Obviously unimpressed with her diatribe, Jake barked right back at her. “Waskowitz, do me a favor-shut up a minute and listen. Cisneros is probably on his way here as we speak, so no telling how much time we have. This-” he nodded at the silver-haired man, who thrust his jaw toward her and grinned toothily, rather in the manner of FDR “-is Dr. Matthew Shepherd. He is in fact an M.D., but he also consults for the Bureau. We think we may have come up with a solution to your problem. Matt?”

At his cue, the doctor lunged forward, opening the brown envelope as he did so, and extracted several X-ray films, which he laid across the foot of Eve’s bed.

“Are those mine?” she asked as she raised herself up and hitched forward to get a better look.

“In… a manner of speaking.” Dr. Shepherd took a pair of rimless glasses from his jacket pocket, put them on and peered through them down his long, bony nose at the films. After a moment his gaze vaulted the tops of the glasses to twinkle conspiratorially at her. “Actually, they are about to become your X rays. See this here?” He was once more bent over the films, pointing with a long, elegant finger.

Eve nodded and dutifully said, “Uh-huh,” though she hadn’t seen anything but fuzzy shades of gray. “What does it mean?”

Dr. Shepherd straightened, whipped off his glasses and beamed at her. “What that means, young lady, is that for the foreseeable future, you are gonna have to keep your upper spinal column as immobile as possible. That means wearing an orthopedic device to limit movement, sleeping in a specially designed bed…ahem…alone-” Eve’s sharp intake of breath barely interrupted him. “In addition to which, I would recommend a program of extensive physical therapy…”

Eve was barely listening. Her eyes had slipped past the doctor to find Jake’s, and’ she clung to their steady and bottomless gaze as he added, without inflection, “Which gives us a reason to keep you here in the area, as well as cover in case you need to get in touch with us-or vice versa. If you need us, you’d just call your doctor. Or, say, if we need to contact you, your doctor’s office would call you-maybe change the date or time of an appointment, for instance.”

“My God,” Eve whispered, “it takes care of everything.”

Jake grunted. “It buys you some time. What you do with it’s gonna be up to you.”

“I understand. Jake…I don’t know how to thank you.”

Something black and angry slashed across his face, gone so quickly, she couldn’t be certain she’d seen it at all. Because in the next instant he’d disappeared soundlessly into the bathroom as the outer doorknob turned and the door cracked open to admit the croaking sound of a naturally boisterous voice trying its best to whisper.

“He’s in there with her now? Yeah…that’s good. Sure, you bet I wanna talk to him. Okay…thanks, sweetie-you’re a doll.”

Yeah, Sonny, and it’s a good thing you’re such a flirt, Eve thought. Because even while he was stopping to sweet-talk the nurse, she barely had time to flop back against the pillows and arrange an appropriately pain-wracked expression.

Meanwhile, for the second time that day, Jake found himself reduced to the indignity of skulking in the bathroom like an illicit lover. The space was so small, he couldn’t even pace to release his nervous energy, which he could feel building up inside him like pressure in a steam locomotive. Through the barrier of the door he could hear the muffled murmur of voices, mostly the doctor’s, explaining his patient’s “condition” and outlining the plan for her “treatment.” That was punctuated intermittently by Cisneros’s questions in his Vegas big shot’s bark, loud and brassy, like something out of an old Rat Pack movie. Every time he heard it, Jake had to remind himself to. unclench his teeth.

What was it about the man that got to him so? When had Cisneros stopped being just another case and become his own personal crusade? He thought about it while he waited, having nothing better to do. But the fact was, he knew it hadn’t been one big moment of truth, but rather a lot of little straws-too many things he knew about Cisneros but couldn’t find a way to prove, too many investigations that led nowhere, too many cases evaporating before they could even get to trial. Too many witnesses turning up missing, or suffering memory lapses following a tragic “accident” involving a loved one. Little straws…the last one the hit-and-run death of a key witness’s wife and seven-year-old daughter as they walked to school, just three blocks from their house.

The day that happened, Jake had cut out early and gone home to find his wife on her way out the door with her suitcases. “I deserve to be happy,” was all she’d said when he’d pressed her for reasons. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it; plainly, she’d meant to be gone before he got home.

