out for a sandwich and a c.o.ke."

He motioned to the waste basket beside the desk. On top lay a crumpled take-out bag and c.o.ke can.

"I'm very careful," he said. "I always lock up when I leave. I always set the alarm."

"Always?"

He hesitated. "Once or twice I've left it unlocked when I was just going for a couple minutes. But not today. I had a couple other stops to make. I remember setting the alarm."

"What stops?"

"The newsstand. The drugstore for some Advil."

"How long were you gone?"

He drummed his fingers nervously against his thigh. "I don't know. Thirty, maybe forty minutes."

"What about the key or alarm code?" Stacy pressed. "Ever give anyone the code? Ever give anyone the key?"

"No! Of course not."

"Ever bring someone by the studio? After hours?"

He looked nervous. "What do you mean?"

"I thought it was a pretty straightforward question, Ted. Have you ever invited someone into the studio without Jane's knowledge?"

Jane noticed he was sweating. Jittery. She reached out and touched his arm. "This isn't an interrogation,

Ted."

"No?" He shot an angry look at Stacy. "It sure feels like one."

"We're just trying to figure out who was in my home today. And how they got in."

"So, have you?" Stacy asked. "Ever had someone into the studio without Jane's knowledge?"

"Once. I met this woman at Spider Babies, the bar over on Elm."

Stacy nodded, said she knew the place.

"She was an art student over at UT Dallas. She was all over the fact that I was Cameo's a.s.sistant."

He looked miserable. "I wanted to impress her. You know. So I asked if she wanted to see your studio."

"Oh, Ted," Jane said, disappointed. Heartsick.

"I didn't think it would hurt anything. I...I brought her here. We looked around. It was like a total aphrodisiac for her. She was all over me."

Jane swallowed hard, uncomfortable with his revelation. Feeling violated by it.

"Did you have s.e.x here?" Stacy asked.

His face turned scarlet. He shifted his gaze. "Yes."

"And?"

"I must have pa.s.sed out. The next morning she was gone."

"You didn't know anything about her," Jane said. "She could have taken a piece of my work. She could

have entered my home. Anything could have happened."

He hung his head. "The next morning...I was sick about what I had done. How I'd let you down. I checked the studio carefully. Nothing had been taken."

"What about the alarm code?" Stacy pressed.

"She might have seen it when I punched it in. I was a little drunk."

Stacy, Jane saw, was furious. "And your keys?"

"Hanging in the door the next morning." He looked pleadingly at Jane. "I didn't mean this to happen. I

love you, Jane. I would never intentionally hurt you."

"You left the keys in the door," Stacy repeated, voice vibrating with anger. "I want the locks changed and security system recoded. Today."

A wave of dizziness washed over Jane. She grabbed Stacy's arm for support.

Ted rushed forward, catching her other arm. They guided her to the couch. She sank onto it and

dropped her head between her knees. She breathed deeply through her nose, using the oxygen to steady herself.

After several moments, the wave pa.s.sed-though she still felt shaky and light-headed.

"Are you okay?" Stacy asked. She squatted in front of her, caught her hands and rubbed them between hers. "Your hands are like ice."

"I feel like a twit."

"You've been through a lot. Don't minimize it."

"Can I get you something?" Ted asked, voice shaking. "A c.o.ke or mineral wat-"

"Don't you think you've done enough?" Stacy snapped.

His face flooded with color. Jane opened her mouth to jump to his defense, then sucked in a sharp breath

as a cramp speared through her abdomen. Tears stung her eyes. "I think I need to lie down. And some pain medication."

"I'll help you get her upstairs," Ted murmured, bending and gently taking her arm.

Stacy looked as if she meant to argue, but didn't. "You go on, I want to take a quick look at the doors and windows down here. Check for any sign of forced entry."

Ted helped her up the stairs and to her bed. He pulled back the blankets and plumped the pillow. Jane slipped into the bed, shuddering, part from pain, part relief as she stretched out. She had overdone it. And just as the doctor had warned, her body was telling her so.

Stacy joined them. She crossed to the bed and carefully tucked the covers around her. "I'll get your medication." She looked at Ted, who was hovering at the foot of the bed. "That'll be all, Mr. Jackman. Stay available."

"I'm not going anywhere, Detective."

His tone dripped sarcasm. And accusation. Stacy's cheeks flamed. "That's rea.s.suring. I'll walk you out."

Jane watched the exchange, frowning. Her sister was treating Ted as if he was guilty of something. As if he was a suspect.

She knew Ted. Poor judgment did not equal malicious intent.

She told her sister so when she returned with a pain reliever and a gla.s.s of water.

"At the very least, his poor judgment endangered you, Jane. Maybe he's the one who sent the clipping, roses and now baby doll? Have you thought of that?"

"Why would I? He's my friend."

"Is he? Are you certain of that?" Her sister handed her the white tablet, then the water. "He had

opportunity, Jane. He was close by when you received each threat. How well do you really know Ted Jackman?"

"Well enough to know he wouldn't hurt me. The only thing he's guilty of is making a mistake."

"Would you stake your life on that trust? Would you stake Ian's freedom on it?"

Jane opened her mouth to say that she would, then swore when she hesitated. "Dammit, Stacy. Don't do