"Yes, and that means there's no telling what somebody down the line might do if they find you." She tried to push out of her mind the disturbing possibilities that had begun to creep in like unwanted visitors.
"Which brings up what to do about those damned bugs downstairs," Burke said. "And I don't mean roaches. Obviously they're being monitored in the van out on the street. I could easily disable them, but that would signal something wrong and probably bring the Marines charging in."
Lori thought for a moment, then broke into a diabolical grin. "I think I'll go right back to the top. The Judge should be quite embarrassed at such blatant disrespect."
He followed her downstairs. She picked up the telephone and dialed Judge Marshall's home, the number he had left for her the night after her father's accident.
"This is Lorelei Quinn," she said in an angry voice. "I have just discovered the most despicable thing. While I was burying my father this afternoon, your minions broke into my house and bugged it. I accidentally found one on the phone line. When I began to look around, I discovered another over a picture in my living room."
Judge Marshall sounded shocked. "Why would any of my people want to bug your house?"
"From what you said this afternoon, obviously you're looking for Burke Hill. Somebody, probably Hawk Elliott, apparently thinks I can lead you to him."
The Judge's voice was apologetic. "I'm terribly sorry if that's the case. I didn't order it, believe me. I had no idea."
"I'll take your word, Judge Marshall. But you can tell Hawk Elliott if he's left any more of his creepy little bugs around here, I'm about to call in the exterminators."
"You can be sure I'll talk to him, Lori. I know he means well, but I don't condone that kind of conduct. It is definitely not part of our charter. You have my sincere apology. Nevertheless, I hope you'll remember what I said this afternoon. I was really quite fond of your father. And I feel the same way about you. What I said was meant to be in your best interests, not in any way threatening. Call me any time. Good night."
That renewed her faith in Kingsley Marshall as a fair and honest man.
With a big smile on her face, she walked into the kitchen, searched a cabinet under the counter and pulled out a small cardboard box. It contained two thick pieces of molded polystyrene in which a replacement part for a can opener had been shipped. Then she went over to the phone line where the detector had identified a transmitter. Locating the tiny device clamped around the wire, she twisted it off and dropped it into the box. It had been placed where it would pick up conversations from any extension in the house. Then she placed a step-stool beneath the picture in the living room, climbed onto it and reached up to pull off the other microtransmitter. With great aplomb, she placed it in the box with the other offending gadget, sealed the box with packaging tape, then marched triumphantly out to the patio with it.
As she came back inside, Burke shook his head with a grin. "Hell hath no fury like a woman bugged."
"How about checking all the windows. Make sure the miniblinds and draperies are tightly closed," she said. "I'll fix us some wine and cheese."
By the time he returned to the living room, she had placed a tray with crackers, cheese chunks, two glasses and a large bottle of wine on the coffee table. A towel lay draped across the cushions stacked at one end of the sofa where she stood, holding a jar of cold cream.
"Lie down," she said, motioning. "Head here."
She went to work with cold cream and tissues, rubbing away until the black was mostly gone. Then she sent him to wash his face with soap and water. When he came back after rigorous scrubbing, she reached up to his chin and pushed his face from side to side.
"Pink as a baby's bottom," she said. "Have some wine."
He sat beside her on the sofa and raised his glass. "To Lori," he said in a mock toast, though his voice was sincere. "A remarkable woman."
She gave him that bewitching look. "Flattery will get you everywhere."
He laughed. "You remind me of a teacher I had back in high school. Miss Barton. She taught ninth grade general science. She had sort of a dowager look and a really droll sense of humor. When somebody made a pun, she'd frown and say, 'Poor wit.' And when somebody stumbled around on an answer, she'd comment, 'He who hesitates is lost.’ She was a hoot."
They sat for hours and talked and sipped wine and nibbled cheese and completely ignored the rest of the world. Lori could not remember when she had opened up like this with someone. It was exactly the therapy she needed. But it was more than mere therapy, it was sharing her innermost self with someone who obviously cared. And though Burke confessed to having held his deepest feelings in check, she soon found him revealing emotions he had likely never put into words before. Just how long they talked, neither was sure. It involved the small, mundane things that add up over the years to shape people's lives. The nudging motivation of childhood dreams, teachers who brought new perceptions of life, friends whose faith spurred hidden talents. And there was the warmth of family gatherings, such as Christmases around what were viewed, from the memory of a child's perspective, as towering, gaily-decorated trees that smelled of fresh pine and spruce.
"You know what was the best present I ever got?" Lori asked, her eyes as bright and sparkling as a candle-lit wreath.
Burke emptied his glass and poured more wine for both. "Tell me."
She leaned back, clasping slim, tapered fingers behind her head, remembering. "I must have been about nine. We were in Paris that year. Dad had to go to Switzerland and didn't get back until Christmas Eve. He brought me this little music box with a compartment for rings and such. It had a ballerina on top. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. As the music played, she started to pirouette, and—"
"What was the music?"
"It was from Swan Lake. That's still my favorite ballet."
"Whatever happened to it, the music box?"
She sat up straight. "Would you like to see it?"
He laughed. "Why not?"
She stood up, grasped his hand and led him toward the stairs, switching off the lights as they went. She turned on a small lamp on her bedroom dresser and walked over to a chest beside the bed. She picked up the music box, stretched out across the bed, and wound it with the key on the bottom. She motioned to Burke, who was standing beside the chair. "Come here. You can't get the full effect from over there."
He lay across the bed beside her, watching as the tinkling music began to play and the dancer started to pirouette. The tiny ballerina seemed to spin faster and faster, and then suddenly she stopped. But the music continued.
Lori rolled over on her back, looking up at him, her eyes wistful. "That's the story of my life. I get caught up in the whirl of things, rushing ever faster, trying to make the most of every opportunity. I want to drink all the wine and smell all the roses. Then something happens to stop me cold."
Burke knew what she was thinking. She was recalling that rainy cemetery this afternoon, and the flag-draped casket.
He leaned down toward her and said softly, "Consider the bright side. As long as there's music, you can always dance again."
He kissed her and she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. The tinkling melody from Tchaikovsky's ballet masterpiece played on.
Chapter 29
Burke heard the sound of Lori's steady breathing beside him even before opening his eyes. When he saw the predominantly pink hue of the bedroom, memories of the previous evening came flooding back into his mind. He knew the feelings that had been stirring inside him since they first met at her office amounted to much more than just the affection he would have for an old friend's daughter. But that it could develop so quickly into something of such emotional depth caught him fully by surprise. He had traveled alone for so long that he'd forgotten the excitement, the passion, the electricity that two people could generate as their lives were coupled in an act of love.