"Hi, Ben," she said back, but her voice quavered.

They watched one another. He hoped she knew what a good job she was doing.

"What's goin' on, guys?" Ben asked, glancing at Bill, at the ready should he need to protect himself or Tara.

Bill shook his head.

"You know, I don't know anymore. Doc. When I got here, I swear I knew what I was up to. Just wanted to talk to Tara. She's my lawyer, and I wanted to talk to her, you know."

"Looks like she's listening." Ben slid his eyes to the knife, let them linger there, then looked at Bill long and hard to let him know he wasn't afraid.

"Aw, h.e.l.l, Ben, you are amazing. I swear. For a guy that doesn't have much goin' for him, you're doin' A-OK! Hot d.a.m.n. You are one plucky guy."

"Thanks, Bill. I appreciate the compliment. But you know what? It's getting late and I really hate driving out here for nothing. So what about it?

Why don't you and I talk and figure out what it was you were trying to do here. I'll talk to Tara when we're done if you don't think she understands.

But standing here with a knife isn't the way to carry on a quality conversation."

"Christ, Ben, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard. Talkin' to me like a kid. Like a shrink."

Bill tossed his head around and snuffled. He pulled his arm across his nose.

"Aw h.e.l.l, okay.

That okay with you, Tara? Ben and I have a little mano-a-mano? " Tara shook her head, not wanting either of them alone with this man. Ben tossed off, "She's got a lot to do, too. She better get her rear in gear and figure out a way to get you what you want."

"Now you're talkin'. Doc. Whatever happened to the man part of you sure didn't affect that brain of yours. Wish we'd met earlier. We'd have had some high times. Well, let's get to it."

Ben hesitated. Bill c.o.c.ked a handsome brow.

"The knife. Bill?"

Bill looked at his weapon. He pushed his hair back.

"Whatever." He tossed it onto the bed and walked back to the guest room. Ben followed. Tara collapsed beside the knife. She lay on her own bed for a good long while before she went to the living room to warm her cold fear in front of the fire.

Ben found her perched on the edge of the sofa, facing the fire, half an hour later. She was huddled in a corner, her legs up, her arms wrapped around a sofa pillow. Eyes on the flames, her ears p.r.i.c.ked for any sound from the back of the house. She heard Ben's wheelchair and steeled herself. Thankfully she heard nothing more than the whirr and click of that motor. He came up beside her, lay a hand on her arm.

"We better do something, and we better do it now."

Twenty.

"You've got to make some accommodations in this house." Ben stretched for the coffeepot. It was out of his reach by a mile.

"I'll get it," Tara said, the words strained and hard to get out.

"I could've got it," he a.s.sured her, "but the cabinets are definitely off limits."

"Okay." Tara opened the cabinet on command, her voice as dreamlike as her movements. Ben gave her a sidelong glance. She was pale. She was itchy, but she was functioning.

Tara closed the cabinet above the stove and walked away. Above and to the left of the sink she opened another and reached for the saucers and cups. Two saucers in hand, she dropped one, juggled it in a vain attempt to catch it and dropped the other. They clattered to the floor. She threw herself back against the counter and closed her eyes, her head shaking back and forth. Ben went over and put his hands on her hips.

"It's okay. Tara, it's okay," Ben rea.s.sured her gently.

"Bill's asleep. He's not going to get up for a while. An outburst like this can exhaust someone in his state of mind. We could probably set off a bomb, and he'd sleep through it." Ben hesitated.

"But that doesn't mean we should be stupid. We have to call the police."

"Ben. No." This time she shook her head emphatically, no mere reaction but a statement, a decision.

"Having him arrested would take care of things for a few days. I'd file charges. He'd be incarcerated for a few hours, Donna would bail him out. That's not going to solve the bigger problem."

"Then tell the cops what you really have. This is the Circle K. killer. He has confessed to you. He has broken into your home. If this isn't threatening, I don't know what is. Give him to Woodrow with all that, and they won't set bail."

"He didn't threaten me, Ben." Tara wrenched away from his hold.

"You don't understand. Nothing he said was threatening."

