"Sampson?"

"No comment. But you know the pressure he's under. The police start digging around, it turns into a media event. We don't need that kind of publicity, not now."

"Did Quantrell have anything to do with it?"

"What?"

"Did he ask Sampson to call off the cops?"

Ed looked perplexed. "Why would he? Look, I don't know why you're getting worked up about this. Or are you back with the old underdog crusade?"

"I was never on any crusade."

"Sure you were. Hell, you think it was easy for me, living with you? Putting up with that attitude of yours? I don't recall taking a vow of poverty when I married you. But I'd buy a BMW or… or join a racquetball club, and you'd wince."

She looked at him in mock horror. "I didn't."

"You did. And here you are, still at it. M. J., no one gives a damn about junkies. We have tourists getting mugged out there! Nice tourists, from nice places like Duluth. Those are the people we should be protecting. Not the trash out on South Lexington."

"Oh, Ed." She shook her head and laughed. "Ed, I have to say that, until this very minute, I never realized."

"What didn't you realize?"

"What a kind and sensitive jerk you are."

"There's that attitude problem again."

"Not an attitude, Ed. A principle." She turned for the door. "Maybe you'd recognize it. If you had one of your own."

Seconds after his ex-wife left the room, Ed Novak picked up the telephone and dialed the mayor's office. "She was just here," he said. "And I don't think she's too happy."

"You don't think she'll go to the newspapers, do you?" asked Sampson.

"If she does, we'll just have to stonewall 'em with no comments. Or deny there's a crisis."

"That's the strategy we take. Make her look like a loose cannon. In the meantime, do something about her, will you? She's getting to be a royal pain."

"I'll be honest, Mayor," said Ed with a tired sigh. "She always was."

All afternoon, Adam waited for M. J. to call. A nice supper to hash things out between them-that's what they needed. He was optimistic enough to make dinner reservations for two at Yen King. There he could make it clear that he was on her side, and that he intended to see more of her. But as the day wore on toward five o'clock, there was still no phone call. During the interminable board of directors meeting, he kept glancing at the door, expecting his secretary to come in with a message. At last a call did come in, but it wasn't from M. J. It was from his butler, Thomas.

"Dr. Novak returned the Mercedes," said Thomas. "I've just spoken with Regis Motors."

"Yes, she said she was going to buy a car today."

"The reason I'm calling, Mr. Q., is to tell you she paid for the Mercedes rental. The entire bill."

"But the bill was supposed to be sent to me."

"Precisely. And they explained it to her. But she insisted on paying it herself."

"They should have refused her payment."

"The staff at Regis tell me it was quite impossible to change her mind."

What was going on with that woman? Adam wondered as he hung up. Just last night, she'd seemed pleased about the car. There had been no question that the rental was his gift. Why her sudden insistence on paying the bill?

He reached once again for the phone. It suddenly seemed very important that he hear her voice, understand what was going through her head. He dialed, only to get her answering machine. In frustration he hung up without leaving a message.

At five-thirty, he left Cygnus and drove north. The Bellemeade turnoff was right on his way home; he decided to pass by M. J.'s house, on the off-chance he could catch her.

There was no car in the driveway, no answer to his knock on the door. He got back into his car and decided to wait a few minutes. The minutes stretched to a half hour. This is crazy, he thought. There he was, sitting in his car, waiting for some woman to appear. He hadn't behaved like this since he was a teenager.

Scratch that. I haven't behaved like this, ever. But here I am.

It was unexpected, this attraction he felt for her. The first time they'd met, he'd thought her pleasant enough to look at-all that black hair, those sea-green eyes. But the world was full of attractive women; he'd been married to one. M. J. wasn't particularly stunning. He'd seen her at her very worst, bruised and tattered in a street fight. Still, she had something he'd never seen in a woman before. Strength. A knack for survival. Heart.

That was it. Heart.

Maybe he had finally gotten over Georgina's death. Or maybe he'd just been waiting for a woman like M. J. to come into his life.

If only she'd appear in her damn driveway.

Forty minutes had passed. He was about to give up and go home when he spotted a gray Ford coming around the corner. M. J. was behind the wheel. She pulled into the driveway.

At once he was out of his car and moving toward her. She stepped out, holding a bag with Hop Sing Take-out printed on the side.

"M. J.!" he said. "I tried calling you-"

"I was out all day." Her tone was matter-of-fact and none too warm. She started toward her front door with Adam right behind her.

"I thought we were having dinner," he said.

"Were we? I must have forgotten." She unlocked her front door.

"Why don't we go out for some good Chinese food?"

"I happen to like Hop Sing," she snapped, stepping through the door.

Determined not to be shut out, he followed her inside, into the kitchen. "I don't understand what's happened-"

"I understand perfectly, Adam. If Cygnus were my company, I'd block the investigation, too."

He shook his head. "I didn't block any investigation."

"I mean, think of the PR disaster. The headlines. 'Cygnus manufactures killer drug.'"

"You think I'd go that far to protect Cygnus?"

"Haven't you?" She set the take-out bag on the counter and began to unload the contents. "Look, I'm starving. I'd like to eat this before it gets-oh, damn."

"What?"

"I left the fried rice in the car." She spun around and headed back out the front door.

He was right on her heels, following her across the lawn. "I made a reservation," he said. "Come on, let's go out."

"No, thanks." She reached into the car and retrieved the second take-out bag. "Tonight, I'm a solo act. Dinner. A hot bath. And absolutely no excitement of any kind." She turned away from the car.

Just then a deafening blast shook the house. She felt the sting of flying glass as she was hurled backward by the violent pulse of the explosion. She landed on her back, in the grass. Chunks of wood, flakes of asphalt tile rained down on her.

Then, like a gentle snowfall, a cloud of dust settled slowly from the sky.