'I don't know what you're so upset about,' she said, feeling a calm that rather surprised her. 'I was his target anyway. Now I'm a protected target.'

'You're bait,' he ground out.

'You say tomato. He's coming after me. That's why I'm here, in this car. You feel a need to protect me. Which is nice,' she allowed. 'I'm not going to take unnecessary chances. If they want me to go on TV, shake the bracelet and say "come and get me, big boy", well, then we'll have a conversation. But this isn't that. This is me, living my normal life. With bodyguards.'

Some of the whiteness faded from his knuckles. ' "Come and get me, big boy"?'

'Gwyn's the comic. Look, I'm not thrilled about wearing the bracelet again, but there are worse things. Kevin's dead, as are two other people who had nothing to do with whatever happened to Ileanna Bryan. They deserve justice. Ileanna deserves justice.'

'Her murderer's dead, by his own hand.'

'And her bracelet was under my brother's bed in an old cigar box.'

'Could he have killed her and not Ricky Joyner?'

'I've been asking myself that. I want to say no, but nothing is what I thought it was. If Buck had any part at all in her death, that needs to come out.'

He shot her a sideways glance. 'Even if it makes your mother more "fragile"?'

'Yes.'

'If I tell you that you weren't responsible for your mother, would you believe me?'

She shrugged. 'Probably not. She did take care of me, before Buck died. But then she had her breakdown and went away. I guess I never knew how much she protected me until she was gone. And I was mad at her for leaving.'

'What did he do?' Fitzpatrick asked softly. Menacingly, even, and she remembered the look on his face when he'd grabbed her father by the throat.

'Nothing sexual, if that's what you're asking.' She watched his shoulders slump in relief. 'But he did hit. Hard. So I went to school and hit other people hard.' She smiled ruefully. 'It never seemed fair that I got in trouble for it and he never did.' More guilt hit her for being so wrapped in her own woes. 'But my childhood wasn't awful until Buck died, just lonely. You had a bad time, too. Your mother didn't take care of you either.'

'No, she didn't,' he said. 'Although sometimes she did try. Not well, but I hang onto that. Then again, this isn't about me and my mother because I didn't have to see her today.'

'You still see her?'

He shifted his shoulders. 'Occasionally. Seeing your dad today wasn't easy. And being angry with your mom is understandable. But while believing you caused her mental breakdown may be understandable at fourteen, at thirty-five it's not.'

She looked at the phone in her hand and changed the subject. 'I was getting lousy reception in Anderson Ferry. I couldn't download anything but texts until we hit the main road. I just got the autopsy reports on the PI, Nicki Fields and Jane Doe.'

'The Jane Doe's name was Sue Ellen Lamont. Drew found her in AFIS.'

'Well, Sue Ellen ate steak before she died, probably fillet. Her blood alcohol was just a little elevated, so maybe a glass of wine. No drugs in her system. Nicki had an empty stomach and it appeared she was alive when he gutted her.'

Fitzpatrick flinched. 'Oh, God.'

'Yeah. No drugs in her system either. She was still alive when he cut her throat. His first knife wound missed her heart by an inch. I have to wonder why. He's been so precise with his other victims. I have to wonder if he wanted her to suffer.'

'Which would make her different than Kevin, who was wrong place, wrong time.'

'Exactly. Craig didn't send photos of the Fields scene, but the description was horrific. He stabbed her, slid the knife down her abdomen, then turned her and slit her throat. She would have been in excruciating pain. This seems personal.'

'I'll tell Stevie. She's going to dig into the PI's case tonight and I'm going to find out what happened to Ileanna's family when they left Anderson Ferry after I take you to be fitted for surveillance. Hyatt will assign you security for tonight.'

She turned her gaze out the window, pondering her next statement carefully. Below them was nothing but miles of water. They'd reached the midpoint on the Bay Bridge, which seemed too symbolic to ignore. 'You could just stay,' she said and felt him tense beside her.

'As a bodyguard or . . .' He exhaled. 'Do you want me to stay because you want me?'

There was a carefulness to his phrasing. 'Yes, JD. That's why I asked. Well?'

'I'd like to stay,' he said simply.

She forged forward, still looking out the window. 'About last night.'

His laugh was a little shaky. 'Last night was . . . unforgettable. But not me. Amazing sex in alleys . . . I have to tell you that I'm not normally that exciting.'

She turned to glare at him. 'You think I am? That I have sex in alleys on a routine basis?'

'No,' he murmured. 'Am I in trouble?'

'Probably,' she said, irritated. 'Good God. That was the first sex I'd had in years.'

He glanced at her, surprised. 'Really? How many years?'

'Why do guys always want to know that?'

'Because guys have egos that need stroking,' he said. 'How many?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Seven. And he was my fiance.'

'Your fiance died more than seven years ago.'

'The first one did, that's true.'

He blinked. 'The first one? How many fiances have you had?'

'Two,' she muttered, embarrassed as hell. 'And before you ask me any more, be prepared to dish a little quid pro quo.'

'Like what?'

'Like, how many years had it been for you? And what about your wife, whose car still sits in your garage after three years?' She began ticking off her fingers. 'And what about your mother, for God's sake? And what the hell does JD stand for anyway?'

His jaw went tight as he stared straight ahead at the road. She didn't think he'd answer, but then he did. 'Three years. Jack Daniel, which should also answer the question about my mother.' He went still. 'And I killed her.'

Lucy's mouth fell open, at first thinking she'd heard him wrong. 'Your mother?'

'No, my wife. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make a few phone calls. Would you mind handing me my phone?'

