the hopeful gleam in his eyes. "The truth? I wanted some time for us to talk. But I'm adaptable. I'm also an excellent compromiser. So, as long as you promise me coffee and conversation before you dash out the door, I'd be delighted to send you off to work with a smile on your face."

"I promise." He tucked her hair behind her ear and began unb.u.t.toning her borrowed shirt. "Coffee and conversation." He made quick work of the shirt, tossing it to the floor. "Can I have dessert first?"

Her lips twitched. "Only if you share."

"Oh, I'm a great sharer," he a.s.sured her, rolling her onto her back and covering her mouth, and her body, with his. "A really great sharer."

It was well after 8 a.m. when they finally sat down for that coffee and conversation.

"You were right," Taylor said, filling two mugs to the brim and setting them on the kitchen counter.

"You are a great sharer." She gave him a tender, intimate look as she settled herself on the stool beside him. "You're also an amazing lover."

"I'm glad you feel that way." His expression was intense, his midnight eyes delving deep inside her. "Because you're going to have years and years to discover just how amazing."

Taylor didn't pretend to misunderstand. "That's why I came back," she heard herself say. "I needed to be with you. I didn't realize how much until now. I kept asking myself why I was flying home. I'm uncomfortable in my own apartment; it feels weird and scary. I'm a nervous wreck when I walk around, knowing there's some psychopath out there who's obsessed with me. Steph's gone. My life's in turmoil. I'm on hiatus from work. So why was I running home? Why was I even still thinking of it as home?

The answer is you."

Reed brought her hand to his lips, then interlaced their fingers. "This nightmare you're living will soon be behind us. Then we'll get on with our lives. I want you to drive up to Vermont with me for Easter.

The whole family will be there. You can thank Rob in person."

Taylor blanched. "The whole family? You mean . . ." She took a mental count. "Fourteen adults, nine kids, and one baby-in-waiting?"

"Nice counting." Reed chuckled. "But it's fifteen, including you. Actually, maybe sixteen, if Rob's latest girlfriend comes with him. Oh, plus two chocolate Labs, one beagle, an orange tabby with a new litter, and G.o.d knows how many other animals I have yet to be introduced to."

"Wow." Taylor swallowed a large gulp of coffee. "Are you sure it's not too soon? Maybe they'll feel like I'm intruding."

"They'll love you. And you won't be intruding." A profound pause. "You'll be joining the family."

Emotion clogged Taylor's throat. "Will they be upset that I don't ski?" she asked faintly.

"They'll be thrilled that we're crazy about each other. Any more questions?"

"I'm sure there will be. For now, I'm just overwhelmed. Good overwhelmed," she clarified. "Happy overwhelmed." A sigh. "G.o.d, that feels good for a change." Decisively, she put down her mug. "It also makes me twice as eager to defuse the bombs we're each sitting on. Your bomb is what I wanted to talk about this morning."

His brows drew together. "You lost me."

"Jonathan Mallory. The mountain you have to climb to win this case. Look, Reed, I'm not a lawyer, but I'm smart enough to know I'll probably be called as a witness for the prosecution. My testimony won't have as much punch as it would have if I still believed Jonathan was my stalker. But I'm sure the ADA will figure I can contribute to the ugly picture of your client he plans to paint. I can describe my encounters with him, say how unnerved he made me, how suggestive and delusional he seemed about having a relationship with me--the works. I'm sure you've thought of all this."

"That's my job. So, yes, I've thought of it." Reed looked a bit surprised--and perplexed. "Although I must admit I hadn't expected you to be thinking about it."

"Well, I am. And what I want to know is, is there anything I can do to offset the impact of my testimony?" A flicker of dry amus.e.m.e.nt. "Before you tear me apart on cross-examination, that is."

Reed's mug struck the counter with a thud. "Are you saying you want to help me? Even though it's Jonathan I'm representing?"

Taylor blew out her breath. "I'm saying I have a great deal of faith in your instincts. I don't want your client punished for crimes he didn't commit."

"You're amazing," Reed said, cupping her face and leaning forward to give her a deep, heartfelt kiss. "You're willing to do this, despite all your misgivings about Jonathan?"

"Yes." A flicker of realization crossed her face, and she voiced that realization aloud. "You wanted my trust. Well, it seems you've got it."

This time his kiss was tender, his thumbs gentle as they brushed her cheekbones. "I'll take wonderful care of it. I promise."

"I know you will." She captured his fingers in hers. "Now tell me, what can I do to help?"

Reed's wheels were already spinning at supersonic speed. Taylor could see it.

"You have something in mind," she deduced.

"Yeah, I do. But it's not the something you're expecting." Reed hunched forward, concentration furrowing his brow. "You mentioned your qualms about Jonathan. If you agree to what I'm about to propose, I think it'll put some of those qualms to rest. It'll also serve a couple of very important purposes--some emotional, some legal."

"Now you've lost me."

A pause. "Let's just say that Jonathan needs to get a few things off his chest. They relate to you, and yet they don't. They clarify who he is and why. You're a family counselor. You could listen and understand. It would help Jonathan, and I think it would give you some peace of mind. That's the emotional part. The legal part's a little dicier." Reed took another absent sip of coffee. "The way I see it, the only conceivable way Jonathan is guilty of committing these crimes is if he blocked it all out. He took a polygraph. The results concurred with my instincts: he's not guilty. Which means that at the very worst, Jonathan's guilty but believes he's innocent. For that to be true, he'd have to have been a h.e.l.l of a lot more than just drunk or pumped up with some vague delusions of self-importance. He'd have to be severely psychologically ill. Wouldn't you agree?"

