I studied her. "You're really ready to do this?"

"Yes."

"Because you want to save money?"

"No!" she exclaimed, hurt.

Trying a different tactic, I said kiddingly, "Because you're tired of losing stuff between your house and mine?"

She cracked a thin smile but refused to make eye contact.

"I know: You're afraid some woman will come along, think I'm single, and put the moves on me?"

She glared. "No, Kris. What I'm afraid of is that we'll live like this, half in a committed relationship and half not, for years, and I don't want that."

"It won't take years."

"How long then?"

"I don't know. A few more months, maybe," I said, and as soon as I did, my stomach began to hurt. The pain sharpened when I saw Destiny glow.

She switched to my side of the booth and scooted close. "Really?"

I nodded feebly, unable to explain why every muscle in my body had tightened.

What was causing the tension? Destiny and I, we fit together. She was the best friend I'd never had, the lover I'd always desired.

An insomniac since childhood, I'd had the deepest sleeps of my life next to Destiny. The light weight of her body next to mine comforted me in a way nothing else in the darkness could. I could listen to her breathing and relax in the space between her breaths.

So what was the problem?

I had no idea. I only knew that I had just lied.

I carried most of my entree out of the restaurant, diplomatically protesting to the waiter and Destiny that I had eaten a big lunch.

After dinner, we went back to Destiny's house, put the roses in a vase, and made love, she with abandon and I with another's body. I had thoroughly disconnected from her, and me, yet was still there going through the motions.

I slept fitfully and left at first light, careful not to wake her.

At the office, I fell back into the groove of pressing to meet the printer's deadline, thoughts of Destiny far away. I was absorbed in my ninth pediatric endocrinology article of the morning when I heard a knock on the door.

I raised my head and smiled at the sight of Fran Green.

"Hey, there! You look terrible!" she said, never one to withhold an opinion. She strutted around the desk and patted my back.

"I've had a stressful few days. Our computer crashed yesterday."

"Enough said. Hard knocks from the hard drive."

"Something like that." I ran a hand through disheveled hair. "We lost four days worth of work, all of which has to be redone by the end of today."

"Need a hand?"

"Do you know how to spell endocrinology?"

"Bet I could sound it out," she said, reclining on the couch.

"No thanks. What brings you down here anyway? Don't tell me you need a newsletter today, or I'll scream."

"Nope. Came to talk to you about Dr. W. Got a minute?"

"One." I leaned back in my chair. "What took you so long? I figured I'd hear from you by noon Wednesday."

"No such luck," she growled. "What a stinker! Made so many phone calls, felt like a Ma Bell operator on Christmas."

"Well, spit it out: Who is Dr. W?"

"No idea."

I tried to disguise my disappointment. "None?"

"Not a one. Spent all day Wednesday calling every MD in the book whose last name starts with W. Fifty-three in all. Couldn't find hide nor hair."

"Damn," I muttered.

Frowning, I moved a client's file to the side of my desk and pulled out a legal pad, ready to brainstorm a new angle. Reflexively, I glanced back at the manila folder. Rebecca Kowalik, D.C. Doctor of Chiropractic.

Excitedly, I said, "Maybe we should have thought of this before, but what if Dr. W is a chiropractor or some other kind of doctor?"

"One step ahead of you, Kris. Took yesterday and called every chiropractor, homeopath, osteopath, dentist, psychiatrist, acupuncturist, and heaven knows what else. You name it, they have a shingle hanging, I called 'em."

"Veterinarian? I could call Nicole and ask if she and Lauren had pets."

"Don't bother. Called them, too."

"What now?"

"Gotta give it up."

"We can't," I said desperately. "I have a feeling this ties in somehow. Lauren visited her thirteen times in the three months before she died. Can't you think of anything else?"

"Sure can, and it knocks the wind out of me. On one of the last phone calls, hit me like a lightening bolt: The W might be shorthand for her first name, like Dr. Wilma. I ain't about to go back through the phone book again."

"Thanks anyway," I said, despondent. "It was a good idea."

"Not good enough," she said gruffly. "Don't you worry, though, won't leave you stranded. Tracking down a couple other leads."

I sat up straight. "Like what?"

"Can't say. Don't want to get you in another dither. Give you a buzz when I have something. Fair enough?"

"At least give me a clue."

"Rather not." Fran stood. "I'll let you get back to the grindstone."

"What if I'm chasing down the same path? It could happen!"

"Doubt it. You got plans to go to the library today?"

"No. Why? Should I? What's there?" A hint of panic crept into my words.

"Gotta go, Kris. Catch you later." Barely able to conceal a parting grin, she shuffled out the door.

"What does the library have to do with Lauren's suicide?" I called after her, but she never answered.

I was still cursing Fran Green and shaking a fist when Ann popped in to tell me Destiny was holding on line three. I took a deep breath before picking up the phone.

"Destiny!"

"Hi, honey! I know you're busy, but I wanted to touch basea"do we have plans for this weekend?"

"Not yet."

"You never got ahold of David about Sunday?"

"I haven't had time."

"Do you want me to call him?"

"I'll do it as soon as I get a minute," I said, a shade irritably.

"Okay. What about tonight? I could pick up a video and Chinese food and come to your apartment."

"I don't think so."

"Okay. Dinner out, and back to my house?"

"Not tonight."

Her upbeat tone faded. "Do you have to work late to finish the nurse's newsletter?"

I swallowed hard. "No. We should be done soon, but I thought I might want a night to myself."

"On a Friday? You just had three nights alone, when I was in Durango. Wasn't that enough?"

"Umm, yes and no." Why did it suddenly feel like my life belonged to Destiny, and I had to borrow back parts of it?

"Kris, what's going on? Are you mad at me? Have I done something wrong?"

"Of course not!"

"Is it that suicide case you're working on?"

"No," I said slowly. "It's intense, but I'm handling it."

"What then? Is this about our moving in together?"

"I just want one night alone," I said, a hollow ring to my protest. "I'll come over in the morning and take you to breakfast at Stan's Kitchen."

This represented an extremely generous offer. Destiny loved the diner on East Colfax but could rarely convince me to eat there. I objected to the smoke, grease, and ever-present slab of gyros meat, and I had no tolerance for waitresses who slung food too hard and turned their backs too soon.

"Okay," she said breezily. "Maybe I'll have dinner with Suzanne tonight."

My heart skipped a beat.

Suzanne? The lesbian who lived on the third floor of Destiny's house? The one who was always available?

"You sure have been seeing a lot of her lately," I said, deliberately casual.

"I'm helping her write a grant for a literacy program she wants to start."

"Hmm."

"Nothing's going on, Kris."

"I didn't think it was."

"Good. I'll miss you tonight. Promise you won't have too much fun without me."

"Don't worry, I'll be miserable," I guaranteed with a laugh.

True to my word, I spent the evening moping and contemplating my newfound "freedom." What I was free of wasn't exactly clear, and as the hours ticked by, the exercise became increasingly pointless.

A late night call broke the monotony.

"Destiny?"

"You wish, girl."

"Jesus, Fran, you scared me to death."

"What gives? It ain't even midnight. You're a night owl. Didn't interrupt a snooze, did I?"

"No," I sighed. "I was almost bored enough to go to bed, but not quite."

"Why aren't you with your main squeeze on a Friday night? Nothing's wrong between you two lovebirds, I hope."

"Everything's fine. I'm seeing her tomorrow morning, if that makes you feel better. I hope you called to tell me you found Dr. W at the library."