“Reese Conlon, Agent Allen.” Reese held out her hand while behind her, the chair scraped back as Carter bolted to her feet. Reese stepped aside and watched Marilyn Allen’s face register first surprise, then a sharp predatory gleam. “And I believe you already know Officer Wayne.”

“I didn’t realize you’d returned to law enforcement, Carter,”

Marilyn said as she walked in.

“I guess your sources aren’t as good as you thought,” Carter said.

The FBI agent laughed lightly. “Oh, they’re quite good. Perhaps when I’m done with the sheriff, you and I can catch up.”

Carter glanced at Reese, who said, “Carter is the lead in the investigation into your agent’s death. She’ll be staying during the briefing.”

“I hardly see where that’s necessary,” Marilyn said smoothly, taking the chair next to the one Carter had abandoned. She sat down and crossed her legs with cool precision. “Since there won’t be any local investigation.”

“We don’t want to waste any of your time,” Reese said, “and I’m sure you don’t want to waste ours. So let’s cut through all the posturing and get right to it. We are not going to cede this investigation to you.

We’ll work with you because we all want this killer found. But we’re not going to sit back while you run your own investigation in our town.”

“A federal agent was murdered,” Marilyn said.

“Yes, and I’d very much like to know what he was doing here,”

Reese said. “What was he working on?”

“I’m afraid that’s highly confidential.”

“That’s not what I would call cooperation.”

“Very well,” Marilyn said, pursing her lips as if carefully considering her next words. As if she hadn’t already decided exactly how much she would give them before she’d set foot on the landing strip at Race Point. “Agent Lloyd is part of a much larger ongoing operation and he was here doing routine surveillance.”

“Alone?” Reese asked, knowing that federal agents rarely undertook solo assignments.

“He was checking out a lead from an intelligence source we did

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not believe to be particularly credible. He was supposed to be in and out in a few hours.” Marilyn smiled at Reese. “Otherwise, of course I would have notified you.”

“Of course,” Reese said. “Who was he following?”

“No one to concern you.” Marilyn shrugged. “A midlevel drug dealer who we were hoping would lead us to his connection, someone much higher up.”

Reese didn’t have any reason to believe or disbelieve her, but her instincts told her that the federal agent was blowing smoke. At the moment, however, challenging her would lead nowhere. “We have to assume that this suspect of yours recognized Lloyd and killed him. I’ll need a name and description.”

“I’ll see that the information is faxed to you.”

“This morning. You and your team can work out of here.”

“As soon as possible, Sheriff.” Marilyn rose and smoothed down her jacket. It bulged almost imperceptibly over her left hip where her weapon was holstered. “I’ve booked several rooms at the Driftwood Inn. We wouldn’t want to trouble you any more than necessary.”

“When we get your information, I’ll send you the crime scene photos and reports. Do you want to go to the scene?”

Marilyn cast Carter a speculative look. “I’m sure Officer Carter was thorough. If I have any questions after reading her report, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine.” Reese watched her walk out, then looked at Carter. “How much of her promise to provide information did you believe?”

“Try none. First of all, Marilyn Allen is the head of the regional anti-organized crime unit working out of Boston, at least she was the last time I heard. She’s probably got dozens of agents keeping tabs on midlevel dealers and above. She’s not likely to send one agent anywhere to check out one possible sighting.”

“Sounds thin to me too,” Reese mused. “For now the best we can do is watch them. Sooner or later, they’ll tip their hand.”

“Let’s hope it’s before someone else gets killed.”

v

Ash woke up aching, inside and out. She took a long hot shower—

her mind a careful blank—dried off, and dressed in jeans and a collarless

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pale blue shirt. She walked four blocks to a coffee shop and ordered coffee and chocolate croissants. While she waited, she asked if she could see a phonebook. The barista, who looked barely awake, shot her an annoyed glance and then dug around under the counter and came up with a dog-eared local phonebook a half inch thick. Ash thumbed through it quickly, then pushed it back across the counter. She took out a twenty, paid, and left the change as a tip.

“Hey, thanks,” the punked-out young woman behind the counter said in surprise.

“You’re welcome,” Ash said and left.