Taylor nodded.

"I'm still determined to go for a not-guilty verdict, because I believe that's what Jonathan is. However, I need a backup plan. Mental incompetence or insanity or long-range scars from emotional abuse. Something. Believe me, his history warrants it. You'll understand once you've spoken to him. The problem is, I'd need expert testimony corroborating his precarious mental state from someone trained to formulate that opinion."

His meaning sank in, and Taylor's eyes widened. "Me ?"

"You've got the degree and the experience."

"Not really. I'm a family counselor, not a criminal psychiatrist. My training and expertise--"

"--enable you to deal with a lot of screwed-up teens and their reasons for becoming that way," Reed interrupted. "In this case, that's a perfect fit. It goes without saying that it would be incredibly beneficial for Jonathan--on many levels."

Taylor digested all that, then nodded. "All right. I'll think about it."

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20.

11:17 P.M.

The telephone in Palm Beach just rang and rang.

Still no answer. And no voice mail.

On top of that, her cell phone was turned off. It had been for days.

G.o.ddammit.

He threw his own cell phone onto the bed, then picked up a lamp and hurled it across the room, not even noticing as it crashed against the wall and shattered into pieces.

How dare she pretend he didn't exist?

His fingers interlocked, clenched together, tightening until he could actually feel her neck between his hands, his thumbs pressing down on her windpipe, squeezing the life out of her.

She wasn't different.

She was just like the rest. Snotty. Manipulative. He'd planned to make the s.e.x good for her. It would have been a final explosion of sheer, perfect pleasure before eternal oblivion. No more. Now the b.i.t.c.h would pay in full.

CHAPTER 30.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27.

7:15 p.m.

WESTON & a.s.sOCIATES, ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW.

The murmur of voices drifted out from behind the closed doors of the firm's new law library and into the reception area, where Reed was pacing.

The words were indistinguishable. The tone was not.

It was a taut, emotional session. Then again, it was a taut, emotional subject. Several times in the past few minutes, Reed had considered breaking his promise to Taylor and charging inside. But he had to respect her professional ethics just as she did his. Client privilege was client privilege. Besides, she'd laid down the law in no uncertain terms.

"Alone," she'd stated flatly. "I said I'd talk to Jonathan, and I will. But it has to be alone."

Like Reed had much choice.

He was desperate. He'd come up with nothing but dead ends. No one with a vendetta against the Berkleys, personal or professional. No acquaintances of theirs with a history of violence. And no one but Jonathan to benefit from their will. He was their only living relative, except Douglas's niece, who hadn't seen the Berkleys since she was a child and would therefore have no idea she was last in line to inherit.

Things were looking grim for Jonathan.

Time was short.

Suspects were scarce.

Paul wandered down the stairs and glanced from the shut door to Reed. "They've been in there for over an hour," he noted.

"An hour and six minutes. I know. I haven't done a st.i.tch of work since the session started."

A strained smile. "What kind of outcome are you expecting?"

"The truth?" Reed met Paul's gaze. "I think Taylor's going to agree with us. I think the strategy of pleading either diminished capacity or temporary insanity is a long shot. I think Jonathan's innocent."

"Yeah." Paul sat down on the bottom step. "I a.s.sumed you'd feel that way." A weary sigh. "And, as we both know, it's going to make our job that much harder."

"Tell me something I don't know." Reed paused, then shook his head. "Too much here doesn't fit. Jonathan's smart. He'd never leave his s.e.m.e.n at the crime scene only to cooperate fully with the authorities by providing a DNA sample. And he'd know he'd never inherit Douglas's fortune if he was found guilty of murder.

"Then there's the polygraph. Even Willard, the ADA, was bothered by the results. He was also bothered when his evidentiary trap yielded nothing. He went to great lengths to divulge the details of the murders, purposely describing the bite marks on Adrienne as being on her right breast. It was her left."

"Obviously, Jonathan didn't take the bait," Paul clarified.

"Take the bait? He didn't bat a lash. He wasn't evasive; he was clueless. The only time he reacted was when Willard described the strangulation. And then, he gagged, remembering how red Adrienne's face had been when he'd identified her body. Not exactly the reaction of a killer. In my book, that makes way too many inconsistencies, with no explanations to go along with them." Reed frowned. "Willard's tough, but he's honest. He sees the same incongruities we do. And they're bugging him."

At that moment, the door to the law library opened, and Taylor stepped out. "We're finished."

Reed's head snapped up, and he scrutinized Taylor's face, trying to read her. She looked pensive, and very solemn. But that was all.

Paul facilitated things. "I want to speak with Jonathan about tomorrow's arraignment," he announced, coming to his feet and heading toward the library. "We'll be with you shortly."

Taylor gazed after him, and a corner of her mouth lifted in wry amus.e.m.e.nt as the door shut behind him. "Now that was subtle."

"We're not going for subtle. We're going for answers." Reed tipped up her chin. "First of all, are you okay? No adverse affects?"