Alec noticed her staring at the walls. “Makes you want to put on sunglasses, doesn’t it?”

“Who picked out this color?”

“No one will own up to it.”

The refrigerator was also new and was stocked with water and soft drinks. Alec handed her a bottle of water and then pulled out a chair across from her and sat down.

There was a steno pad and a ballpoint pen in the center of the table. Alec pushed both toward her. “You might as well get a head start and write the names you put on your murder list.”

Murder list. Oh, God, what a mess this was. She picked up the pen and quickly wrote the five names. She labeled the bodyguards A and B since she didn’t know their real names. When she was finished, she pushed the pad toward him.

He leaned across, glanced at the list, and then pushed the pad toward her again.

“Okay, now write down all the notes you were making while Shields was talking.”

That was easier said than done. She tapped the toe of her shoe on the linoleum floor while she tried to concentrate. Emily Milan came to mind. Regan remembered she’d made a note to have it out with Aiden’s assistant. Oh, and Peter Morris. How could she have forgotten him? She’d made a note to talk to security about him. But who else? Was there anyone else?

The tapping increased. “There’s no need to be nervous,” he said.

“I’m not nervous.” It was a lie, and he knew it.

Then she realized she was jiggling the table with her knee, making a racket with her foot. She forced herself to stop. “Maybe I’m a little nervous.”

She put the pen down and once again pushed the notepad toward him. He looked at her notes but didn’t comment.

She stared at the tabletop while she tried to recall what else she’d written on those papers. Had she left anyone off her doom list? She remembered wanting to add Emily’s name at the last minute, but she never got the chance.

She looked up at Alec, and for a second she actually lost her concentration. That had never happened before. But then, Detective Buchanan was a very interesting man-and a definite contradiction. He was a bit disheveled with his tie still askew, his wrinkled suit jacket, and his desperate need for a shave, but he had impeccable manners, was obviously well-educated, and had a sense of humor-a trait she thought would have been the first to vanish in his line of work. When he was giving her his full attention, she could almost feel a magnetic pull.

Okay, I’m losing it, she thought. She cleared her throat and said, “I saw you in Lieutenant Lewis’s office when I was there before, talking to Detective Sweeney.”

“I saw you too.”

Momentarily sidetracked by his admission, she said, “You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes, well, the thing is… the lieutenant was shouting at a police officer,” she said. “Actually, as I remember, he was screaming. I had never seen anyone behave like that. No one in such a position of authority, anyway. I thought his conduct was appalling.”

“He wanted to get rid of the officer.”

“You defended him.”

He smiled. “You saw that too?”

“Yes,” she said. “I saw you arguing with the lieutenant, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying to him. Unlike your superior, you didn’t raise your voice. I remember thinking that he… Lewis… was humiliating that officer.”

Alec disagreed. “No,” he said. “He tried to humiliate him, but he didn’t succeed. The officer knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. How come we’re talking about this now?”

She couldn’t hold his stare but looked over his shoulder. “I was going to put the lieutenant’s name on the list.”

He was trying hard not to smile. “But you didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t. I would have, though, if I hadn’t been interrupted. My cell phone rang, and I had to hurry out into the hall to answer it. I would have added his name if I’d continued. I just thought you should know.”

“I wouldn’t tell Detective Wincott if I were you.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “It’d be cruel, getting his hopes up and then disappointing him.”

“But I didn’t put Lewis’s name on the list.”

“There you go.”

Regan finally asked the questions that had been nagging at her.

“Why are you leaving Chicago?”

“It’s a long story.” He didn’t go on.

“Where will you go?”

“Back to Boston. That’s where I’m from.”

“We have a hotel in Boston.”

“I know,” he said.

He didn’t offer any information, and she didn’t press him to explain. They both turned when the door opened. Detective John Wincott took a step inside, then bent down to pick up some papers he’d dropped. The perfectly round bald spot on the crown of his head was visible and shiny. Wincott’s partner told everyone in the precinct that Wincott was sensitive about his hair loss, so of course at every opportunity he was teased and tormented. One of Wincott’s least favorite nicknames was Friar Tuck, but fortunately, he had a good sense of humor.

He reminded Regan of a harried accountant, probably because he was carrying what looked like a ledger with papers sticking out every which way. Then she noticed the gun holstered to his side, and the possibility that he was an accountant went out the window.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You still look half dead,” Alec told him after introducing him to Regan.

Regan thought the man was actually rather nice looking, but with the dark circles under his eyes and the gray complexion, he did look worn-out.

“Yeah, well, I missed my day at the spa this week,” Wincott said.

Alec laughed. “I forgot to ask. How’s the baby?”

Wincott turned to Regan to explain, “Our baby’s cutting teeth,” he said. “And she’s not happy about it, which means my wife and I aren’t happy either. Neither one of us is getting any sleep.”

“I hear whiskey helps,” Alec said.

“I tried that, but it only gave me a bad hangover the next morning.”

“You’re supposed to rub some on the baby’s gums. It numbs them.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing. Besides, what if she likes it? What if she develops a real taste for it? Before you know it, I’m driving my two-year-old over to AA. Too risky,” he said with a straight face.

Alec stood. “I told Regan you’re an adequate detective. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

“Don’t you want to sit in on this?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got some phone calls to make. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything,” he told Regan. “Okay?”

He was being very sweet, she thought. And looking worried about her. “Yes, okay,” she said.

Alec pulled the door closed behind him. He turned and bumped into Lyle Bradshaw. Wincott’s partner looked impeccable as usual. His striped tie had a perfect knot in it, his dark suit was wrinkle free, his shirt was immaculate, and his shoes, like always, looked brand-new. Standing next to him, Alec looked as though he’d just recently been mugged.

“Is she in the coffee room?” Bradshaw asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Yes,” Alec said. “Wincott’s with her.”

“Is he drooling?”

“Excuse me?”

“I hear she’s a stunner.”

“Yeah? Where did you hear that?”

“The pool,” he said, referring to the open area where all the detectives worked. “She’s been the topic of conversation since you brought her in. I hear she’s got a gorgeous face and a body that just won’t quit.”

Alec was surprised by the spark of anger he felt. It came out of nowhere.

“She’s definitely out of your league, Lyle.”

Newly divorced, Bradshaw considered himself a ladies’ man. Women found him attractive and attentive, and he never lacked for female companionship, but Alec thought he was a little too arrogant for his own good, and on occasion he could be downright obnoxious. His only saving grace was his skill as a detective.

Bradshaw was opening the door to the coffee room when Alec called out, “Hey, Bradshaw.”