"And everything he did here was obviously threatening. There isn't going to be anybody who questions that." Ben wheeled left, watching her but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I'd question it, Ben, if I did what you're suggesting."

Tara grabbed for the coffee, missed it, and whirled with her back to the counter.

"Listen, I know what what went on here looks like, and I won't try to kid you. I was so scared I thought I would die of fright before he could do anything to me, but I'm not ready to give in yet. You've got to understand a few things. I've lost so much since Bill Hamilton came into my life. I've lost Woodrow and Charlotte. He's taken Donna from me*at least for a while. He's made my home a house of terror instead of a refuge. I don't want him to take anything more."

Tara took a deep breath, fighting to control herself as she put her thoughts in perspective. She held her hands together, considered her fingers as if they were alien things, then reached back against the counter. She couldn't look at Ben so she stared out the window over the breakfast table while she explained.

"My law practice belongs to me. Before that it belonged to my father and before that it was started by his father-in-law. This practice has a history like almost everything else in my life. It is a part of me the same way my blue eyes and black hair are a part of a special history. I'm not going to let Bill Hamilton take that from me, Ben." Her lip quivered and tears came into her voice, but she managed to catch herself. She was strong. Generadons of strong women had come before her. They were all a part of her.

"I'm not going to turn him over without being d.a.m.n sure that what I feel threatened by would hold up in front of the ethics committee. I'm not going to let Bill Hamilton get another attorney and sue me from here to kingdom come, ruin my reputation, and maybe take away my license to practice. And most of all, I'm not going to let him take my peace of mind. I can't let him take everything, Ben. I can't."

Tara turned away, ashamed and yet not. She poured the coffee, and this time looked out the window over the kitchen sink. What a coward she was in front of Ben.

"What an ugly day," she said.

Ben followed her into the living room. She put his coffee on the table and took hers to the window.

She was drawn to the view, unable to look inside the house because he was still there. Tara pulled her sweater closer. She wore two and still couldn't get warm.

"I want you to know, Ben, that this isn't all selfish.

I don't believe I could be that callous. There are many other considerations. I don't want Bill Hamilton to beat me. I need to prove I can control this situation." She shrugged.

"Stupid, huh?"

"No. It makes you feel safe."

Tara hung her head, living with the thought for a minute.

"I'm not ashamed of it."

"You shouldn't be," Ben agreed. She looked askance at him, but his face was expressionless. Did he agree with her because he knew to argue would be fruitless?

"But you're not safe now. I believe that in my heart" "I want to finish what I was hired to do, and what I promised." Her head was level now and she was looking at Ben.

"Maybe when I pa.s.sed the bar I didn't understand the full import of keeping counsel. Now I do. If a person can't come to an attorney and know that attorney is completely dedicated to his cause, utterly trustworthy, there would be no truth. People would be afraid to tell it for fear their advocate would use it against them for their own gain. Innocent and guilty alike would never feel safe. We might as well get rid of the law, because I could use all the information in my head for any purpose I choose. Who would any of us ever trust? Where would we find help? Any of us, Ben." She paused. The gleam deep in her eyes was one of pain as she tried to convince herself that what she was saying rang true.

"What if it was you, or I, whose mind was sick? What if our actions couldn't be controlled? What then, Ben?"

"Tara." Ben maneuvered his chair so that he faced her square.

"I agree with you philosophically.

But this wasn't an ugly prank like the blouse or the meat in the oven. This was a man with a weapon. I can't tell you what his mental state is.

A sociopath would have slashed you to pieces without a second thought. If Bill Hamilton isn't one, he's d.a.m.n close, Tara. He may still be fighting the right and wrong, the help versus punishment question, or he may just be having a heck of a good time making us all dance to his tune. I don't think we can afford to be anything other than cautious."

Ben pulled on his right leg, readjusting it so that it leaned closer to the left. Ben didn't, or couldn't, look at her.

"I'll write you a report. It will be full of speculation because I would need months to properly evaluate Bill. We can't wait, Tara. We have to give him to Woodrow now. You tell him that you are afraid and have been threatened and then tell him what Bill told you about the Circle K. You give Woodrow the report, and you tell him that you'll have an insanity plea anyway. Then you can tell him it would be worse if he tried to play this out in court and lost to commitment in the end." Ben looked frustrated. He didn't know the law. He only knew there had to be options.

