"I'm not trying to make you mad, Ava. I'm trying to give myself one less person-two, actually, as Steven'll be coming home-to worry about. You'd be doing me a favor if you and Steven take your vacation now."

Ava tilted her head. "I'm not doing you any favors, Phoebe. I'm not leaving Essie or Carly, and that's all there is to it. If it was just you, I'd go, because a more self-sufficient woman I've never known. To the point of being annoying at times. Such as now."

Phoebe shifted in her chair. "You shouldn't make me mad on day one either."

"Then I'll hope to avoid that and tell you I've already talked to

Steven and told him he should go on up to Bar Harbor with the family of his college roommate as they've hit it off so well. He won't be coming home until June. And if we're not back to normal by then…" Ava scooped a hand through her swing of hair. "I'll think of another way to keep him from coming home."

"Which tells me you didn't tell him why you're so easy about him going to Maine."

"He's my baby same as Carly's yours, no matter how old he is. I'm not letting him come into this. Essie needs me, and while Carly has some of your self-sufficiency, she's just a little girl, and she needs me, too. And so, damn it, Phoebe, do you. So you can just forget tossing me off like I was more weight than value."

"If I didn't value you, I wouldn't want you to go. You could take

Carly and…" Phoebe dropped her head in her hands. "I know that won't work. I know it, but it doesn't stop me from wanting it. If I sent Carly away, she'd be upset and scared, probably more than she is now. Mama'd be frantic. I know it, Ava. Just as I know I can't leave Mama on her own day after day after day in the house. I need you here, but I love you, and I wish you could go."

"There, I'm not mad at you anymore." She skirted the desk and chair to wrap her arms around Phoebe from behind, press cheek to cheek. "We're all on edge."

"It's what he wants," Phoebe said quietly. "Whoever he is, that's what he wants first."

"Then sitting down to a nice meal is like flipping him the bird, if you ask me. We got us a nice roasted chicken, and I taught Josie how to make scalloped potatoes."

"Which means I'll give him the finger a second time when I have to go up and work out to make up for eating two helpings of those damn potatoes."

"Better keep it to one and save room for strawberry shortcake."

"Oh God, why do you torture me?"

"When I'm upset, I cook." Ava eased back. "I cooked a hell of a lot today."

It had been beautiful. He couldn't believe how perfect and powerful it had been. Every minute, every breath, from the moment he'd tossed that worthless fuck Roy into the trunk of his overpriced status car until the instant he'd blown him to hell had been an e-ticket ride.

Better, by far, than shooting the gangbanger. That had been so quick, and so much less dramatic.

Still, he wished he could have seen Phoebe's face when Roy went boom. That would've been the icing.

He looked at it now, the face tacked to the wall of his workshop. A face among many faces. All hers. Phoebe MacNamara. Coming home from a hard day of screwing with other people's lives. Standing around talking to one of her idiot neighbors. Walking her spoiled brat to the park, or along River Street. Swapping spit with that rich bastard she was screwing now.

Since he was still celebrating his recent success, he popped the top on another beer and toasted the many faces of Phoebe.

"Sweating now, aren't you, bitch? Oh yeah, you're sweating now. And you'll shed buckets before I'm done."

Trying to figure it out, he thought. She'd be racking her brains on this one. Who would kill poor Roy? Who'd do such a cruel thing? Boo hoo!

Hearing her voice in his head, he laughed so hard he had to sit down.

Too bad she hadn't started fucking the rich bastard a couple months sooner. With more time, more research, more legwork, he might've been able to target the new playmate instead of the ex-husband. Still, might be able to work something out. Just needed to think, to plan, to consider. Maybe take an opportunity, or make one.

"See what we see when we see it there," he muttered. "Got us a timetable, Phoebe." He lifted the beer again. "Counting down now. Tick, tick, tick. The last tick, and it all goes up in blood and smoke." Like she had, he thought, as another face swam into his mind. And with that image burning behind his eyes, he wept.

After dinner, after her daughter was safely tucked into bed, after the last call from her captain, Phoebe sat staring at the files.

There was a hollow place in the center of her now, as if something vital had just been carelessly scooped out.

She needed to work through it, or around it. If she could get her focus back, she could concentrate on the names, on the cases, on the reason. But that hollow place sat there, and threatened to pull the rest of her inside it.

She picked up the phone and called Duncan's number without asking herself why she reached for him. Or why when he answered the rim around that hollow place began to shake.

" I… Duncan."

"Phoebe. I was just talking to myself about you. Whether I should call you, or leave you alone for a while. Are you home?"

"Yes." The hand holding her cell phone wanted to shake, too. "I'm home. Are you?"

"Yeah. Checking up on me?"

"I didn't mean to…" To what? "To hover."

"Let's back up. I'd ask what's wrong, but answer's obvious. Is there something else?"

"I just talked to Dave. Everyone here's as settled as they can be, considering. I didn't want to say anything, to tell them now when…

Jesus. So, I call you and babble. Sorry. I should… something else."

"What did Dave tell you that you don't want to tell them?"

"Quick trigger on the brain. I like that about you. I'll probably find it annoying eventually. If it comes to eventually. He called to tell meI needed to know-that they found… one minute." She lowered the phone, got her breathing back in order. "There was a timer on the explosives. Roy. There was a timer set. The remote, that was backup, I guess. Or in case he wanted to go early. There was a timer, Duncan, set for one thirty-five. He was never going to let Roy live. No matter what I did or said, no matter what was done, it was always going to end the way it ended."

There was a pause, and she could hear Duncan let out a long breath. "He gave it enough time to make sure you'd get there. Built in some time so he could play with you. He wanted you to see it. He wanted you on the spot. You know that, Phoebe."

"He wanted me to bargain and wheedle and beg. And he wanted me to know, after it was done, that none of it mattered. Nothing I do will matter, because everything's already set. Clock's ticking down."

"He's got the last part wrong, because what you do will matter."

"He's got me scared to death. Just where he wants me."

"You called the wrong guy if you expect me to tell you not to be scared. What are you going to do about it?"

"What am I going to do about being scared?"

"No, what are you going to do about finding him so you don't have to be scared anymore."

"I'm reading files and looking for any… You're not going to tell me to be strong and brave?"

"I've seen you in action, I know you're both. But there are limits. Why don't I come over? I can read files."

She swiveled from her desk so she could look at the dark pressing on the windows. "You're offering to come over so I don't have to feel strong and brave." The empty spot inside her began to close. "That's done the job."

"Give me half an hour and-"

"No, no, I don't need you to come. I guess I just needed you to say you would. I just needed to hear't h a't… that I had an option," she realized. "Let me ask you one question, and remember, I'm an active listener, so I'll know if you're lying. Considering the situation, are you sorry you asked me out for that drink?"