gap between herself and her husband had yawned wider every day, but she’d made the best of it for Tommy’s sake, and would have continued doing so, if Brian hadn’t gone too far. Trying to land a hugely rich but personally repellent client, he’d instructed her to “be nice” to him.
“Just how ‘nice’ do you want me to be?” Megan had asked in an icy tone that should have warned him.
Brian had shrugged. “He’s worth millions, he’s got no family and his hobby is speculation. Work it out.”
Their own physical relationship had been over for a year at that point, but it was still a shock to discover that he’d respected her so little that he could suggest such a thing. When Brian returned home from work that evening, he’d found Megan and Tommy gone.
He’d tried to starve her back to him, refusing to allow her a penny even for the child’s upkeep. So she’d returned to work, taking the kind of low-ranking modeling jobs that would once have been beneath her, and supplementing her income with escort work. In comparison to the luxurious life-style she’d left, they were hard up, but she was happier than she’d been for a long time—until the sky had fallen on her.
In all those years there’d never been anyone to murmur “It’s all right...let me do the worrying.” But now someone had said it, and the words had given her ease.
She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange room. It was large and shabby but comfortable. It didn’t surprise her that she recognized nothing. The events of the past few days had made the unfamiliar familiar, and the unexpected, the norm. She was hot and achy all over, and her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton wool.
Then the door opened, and her enemy came in. She stared, aghast, and tried to pull herself upright in the bed, but lead weights pulled her back. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hoarse whisper.
“This is my home,” Daniel told her. “I brought you here after I found you in the park.”
“How dare you!” It was hard to sound angry when she could hardly speak.
“I had no choice, Megan. I couldn’t take you back to that apartment. The press had it staked out.”
“Not here. Anywhere but here,” she croaked.
“If you think about it, you’ll see that this is the best place. Who would ever think of looking for you with me?”
She started to cough and could do nothing until the fit had subsided. When it was over, she lay back, drained, and looked at him helplessly.
Daniel laid a gentle hand on her forehead. “You’ve got a feverish cold,” he said. “You stay here until you’re well.”
“You’ve taken a lot for granted,” she said hoarsely.
“What would you prefer, the hospital, where you’ll be stared at?” She shook her head weakly, beyond speech. “Don’t waste what little voice you’ve got left in abusing me,” he advised. “The doctor left you something to take. I’ll get breakfast and make you comfortable, then you must get some more sleep. The bathroom’s next door. Put this on.” He indicated a thick terry-cloth robe lying across a chair, and left the room.
As soon as she got out of bed, her head swam. It took ten minutes to get into the robe and out of the room. The bathroom mirror showed her looking haggard, with large, feverish eyes, but it had been a long time since she’d cared what she looked like. Almost subliminally she noticed that the room was exclusively male. There was shaving tackle and toothpaste, but no talcum powder, or anything else to suggest a woman.
She slowly made her way back to the bedroom, holding on to the wall, and was leaning against it to regain her breath when Daniel appeared with breakfast. “Let me help you,” he said, setting down the tray and reaching for her.
Her eyes glittered at him. “Don’t...touch...me....” she said in an emphatic whisper.
Reluctantly he let his hands fall to his sides and watched edgily as she tottered back to bed. After that, she seemed to have no more fight in her, accepting the tablets he offered without protest, eating some of the breakfast, falling asleep and staying that way for the rest of the day.
That afternoon Daniel called Canvey. His old colleague greeted him with cautious warmth, until he heard what Daniel wanted. Then he exploded with outrage and apprehension. “Are you out of your mind, man? Do you want me to be thrown off the force, as well?”
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Daniel said urgently, “but nobody need suspect. Just for one night, and you can have them back in the morning.”
“Masters will have my head on a plate if he finds out.”
“He won’t find out. Please, Canvey, I’m desperate.”
In the end, Canvey gave in as he was bound to do, since he owed his life to Daniel. He arrived after work that evening with a parcel that he thrust into Daniel’s hands with the words, “Have these ready when I call tomorrow morning, or we’re both in big trouble.”
Daniel went into the back room where he kept his audio-video equipment, the one luxury he allowed himself. He opened the parcel and found that Canvey hadn’t let him down. Inside were cassettes, both audio and video, of his interviews with Megan, three years ago, plus all his own notebooks.
He spent the night duplicating everything, and had just managed to get the parcel packed up by the time Canvey called on his way to work the next day. After thanking Canvey, he made his way upstairs with Megan’s breakfast. He found her coughing and sneezing, and unable to do much more than nibble on some toast. He put fresh sheets on the bed and helped her back in. She made no protest. In fact, she hardly seemed aware of him, falling asleep almost at once.
Then Daniel was free to settle down with the videocassettes and papers. He wished he could remember more about what had happened. It wasn’t uncommon for policemen to forget details in time, as other cases took over, but he’d always been known in the force for his phenomenal memory. Not with this case, though. His mind seemed to have wiped it out.
He tried an old trick. Stop worrying about the thing you needed to remember. Go back to something that had happened earlier and work forward. But that meant reviving a memory he flinched from; of how a gentle, loving woman and a bright-faced little boy had been mowed down in a car driven by Carter Denroy, a lout with booze running in his veins, a man so drunk that he couldn’t afterward remember what had happened. And that led to another terrible memory—Denroy walking from court, a free man, smirking because his only punishment had been a fine. That smirk had burned itself into Daniel’s consciousness so deeply that it still tortured his dreams.
He wanted to shy away now, but he forced himself to relive the scene, and gradually another detail emerged. There had been a woman there, too. A glossy, expensive woman who’d looked bored and impatient with the whole business of coming to court, as though it was simply too ridiculous to make a man pay for the lives he destroyed. As Denroy and the woman had walked out together, Daniel had heard her say, “You see, I told you it would be all right.”
Daniel had stepped out quietly to stand in front of them, which had made the grin fade from Denroy’s face. He’d halted, saying nothing, looking nervous. But the woman hadn’t been nervous. She’d looked Daniel up and down before saying imperiously, “Kindly get out of our way.”
Daniel
