Carine had placed his cell phone on the steps. He grabbed it and clicked onto his phone book, found Val's number and hit the button for an automatic dial. She answered almost before it rang, static making her hard to understand. "Ty? They're gone. They took the computer, a bunch of folders he had-he doesn't have an office yet, so he's been working out of here."

"You okay?"

"I just wolfed down cold pepperoni pizza, right out of the refrigerator. You'd have thought I was starving. It was disgusting. All that coagulated grease."

Ty smiled. "Val, you're a trip and a half. Anything out of Manny?"

"Are you kidding? He's lucky I don't drive up to Boston and shoot him myself."

She was handy with a gun. Ty wouldn't put it past her, except he'd never seen a couple more committed to each other than Manny and Val Carrera. "He must be cooperating with the police. He has nothing to hide. If it turns out Louis Sanborn traces back to the shooting here last year, we'll know it. Law enforcement will put the pieces together."

She sighed, deflating. "This past year-it hasn't been easy. He did good work as a PJ, you know? He loved it. Then Eric got sick, and I went kerplooey on him-"

"Kerplooey?"

"Yeah." He could almost feel her smile. "It sums up what happened to me rather nicely, a very nasty mix of clinical depression, burn-out, stupidity and guilt."

"Manny says you just need a job."

"He does better with other kinds of head injuries than the kind I had. He got sucked into this Rancourt mess, Ty. He's not going to let go until he's got it sorted it. That's the way he is."

North nodded. "I know."

"This business thing wasn't a great idea. I saw that crap in the file about doing it for me. Bullshit. I think- " She swallowed, no hint of any good humor coming through from her end now. "I'm not sure he likes the idea of being alone with me for the rest of his days. With Eric away at school-"

"Val, don't do this to yourself, okay? You two are going to the home together. You know that."

"I keep thinking-" Her voice quavered. "I don't know, if I could just do something to bring order back to the universe."

Ty tried to smile. "It's not your job to bring order to the universe, Val. Jesus. Some days it's enough just to get in three meals and eight hours of sleep."

But she didn't relent. "Haven't there been times in your life when you've felt as if you're under siege and nothing's ever going to go right again?"

"You bet, Val," Ty said gently. "We've all had those times."

When he hung up, Carine eyed him, obviously curious about what Val had said, but he put her off and dialed Hank's cell phone, remembering the Pave Hawk pilot he'd flown combat missions with just a few years ago was a senator now. But his voice-mail message was unchanged-"Hi, it's Hank. Leave a message…"

"Check on Val Carrera if you can," Ty said. "She's had a bad day. The cops searched-ah, hell, Hank. You're a senator. You can't get mixed up in this mess. Forget it. Val will be fine. So will Manny." He clicked off and tossed the phone onto the steps. "Gus and I agree on one thing. Cell phones should be banned."

Carine slipped her hand out of her blanket and placed it on his thigh. "Val knows she has to hang in there. She will."

He covered her hand with his, noticed that even without the blanket, his was warmer. "You do realize your brother-in-law is a senator?"

"It's sinking in. I'm not registered to vote in Massachusetts -isn't that awful? I didn't even vote for him." She lifted Ty's hand and examined his blister. "I've still got my first-aid kit. I can treat it."

"It hardly even counts as a blister. Share a corner of your blanket with me?"

She tossed a section of it over his shoulder, and he scooted in closer to her. But the thing didn't make him feel nostalgic at all. It stunk, and it scratched. He put a finger through one of the holes. She smiled. "Waste not, want not. Saskia got that part of living up here. I tried to explain to Louis that we Yankees are frugal, not cheap. There's a difference." She took a breath, her voice cracking almost imperceptibly. "Except he wasn't southern after all."

"We don't know that for a fact. We just have Manny's notes."

She shook her head. "Ty, I never would have guessed he wasn't on the level. Never. He was funny, irreverent, nice. Jodie-she lied, too. I never would have guessed they were having an affair. I must not be a very good judge of character."

"Louis could have been funny, irreverent and nice and still not be on the level."

"Not nice. That's what Manny said to me on Wednesday before the police got there. Louis Sanborn wasn't a nice man. I guess he was trying to warn me."

Ty said nothing, just leaned back against the step, taking Carine with him in the blanket. She laid her head against his shoulder, the smell and the roughness of the old blanket apparently not fazing her. He kissed her hair, which was soft and smelled of some citrusy shampoo, not mothballs, and if he smelled like sweat and sawdust, she didn't seem to mind.

Nineteen

Carine tried to go for her run on her own, but Ty put on running shorts and a ragged shirt and joined her, saying he could provide motivation for her to get her speed up.

Just what she needed.

At some point, he'd mapped out the same mile-anda-half route she had. He also had the same three-mile, five-mile and ten-mile routes. Ten miles was as far as she'd ever run. Any farther, she was in hiking boots and packing food and a tent.

But her morning hike and the tension of the past few days affected the muscles in her legs, her stamina, her breathing. She couldn't get a rhythm going in her stride. She had on close-fitting leggings, a moisture-repelling running shirt, special running socks and her expensive running shoes, but they weren't doing her any good.

"I'm dying here," she said after they'd made the turn and were on their way back. "I feel like I'm sprinting."

Ty trotted alongside her with little apparent effort. "Push harder. You can make it."

"You should see me do five miles. It's this damn speed-"

"Carine, you're not running that fast."

"Easy for you to say." They turned into her driveway, and she glowered at him when she saw that he wasn't even breathing hard. "North-I hate you. I've always hated you."

"The refrain." He grinned at her, the run obviously not fazing him. "No, you have not always hated me. That's what kills you."

Her knees were wobbling, and she was sweating and gasping for air, her chest aching, when just a week ago she'd have been fine-not breaking any records, but not ready to drop, either. Ty looked as if he'd just done a warm-up. Plus, he'd chopped wood. And he'd gone on the hike with her.

"Couldn't you at least cough and spit?" she asked him. "Get a stitch in your side?"

"Can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen."

She scowled at him. "My body must have been possessed by aliens when we were engaged."

"Well, maybe your mind was. I know your body wasn't." He swatted her on the rear end. "Now, come on. Hoof it the last few yards. Sprint. Go all out."

She tried to kick him, but he was ready for her and bobbed out of her reach. The hell with it. She dove for his midsection. Headfirst, the way she always had. But he grabbed her by the hips, flipped her over, and before she knew what was happening, she was upside down, looking at the ground. "Hey!" she yelled. "You're going to step on my hair."

Her running shirt dropped down to her chin, and she felt the cool air on her overheated skin-and his hands. "Christ, you have been doing your ab work."

She did her level best to kick him in the jaw.

He laughed and swooped her back over and onto her feet. The blood that had rushed to her face while she was upside down rushed back out again, and she felt herself get dizzy and almost tripped. He caught her by both shoulders, steadying her. "You okay?"