She pushed her plate away, hunger gone.

"That's why she told me about the baby," he continued. "She's been through a lot. You both have."

She shallowed hard. "I'm sorry she's...I'm sorry."

He searched her expression. "Why won't you talk about that day?"

"There's nothing to talk about. Jane was the one who was hurt. Not me."

"Really? You weren't hurt?"

"You can stop shrinking me now."

"Can't turn it off, babe. Sorry."

He looked anything but and she scowled at him.

"You witnessed the accident. As the older sister, you thought yourself responsible for your sister's

welfare. You were the one she cut school to be with, the one who dared her to swim. Pretty heavy load

for a seventeen-year-old."

"If you're suggesting I'm suffering some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"The past is a powerful weapon."

"And I'm using it against myself. Is that what you're saying?"

"Could be."

"Like I said, wrong tree, Dave."

"You're certain of that?"

"Absolutely."

He selected an onion ring. "So, let's talk about it. No harm in that. In fact, it's healthy."

Her lips twisted. "Dr. Never-Say-Die Dave."

"Isn't that why you called me?"

"I'm a pain in the a.s.s, aren't I?" This time it was she who held out a hand. "I called you because you're my oldest friend. Thank you for being here for me."

He took her hand. "I always will be. I-"

His cell phone interrupted his reply. He checked the display for the number. "d.a.m.n, it's the hospital. I

have to take this."

She nodded and stood. "I'll visit the rest room. Be right back."

She ran into Mac in the hallway outside the rest rooms. She greeted him, then ducked into the ladies'

room. When she emerged a couple of minutes later, he was gone.

She returned to the table to find Dave shrugging into his coat.

"What's up?"

"I'm sorry, Stacy. I have to go. I've got a patient on suicide watch at Green Oaks. She not doing well.

Rain check?"

She worked to hide her disappointment. "Anytime."

He hugged her. "Don't be mad at Jane," he said. "She needs our love and support, now as much as ever."

Jane. Always Jane.

As if he knew her thoughts, he smiled rea.s.suringly. "What you're feeling is normal. It's how you act

on-or react to-that envy that will determine appropriateness or inappropriateness."

She watched him walk away, wishing not for the first time that they had clicked romantically. Why hadn't she ever felt anything but friendship for him? He was everything a woman could want in a man:

handsome, smart, successful, kind. And steady. Dave Nash had always had both feet planted firmly on the ground.

Perhaps she had never looked at him that way because she'd always known he'd been attracted to

Jane-even when she'd looked like the Bride of Frankenstein.

"Hey, again."

She looked up. Mac stood beside her table, beer mug in his hand.

"Want some company?"

She lifted a shoulder and motioned the chair across from hers. "Suit yourself."

He sat, took a sip of his beer. "Boyfriend?"

"Friend. Old friend."

"You going to eat that?" He motioned to the untouched half of her sandwich.

"It's all yours." She pushed the plate toward him. He ate it down in three bites. "Having money troubles,

Mac?"

He grinned. "Can't stand to see food go to waste. Plus, I never actually get full. My mother used to despair at the grocery bill." She leaned forward, intrigued. Charmed by his almost boyish honesty. "You have any brothers or sisters?"

"One of each. I'm smack-dab in the middle."

"Middle children are usually the peacemakers."

"And here I am a cop. Meant to be, I guess."

"You get along with your siblings?"

He nodded. "They're both married with kids. Maryanne is a schoolteacher. Randy an accountant."

"What grade?"

"Excuse me?" He popped one of the onion rings in his mouth, though it had long ago grown cold.

"Your sister. What grade does she teach?"

"Junior high. English."

Stacy wrinkled her nose, thinking about how obnoxious she and her friends had been at that age. "G.o.d

bless her."

"Can I ask you something?"

She arched an eyebrow. "And if I say no?"

"I'll probably ask, anyway."

"I may not answer."

He inclined his head. "What's the deal with you and your sister?"

"Long story. Not pretty."

"I have the time."

"But I don't have the energy."

He leaned his chin on his fist and gazed at her. "Change of subject?"

"That'd be nice."

"We need to pay Marsha Tanner a visit, first thing in the morning."

Stacy had expected this. And as much as she hated to admit it, she agreed. Marsha had been nervous this afternoon, had seemed to be deliberately evasive, claiming not to remember answers to several questions. She had repeatedly glanced toward Ian's office, though whether because she feared Ian might overhear or for moral support hadn't been clear to Stacy.

"I agree. But why wait until then? I've got nothing better to do."

Before Mac could respond, his cell phone rang. He held up a finger, indicating she hold on. "McPherson here."

He listened, expression becoming intent. "s.h.i.t. Where?" He paused "Killian's with me. We're on our way." He holstered his phone and stood.

Stacy followed him to his feet. "What've we got?"