1:37 P.M.

The voice of Ed Bannion's secretary came through the intercom.

"There's a Kara Wade on seven-six. Says it's personal. "

Ed felt a quick surge of excitement.

"Got it, Nancy." He jabbed the blinking b.u.t.ton. "h.e.l.lo! You're a hard woman to find."

"I went back to Pennsylvania for a while. I got back yesterday. I got your note."

"Yeah." He laughed. "After calling a few dozen times, I figured that was the best way to get hold of you."

"What's this about Kelly's estate?"

"She didn't have a will."

"How do you know?"

"I checked. A will was never filed for her."

"Why would you check?"

Ed detected a note of hostility creeping into Kara's voice. Maybe she thought he'd been prying.

Well, she was right. He had been rooting around for a way to maintain contact with her and had come up with an ingenious solution. He figured that if Kelly Wade was like most single people in her age bracket, she didn't have a will. They hardly ever do. Only if they're married and have kids do they start thinking about who's going to get what they leave behind if they kick the bucket unexpectedly.

He was right. Kelly had died in testate in testate.

"I'm just trying to help, Kara. Trying to repay a debt. Kelly helped my family through her profession, now it's my turn to help Kelly's through my my profession." profession."

He'd made up that story about his mother being in the hospital, but what he was about to tell Kara was all true and legally sound. He just had to make sure he didn't come on too strong as he tried to sell her on it.

"If you want to avoid probate, if you want access to her bank account or accounts-I have no idea what she had-you'll have to be named administrator."

"I don't want her money."

"It's not as vulturish as it sounds. She's got bills due, I'm sure-utilities, charge cards, etcetera. They'll need to be paid, otherwise her creditors can take her estate to court."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Ed let it run its course.

"I never thought of that," Kara said finally.

"Of course, you didn't," Ed said, trying to sound jovial. "That's what us legal eagles are for. Besides, if you don't take over her accounts, the Government will. I'm sure you can put them to better use."

"I guess so. What do I do?" guess so. What do I do?"

"I'll do most of it. I'll act as your counsel and go before the surrogate and file to have you appointed administrator of Kelly's estate. That should be no problem. Since she had no husband or children, her twin sister is the obvious choice-unless your mother or father protest."

"No one will protest."

"Fine. Then you can pay off her bills from her account, clean out her apartment, take whatever you want to keep as memories, and be fully in the clear legally."

"What will this cost?"

"It's on the house. Quid pro quo Quid pro quo. Should I get the paperwork started?"

Say yes! Please say yes!

"All right," she said slowly. "This is very considerate of you."

"Think nothing of it. Now, we'll have to get together and have you sign a few papers. Is tomorrow good for you?"

"Only the afternoon. I have an appointment in the morning."

Ed had to babysit some money men from the West Coast all afternoon and evening tomorrow.

"How about Thursday?"

"Thursday would be better. I have the whole day free."

"Good. I'll meet you at Kelly's and we'll go someplace for lunch."

Another hesitation. Say yes, Kara Say yes, Kara.

Finally: "Okay. That sounds nice. See you then."

Ed hung up, jumped up, and was doing a little victory dance around his desk when his secretary walked in.

"Are you all right, Mr. Bannion?"

Ed stopped abruptly and straightened a few papers on his desk top.

"My foot fell asleep. But now I'm fine, Nancy. Just fine."

And I'm going to be even better!

11:02 P.M.

Kara dragged herself back to Kelly's apartment with the promise that if the next few nights went as well as last night, she'd p.r.o.nounce herself safe to sleep at Ellen's. It was the only way she could cajole herself into returning. The thought of another night alone in that apartment was daunting.

That was why a warm glow suffused her when Rob popped out of his car and intercepted her at the door to the apartment house. It would be good to have company for a while.

"I can't stay," he said. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I called a few times but there was no answer."

"I'm fine," she said. "Come on in. I'll fix you a drink. Or coffee. Whichever you prefer."

He looked surprised. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

One drink turned into two as they sat on the couch and talked while VH-1's music videos danced across the TV screen. And the more they talked, the more Kara realized that all her old feelings for Rob were very much alive. She felt so comfortable with him, so safe. And warm. Then her eyes caught sight of his pistol in its clip holster, resting on the end table.

"G.o.d, I wish you weren't a cop."

"I think maybe it's genetic, pa.s.sed down from my dad. I can't help it."

"Okay. Then I wish you weren't a cop in New York City."

"Where, then?"

"Someplace that wasn't full of junkies, pimps, pushers, rapists, and killers. I'm afraid for you."

