When they were finished, Crow put on his jeans and went whistling into the kitchen to prepare everyone's supper. Tess, who had never been a stare-at-the-ceiling sort, found herself studying the old-fashioned light fixture over her bed as if she had never seen it before. Something worrisome was skulking around the edges of her mind. Not one thing. Three things.

One: the men in the salmon-under-shit car wanted Esskay, whom Spike expected her to protect. She had to find a safe place for the dog, someplace with no connection to Spike. Then she had to make Tommy tell her whatever he knew.

Two: she and Crow, usually so conscientious, had forgotten the whole safe sex routine tonight.

And three: she hadn't thought about this until now, because she had been thinking about Jack Sterling all along.

Chapter 16

"Did you get her blanket?" Tess asked Crow the next morning. "And the kibble? What about her Teddy bear?"

"I got everything," he assured her, slamming the trunk of his Volvo. "Even the Teddy bear. I know Esskay considers him her own personal boy toy."

"Everybody needs a little Crow. And it's toy boy. Girls have toy boys. Think about it."

Toy boys, smart ones, had their uses. Last night, after a skittish Tess had gone to the window a third time to check for the two-tone Buick in the empty alley below, Crow had demanded an explanation. It was Crow who had come up with the idea of asking one of Tess's friends, someone who considered himself forever in her debt. That was Plan One. Tess had figured out Plan Two, how to force Tommy to talk.

They drove south in silence, heading toward Annapolis, then veering down Route 2, into one of the old summer towns along the Chesapeake's western shore. These villages had once seemed remote, appropriate only for August-desperate escapes from Washington and Baltimore. Now the houses here were considered within commuting distance of both cities and tear-downs were common, as shacks made way for million-dollar mansions. A few rough cottages still stood along the South and West rivers, but only a hardy soul would consider them tolerable in the winter. Darryl "Rock" Paxton, the nationally ranked sculler who Tyner always held up as a role model for Tess, was the very definition of a hardy soul.

Some people chose to live close to work; Rock had chosen to live close to his workout. He had found the cottage a few months ago and used his savings to buy it. The house needed much in repairs and updates-a new roof, siding, double-hung windows to keep out the drafts. The long, twisting driveway from the main road had lost most of its gravel and was little better than a dirt trail. Those things could wait. Rock's only improvement project so far had been to clear the overgrown path to his dock. It gave Tess a pang to realize she wouldn't see Rock on summer mornings along the Patapsco any more, now that he had this place.

Today's workout behind him, Rock was waiting for them in his kitchen, a homely room furnished with one table, two chairs, and an elaborate array of coffee-making accessories. Despite the coffee consumed on the way down, Tess and Crow quickly accepted Rock's offer of a fresh cup. Rock was famous for his coffee.

"Today's selection is Jamaican Blue Mountain, prepared in a French press," he said. If ever lost his job as a researcher at Johns Hopkins, he could always try Donna's, Baltimore 's answer to Starbucks. The three stood with their steaming cups, watching Esskay amble from room to room. The cottage had only four rooms and there wasn't much for a dog to sniff, although Rock's futon provided some momentary interest. Inspection finished, Esskay came back to stand between Crow and Tess. Simple but intriguing, she seemed to be saying. Now let's go.

"She'll want to sleep with you," Tess told Rock. "She jumps into my bed, and that's a foot off the floor. There's no way to keep her out, unless you lock her in another room, and then she cries."

"No problem. She'll keep me warm."

"We never did get her a new leash to replace this chain. If you do, I'll pay you back. Did I tell you she tears up trash when she's lonely? And she needs ointment for those bare patches, at least for a little while longer." Tess felt a strange sensation in her throat, an itch at the back of her eyes. Crow took her hand.

"It's not forever," he said.

"I bet you'll be back to pick her up before the first race of the spring season," Rock said. In Rock-speak, this was the shortest time span imaginable.

Tess hugged her friend, marveling as she always did at the aptness of his nickname. In every sense, he was the most solid man she knew. He was so hard and competent that people often made the mistake of assuming he needed nothing from others: he was Rock, he was an island. Tess, who knew more than she wanted about the circumstances of his broken engagement last fall, thought Esskay might prove good company in the short term. And with the dog here, she would have incentive to visit him, something she had neglected to do since he had moved from the city.

Rock and Esskay stood on the back porch as Tess and Crow climbed into his Volvo. Tess tried not to turn her head, stealing a quick, final glance through her eyelashes and hair. The dog looked puzzled, glancing at Tess and Crow in the car, then back at Rock, who had placed his hand on her collar. Ever so slowly, in her ever so tiny brain, Esskay was realizing that something was amiss. They would be down the gravel driveway before she figured it out. By the time they reached Baltimore, she would have forgotten she had ever known anyone but Rock.

"He'll have to build a fence or keep her on a leash all the time," Tess muttered, more to herself than to Crow.

"She couldn't be in a better place, or a safer one. You know that."

Esskay cocked her head to one side, as if saying "What? What? What?"

Don't be a sap. You've never been stupid about animals. Don't start now.

Rock's hand rested on the dog's collar, but he hadn't curled his fingers around the fabric. So he wasn't ready for Esskay's quick surge as the Volvo started rolling down the driveway. Rock was strong and fit, but he wasn't a sprinter, and he wasn't as fast as Esskay, now trotting after the Volvo. The dog was moving at twenty mph, Tess judged. Maybe twenty-five. At any rate, she was right on their bumper.

"Greyhounds can reach speeds of up to thirty-seven miles per hour," Crow said.

"I'm more interested in what speeds you can reach right now."

"I can't go any faster on this driveway. But don't worry. Once we're on the highway, she'll give up."

The car's speed had notched up to thirty now. Esskay still kept pace. She did not seem angry or upset, just determined. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, giving her an antic appearance. She was enjoying the chase. This was a game, the dog had decided. They would never really leave me. She looked a little like a kangaroo, the way her rear legs kicked up behind her as she ran. She took the driveway's twists and turns better than the Volvo did, cutting sharp on the corners.

"Stop the car, Crow."

"Don't worry, I see her, I won't clip her. We're almost to the highway."

"Stop the car now."

The Volvo was still rolling when Tess threw open the passenger door and leaped out. Esskay jumped up, placing her paws on Tess's shoulders, ready to be congratulated for her effort. Crow braked and put the car in park, but Esskay ignored him, intent on licking Tess. Rock arrived a few seconds later, panting much harder than the dog.

"This gives me some ideas for cross-training," he said, when he caught his breath. "I'll take her back to the house and you can be on your way. I promise I'll hold tighter this time."

"She loves you," Crow said wonderingly, and Tess could hear a trace of bitterness in his voice. "She loves you."