Outwardly relaxed, he watched her through half-closed eyes, watched her shoulders shrink inside his robe as she fought her own inner battle against shame and self-revulsion, while he fought to block out the images his mind had formed…of this woman and Sonny Cisneros, writhing together in tumbled sheets. He told himself the brassy tang in the back of his throat had nothing to do with the woman, that it was his hatred of Cisneros that cloaked those images in a bloodred fog of rage.

“I’m okay,” she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed that for the lie it was. Jake knew that “okay” was something Eve Waskowitz was not likely to be for a while, no matter how hard she might try to convince herself otherwise. She was an intelligent woman, and quick-witted; and for all her charm and buoyant agelessness, not a bit naive. Not one of the nuances of her situation or their significance had escaped her; her agile mind had followed each possible consequence to its unpalatable conclusion, and it was what she had seen there that gave her eyes that dark and hunted look.

Because he understood gentleness from him would only confirm her certainties, he chose a businesslike tone. “Tell me what happened, everything you remember. From the beginning.”


Eve stared at the top of the kitchen table from between the hands that framed and supported her face. “I have told you everything-three times.” Her voice was soft, exhausted and hopeless. “That’s all-there just isn’t anything else.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Jake muttered the soothing words while his mind hurled itself against the cul de sac to which her story had led him with the helpless fury of a trapped eagle.

With his back to her, he braced his hands on the edge of the sink and leaned his weight on them while he stared out the window at the black-lace pattern of thinning woods silhouetted against the floodlit silver of the hospital parking lot beyond. The distant wail of a siren grew louder, then abruptly ceased.

“It’s not enough,” he said in a voice thick with disappointment. “Not to take to the U.S. Attorney. A statement overheard and uncorroborated-a good attorney would have it buried before it ever got to court. You know that, don’t you?”

He heard the careful clearing of her throat, and then, in a flat voice he imagined must be totally alien to someone so naturally effervescent, “Unfortunately, it’s more than enough for Sonny-just the fact that I heard it. He can’t let me go. You do know that? Plus, I humiliated him-publicly.” She laughed, utterly without humor. “Nobody gets away with that.”

Jake let out a slow and silent breath as he turned to look at her. Though only a few feet away, she seemed somehow to have retreated to a great distance and at the same time grown smaller, not as though she’d shrunk, but more as if she’d consolidated herself-gone inside the walls of privacy and pulled them close around her. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it happen. It seemed to be in the direst circumstances that people felt most constrained from seeking help. It was the instinct of the doomed animal to go it alone.

“Sonny won’t let this go,” she went on, in a voice close to breaking. “He won’t stop-and he’ll stop at nothing-until he finds me. What scares me is, if he can’t find me, he’ll go after my family. Like he went after Summer and the children…to get Hal. He’d have killed them, if he’d thought it would serve his purpose. The children, too-without even bunking-”

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Jake said flatly. But it was an automatic response. An angry pulse tapped against his belt buckle, while beyond the windows yet another siren sliced through the night. It’s Saturday, he thought. The hospital would be a busy place, the terminus of the night’s sweepings, the usual debris from the bars, back alleys and… Back alleys…

His heartbeat quickened. “Tell me again,” he said slowly, “what happened after you dropped the champagne glasses.”

She shrugged. “I ran like hell-I told you that. And I hid in the Dumpster-”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “How far were you from the alley? How sure are you that they saw you running?”

“Well, they had to know it was me,” she said with a snort.

“But-” and he was forming words carefully, reining in his hope with the ruthlessness of long practice “-how did they know? You ran like hell, you say-in what? Your high-heeled shoes?” His gaze shifted to the feet she’d tucked back under her chair, feet still clad in the tattered remains of white lace stockings. He heard a gasp, and looking once more at her face, found that she’d touched the fingertips of one hand to her swollen lip.