"That's just it, Kara. I don't see this city as full of junkies, pimps, pushers, rapists, and killers. They're not the city. They've just gravitated here because of its size. Manhattan is like a big pond. They're the sc.u.m that floats on top. They get all the attention. They're what too many outsiders see and remember most when they come here. The pond sc.u.m may make the pond look uninviting, but they're not the pond. I work for the rest of the pond-the people you don't notice, the ones who live here and work here and make it go. Like your Aunt Ellen. Like... Kelly. I'm here for them. I'm no Sir Galahad in a suit of armor and I'm not Dirty Harry, but in a lot of ways I'm what stands between them and G.o.d knows what. I b.i.t.c.h about the rules and regs and the politicians as much as the next guy, but I do take what I do seriously, and I do mean to do it well."

Kara stared at him. She realized that she had never truly appreciated Rob. She had loved him, yes, and probably still did, but she had never really appreciated his depth. She sensed something rare in him, something to be nurtured and cherished.

Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

"They're lucky to have you."

A retread video of "Do That To Me One More Time" began to run on VH-1.

"We used to dance to that," Rob said, "Wanna?"

Kara smiled. "Yeah. I wanna."

They rose and slipped into each others arms and began to sway to the music. Rob wasn't much of a dancer but Kara couldn't have cared less. She gave in to the pleasurable warmth of his arms around her, the faint residue of his Old Spice after shave.

"It's been a long time, Rob."

"It's been forever."

They kissed. A long kiss. Kara felt the warmth gathering in her. Reflexively she began to pull away, then she fought the reflex. She felt his tongue probing. She opened to it. Soon they were pulling at each other's clothing.

"Ten years!" Rob whispered. "I've been waiting ten years for you to come back!"

Kara said nothing. She knew she really hadn't come back in any true sense. But here, tonight, now, she was back. And she wanted to be with Rob.

He ran a finger up her left arm to the deltoid.

"Look at the definition. You've been working out?"

"Nautilus and aerobics."

She shivered as his finger continued over her shoulder and down to her breast where it circled the nipple. They kissed again.

"I've missed you like crazy," he whispered into her ear.

"I've missed you, too, Rob. Especially like this."

He pulled his head back and smiled at her.

"I didn't know feminist writers went in for this sort of stuff."

"We like it as much as the next person. Maybe even more."

"I suppose you want to be on top."

"You've got it."

Laughing, they made their way to the bedroom where they took turns being on top.

Eventually they ended up side by side. Kara lay with her head on his shoulder.

Rob said, "We got to try this more often. Ten years is just a tad long for a dry spell. Think we can get together again before the end of the century?"

"I think I'd like that. This was wonderful. Rob."

And she meant it. She couldn't remember the last time it had been this good. She felt relaxed, content, emotionally complete. She knew the feeling wouldn't last long, but she relished the sensation while she could. She realized how much had been missing from her life. She knew it wasn't just the o.r.g.a.s.m, it was the intimacy. She had been avoiding intimacy since she'd left New York. It had become a pattern of behavior: Don't get to know a man well enough to allow an emotional bond to develop. Keep him at arms' length at all times. A couple of the members in one of the women's groups she belonged to had misinterpreted that and Kara had found it necessary to put them straight: She wasn't interested in a relationship with anybody anybody. The pattern had developed into a reflex, one she'd had to suppress tonight.

She was glad she had. This was good, this was right, this was rare and precious. Snuggled against Rob, with his arm around her shoulder, she felt warm and secure, and best of all, alive alive.

She drifted off to sleep.

I've done it! I've sent out the warning! What a stroke of genius! What a brilliant move, even if I do say so myself!

And the swine hasn't the slightest idea what I've done. Obviously. If he did he would be raging at me. And punishing me severely.

I cannot escape punishment.

So what? That was a given when I began this little project. If he intercepts the warning, he'll make me suffer. If she receives the warning, she will show it to him, or someone else will tell him of it, and the result will be the same, although probably worse in the latter scenario.

So, whether I succeed or fail, I shall suffer dearly. The antic.i.p.ation of it is worse than a sword poised over my neck, waiting to fall. Decapitation-ha! That would be a pleasure compared to what I face.

But whatever I suffer shall be worth it. Not for her sake alone. At first I thought my scheme to warn her was pure selflessness, but that's not the case. No. I'm doing this more for myself than for her. This is my Spartan uprising, my storming of the Bastille, my Boston Tea Party. With this act I put him on notice that he has not broken me.

I only hope my warning reaches her. For if it does, and if she heeds it, I will have wounded him, and he has never been wounded before. Knowing that is worth any punishment.

It should reach her by Thursday.

And then all h.e.l.l may break loose.