Ted. He stared after them. He looked angry.

"I'm sorry they put you through that."

She laid a hand on his arm and he jerked slightly. "You don't need to apologize. Those idiots...they

should be trying to find the creep who's after you. You're the one in danger. Why can't they see that?"

"I don't think I'm the only one in danger. I'm afraid for my art subjects."

He met her eyes in question. She shared the story Stacy had told her, about the snitch named Doobie,

then her own theory that the boater, her tormentor and Lisette's killer were all one and the same person.

Ted crossed to the couch and sat down heavily.

"Stacy's promised to find him," she continued. "When she does, Ian will be exonerated. I believe that.

Someone's playing a sick game and I have to stop him. I can't allow another one of my subjects to be-"

"You stop it," he said sharply. "This isn't a game. You're talking about a killer."

"I know, but-"

"No." He jumped to his feet. She saw that he shook. "Think about your baby, Jane." He tightened his

fingers on hers. "When terrorizing you isn't enough to get him off, what's next?"

They both knew the answer to that question. Neither voiced it, but it hung heavily between them. Killing her.

FORTY Thursday, November 6, 2003 9:30 a.m.

Jane prepared for her weekly visit with Ian. She had been waiting seven long days to see her husband again and now had absolutely no idea what she would say to him. She had tossed and turned all night.

Should she come clean about being stalked and threatened? Should she ask him about what she had discovered in his PalmPilot?

Elton had already talked to him about Lisette Gregory. The handwriting was on the wall-it looked as if

he would be charged with her murder as well, though the state didn't appear to be in a rush. Why should they be? In their opinion, the guilty party was already incarcerated, facing a charge of capital murder.

In the wee hours, Jane had decided to trust that she would know what to do when she saw him.

Still, sleep hadn't come.

Her mind had whirled with thoughts of Lisette's murder, the boater stalking her and Ian's innocence.

Or his guilt. Not of murder. She believed with every fiber of her being that the boater who nearly killed her more than fifteen years ago was the one who had killed Marsha, Lisette and Elle. She believed he had orchestrated Ian's arrest, somehow manipulated the evidence, to isolate and corner her.

Ian's faithfulness was another matter. She feared his infidelity had opened a window for a madman to slip through.

Her doubts hurt. They ate at her. How could she love him and still suspect him of being unfaithful?

He married me for my money, too.

It doesn 't mean he doesn 't love you. Just that he has needs you can't take care of.

She had always thought Ian's love too good to be true. Why? Because it was?

No. G.o.d, please no. Jane brought a hand to her temple. Her head hurt. She turned her thoughts to her conversation with Ted.

When terrorizing you isn't enough to get him off, what's next?

She laid her hands protectively over her abdomen. Ted was right, she had to think of her baby. Had to protect it. But until the monster doing this was caught, no one was safe. Including her art subjects. Her relationship to them made them targets. She believed Lisette had been killed as part of this campaign of terror. She and Ted had spent the previous afternoon calling each of them. She had told them about Lisette and warned them to be extra careful. It hadn't gone well. By turns, they had been frightened, horrified and angry. Some had questioned her about Ian. Others had pressed for details about Lisette's murder or about why she would think the woman's murder was connected to them. Jane had been forced to be evasive. Consequently, she had come off as a neurotic alarmist. A woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She prayed that even so, they would take her seriously enough to act with an abundance of caution at all times. Ranger began to bark a moment before the buzzer rang. Jane took a final glance in the mirror, then hurried to the intercom. Dave had offered to drive her this morning. After a.s.suring him it was absolutely unnecessary, she had accepted. Although she could have driven herself, she was secretly grateful for his company and support.

She told him she would be right out, gave Ranger a treat, locked the door and headed down to the street. Dave was waiting for her. He gave her a quick, rea.s.suring hug and led her to his silver BMW convertible, parked at the curb.

"Ready?" he asked when they had climbed in.

"For seven days now."

He nodded and pulled into traffic. They rode in silence for several minutes, until Dave was safely on the

I-30, heading west, toward the jail.

He glanced at her. "Have you told him about the threats?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know. I don't want him to worry."

"Jane-"

He didn't finish the thought and she looked at him. "You think I should, don't you?"

He glanced at her, then back at the road. "Yeah, I do. If you try to protect him now, he'll resent it later."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does. Up until now you've had a marriage built on sharing and trust. He'll be angry that you felt he

needed to be protected. Emasculated by it. And he'll feel guilty that you had to face this alone. Betrayed that you didn't trust him."

Betrayed that she didn 't trust him. That she doubted him. His fidelity.

She clasped her fingers in her lap. "But...if I tell him, won't it make him feel powerless?"

"He already feels powerless. Your sharing, leaning on him for support will help him. No, he can't physically do anything to help you, but emotionally he can. Besides, shared experiences strengthen a relationship. If you don't share now, it'll always be a chasm between you."

She reached across and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Dave. What would I do without you?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." He shot her a quick smile. "A quick junket to Vegas, maybe. But no farther."

She smiled. "Look out, showgirls."

"Longest legs in North America. And so many in one place. Be still, my heart."

They reached the jail. Dave walked her in. She took a last glance back at him as she made her way

through the metal detectors. He gave her a bold smile and a thumbs-up.

She returned both, feeling buoyed. By his friendship and advice. And because in a minute she was going to see her husband for the first time in a week.

The guard deposited her at the bank of cubicles. She was too excited to sit. Luckily she didn't have long

to wait. The guard escorted Ian in; the moment she saw him, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone.

But as she opened her mouth to speak, to pour out her heart, she found that no words would come. She simply stared at him, eyes welling with tears, feeling as if she might drown in love. And despair.

Seconds ticked past. A tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek.

"Don't," he said. "It's going to be all right."

"Is it? Now Lisette. I-" She swallowed what she was going to say. "I love you," she said instead.

"I love you, too." He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling? Is the baby-"

"Fine," she said. "I had a little spell the other night, but I'm fine now."

"A spell?" His brow furrowed with concern. "What do you mean?"

"It was nothing," she hurried to rea.s.sure him. "I was crampy and light-headed. The doctor advised rest.

No big deal."

He didn't look convinced. "Is that normal?"

"It can happen when a woman's under extreme stress. Or on her feet too long. It was the night of my

opening."

"I was thinking about you that night." He lowered his voice. "Wishing I could be with you. Hating that I wasn't."

"I know, I-" Her throat closed over the words. "I have to tell you something, Ian. About the night of the

opening. And before."

Deciding the forthright approach best, she simply began. She told him about the newspaper clipping and