"Yes. All right." She kept darting little glances up the stairs, then back to him. "But later. In about six months, maybe, when we've had time to know each other better."

"Now. We're going to talk about it now."

"No," she said, her chin tilting up. She blinked, but not quickly enough for him to miss the telltale gleam of tears in her eyes. "We aren't." And she dashed out onto the sidewalk.

He almost went after her. It was the sight of those damp eyes, more than any sensible reluctance to race outside naked, that stopped him. But it was the sound of a door closing upstairs that sent him back inside his apartment. Where he paced.

Claudia loved him, but for some reason that made her cry. When he asked her to marry him, she had a panic attack. All right, he conceded, maybe he hadn't exactly asked. Maybe it had been-he winced-a sorry excuse for a proposal. But that didn't explain her reaction.

He sighed. He'd rushed her, that much was obvious. She wanted to go more slowly, and on the surface of it, he couldn't blame her. But dammit, he didn't have much time. He sure couldn't wait any six months. He'd told his uncle that Claudia wasn't like Bianca, and dammit, she wasn't. She wouldn't walk out on him once she'd given him her promise.

But he was closing in on her brother. This afternoon, his uncle had taken him aside for a minute.

He'd found Norblusky.

Claudia was humming when the cab let her out in front of Ethan's office at eleven o'clock the next morning. That made her think of him, and that made her pause and smile.

He'd run out after her stark, staring naked. A man who would do that, she thought as she climbed the stairs, was slightly crazy. But it was a nice sort of nuts, not the temporary kind that sometimes made men say things they didn't really mean because they were basking in a s.e.xual afterglow. No, Ethan hadn't been glowing at all by then. He'd been furious.

She grinned happily. And he'd still wanted to talk about marriage.

Viewed from the clarity of morning, her reaction last night was a bit embarra.s.sing.

Claudia fitted the key she'd talked Rick into loaning her in the lock and swung open the office door. Ethan wouldn't be in today. He'd told her at his aunt's house yesterday that he had to take care of one of his other cases.

Poor man. He was getting discouraged, she thought as she set down her purse and shrugged out of her coat. After all his work, Norblusky was still missing, and they hadn't turned up any new leads in the past couple of days.

Well, the police hadn't found the man, either, or made any progress with the arson. Obviously Norblusky was a good deal smarter than Ethan seemed to think. Claudia hoped that, by going over everything they'd collected so far, she could come up with an idea to pursue.

It was only as she sat in Ethan's big wooden chair that she realized something odd. The overhead lights were on. And the computer. She put her palm on the CPU beneath the desk. The monitor was dark, but the CPU was turned on.

Had Ethan changed his mind and come in? If so, where was he? She frowned and tapped her fingers on the desk. Surely they were past the point where he'd try to shut her out of the investigation.

Beside her, the fax machine chattered. She swiveled, still frowning. She really shouldn't read whatever was coming in. That would be like reading someone else's personal mail. Still, Ethan did seem to have pulled some sort of trick this morning, claiming he wasn't coming into the office. She'd take a quick look, she decided. Just a glance to see if it had something to do with the case.

The first page finished printing. She leaned forward and plucked it from the doc.u.ment holder. It was a copy of a bank statement for someone named Guy Amberson. Did this have something to do with the investigation, or not?

Wait a minute. Whoever this Guy Amberson was, he'd made quite a large deposit the day after the gelato tampering. Seventy-five thousand dollars. In cash.

Oh, this was definitely connected. And Ethan hadn't told her a thing about it. Simmering, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the next sheet as soon as the fax machine spat it out. Another bank statement, this one for a different month-the month of the arson at the plant-and the fax was still printing.

In all, she collected five bank statements. And an invoice.

The invoice was from someone named Ernie. He was billing Ethan for acquiring copies of "bank statements showing activity in the past twelve months for the account of Guy Amberson, aka Derrick Barone."

Claudia's fingers went cold. The paper fluttered to the floor.

The office door opened. "What the- Claudia? How did you get in?"

She met Ethan's eyes. The cold was spreading. "A key. I used Rick's key."

His eyes flicked to the paper she'd dropped, then to the others on the desk. He stood very still and didn't say a word.

"You know what this is, don't you?" She shoved back the chair and stood. "Bank statements supposedly belonging to my brother. Fraudulent, of course. Derrick's difficult, but he isn't-he wouldn't do this. Not this."

"My information broker is completely reliable. Whatever he sends is the real thing." Ethan came up to the desk. He picked up one of the bank statements and scanned it quickly. He sighed and let it drop. "I'm sorry, Claudia."

"This Guy Amberson isn't Derrick!" she said furiously. "Someone is trying to make you think it was my brother. Just how did you come across this-this fake bank statement, anyway?"

His voice was as wooden as his face. "From the information broker I use. As I said, he's reliable. The bank statements are real."

"Okay, even if they're real statements, that doesn't mean this Guy person is my brother."

"I'm afraid..." He paused for a long moment. "Claudia, yesterday my uncle found Ed Norblusky."

Her breath caught. "Y-you didn't tell me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Norblusky's sister has been receiving payments from him. Rent for a little cottage in the woods. My uncle got a copy of one of the checks and used that to trace him." He paused. "Norblusky talked. He told Uncle Thomas who paid him to hide. And who told him what route to take on the day someone poured pepper juice on the gelato for the tasting."

"No." She shook her head. "He's lying, Ethan. I don't know why. Maybe someone paid him to say those things."

"He received a check from Guy Amberson for his cooperation. My uncle took a picture of Derrick to the bank that check was drawn on. One of the tellers identified him as Amberson. She remembered him because he flirted with her."

Her breathing wasn't working right. She came out from behind his desk, needing to do something. Anything. To prove to him how wrong he was. "We have to tell Derrick. Someone is framing him. He has to know."

"No."

"He has to know. You can't expect me not to tell him."

He looked suddenly, terribly weary. "I knew you would want to. That's why I didn't tell you my uncle found Norblusky."

"You didn't tell me your uncle was even looking for him. I thought Thomas was retired."

"He is. He just takes on a job for me now and then."

She digested that. It went down slow and painful, like crumbs of gla.s.s. "How much else haven't you been telling me? The other cases you've said you were working on sometimes..."

He didn't answer. And that was answer enough. "Oh, G.o.d." She turned away, pacing to the window and staring out blindly. "You've been after Derrick all along, haven't you?" And he wouldn't listen to her, didn't believe that someone had set all this up. But that was the only possible explanation.

She thought of her parents. Her sister and their other brother. Her aunt and uncle and Nicholas. And all the others... "This is going to be horrible," she whispered, hugging her middle. "Ethan, please. I'm begging you. Someone must have framed Derrick, and I d-don't know how to prove it. I need you."

"There's no frame." His voice was raw. "I've checked and double-checked everything."

In other words-no. He wouldn't help her. She blinked fiercely, determined not to cry. "When you were supposedly working on other cases, you mean."

A pause, followed by a sigh. "Yes. The evidence is solid, Claudia. Derrick used his Guy Amberson alias to buy the habanero pepper juice. He paid Norblusky. He has no alibi for the night of the arson-"