It didn’t matter-he knew the reason. And he knew the fault was all his. For too long, all his time, energy and passion had been focused on getting Cisneros; he’d had nothing left over for his wife. What he’d told Eve-that it had happened overnight-had been a lie. The simple truth was, Sharon’s love for him had died a long, slow death by starvation. And it was a whole lot easier to blame Sonny Cisneros than his own shortcomings as a husband.

He swore inaudibly and closed his eyes, wrenching himself out of the past and back to the present. Which for the first time in a long while was looking like it might just give him a future to look forward to. After Hal Robey had drowned in that hurricane last summer, he’d been ready to pack it in. He’d actually looked into it-leaving the Bureau-but something had held him back, kept him from taking that final step. And now, by God, it looked as if he was being given another shot. He had a witness, and this one he wasn’t going to lose. He’d be careful, take it slow and easy…one step at a time.

He still had to convince Eve to go along with the program, but he was confident she would. Of course she would; she knew what the stakes were as well as he did-better than he did. It was her life that was on the line, after all, though the risks, if they were careful and she did what she was supposed to do, should be minimal. Minimal, he told himself. At worst, they’d get nothing concrete enough to take to court, she’d bide her time and break off the relationship, and that would be that But if things went the way he hoped…at last, Sonny Cisneros was going down.

The tap on the bathroom door sent a shot of adrenaline through his system.

It was Shepherd. The moment Jake opened the door Matt said tersely, “He’s gone. I told him we needed to run more tests, get her fitted with the collar before she can be released tomorrow morning.”

“He’ll be here with the limo to pick me up,” Eve put in. Beyond Shepherd, Jake could see her sitting upright against the pillows, one eye purpling and bloodshot, the other glittering like moonlit water. In spite of the bandages she had a pugnacious look-a beat-up prizefighter on an adrenaline high.

Jake flashed her a sharp glance, then said to Shepherd, “Where? He’s not taking her back to Vegas-”

Eve shook her head, then caught herself. “Oops-gotta remember not to do that, don’t I?”

“The collar’ll help you remember,” Dr. Shepherd said cheerfully.

“I hope so. Anyway, no-actually. Sonny’s being really sweet about this-he says he figured I’d want to be close to my doctor and my family, so he’s made arrangements for us to stay at this new resort he’s building on Hilton Head. That’s not far from Summer and Riley’s place-”

“Really,” said Jake thoughtfully.

“And just a hop and a skip from my brand-new office here in Savannah.” Dr. Shepherd aimed his FDR grin at Eve and began gathering up the scattered X rays. “Well-I’ve got things to attend to, looks like. I’m gonna leave you two to work out details between you. Jake, I’ll have that collar ready by this evening, if you want to-”

“Yeah-fine.” Jake silenced him with a surreptitious hand gesture and the smallest twitch of his head toward Eve.

“Right-see y’all later.” With a wave and a wink, Shepherd tucked the X rays under his arm and bounded from the room.

The silence he left behind was thick as cobwebs. Jake felt it settle around him as he turned, so that he seemed to be moving through a sticky, gauzy curtain of his own guilt.

“What was that all about?” Eve demanded, not quite suspicious, just wary, watching him with her head cocked to one side, and that bright-eyed, titmouse look about her again.

“What was what?” he countered, about as convincing as a cookie thief with crumbs on his chin.

“That.” She mimicked his little warning head jerk, then grimaced. “Oh, shoot-I’ve got to quit doing things like that.”

“Like the doc said, that’s what the collar’s for,” Jake said sourly. “To keep you from doing things like that.”

“Uh-huh… He said he’d have the collar ready by this evening. He said that to you, Jake. He said he’d have the collar ready for you. What have you got to do with my neck brace?”

She sure didn’t miss much. Which, he reminded himself, was exactly what was going to make her one helluva witness.

Instead of answering her, he walked over to the window where he stood for a few minutes looking out at the parking lot, slowly filling up now, with Sunday-afternoon visitors. Then he turned, leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

It was a small room; he could almost have reached out and touched her, and yet he felt that she was far, far away from him. Which was, of course, the way he wanted it. Detachment, that’s what he had to have if he was going to make this work. Keep a professional distance, keep the operation and its goal in front of him at all times. Care about her safety-that went without saying. But beyond that-stay away.