"I know one thing, Tara. This display here today was frustration pure and simple. As simple as needing a pack of cigarettes and ending up killing a woman. As simple as being frustrated by Paulette and taking a sledgehammer to a dog. How long do we wait? Until he's so frustrated with you, or Donna, that he does something we can't undo?"

Ben pulled a face. Tara sipped her coffee and didn't look at him. Ben wheeled toward her with such force she was startled. But he was agile with that thing and stopped right in front of her. He touched her. Tara froze.

"Stop it, Tara. Just stop. You're forty years old.

Face up. You're not the all-seeing, all-knowing, all perfect hope of Albuquerque, New Mexico, or even Bill Hamilton. Just do it, d.a.m.n it. Get rid of this guy." His voice lowered and softened.

"Please.

A lot of time's been wasted already. I want a life for us, and it isn't the one we're living."

"This is the one I have now. Help me or get out of the way," she shot back.

Ben threw up his hands.

"Again? Again you're doing this? First you choose your father over me, now Bill Hamilton."

"That's ridiculous. I did no such thing."

"You chose something over me when we were kids. If it wasn't your father, then what? Sanity?

Freedom from hurt? I don't know. But you set yourself up for these bizarre tests of fort.i.tude, and then you won't back down, and then you wonder why certain things in your life don't feel right."

"And you're taking your job too seriously. I'm not the one who needs a.n.a.lysis. And I'm not trying to be super woman I just want what's right for everyone. I want this all to be letter perfect so I don't lose in the end. Is that so wrong?" Tara flared, setting down her cup and standing tall.

"Forget letter perfect," Ben said.

"There's a moral call to be made here. An oath does not preclude you from keeping those you care about safe.

I wouldn't let my oath stop me from*" "h.e.l.lo! Knock, knock." The front door opened and Donna blew in with the cold. The fire blazed and crackled on cue, taking the tension between Tara and Ben for fuel.

"Well, you two look just like you've lost your best friends."

She grinned and loosened her coat, a red fox that almost buried her. Children all over the world kept Donna Ecold in the most politically incorrect fashion. She often thanked the little peas out loud while whipping out her charge card. Now her expression was strained under a less-than-perfect makeup job. There was worry behind her eyes despite the smile on her lips.

"Sorry. Did I interrupt something important?"

"No." Tara moved away from Ben.

"Yes," Ben said simultaneously, going the opposite way.

"Oh, this is fun." Donna chuckled nervously and moved into the middle void.

"I feel like I just walked in on the Two Stooges. Listen, I'll be out of here in a second, I promise. But I was wondering if you'd seen Bill? The party was super last night, but I was so exhausted I slept in. Didn't even get up until one, and then I couldn't find him anywhere. The car was still in the drive, and I waited for him to come in. When he didn't come back I called, but your line's been busy, so I thought I'd take a chance." Donna shrugged, agitated on the verge of frantic.

"I thought he might be here."

In the silence. Donna became more uncomfortable.

Her head flipped from Tara to Ben and back again. Tara looked away.

"What? What?" Donna fidgeted, Hinging her weight from one foot to the other.

"So, you didn't have a good time last night or what? Is he here?"

Ben went to her and put a hand on hers.

"He's here. Donna, but he's not going to be going home with you."

"He's hurt?" Donna squealed, grabbing Ben's hand in both of hers, pleading for him to say it wasn't so.

"He was fine last night. What happened?"

"He's not hurt," Tara snapped, flinging herself onto the couch and pulling her legs beneath her, wrapping herself into a tight ball of anger.

"He hasn't been fine since you first picked him up in the library or wherever it was you found him."

"Excuse me?" Donna was wide-eyed. Her brows were almost nonexistent without benefit of pencil, but she raised them anyway. She started for Tara, but Ben still held her hand. Donna shot him a withering glance and shook him off. She didn't go very far before planting herself and waiting for Tara's explanation. Tara obliged.