“I told you, James, I don’t remember that night. Not a single thing. There are just images and sounds, but nothing solid. I don’t know who killed my father. He may not even have been killed when I was there. On the other hand, I could have shot him. I hated him more than you can begin to imagine. Noelle swore to me that she didn’t kill him. There was more, but she didn’t have time to tell me—if, that is, she would have told me in any case.”

“You know you were there when he was shot. You know very well you didn’t shoot him. But we’ll get back to that later.”

“I think my mother didn’t tell me the truth because she knows I did shoot him. She’s trying to protect me, not the other way around.”

“No, you didn’t shoot him. Maybe it was because she didn’t have time since we showed up. Or maybe it was because she’s protecting somebody else. We’ll find out everything. Trust me. She told the cops and us that she’d been out all evening, alone, at a movie.”

“Well, she told me she’d been with Scott. Which means she had a witness to prove she didn’t kill my father.”

“Scott? Your husband?”

“Don’t be cute. You know he’s my husband, but for only a very short time longer.”

“All right. We’ll take care of things. Now, it’s late. We’ve got to get some sleep.

“I just wanted to tell you that you ran a good race, Sally, real good. When I just happened to spot you leaving the motel on that motorcycle, I nearly dropped my teeth. That was real smart of you to ditch the car and buy a bike. It took us totally by surprise.”

“Yes, but it didn’t matter when it came right down to it, did it?”

“No, thank God. Dillon and I are good. That and lucky as dogs on the loose in an Alpo factory. Where were you going?”

“To Bar Harbor. My grandfather gave me three hundred dollars. It was all he had in his wallet. When I counted it, I became aware of a certain irony.”

“You’re kidding. Three hundred exactly?”

“Right on the button.”

“I didn’t particularly care for your grandparents. The maid showed us into this back study. They were watching some Home Shopping show. I’ve got to say that was a surprise. Mr. Franklin Oglivee Harrison and wife watching that plebeian show.”

“That would have surprised me too.”

“Sally, would you like to come here to the big bed? No, don’t freeze up on me. I can see you freezing from here. I’ll bet your shoulder aches too, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little bit. More sore than aches. I was very lucky.”

“You’re right about that. Come on now, I promise not to attack you. Remember how well we both slept in The Cove in my tower bedroom? It can’t have bothered you all that much, since you were willing to tell the bikers about it quick enough.”

The silence lasted for a full minute. She said, “Yes, I remember. I don’t know why I opened my mouth and blabbed it to total strangers. I had that horrible nightmare.”

“No, you remembered what had happened to you. It was a nightmare, but it was real. It was your father. At least you finally told me that.

“Come here, Sally. I’m exhausted and even you—super female—have got to be teetering on the edge just a bit.”

To his relief and pleased surprise, she was standing beside the bed in the next moment, looking down at him. She was wearing one of his white undershirts. He pulled the covers back.

She slipped in and lay on her back.

He lay on his back four inches away from her.

“Give me your hand.”

She did. He squeezed her fingers. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Surprisingly, they did.

When Quinlan awoke early the following morning, she was sprawled on top of him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs parted, lying directly on top of his. The undershirt had ridden up to her waist.

Oh, damn, he thought, trying not to move, trying to tell himself that this was just something else a professionally trained FBI agent had to learn how to deal with. So it hadn’t been covered in the sixteen-week training course at Quantico. No big deal. He had experience. He wasn’t sixteen. He breathed through his teeth.

Yes, he would handle this situation with poise and composure. He felt the heat of her through his boxer shorts. He was just a smidgeon of material away from her, that was all, and he knew that composure was a big thing at this point.

“Sally?”

“Hmmmm?”

He was harder than his uncle Alex’s divining rod. No way he was going to scare her. As gently as he could, he pushed her off him onto her back. The only thing was that she didn’t let go of him. He had no choice but to come down over her. Now Uncle Alex’s divining rod was between her legs, just where it belonged.