"May-that's about the same time a band called Poe White Trash arrived in Austin."

Crow nodded ruefully. "Yep. I was looking for a girl singer. She was in the market for an accomplice to her self-destruction. We both got more than we bargained for."

"Did she tell you her whole saga, or did you just figure it out?"

"A little of both. I knew about her mother's murder before I met her-she wasn't shy about milking her past, whether for publicity or sympathy. One night up here the two of us ended up on a real maudlin drunk, literally crying in our beer. I showed her my broken heart, she showed me hers. She told me she had a fantasy about killing herself in front of Clay. Later she denied everything, said it was the liquor talking. But I had already seen the scrapbook. Besides, liquor's a pretty good truth serum. I've never known anyone to lie when they were drunk." He looked at her. "Once, when you had a lot to drink, you said…someone else's name in bed."

She didn't remember this, but nor did she doubt it. "You know, liquor isn't so much a truth serum as it is a paint thinner. It strips a lot of stuff away, takes you down to the old finishes. I am so over my past, Crow."

"As of when?"

"As of this morning."

He had nothing to say to that. Some things were so stupid they had to be true.

"You know, she may have been exaggerating," Tess said. "Emmie's definitely a drama queen."

"No, she's going to kill herself, and she's going to make sure Clay sees the whole thing. When I couldn't talk her out of it, I thought I might at least be able to stop her."

"How do you know it's going to be at the parade?"

"I don't, for a fact. But Sterne Foods is a fortress, she can't get to him there. Ditto the house on Hermosa. Besides, she has to jump, that's part of the fantasy. Falling to her death, falling in love. The parade route has a nice tall building in a key spot." He frowned. "Although not necessarily tall enough. I've tried to impress that upon her. There's a real chance she'll only cripple herself. Or kill someone else, a spectator along the route. A child, even."

The wind was kicking up, but the chill Tess felt had nothing to do with the weather.

"Why did Gus care if Clay and Emmie were together, anyway? They were the children of first cousins. They could have married in most states."

"Gus said she would hurt him, and he couldn't bear to see his son hurt." Crow's face was sad and drawn in the strange gray-blue light. "As if you can ever spare anyone the hurt of loving anyone."

She reached for his hand, unsure whether to hold it or pat it. She ended up tugging on his index finger. "I'm sorry, Crow."

"Sorry for what?"

"Everything?" It still didn't seem like enough.

The rain Mrs. Nguyen had predicted started then, as heavy and sudden as any storm Tess had ever experienced. It clattered on the tin roof, cascaded from the pecan-clogged gutters. It was as if watery drapes had been thrown over the world, blotting out everything.

"My car windows!" She ran through the rain to roll them up. When she returned, soaked to the skin, Crow was still sitting on the bedroll. For some reason, he seemed more surprised to see her now than he had been when she first arrived.

"I thought you had just uttered the greatest exit line of all time. ‘My car windows!'"

"Why would you think that?" she asked, squeezing water from her sodden braid.

"Because that's your style, Tess. Cut and run, with a few banalities about the weather, or your inability to make a commitment."

"I was trying to be fair to you. I had met someone else-"

"Tess, there's always going to be someone else. Your sexual desires don't go away because you're with someone. How are you going to stay in a relationship for the rest of your life if you can't grasp that?"

Tess was shivering in her wet clothes. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to find someone I want to be with forever and ever."

"Then you probably won't." His voice wasn't unkind. "Look, I don't want you to drive while it's raining so hard. You don't know this area. The low-water crossings will be five feet deep, you could be washed away if you make a wrong turn. Stay the night."

She pulled her T-shirt away from her skin, and it made a rude smacking sound. "You don't want me to leave because you need a ride into town tomorrow."

"Maybe." But he was smiling now, pouring on the charm.

"If I take you in, you have to let me come along."

Crow hesitated, but only for a moment. He had no leverage, he had to see that. It was a package deal, Tess and the Toyota. "Okay. Emmie knows you, so she won't freak out. She likes you, in her own way. In fact, she used to study this photo I had, the newspaper photo of you and Esskay."

"The one you showed Mrs. Nguyen, so you could search my room at La Casita. "

He wasn't listening to her. He was studying her face, with his detached painter's eye, as if planning to sketch her yet again.

"Your hair is going to get all snarly if you let it dry like that," he said. "You better comb it out."

"I don't think I have a comb in my knapsack. I wasn't planning on a slumber party."

"I do. I have a toothbrush, too, if you want it." He left the room and came back with both, obviously proud of himself.

"You were ready to evacuate all along, weren't you?" Tess asked.

"No, but I had the presence of mind to grab a few things before I jumped. I had my choice of toiletries, I just didn't have any money or food. I had to sleep in Brackenridge Park the first night, then catch a ride up here with a crew of day workers heading for a nearby ranch."

"Didn't it occur to you this place might be under surveillance?"

"Of course. But that was the one good thing about you finding that second body in San Antonio-it shifted all the attention down there." He was all but preening. "I keep the lights off to be safe, but as far as I can tell, the sheriff's deputies haven't come near this place. I have to admit I'm kind of proud of myself. It's not every man who gets away from Tess Monaghan twice."

"Let me have the comb, before my hair dries from all this hot air."

He shook his head. "No, you won't do it right. I've seen you comb your hair. You just try to beat the tangles into submission. Turn around, little girl, and no whining. Or we'll just cut off all this hair and leave you with something more manageable."

It was what her mother used to say when she was younger. She didn't even remember telling him this fact, but he remembered. Crow remembered everything.

She sat on the edge of the bedroll, her back to him. He unplaited her hair, running his fingers through it to loosen it. Only then did he use the comb, and he was as gentle as he had promised. He took his time, curling the ends around his finger, lifting the heavy mass so he could comb the wispy ringlets at the nape. The rain was even heavier now, and it was hard to imagine the room could get much darker.

"You ought to wear your hair up," Crow said, twisting it into a pile on top of her head.

"My friend Jackie showed me how to put it up so I don't look like a spinster in a bun. But I don't do it so well."

"Jackie?"

"A new friend. She has a little girl, Laylah, whom you'd love."

"I love you," he said very casually. "I stopped for a while, but then I started again."

Her back was to him, which made it easier to tell the truth, but it didn't make it easier to know what the truth was. She couldn't say she had stopped and started again, because she wasn't sure she had really loved him the first time around. She couldn't say she would love him forever and ever-she had just admitted she didn't know if she'd ever get that right. But Crow wasn't asking for assurances about the past or the future, she realized. He would settle for now.