Silent Treatment

Kevin was in over his head. He knew itnow. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it — except to adjust. Theprice of a ticket on this ride was a twelve-room house and a secure future forhimself and his family. He had paid the fare. Now he had no choice but to hangon and make the best of it. The next time Kelly asked, he would be ready for.. whatever.

He had poured another two fingers when thephone began ringing.

'Tristram,' he said.

'It's Gawaine,' the knight whispered. 'Canyou talk?'

'Yes, I'm alone.'

'You sent your girl home?'

'Yes.'

'Jesus. You are asking for trouble. Mine'sin the other room.'

'What's going on? Why did you stop me atthe meeting?'

'I know your name. Do you know mine?'

'No.'

'It's Stallings. Jim Stallings. I'm a vicepresident with the Manhattan offices of Interstate Health Care.'

Kevin knew the gargantuan managed carecompany well. He had once interviewed for a sales job with them.

'Go on,' he said.

'Loomis, we've got to talk. Tomorrow, noonsharp. Can you make it?'

'I can, but — '

'Battery Park. The benches on the Hudsonside. Just be damn sure you're not followed.'

'But — '

'Please, Loomis. Wait until tomorrow atnoon, and be careful.'

'One thing,' Kevin said quickly. 'Did yousee the picture of that woman DellaRosa?'

'Of course I did.'

'And do you think it's Desiree?'

'I never had any doubt about it. It was youI had doubts about. I wasn't sure if you were one of them or not. But aftertonight I'm willing to take the chance that you're still an outsider like me.In fact, I'm betting my life on it.'

Kevin listened to the dial tone forseveral seconds. Then he set the receiver down and walked to the window.Fourteen stories below, scant early-morning traffic flowed in slow motion alonglargely deserted streets. A cab pulled up and stopped directly beneath hiswindow. A woman wearing a tight iridescent red dress hurried out and climbedinside. The lady without a name.

The cab rolled to the corner and thenturned uptown. Kevin sensed that he had seen the girl, stroked her magnificent,taut body, for the last time. He glanced at his watch. Eleven hours. Elevenhours until Battery Park.

Chapter24

At three-thirty in the morning, Maura gaveup trying to sleep and tiptoed from the small guest room to the den. Throughhis partially open door, she could see Harry asleep in the master bedroom. Fora time after they returned from C.C.'s Cellar, she thought he might ask her tojoin him there. He liked her. That seemed clear. But there were reasons — plenty of them — why he would want to keep some distance between them. Keyamong them was that she had given into her frustration and her demons and hadbeen drinking that afternoon.

It was just as well, she thought. Shewasn't ready for an emotional entanglement any more than he was. Still, shecouldn't remember the last time a man's looks had turned her on so. And moreimportant, he was one of the kindest, most decent men she had ever met. Itwould have been nice just to curl up in his arms for a night and let the chipsfall where they may.

She turned on the den light and ran herfinger over the volumes in the bookcase, searching for something light — verylight. Then again, she thought, perhaps heavy would be better. She pulled out athin paperback of poems by Lord Byron. Evelyn DellaRosa was written inperfect script inside the cover. Evie was, of course, another valid reason forHarry's maintaining distance between them. Maura closed the book and slid itback. She and Harry had been through so much since his wife's death that it wasdifficult to remember it had only been a few weeks.

She scanned the shelves once more andfinally settled on a coffee-table book on Ireland. In six hours she and Harrywere scheduled to meet with Pavel Nemec. Maura desperately wanted the sessionto work out. Connecting with the face that was locked in her subconscious wouldjust about balance her humiliation at having fallen off the wagon. She hadnever been hypnotized before and had no idea whether being sleepless for theentire preceding night would be a plus or a minus. On the other hand, if thelegendary Hungarian was as incredible as his reputation, it probably didn'tmatter.

As Harry had predicted, the moment Nemecheard his request, a time slot had been cleared out for them.

'Exactly what did you do for hisson?' Maura asked after Harry told her about the appointment.

'Ricard? Nothing, really. I just did aroutine physical for music camp,' he said. 'He plays the French horn.'

'And?'

'And I found a little lump that I didn'tlike beneath one arm.'

'Cancer?'

'Hodgkin's disease, actually. Thank God itwas in an early stage. It's been about six years now, so he's considered acure.'

He said it all so matter-of-factly, likeshe might talk about mixing paints. But Maura knew about school physicals andcamp physicals and such. She had had enough of them to know that most doctorsdid nothing but listen to your heart. But Harry hadn't dealt with Pavel Nemec'sson in such a cursory way. Harry had been. . Harry.

Maura reflected on what he had told her ofthe drama swirling around him at the hospital — the call from his friendAtwater asking him to remove himself from the staff; the hearing that was beingarranged to decide whether or not he would be allowed to continue to practicethere.

Harry Corbett didn't deserve that sort oftreatment, she thought angrily. She brushed her fingers across her feathery newhair and along the still-sensitive margins of her craniotomy scar. He alsodidn't deserve the treatment she had given him. Drinking again had beenpetulant, immature, and stupid. She was lucky he hadn't just handed her abottle and booted her out.

'No more,' she muttered, knowing that shehad failed to honor the same pledge many times before. 'That's it, lady. Notone more drop.'

She flipped through a few pages of Irishcountryside and felt her eyelids grow heavy. She wondered what it would feellike to be hypnotized — if it would feel like anything at all. O'Brien's Toweratop the Cliffs of Moher in County Clare blurred, then faded.

No more. The words echoed in her mind. Notone more drop. .

The aroma of brewing coffee worked its wayinto her consciousness. She opened her eyes a slit.

Pale morning light filtered into the denfrom between buildings. Harry sat on the easy chair beside the sofa. He wasdressed in gray sweats with a towel draped around his neck, and had obviouslyjust finished a workout. His dark hair glistened with sweat, and the color inhis cheeks made his rugged good looks just that much more appealing.

Maura reached over dreamily and squeezedhis hand.

'What time is it?' she said.

'After seven. We still have a while if youwant to doze off again. I'm just being selfish by waking you up like this.'

'Then I'll be even more selfish and stayawake.'

'How do you feel?'

'Sober.'

She knew it was the only word he reallywanted to hear.

'You ready to have your brain probed byThe Hungarian?'

'I am. He had just better be set to boldlygo where no man has gone before.'

'He's a wizard — at least that's what I'vebeen told. Hey, listen. Evie's three-hundred-dollar coffee-maker is hard atwork in the kitchen. The first thing she did after the wedding was to give awaymy Mr. Coffee. Hers goes to the gourmet shop by itself, mixes the perfectblend, then grinds, brews, and samples it.'

'With that build-up, I'm all taste buds.'

'How do you take it?'

'After yesterday you have to ask?'