If anything, hopefully Shelbys presence in the little room would speed things along.

Lane glanced at the woman. Looked back. Fathers dead.

As Shelby gasped, Edward slowly lowered his spoon back to the bowl. Then he said in a rough voice, Shelby, will you please excuse my brother and me for a moment? Thank you kindly.

Funny how the manners came back out of him in times of crisis.

After Shelby scuttled out the door, Edward wiped his mouth on his paper napkin. When?

Sometime last night, they think. He threw himself off the bridge, most likely. The body washed up on the other side of the falls.

Edward sat back in his chair.

He intended to say something. He really did.

He just . . . couldnt remember what it was.

Lane evidently felt the same way, because his youngest brother went to the only other chair in the room and sat down. I told Mother before { 400 }.

I came out here. I dont think . . . she has no idea what I said to her. Shes not tracking at all. Also told Gin. Her reaction was just what yours is.

Are they sure, Edward asked, that its him.

For some reason, that seemed vitally important. Although how could a mistake of this magnitude be made?

I was the one who identified the body.

Edward closed his eyes. And for a brief moment, that pilot light of his flickered on again. That shouldnt have been you. I should have done that.

It was fine. I didnt . . . Lane took a deep breath. I dont seem to be having any reaction to it at all. Im sure you heard about yesterday.

Edward looked over at his brother. What about yesterday?

Lane laughed in a hard burst. Sometimes not having cable televi- sion is a good thing, no? Anyway, it doesnt matter. It really doesnt.

They sat in silence for the longest time, and later, Edward would realize it was because he was waiting for some kind of an emotional re- action of his own. Sorrow. Hell, maybe joy.

There was nothing. Just a resonate numbness.

Ive got to find Max, Lane said. Law enforcement is going to keep a lid on this until were ready to make a statement, but that respite wont last forever.

I dont know where he is, Edward murmured.

Ill keep trying the number I had from two years ago. I sent him an e- mail, too, at his last known. I think he might be really far off the grid.

More quiet.

Is Gin all right? Edward asked.

Lane shook his head. Then swung his eyes over. Are any of us?

Sadly, Edward thought . . . the answer to that is no.

{ 401 }.

FORT Y- EIGHT.

T he next morning, as Lizzie went up the back stairs with a bouquet in her hands, she gave herself a pep talk.

It was all well and good to hide in the greenhouses, but come on.

She had thirteen days left of employment at Easterly and she was not going out on a shirker note. She always did the flowers for the bed- rooms. She had her schedule, and she was going to goddamn well do her job.

Up on the second floor, she squared her shoulders and went down to the best guest room. Mr. Harris had told her they had an unexpected houseguest" and also that there was no need to refresh flowers in Chan- tals room anymore.

Good to know, Mr. Harris. Thanks so much.

At least that was one person off her Dont Need To Run Into list.

Too bad the number- one spot was still under Easterlys roof.

Thirteen days, she said under her breath. Just thirteen days.

At the broad door, she knocked and waited. After a moment, a male voice said, Come in.

Pushing the panels wide, she saw a man sitting at Lanes grandfa- { 402 }.

thers desk across the way, his back bent into a comma as he scrummed down over a laptop. Next to him, a printer was spitting out pages marked with columns, and at his feet, wadded- up balls of yellow legal paper dotted the floor.

He didnt look up.

Im just here with some flowers, she said.

Uh- huh.

Beside him, on the window shelf, was a tray of empty breakfast dishes. As she put the vase down on an antique bureau, she offered, May I take that down for you?

What? he muttered while still focused on the screen.

The tray?

Sure. Thanks.

He had to be here to look at those files, she thought. The ones Rosalinda left behind.

Not her business, she reminded herself.

Going around the desk, she saw two expensive suitcases, one of which was open and rifled through" and yet she had the impression the man hadnt changed since whenever hed arrived. His white shirt was wrinkled everywhere, and so were his pants.

Also not her business.

Picking up the tray, she"

Oh my God.

As he spoke up, she almost didnt glance over at him, figuring hed found something in whatever he was going through. But then she real- ized he was staring at her.

What? she asked.

Youre Lizzie. Right?

Recoiling, she glanced around. But come on, like there was someone standing behind her?

Ah, yes.

Lanes Lizzie. The horticulturist.

No, she said. No, not his.

The man stretched his arms over his head, and as all kinds of crack- { 403 }.

ing happened, she noticed that he was very good- looking, with dark hair and dark eyes that might have been brown, might have been blue.

The accent was very definitely New York.

Wow, he murmured. I thought you were made- up.

If youll excuse me, I have some work to do.

And now I understand why he didnt go after anyone else for two years.

Dont ask, Lizzie told herself. Dont"

Im sorry? she heard herself say.

Crap.

For two years, nada. I mean, look, we went to college together, so I saw firsthand how he earned his reputation. But for the last two years, he didnt go near a woman. I thought he was gay. I even asked if he was gay. The man put his palms out to her. Not that theres anything wrong with that.

Wasnt that a line from Seinfeld ? she thought.

I, ah . . .

So at least now I get it. The man smiled in a totally non-creepy way. But he says youre leaving? Its none of my business, but why? Hes a good man. Not perfect, but good. Wouldnt suggest you play poker against the guy, though. Not unless you have money to lose.

Lizzie frowned. I, ah . . .

I didnt even know he was married, by the way. He never talked about her, I certainly never met her" and now, come to find out, it was about you all along. Well, anyway, back to work.

Like the guy hadnt just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.

As Lizzies heart started to pump at double speed, she said, Im sorry. Did you say . . . you never knew he was married?

The guy looked back over at her. No, he never brought up the woman. Not once in the two years he was sleeping on my couch. I didnt find out until he called me a couple of days ago.

But you must have met her, right? When she visited him.

Visited him? Honey, he never had any visitors" and I would know because he never left my place. Wed play poker all night, and Id go to { 404 }.

work, only to come back and find him on my sofa in exactly the same position Id left him in. He didnt see anyone. Didnt accept phone calls.

Never came back down here. Never traveled. Just locked himself in my apartment and drank. I figured his next stop was a dialysis unit.

Oh.

The guy cocked an eyebrow as if he wanted to know if she needed any more information.

Thank you, she said.

Thank you for the flowers. Ive never had a woman bring some to me before.

And then he was back to work, frowning at that screen.

Lizzie walked out of the room in a daze and had to remind herself to kick the door shut in her wake.

After standing there for a moment, she swiveled her head and looked down the hall to Mr. Baldwines room.

No visitors. No phone calls. Two years up in New York on some old friends couch.

And Chantal was supposedly pregnant.

With Lanes baby.

Lizzie wasnt consciously aware of deciding to move. But before she knew it, she had put the tray of dishes down on the runner outside of the guest room and was tiptoeing over the carpet. When she got to Mr.

Baldwines room, she put her ear to the panels.

Then she knocked quietly.

When there was no answer, she slipped inside and shut herself in.

There was something eerie about the room. Then again, she was essentially trespassing, as she had no valid reason for being in there.

Well, no valid reason tied to her job.

Glancing around to make sure she hadnt missed someone else in the bathroom beyond, she quickened over to the large bed that was made up with military precision.

Lowering herself down to her knees, she craned under the side ta- ble, under the bed frame itself.