Unable to think of what to say, Lucy complied.

Tuesday, May 4, 6.45 P.M.

'Oh my God,' Gwyn said as soon as Lucy's call connected. 'I thought you were dead.'

Sliding her duffle to the shiny counter of the police station's cafeteria, Lucy trapped her phone between her ear and shoulder as she searched for her wallet. 'Why the hell would you think that? Dammit. Where is it?'

'Where is what?' Gwyn asked.

'My wallet. Here it is. Hold on.' She gave a twenty to the lady behind the counter. 'Two coffees, please.' Hefting the bag to her shoulder, she carried the tray to the condiment table. 'Okay, I'm back.'

'Why didn't you call me earlier? I've been worried sick.'

'I texted you that I was fine,' Lucy said, downing a bracing gulp of her coffee. 'You didn't have to leave me ten messages. I didn't have enough bars to make a call where I was. And don't yell at me. I've had a long day.'

'I'm sorry,' Gwyn said more calmly, 'but a text isn't good enough. Anybody could have stolen your phone and been texting that you were fine, and not been you.'

Lucy sighed. 'You read too many suspense novels. This is me. I am fine.'

'Given that somebody's leaving you hearts in baggies, I think I have reason to fret. But I'll let it go. You sound whipped. What's wrong and where are you?'

'I'm in the police department.' She stared at the second cup of coffee. I've had sex with the man and I don't even know how he takes his coffee.

'Why are you at the police department? Did they arrest you?'

'No, no. I'm fine. I'm being tagged. Like a polar bear.'

'You're making no sense.'

'I know. I'm tired.' And still thrown for a loop at the statement Fitzpatrick had so casually flung. He'd spent the rest of the drive making calls. They hadn't shared another word. She knew he hadn't killed his wife, really. That was ludicrous. Still . . . 'The cops are concerned, so they're rigging my purse with a tracking device.' It was best not to mention that she was bait. 'They let me take my phone and wallet and come to the cafeteria, as long as I promised not to leave the building. Where are you now?'

'At Thorne's,' Gwyn sighed. 'Royce is working late and my place is still a crime scene.'

'I thought Royce was taking time off to stay with you.'

'He is, but he had to wrap up some business so that he didn't have to go out of town. He's been texting me every hour, though, which is kind of sweet, right?'

There was a hopefulness in Gwyn's voice that Lucy instantly recognized. She'd felt it herself when Fitzpatrick had nearly taken her father's head off to keep him from hurting her. She and Gwyn could care for themselves they'd proved it for years.

But it was so nice to have someone else care, every so often.

'Yes, very sweet,' Lucy said quietly.

'When are you coming over? Right now it's just me and Ming. And Jasmine,' she added with a hint of annoyance. Jasmine was the latest employee from the club to attach herself to Thorne's side. He'd tolerate them for a while, then send them on their way. 'Ming isn't much of a conversationalist and all Jasmine wants to talk about is Thorne. She's driving me crazy.'

Lucy frowned. 'Why is Ming there? Where is Thorne?'

'Thorne had to meet a client after court, so he sent Ming to drive me here and stay with me till either he gets home or Royce picks me up. Don't worry.' Gwyn lowered her voice. 'Ming's carrying tonight. He'll make sure nobody gets through the door.'

'Okay,' Lucy said grudgingly. 'As long as you're not alone.' Their bouncer could defend against a small army, so Gwyn was safe.

'So when will the police be finished with the polar bear tagging? I got us a DVD, ice cream, and even some of that healthy shit you pretend to like.'

Damn. Lucy had forgotten she'd told Thorne she was staying there tonight. 'I'm actually going back to my apartment. They let me back in.'

'Thorne won't like that,' Gwyn warned. 'Neither do I.'

'It's okay. JD's going to stay with me.' I think.

'Really, Miss "That's-not-going-to-happen"? Are you going to sleep with him?'

Lucy controlled the urge to spill the truth about the alley. 'I've considered it.'

'Finally some sense out of you, girl.' Gwyn paused. 'So where did you go today, Lucy, that you didn't have enough bars for a phone call?'

She sighed. 'I went back again, with the detectives. And I saw my father.'

Gwyn drew in a sharp breath. 'I wish that sonofabitch would just die.'

'Well, he's alive and kickin'. And still blaming me for everything.'

'Sweetie . . .' Her voice gentled. 'Your father's a dick. Don't listen to him.'

'It was kind of hard not to. We were yelling at each other.' Lucy told her what had happened and Gwyn went silent.

'Did your father hurt you, Lucy?'

'He tried. JD grabbed him by the throat and pulled him off me.'

'Wow. That's really hot. If you want my advice, I'd do more than consider tonight. You don't want to let him get away.'

Lucy frowned. 'That's not a good reason to have sex.' Again.

'It's also not a bad reason to have sex.' Gwyn tsked. 'You did it already, didn't you?'

Lucy sighed. Sometimes Gwyn was a little too empathic. 'Yes.'

'Where? When?'

'Never mind.'

'Oh, no. I want details.'

Lucy looked around the cafeteria. 'No way, not here. I'll tell you later.'

'That good?'

'Better. I really need to go.'

'Then call me when you get to your place. With your voice.' Her swallow was audible. 'I really was scared today when I couldn't reach you. I kept thinking of Kevin. And then I kept seeing you . . . the same way.'

'I'm sorry I scared you. I'll do better next time. This coffee's getting cold. I gotta go.' Lucy pocketed her phone and went to find out what the hell was wrong with JD Fitzpatrick.