Thoughts whirling, she started it and backed out of the drive. Stacy had kept the truth from her. She had lied to her. Why? What did it mean?

She meant to find out.

SIXTY-ONE Thursday, November 13, 2003 2:15 p.m.

Jane made it home safely only by the grace of G.o.d. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there,

couldn't recall the traffic or lights. Now, standing in the foyer outside her studio, she couldn't even say with confidence where she had parked her car.

Her thoughts raced, a chaotic mix of emotions, ranging from disbelief and denial to accusation and anger.

At best, Stacy had kept the truth from her. At worst she had lied. And if she had lied, what did it mean?

She kept coming back to that question.

She didn't like the answer.

Ranger nudged her, anxious to be inside. She let herself into the studio. And found Stacy there. She

stood in front of the rolling cart, cell phone to her ear. She flipped it closed when she saw Jane. "There you are! I was so worried."

"Who were you talking to?" Jane asked, voice strange even to her own ears.

Stacy frowned. "Kitty told me you called and I came as fast as I could. You scared the life out of- Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You didn't answer me. Who were you talking to?"

"Mac. He's on his way."

Jane lowered her eyes to the jacket, hat and gloves. The truth hit her with the force of a thunderbolt.

"Stay away from me."

"Jane, what-"

"I know, Stacy." Her voice rose. "I know."

Stacy took a step toward her, hand out. "What are you talking about?"

Jane backed up. "I told you, stay away."

"I think you need to sit down."

"You planted them. To frame Ian."

"Planted...these?"

To her sister's credit, the disbelief in her voice sounded genuine. Jane fought the trembling that threatened

to topple her. "You have one of my keys. Know the security code for my alarm system. It's the same as yours."

"What are you saying?"

"I found the file, Stacy. From Ian's office. It was you I saw that night."

Stacy's expression registered surprise. Then understanding. "How did you-"

"Find it? When I couldn't reach you, I remembered you said you needed to stop home for some things."

She laughed, the sound high. Near hysterical. "To think, I was afraid for you. I thought something had happened to you."

"Jane," she said softly, gently. "It's not what you think."

"Of course it's not. Isn't that what they always say?" Her voice shook; she steadied it. "Why, Stacy? Do you hate me so much? Were you so jealous of me you wanted to take it all away?"

"I went to Ian for a consultation. About breast implants. That's how we met. I thought maybe if I

enhanced my appearance, I could have what other women did."

She took a step toward her, hand out. Jane backed up. "I'm calling the police."

"I wanted a relationship. Eventually, children. I looked at other women and wondered why men

gravitated to them and never me. I wondered why they seemed able to have and keep relationships. And I couldn't.

"Luckily, I came to my senses and realized a pair of double-Ds wasn't going to make someone love me." She held a hand out. "I didn't plant this evidence, Jane. Think about what you're saying. I look nothing like the person caught on the surveillance video. I'm strong, but not strong enough to so easily overwhelm a man like Ted. Yes, I went to Ian's office that night. To get my file. I didn't want my colleagues to find out."

"You expect me to believe that you broke into the clinic to take a file that contained basically...nothing?" "Yes. Because it had my name on it. Don't you get it?" Stacy dragged a hand through her hair. Jane saw that it shook. "They call them party b.o.o.bs around the division," she said. "It's a big joke. Big b.o.o.bs equal bimbo. Never mind," she added bitterly, "that having them is number one on their 'must have to date' list." She met Jane's gaze. "If they had found out I'd even consulted about them, I would have been a laughingstock. So that night, I went to Ian's office. And stole the file."

"You didn't see my Jeep?"

"If I had, I would never have gone inside. I heard a dog barking, but thought it was a neighbor's."

She'd parked on the other side of the Dumpster.

Jane folded her arms across her chest. "You lied to me, Stacy. You knew I thought the woman Ted had

invited to the studio was the same one in the clinic that night. You knew! You kept the truth from me. We were partners in this and you kept the truth from me."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I was wrong. Please believe me. I'm telling you the truth now."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm your sister."

The blow went out of Jane's anger, replaced by despair. She crossed to the wicker couch and sank onto it. Dropped her head into her hands.

Stacy wasn't a killer. Of course she wasn't. She wasn't in cahoots with one.

But this couldn 't be what it looked like. It couldn 't be.

Jane lifted her gaze, her vision swimming. "Someone planted these. To make Ian look guilty."

"He is guilty, Jane."

"No. Please."

Stacy crossed to her. She squatted in front of her. "I had begun to believe Ian was innocent, too. I was

wrong. I'm sorry."

"The woman Ted brought to the studio-"

"There was no woman."

"Ted's killer. He'd come to plant the evidence. Ted surprised him and-"

"Jane-" Stacy caught her hands "-sweetheart. This is physical evidence that links Ian to Elle Vanmeer's

murder. Presented with the surveillance tape and other circ.u.mstantial evidence, the jury's going to convict."

Jane shook her head, feeling it all slipping away from her. The final blow.

The boater turning back, finishing the job.

She fought despair. Hopelessness. Fought to hold on to her belief in her husband. The dream of their

love. The life they had shared; the family they had planned on having.

"Maybe it's not the way it looks?" she whispered. "How can Ian be a murderer? I love him."

The last caught on a sob and Stacy tightened her fingers. "I know you don't want to hear this, Jane, but I

have to say it. Ian knew the police warrant wouldn't cover the studio. He stashed the coat, hat and gloves in there, just in case we put two and two together and zeroed in on him. He knew you, his devoted wife, would proclaim his innocence, his faithfulness, to the high heavens.

"Ian was unfaithful. He killed Elle because she threatened to tell you about their affair. He killed Marsha to protect himself. She knew all his secrets.

"My guess is he was sleeping with Lisette as well," Stacy continued. "She was a loose end. If we found out, we'd use it against him. And he would have lost you-and your money. So he killed her."

Jane wrapped her arms around her middle. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence, she longed to

believe her husband. "What about Ted?"

"Based on what we learned about him, I believe he was the one writing the letters. Maybe, in his own twisted way, he thought frightening you would bring you closer to him. That with Ian in jail, you would turn to him. The night he was killed, he surprised a burglar."

It made sense. But she couldn't accept it. "The letters were from the boater. He's behind all of this.

Doobie's murder proves it."

Stacy frowned. "Doobie ran in rough circles. He was an informant. He put away some seriously dangerous people. It made him a mark. Look, I don't have all the answers yet, but I will. That I promise you."