You just look great."

Tara chuckled.

"That's nice. And this is crazy."

"I don't know, I think seeing a beautiful woman in the morning has its merits."

"I meant it's crazy that I should be so pleased that you noticed. Given the fact that Donna's taken off with a crazy man, our friendship is probably over, my client is still loose, and I am more convinced than ever after last night that he's a nut case, I should be hysterical."

"Hysteria uses a lot of energy," Ben said.

"Besides, it's not your style." Ben touched his coffee cup, gave it a quarter turn, then tapped the top of his desk.

"But I have to admit you have good reason to worry. Any idea where they've gone?"

"He's not a fugitive. They've probably gone back to Donna's place. She built a mansion in the middle of the desert about an hour from here."

"Must be hard to get a good maid out there."

"She pays well. Besides, now she has Bill. I doubt they ever get out of the bedroom long enough to mess anything up," Tara said.

Ben was amused.

"There are some aspects of this guy's psyche that work just fine if you ask me, Tara." She gave him a withering look.

"Be serious. Last night was so weird. I found him by the river. We talked. It was spooky because he was so controlled*or maybe exacting is the word. He knows why he's angry, yet he spoke like he was sad. He knows what he wants, but understands the violence isn't the way to get it. His voice was completely different than all the other times I've spoken to him."

"That's not unusual. Some who are mentally disturbed actually seem to change their appearance depending on the depth of the psychosis."

"It was really spooky, but we also came to an understanding.

I told him that I'd cut him loose if he didn't give me something to work with. The other part of the equation was keeping this appointment today. I slept well last night because I was seeing an end to this whole mess. Then he does this." She threw up her free hand, a gesture of frustration.

"And I think the reason I'm not more upset is because I'm worn out trying to second-guess him. I don't know if he's thumbing his nose at me, afraid of me, afraid that if I had the information I wanted, he'd actually be committed. Without his cooperation, I'm forced to give up."

"It would seem that way," Ben agreed. They sat silently for a moment.

Tara pushed away from the window and paced slowly.

"The only problem is, he's still got Donna."

"Tara, he isn't holding her hostage," Ben chuckled.

"Donna went with him. If he had dragged her off by her hair, I'd be suggesting we call the police right now."

"I know," Tara moaned.

"I know that. Oh, G.o.d, Ben sometimes I think what he has is catching and Donna's got it. Do you know Donna actually thinks I was attracted to that man? Can you believe it?"

Ben laughed.

"I believe anything. I'm a psychologist."

"Don't make fun."

"I'm not," he said, and she believed him.

"I'm just saying there isn't anything you can do short of running after them to change the situation, and that's hardly productive. So it seems you made the right decision."

"I know. But it would be easy to just pick up the phone and tell her what I know about him.

I've already come so close. Why not go the rest of the way?" Tara cupped her hands around her mug and leaned her elbows on her knees.

"Until last night I thought I could wait it out. I was so sure something would break. Now I don't think it will."

Speaking softly, Tara looked at the floor, unable to meet Ben's eyes.

"You know, when Donna leaves my house, there's always something of herself left behind, like a little bit of her spirit. But this time I don't feel her. This time I feel him and it's awful.

And," she sighed, "since there is nothing I can do about any of this short of giving Woodrow Bill's name or telling Donna she's sleeping with a murderer, I'm going to have to move on. If I don't, I'll be the one who's nuts."

"I would have loved to meet this guy, Tara." Ben was almost wistful.

"I would have been happy about that, too."

"Meanwhile?" Ben asked.

"Meanwhile, there's one last thing I can do."

Tara stood up and put her mug on the edge of the desk.

"Can I help?"

"Let me use your phone."

"What's the number?" He punched in the numbers as she gave them and held the phone toward her. She could hear it ringing.

"Gina Patton, please," Tara said when someone answered.

While she waited for her connection, Tara looked at Ben and Ben mouthed. Dinner, tonight? She nodded and smiled, then her party was on the line.

"Gina? Tara Limey. I need you to find someone."

Tara walked out to the courtyard to hang a ristra. A pro bono client had brought the string of dried chiles with great fanfare the day Tara told Ben he wouldn't be keeping his appointment with Bill Hamilton. That day she'd contacted Gina, one of the best private investigators in the city, and put her on the payroll. Three days ago. There had been a dinner and two lunches with him since then. Tonight would be dinner again. The time she spent with Ben almost overcame the dread she felt with the pa.s.sing of silent days without contact from Donna or Bill.

But now the only thing on her mind was the ristra. She already had one hanging on the post near the far side of the wall where the bougainvillea climbed, almost obscuring it. Finally she hooked the new ristra near the front door. When she stepped back to admire it, Tara saw the car.

It wasn't hard to spot and it wasn't difficult to figure out what to do. She'd been aware of it for days now and it hadn't bothered her a bit that Woodrow, or George, had put someone on her tail.

Actually, it had been rather amusing when they kept their distance, but now they were too close to home. In fact, they were trespa.s.sing.

Sticking her hands into the back pockets of her trousers, Tara pushed through the gate, her eyes trained on the olive green sedan. Joseph ambled toward her from the barn. She held up a warning hand, then pointed toward the end of the drive.

He came alongside quietly.

"You need help?" he mumbled.