The early morning sky was hazy bright, the sun hidden behind clouds. Commercial Street was almost empty except for delivery vans and dog walkers. Ash strode quickly, knowing what she was doing was crazy. She was crazy. She’d been crazy for months and pretending otherwise. She couldn’t keep it up anymore. She just couldn’t. Maybe she would have been able to keep going, working around the clock, losing herself in strange bedrooms with strange women or at the bottom of a shot glass, if she hadn’t come here. But she was too close now, too close to escape. So she didn’t slow down long enough to think.

Turning up one of the many narrow side streets, she found the address and checked the mailboxes until she located the one she was looking for. She didn’t pause, but opened the wooden gate and followed the flagstone path through a small patio to the only door. She knocked and waited, nothing rehearsed, nothing planned. Only knowing she had no choice.

After a minute or two, the door opened and Allie stood in the doorway, wearing a loose ribbed tank that came just to the top of her thighs. A white bandage covered the outside of one leg. Her skin was damp and flushed, and the tendrils of dark hair at her temples moist, as if she’d just splashed water on her face.

“How did you find me?” Allie asked.

“Phonebook.” Ash held up the cardboard tray holding the cups and take-out bag. “Coffee and croissants.”

Allie hesitated. She’d been so amped after leaving Ash the night before, she’d had a hard time getting to sleep. She’d tossed and turned for a long time, angry and agitated because she’d wanted to stay with her. She’d wanted her. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb. She ought to close the door.

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“Chocolate croissants?” she asked instead.

Ash nodded, holding her breath, wanting to beg, knowing she didn’t have the right.

Allie moved aside to let Ash enter. “Come on in the living room.”

“Thanks.” Ash sat next to Allie on the sofa and handed her the café au lait she’d ordered for her. Then she took out the croissants and put them on napkins on the coffee table. Allie’s naked thigh was an inch from hers. Her skin was smooth and still tanned from the summer. A dark purple bruise extended from beneath the white bandage. “How’s your leg?”

Allie sipped her cafe au lait and murmured with pleasure. Just the way she liked it. Ash had gotten her favorite croissants and remembered exactly how she took her coffee. Stupid to care about something like that, but she did. “Not too bad. Achy, but not enough to set me behind a desk.” She sighed. “I think Reese is going to, though. I guess I don’t blame her, since I fucked up yesterday.”

Ash set down her coffee. “We’ve been through this. You didn’t fuck up. These things happen. Reese knows that. Quit beating yourself up.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Allie said quietly. It helped, talking with Ash.

Knowing that Ash wouldn’t say something just to make her feel better.

Ash was like Bri that way, always supportive but also always totally honest—at least about stuff like this. If she’d fucked up yesterday, Ash would’ve told her, if only so she would be safe the next time. She trusted Ash that way. She’d trusted her about everything once. Remembering that, the pain came flooding back. Turning, she stared at Ash. “What are you doing here?”

“I need you to know something,” Ash said, her throat feeling dry and tight. The hurt was so clear in Allie’s eyes. “You said something yesterday. Something that wasn’t true.”

“What?” Allie whispered.

Ash knew she shouldn’t touch her, but she couldn’t help it. She traced her fingers over Allie’s cheek. Her hand shook and she steadied it by cupping Allie’s jaw, her thumb gently tracing the corner of Allie’s mouth. “You said I only cared about your body. That’s not true. It was never true.” She grinned wryly. “I do think you’re beautiful. I love your body. I can’t stop thinking about it. But that’s not why I… You’re so

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much more, Allie. So much more. You’re tender and warm and brave and daring. You’re like a beacon in the dark, baby—I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to call you that…I just…Just being near you always made me feel so alive.”

“Jesus,” Allie whispered. She could barely absorb what Ash was saying. Ash’s hand was so hot, almost as hot as Ash’s eyes, roving over her face as if Ash wanted to devour her. Her stomach tightened. Her breasts flushed and her sex gave a warning pulse. “Ash, what are you doing?”

“I know it’s too late, but I needed you to know.” Ash groaned and slowly, with infinite tenderness, raised her other hand and cradled Allie’s face. She brushed her mouth over Allie’s, then rested her forehead against Allie’s and closed her eyes.

“You know what your problem is,” Allie murmured against Ash’s mouth as she stroked the back of her neck.

Eyes still closed, Ash shook her head, insanely on fire just from the sensation of Allie’s fingers on her neck.