She took a deep breath and sat down at the edge of the mattress. "I've told you everything about North there is to tell," she said. "Go ahead, ask away."

"It isn't about North," I said. I walked over to her and, like a reflex, like there was no question of maintaining any real distance, held out my hand. She took it. I nodded toward the couch. "Let's sit."

The mother in Julia must have read the part of my mind that was preoccupied with Tess's difficulty breathing-unless she already knew about it, having caused it. "Is something wrong at the hospital?" she said.

"Not anymore," I said. "Everything's fine." I helped her up and guided her to the couch. We sat down close to one another.

"Something's happened," she said, her voice straining. "What? Tell me."

"Things are fine. I called looking for you on the Telemetry unit. I ended up talking to Dr. Karlstein."

"Doctor-"

"He was there because Tess had had some trouble breathing."

Her head fell into her hands. "Is she all right?"

"She is," I said definitively. "Her breathing is completely back to normal."

"I'm going there right now," she said. "Will you drive me?"

"Hold on. She's fine. Really." I moved my hand to her knee and felt my own breathing quicken. Strange. With all the fires burning around us, the energy between us still felt the most incendiary. "Give me a minute to finish," I said.

Julia's panicked eyes searched my face. "Oh, God. You're not telling me everything."

"It's not about Tess," I said. I paused. "They found Billy. He was at LaGuardia, waiting for a flight to Miami."

She let out a sigh of relief. "At least he's safe."

"They're bringing him to the Suffolk County House of Corrections, in Boston. I'll see him there tomorrow morning."

She shook her head. "He shouldn't have to spend a single day in a place like that," she said. "He's innocent. I'm sure of it now."

I took back my hand, nodding to myself.

Julia looked at me with concern. "What else could be wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said. A sigh that escaped me said otherwise. "I had a chance to call Marion Eisenstadt," I said.

She stared at me a few moments. "You're kidding."

"You can tell me if that letter wasn't written to her," I said.

"I can't believe you actually bothered her with this. Behind my back."

"She told me you've had four or five sessions together. That's all she'd say."

"She didn't tell you about the letters?" Julia asked.

Was she bluffing? "She wouldn't," I said. "Not without a written release of information from you." I let that not-so-subtle hint hang in the air.

"You want me to sign some form to let you look at my psychiatric records, to prove I haven't been fucking someone else? Are you joking?"

"I just want you to be honest with me. I want you to know that you can be."

She shook her head in frustration. Her eyes filled up.

"If that letter was written to someone else, I have to talk to that person, as part of the investigation. I can't let it-"

She looked back at me, a new anger in her eyes chasing away any hint of sadness. "That's right. You can't let it go. You can't let go of the past and let us have a life together. You'll see phantom lovers of mine everywhere you turn. Because jealousy doesn't take any courage. Acceptance does. Loving someone does. And you can't really love anybody."

I pressed ahead, even though Julia's diagnosis of me gave me pause. "It's still hard to understand how after four or five…"

"It's not my job to convince you of anything," she said. "You'll believe what you want." She stood up. "This is foolishness. We're foolishness. I need to be with my daughter."

I wasn't at all sure I wanted her to leave-the apartment or me. Because even if Julia was lying, all she was probably lying about was her complicated past with men. And my own romantic life had been anything but simple. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was hesitating at the threshold of an emotion that had evaded me my whole life-the feeling of unconditional love for a woman.

She started toward the door.

"Don't leave," I said.

She stopped, but didn't turn back to me. "You're the one who left," she said. She started walking again.

"It's late," I said. "At least let me drive you."

She pulled open the door and slammed it behind her.

18

Saturday, June 29, 2002

I paced the loft for a few minutes, careful to avoid stepping close to the liquor cabinet, deciding whether to run after Julia. I stayed put. Barely. Whether she had lied to me or not, seen into my soul or not, I was finally starting to believe in my heart what North Anderson had been telling me all along. I couldn't see the case clearly with her dominating my line of vision.

I picked up the phone and dialed Anderson at home. I wanted to update him on how Julia had responded. He answered after one ring. " Anderson."

"It's Frank," I said.

"I'm glad you called," he said. "Things are getting ugly all of a sudden."

"How so?" I said.

"Mayor Keene called me about an hour ago. He wants me in his office first thing tomorrow. I think he's gonna let me go-or at least threaten to."

"Let you go?" I said.

"District Attorney Harrigan and Captain O'Donnell figure they've made their arrest," he said. "They want everyone to line up behind them. They know I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"Jesus," I said. "Is this Keene guy really just a front man for Bishop?"

"Worse than that," Anderson said. "He'd do the same dirty work for any one of twenty of his campaign contributors. I should have thrown him a grand myself." He paused. "I'm worried Bishop might have passed that photograph of Julia and me to him. He mentioned being concerned about my 'sense of propriety.' "

"They'd blackmail you?" I said. "Maybe you should wear a frigging wire when you go in there."

"I don't particularly want to start a federal case right now, literally or figuratively. What I want is to get you in to see Billy one more time, then get you in front of some reporters here and in Boston. I think you should go public with your doubts about his guilt-provided you still have them after the interview."

"When can I see Billy?" I asked.

"I've got you scheduled for three a.m. Billy will be in a holding cell. Friends of mine are working the front desk and prisoner intake tonight. You're all approved for a face-to-face with him."

"I'll be there," I said. "But what about you? What's your plan for tomorrow morning?"

"I can't say it's exactly great timing to hit the unemployment rolls," Anderson said. "Not with another baby on the way."

"No." I wanted to give Anderson permission to back off and let me take the heat. "Why don't you keep a low profile? Let me go public with what I think. Tell them you can't control me anymore. You could even fire me, if that looks better. I'll just keep moving ahead. I'm sure Billy's defense attorney will call me as a witness, anyhow."

"I guess I could back off at this point," he said. "Trouble is, I'm not in the mood. So I'm going to tell Keene something slightly different."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to tell him that you and I have worked cases every bit as tough as this one, in much tougher places, like Baltimore, that we've met men who make him and Darwin Bishop and O'Donnell and Harrigan look like dimestore thugs, and that, thank you very much, sir, Frank Clevenger and I like our odds of coming out on top of this case a lot better than we like yours. Have a nice fucking day."

I smiled. "I don't think that's going to save your job," I said.

"I have more important things to keep," he said. "My self-respect, for instance. Like I said, I've got a baby on the way."