She shook her head. "No," she whispered.
Not the man who was so in love with her that he blushed and stammered when she teased him at the breakfast table. Who had rescued her sister, and woken her mother from the ugly dream she'd been trapped in. Not the man who had made such sweet, passionate love to her all night long. Not her Connor. It was not possible.
The vortex was sucking at her, and this time there was no one to grab onto. No hero to rescue her.
"Erin? Erin!" Nick sounded as if he had repeated her name several times. "Are you there? Erin, I need to find him. If you know—"
"No." The word flew out of her mouth, flat and absolute. "I have no idea where he is, Nick. Not the faintest clue."
"It's for his own protection, Erin. We've got to stop this thing before it spins out of control. I swear, I'm on his side—"
"No. I won't do it."
"Goddamn it, Erin! If you really cared about him—"
"Fuck you. No," she hissed. She slammed the phone down. It started ringing seconds later. She wrenched the phone jack out of the wall and doubled over, gasping. Everything was spinning, going black.
Connor had made her feel so whole, so strong. Like she could bless the whole world with her happiness, just touch it and turn it to gold. For the first time, she had lost her fear of the vortex. Of chaos.
And Nick was telling her that her joy was rotten at the core.
"Erin? Honey? Are you OK?"
She looked up at her mother, who was gazing at her with anxious eyes, and pasted on the best smile she could. "Sure, Mom."
"Who was that on the phone?"
She hid the hand that was clutching the phone jack against her leg. "I was just talking to, ah, Lydia," she said.
"Lydia?" Barbara frowned. "From the museum? That cast-iron bitch who fired you?"
She nodded. "Mueller offered the museum a huge donation, but one of the conditions is that they take me back," she explained. She tried to sound excited about it, but her mother wasn't stupid.
Barbara sniffed. "Well, I think you should spit in their faces," she said. "The nerve! When it suits them, they snap their fingers and expect you to trot right back? I think not!"
"You have a point," Erin said. "But I think I'll go to that meeting today anyway, and see what it's all about. I can always spit in their faces after I see the terms they offer me."
"That's my smart, careful, thoughtful girl," her mother said. "Always hedging her bets, trying to do the right thing."
"Not always," she burst out. "Not always."
"I take it you're referring to Connor," Barbara said. "I must say, he's growing on me. He can be extremely rude, and his background leaves something to be desired, but I did like those brothers of his. Even if all three of those McClouds strike me as, well… kind of out there. But they got Cindy back. That won them lots of points. And it's plain to see that Connor's crazy about you, sweetheart."
She flinched at her mother's choice of words. "I know."
"And any man with the nerve to sneak into my house and seduce my daughter under my nose after what he saw me do to Billy Vega's car… well. All I can say is, he must be made of very stern stuff."
Erin's face flamed. "He didn't seduce me last night," she said. "I seduced him."
Her mother's lips flattened to a thin line. "That was more information than I needed, sweetheart."
"Sorry, Mom," she murmured.
Barbara's expression softened. "There's something you should know before you go to that lunch meeting, hon. I'm going to start looking for a job. And Cindy's going to learn how to pull her weight, too. You don't have to carry us. We'll be strong for ourselves, and for you, too. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"
Erin's lip began to tremble. "I think so," she said.
"You'll make it just fine without that trash at the museum. So if you want to spit in their faces, go right ahead. Don't think twice."
"Thanks, Mom. I'll keep that in mind."
"Follow your heart, honey. Don't compromise yourself."
"I'm trying." Her lips started trembling. "I swear, I'm trying, but I'd better get going now. I've got an incredibly busy day. I need to run home and feed Edna, and then dress for lunch with the museum heads. And I have to schedule a meeting with Mueller after that."
Barbara frowned. "You promised Connor you'd stay right here with us, where you're safe. And I agree one hundred percent that lying low is an excellent idea. At least until things calm down."
Erin kissed her mother's cheek. "I'll call him and explain. He's a sweetheart to be so protective, but I can't cower in a hole forever. I promise I'll take cabs everywhere, Mom. I'll be just fine."
Her mother still looked anxious, and Erin gave her another coaxing kiss. "We're going to be fine now. We got Cindy back, and now this big opportunity just falls into my lap. Things are looking up."
It took all the strength she had to keep the cheerful facade in place until the taxi arrived.
The traffic was a nightmare. Connor leaped out of his car when he finally arrived, bolted for the house, and beat on the door.
Barbara pulled the door open. "Connor, what on earth?"
"Is Erin here?"
She frowned. "Didn't she call you?"
"The phone's been busy for a half an hour," he snarled.
"She told me she would call you and…" Barbara's voice trailed off. "Oh, dear."
"What?" His voice cracked with fury. "She left? Alone? You're kidding me. Where the fuck did she go?"
Barbara bristled. "Don't you dare use that language—"
"Just tell me, Barbara. Tell me now."
The desperate urgency in his voice made the color drain from her face. "She got a call," she said faintly. "From the museum where she used to work, for a lunch meeting, and then—"
"And then?" he prompted.
"Then she has to meet with that Mueller fellow. She told me she was going to call you. She took a cab to her apartment so she could change. She left almost a half hour ago. She's probably home already."
He bolted for his car. The screen door burst open and Barbara scurried after him. "Connor, I insist that you tell me what's going on!"
He wrenched his car door open. "Billy Vega was murdered this morning, before I ever had a chance to find him or talk to him. Strange, huh?"
Barbara's face went gray beneath her makeup. "Go," she said. "Hurry."
He ran lights, swerved in and out of lanes, screamed obscenities at slow motorists, but his most aggressive driving was nothing pitted against weekday Seattle traffic. He called her apartment while trapped at an interminable red light, and the machine picked up. "Erin, it's Connor. Pick up if you're there, please."
He waited, crossing his fingers. Nothing.
"Look, I just found out that Billy Vega's been killed," he went on. "I'm really wishing you hadn't broken your promise and left your mom's house. What were you thinking? Please pick up, Erin." The light went green. He dropped the phone and accelerated through it.
He double-parked, and took the stairs at the Kinsdale three at a time. No response to his knock. He used his ATM card again.
Erin was gone. The Mueller report was gone. Her perfume scented the air. She'd taken the time to make her bed, do her dishes, pick up her scattered clothes, feed her cat, and he'd still missed her. By so little that the animal was still crouched over its bowl, tail twitching for joy.
She had taken none of the items he had tagged with beacons, not even the goddamn organizer. He wanted to howl like a wolf, to break things, punch walls, smash furniture. He'd thought that she trusted him. He was bewildered, after the perfection of last night, that she would turn on him and disappear, with no warning, no explanation.
A sucker punch, right to the solar plexus.
He fished the phone number out of his freak memory, and dialed.
"Hello, you have reached the mobile number of the administrative offices of the Quicksilver Foundation," said Tamara Julian's melodious recorded voice. "Please leave us the date, time, and purpose of your call, and we will get back to you as soon as possible. Have a lovely day."