Stacy suppressed a grimace. "IA? What are they here about?"

"Who, more like." The blonde shrugged. "Got me."

"Captain wanted to see me. Let me know the moment he's available."

"You got it."

Stacy stopped at the door to the squad room. "Mac around?"

"Left about fifteen minutes ago. Heading to the coroner's office. Then home, I believe. You can reach him

on his cell."

Stacy nodded, then headed for her desk. She didn't like the way this afternoon was unfolding. Internal Affairs here on the heels of the captain demanding an ASAP tete-a-tete with her. Could Mac have told

their captain about her showing Jane the tape? Or could IA have gotten wind of her sister's presence at a meeting with a snitch? A meeting that proved to be a murder scene?

Either scenario-or both-left her in a world of hurt.

"Hey, Killian. You still the biggest hard-a.s.s in the department?"

She swung around. Detective Benny Rodriguez stood in the doorway to the squad room. The minute she

saw him, she remembered the message from him. She had never responded.

"Giving it my best shot. How about you? Still the DPD's resident hot dog?"

"Always, chaquita." He slipped into the accent of his ancestors. He didn't fool her: she knew that he had

spent the better part of his youth on the East Coast and had an Ivy League education. He had returned to Texas to make a difference.

"What brings you down to my little corner of the world?" she asked.

"Seeing how the other half lives, natch."

"Glamorous, yes?"

"Takes my breath away."

"That would actually be Camp here. He forgets to bathe."

The detective in question made a show of sniffing his pits, shrugging and returning to the report he was tapping into his computer terminal.

Benny laughed. "Actually, I stopped in to see McPherson about the dead hooker from the other day.

Figured I'd hang a couple minutes for you, kill two birds with one stone."

"Sorry I didn't get back to you. Things have been nuts. What's up?"

He glanced at Camp. "Can we talk? Privately?"

"Sure. Come on."

She led him to one of the interrogation rooms, shutting the door behind them. She faced him. "Shoot."

"You're a friend of Dave Nash's, right?"

"Dave? Sure." She wasn't surprised Benny knew Dave; not only did her friend occasionally consult on cases for the DPD, he had treated a great number of the officers.

"We're running a sting operation on a local bookie. This bookie's connection is big-time, Stacy. Drugs. Prost.i.tution. The whole nasty package."

"Mob?"

"Yup." He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. Here's the thing, we've got Dave on tape.

Numerous times."

Stacy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Dave, a gambler?

Gambling was illegal in Texas with the exception of games in the privacy of one's own home.

Bookmaking was a major no-no.

Benny frowned. "The way I hear it, Nash's lost big recently. He owes some serious people some serious money."

d.a.m.n, how could Dave have been so stupid? "I don't know what to say."

"Dave's a good guy and I like him, but I can't protect him on this. He's on tape. We're going to have to

bring him in, put the screws to him. Try to get him to turn. It's going to be soon. When the time comes, tell him I'm sorry as h.e.l.l about it."

SIXTY-FOUR Thursday, November 13, 2003 5:10 p.m.

A sound dragged Jane from sleep. She came awake slowly, with great effort. Ranger, she realized.

Whining. Pawing at his kennel.

That wasn 't right, he 'd been in here with her.

He needed to go out.

She cracked open her eyes. Her head and limbs felt heavy. She struggled to move them, anyway.

Then it all came back. Taking the sleeping pills. And before that, finding the coat. The hat and gloves.

Proof of her husband's guilt.

The truth crashed over her and she moaned.

"Jane?"

She shifted her gaze. Dave, she saw. Standing by the window. He was smiling at her. The smile struck

her as odd. How could he smile with everything that had happened to her?

She blinked, scrambling to recall the sequence of events. She vaguely remembered that Stacy had called him. Asked him to come sit with her. How long ago had that been?

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She pulled herself into a sitting position. "Groggy. How long have I been asleep?"

"Don't know. I got here forty-five minutes or so ago." "You didn't have to come baby-sit me." "Stacy called me." He crossed to stand beside the bed. "You gave both of us a scare." She frowned. "Why?"

"The sleeping pills, Jane. It was so unlike you. And coming on the heels of so many upsets."

"I'm not going to kill myself, Dave. Don't you know me at all?"

"Better than maybe anyone." He caught her hand, curled his finger's around hers. "So I know what a

shock today must have been. What a betrayal. Finding that Ian hid evidence in your studio. To protect himself. You gave him your heart and your trust. He trampled them."

She held his hand tightly. Her vision swam. "I don't want to talk about it. Not yet."

"I understand." He bent and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I'd feel the same way."

Her throat tightened. She wished for the oblivion of sleep. For the blind trust she had clung to only hours before.

Was that how it started? she wondered. With alcoholics or drug addicts? Wishing for oblivion? To be numbed or knocked out? She had never thought of herself a candidate for either, and yet sitting there, hurting so bad that just breathing took effort, she understood.

He rubbed her hand between his. "I'm so sorry, Jane. I wish I could help. Believe me, time will lessen the pain. And, finally, it will heal you."

"Promise, stupor genius?" Her attempt at humor came off miserably, choked and aching.

"Promise." He leaned across and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then straightened. "What would you do without me?"

Jane stared at her old friend, something nagging at her. Something that wasn't right. But what?

She struggled to shake off the lingering effects of the medication. Then she remembered. Stacy had said

the same thing to him, on the phone earlier. Stacy had made the call from the hall outside her bedroom.

Jane had been dozing but awake. She hadn't wanted to talk, so she had pretended to be asleep.

I can't go into it right now. Long story short, she's in a really bad place and I'm worried about leaving her

alone.

Jane scrolled forward, to something Dave had said to her just minutes ago. I know what a shock today must have been. Finding that Ian hid evidence in your studio.

Stacy must have told him when he arrived to watch her. She decided to ask, anyway. "How did you