“My shoes. I think…I must have left them there. I heard the glasses shatter on the walk, and the next thing I knew I was running. I never even-but how could I have run like that in heels? I must have left them. So… that could have been how they knew it was me. Not that it makes a whole lot of difference…”

“Maybe it does…maybe it does.” The pulse was beating in his throat, now, so that he had to breathe carefully around it. “Think about it. Sonny and his men are talking. They can’t be looking out the window at that time, or they’d see you coming and shut up before you got there. They hear glass breaking. What do they do? What most people do-they freeze. For a second or two. Even if they react instantly, it takes a couple of seconds to get to the window. You’re already running. Maybe they catch a glimpse of you disappearing through the gate-maybe not. They run out, see the shoes and broken glasses. Meanwhile, you dive into the Dumpster. Your veil gets caught, the lid falls and hits you on the head-”

“Boy, did it ever. I’ve got a bump, even. And I actually saw stars-” Her voice broke off as Jake grabbed her arm and all but lifted her out of the chair. “What?”

“Come on-” and his voice was like a growl, low and intense “-go get your dress. Put it on-don’t bother with the buttons. We’re getting out of here. No, wait-”

“Where are we going?” He’d frightened her; she was breathless and pale, tense as wire.

“Let me have those pearls-hurry up-come on, take ‘em off.”

Her eyes held his, bright with questions, as she nevertheless lifted her hands to the back of her neck. After a moment she gave up her own attempt at the choker’s clasp and simply turned her back to him.

“I have an idea, but we have to move fast.” Jake frowned at his fingers as they slipped under the slightly curling ends of her short-cropped hair, dipped into the humid warmth inside the collar of his robe, found the clasp and opened it. When, without thinking, he rubbed his thumb over the tiny red mark the metal had left on her skin, he felt her shiver.

She turned again to face him, the fingers of one hand absently rubbing the place where the choker had been, and he knew the questions that must be quivering on her lips. But he had no time for questions then. Already he was opening a drawer, taking out a box of zippable plastic bags, pulling one out and dropping the pearls inside, while his mind rocketed on like a missile leaving its own noise behind.

He growled, “The rock, too-your engagement ring-come on, come on,” motioning impatiently when she looked confused. But she took off the diamond ring and gave it to him. Trusting him. And a part of him acknowledged that trust and was warmed by it as he dropped the ring into the bag with the pearls, returned it to the box it had come out of and the box to the drawer.

It was that warmth, and his fear of softening, that made his voice harsh when he spoke to her. “Go-get the dress on and meet me back here. Dammit, move-it’s been six hours already.”

But this time she stood where she was, hands clutching the lapels of the bathrobe. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” As softly as she spoke, Jake recognized the danger in her tone, as well as in the slight elevation of her chin. Trust him she might, but not blindly; it wasn’t in her nature.

He frowned, but let go of his impatience with a breath. “To the hospital. But I need to make a call first.” The receiver was already in his hand.

“The…hospital? But I’m not-I don’t need-”

Jake punched a button, then leveled a look at her, this time asking her for the trust she’d given so freely a few minutes before. “I think we might have a way out of this, but we have to hurry. I’ll explain on the way. Go.”

And he turned his back to her, already growling instructions into the phone. Eve waited for a moment, waiting for the spark of rebellion within her to mushroom into full-blown insurrection. When it didn’t happen, she gave a mental shrug and went. It wasn’t in her nature to take orders without a full and detailed explanation. But the man was… the FBI. And she had, after all, pretty much committed herself to his protection when she’d crawled into his surveillance van. Probably the least she ought to do was trust him.

Upstairs, she made use once more of the bathroom, then crossed into Jake’s small, spartan bedroom, unbelting the robe as she went. She shivered a little as she abandoned the warm terry cloth and its comforting masculine smells for the cold satin wedding gown and the sour odors of garbage and stale champagne. Though that seemed somehow weirdly appropriate to her, now. Once beautiful, the dress now seemed spoiled-in more ways than one. It felt contaminated… slimy against her skin.

She suppressed a shudder as she pulled the stiff, pearl-and-lace-encrusted bodice up and plunged her arms into the narrow sleeves. Then, holding up the top with one hand and the skirts with the other, she made her way carefully down the stairs.

She met Jake coming from the kitchen, the cordless phone still in his hand. “Can you help me-” she began, but he anticipated her request and brusquely waved it aside.