"No thanks. I can handle this. Go on back to Shinin'. Think you can get him out for some exercise today?" She looked over her shoulder.

The horse stood at the fence watching his mistress.

Tara smiled, then looked back at Joseph. He nodded, glared at the car at the end of the road, and went back to his ch.o.r.es.

Tara ambled down the long dirt drive toward Rio Grande Boulevard. Her heel hit a rock and her ankle twisted. She stopped to shake it out. The person in the car hadn't spotted her. All was quiet.

She went on until she was close enough to run her hand along the rear of the car and over the fender until she stopped and stood quietly watching the man in the car. He slept with his head on the open window, his mouth gaping and a cup of coffee balanced on the center console. Tara leaned down, bending from the waist. It was time to send him on his way.

"h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?" Tara sang softly, but it was enough to startle the man.

He bolted upright and almost lost the coffee onto the gear shift. One hand went to the Styrofoam cup, the other to his face. He rubbed frantically, leaving a red blush up the left side. His eyes were heavy and his lips weren't working quite right.

"What? Yeah. What? I was just turning around.

Sorry, ma'am. Was just trying to find my way. Got lost." Tongue-tied, he sounded as ridiculous as he looked. George should train his men better. Tara sighed and put her hands on the car door.

"It's all right. Don't worry about it, Detective. It is Detective, isn't it?" She was patient. She was kind.

"I appreciate the position you're in, but let's agree that this isn't getting you anywhere. I can't be intimidated, and you can't find who you're looking for here. Tell Woodrow and George that he's gone."

"He might come back," the big man grumbled, almost finished, rearranging himself. He'd even found the top to his Styrofoam cup and replaced it meticulously.

"And then what are you going to do?" Tara laughed.

"Arrest him for being a house guest?"

"We weren't going to arrest him," the man complained.

"Okay. Intimidate him. That's a great way to pa.s.s the day. Save yourself time and effort. Sleep at home. Drive only when you have somewhere to go.

Don't drink coffee in the car. Woodrow is not going to get anything out of me, because I have nothing to give him. And tell George I'm really disappointed in him, too- This is a terrible waste of taxpayers' money." Tara stepped back from the car.

"If I ever have what they want, I'll get it to them. But right now that's a slim possibility."

"I don't think they'll like this." The detective hunkered over the steering wheel and started the car.

"Tough." Tara stood back.

"Now, on your way, or I'll show you how much I know about tying up people's time with frivolous lawsuits."

He breathed heavily, and it wasn't even close to a sigh of disappointment. George would have him doing something else equally absurd by noon. But the detective knew George better than she did.

"I'll probably be back. Just want you to know."

"Park on the road," Tara said.

"I've got to do my job," the man groused.

"Then wait until there's actually something to do." The suggestion was lost in the drone of the engine. She waved him off, watching until he was out of sight, knowing that Woodrow must be desperate.

Slowly she walked back to the house, imagining how her silence now gave Woodrow sleepless nights. He needed Bill Hamilton more than ever.

Woodrow was no longer campaigning. He was simply defending himself against new, and ever more sensational charges that he had used his power as the district attorney to hand out favors. Fortunately Charlotte's good works didn't go unnoticed and her pretty face still smiled out from the society page as usual. Opening the front door, Tara wondered if they would ever speak again. If there was no resolution to this problem with Bill Hamilton, if he remained untouchable, culpable only in her mind, would the broken relationships ever be mended?

Tara checked the clock. It was time for work, not time to reflect on what could have been had each of them acted differently. Tara grabbed her car keys and briefcase and checked to make sure the answering machine was on just in case Donna called. She might decide it was time to make amends. She might need Tara. There was always that possibility. Living with Bill Hamilton, it was likely.

"Morning, Caroline. Any messages?"

"Johnnie Rae Riskin's mother called to thank you for making arrangements on the billing. The doctor wants to know why you haven't been back in for him to check your arm. I made an appointment for a consultation next week. Civil matter.

Ben called." She waggled that particular message slip mischievously. Caroline had been having a great deal of fun since she realized Ben was not a professional acquaintance.

"He wants to know if you'd like to go riding with him before dinner.

He's going to start training for a marathon. Actually he said he'd wheel while you rode."

"Funny." Tara pulled a face.

"I thought so," Caroline said.

"You've got a light day so I could make a doctor's appointment anytime.

And I think a ride with Dr. Crawford would be just the thing."

"Thank you. Dear Abby. And no thanks, I can make my own doctor's appointment." Tara took the mail and messages from Caroline, who looked awfully disappointed.

"But I'll compromise on Ben.

Tell him I'll come by his place after work. I'll run, he can wheel. The way it looks, it'll take me the rest of the day to go through this stuff. I must say, I am feeling popular today."

"Oh yeah? What else besides a lot of mail and phone calls?" Caroline put a chubby fist under her chin and waited for Tara to entertain her.

"Nothing earth-shattering. Just an unexpected visitor at home." Tara grinned, thinking she'd like to sit and gossip all day.

"But I can get some mileage out of it. Would you get Woodrow on the phone, please? I'd like to give him a little grief. After that, we'll give George Amos a little what-for."

"You got it." Caroline reached for the phone, disappointed it was going to be a business-as-usual day.

"Give me three minutes to stash my purse."