She immediately became suspicious. This was too easy. "Thank you."

"How are you going to get there?"

"I'll drive."

"Wasn't your car blown up?"

How could she have forgotten that? "I won't drive my car."

"I guess not."

"I'll rent a car."

"Kate, what's this about?"

You, you big dummy. You're what this is about. You could get killed. Oh, God, she couldn't even think about that. And what about all the other detectives and policemen? All of them could die in one big boom. She shook her head, letting him know she wasn't willing to explain.

He didn't take the hint. "What's this about?" he repeated.

She gave in. "It just struck me. People could die protecting me…"

Tears pooled in her eyes. Dylan must have seen them because he pulled her to her feet and hugged her. "It's okay. You're just a little overwhelmed."

"I guess I am," she said. She waited for him to give her a few words of comfort, to say something, anything, that would make her feel better.

He didn't seem inclined to do more than hold her, and after a moment she realized that was all she really needed.

Kate lifted her head from Dylan's chest. "What about Carl?"

"What about him?"

She put some space between them. "Are you convinced that he had nothing to do with any of this?"

"Yes, I'm convinced."

"Then he can go home?"

"No, not yet. He's going to have to convince some other people first."

Two FBI agents and another detective from Charleston PD who were helping Nate out arrived at the police station an hour later and took turns questioning Carl. After they had finished with him, they let him go home. He kissed Kate on the cheek, squeezed her hand, and whispered, "Be brave, darling."

They questioned her next. She was weary of having to go through every little detail again, starting with that first explosion, but she cooperated and answered every question as thoroughly as she could. By the time they ran out of questions, she had run out of patience.

Drummond came to get her. "Come on, Kate. It's time to go home. Your house has been searched from top to bottom, and is clear."

"Where's Dylan?"

"He's waiting for you in back."

She collected her purse and briefcase from his office and followed him to the back door.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "You're going to get through this just fine," he said. If she wasn't sure of his good intentions, she might think he was chastising her with his abrupt order.

"I'll be over later with dinner," he added.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble-"

"Yes, I do. I looked inside your refrigerator. I'll bring something," he said curtly.

She was glad hadn't protested when she arrived home and looked in the refrigerator. There really wasn't anything there she wanted to eat. Her stomach was grumbling. Neither she nor Dylan had eaten anything since breakfast, and it was already after six.

"Time flies even when you're not having fun," she remarked as she walked into the front hall.

Dylan followed her up the stairs carrying their bags.

"You're not having fun? I guess we'll have to do something about that."

He didn't ask her if she wanted him to share her bed. He put his bag in the guest room and dropped her bag on her bed.

She was not going to ask him to sleep with her. Absolutely not. She went into the bathroom, locked the door, and took a long shower, hoping that would revive her.

It didn't help much. She put on her favorite pair of old jeans and a T-shirt and actually did feel a little better then. She combed her hair and went downstairs.

Dylan was in the backyard talking to a police officer. She watched him from the kitchen window while she chewed on a wilted celery stick. He looked tired, she thought. And wonderful. He certainly seemed to be coping better than she was. There were moments when she felt she was going to fall apart.

Not wanting him to catch her staring at him, she forced herself to turn away. She listened to the messages on her home phone. Most of them were for Isabel, and none of them were important.

She was feeling out of sorts and restless. She got a bag of potato chips out of the pantry and put it back unopened.

She knew what was wrong with her. Dylan. How long was it going to take her to stop loving him, she wondered. Was it even possible, or was she doomed to live in misery the rest of her life? There was no one to blame but herself for her unhappiness. She had known from the very beginning what she was getting into with him-he loved them and he left them. He didn't make any excuses about the way he lived. He was what he was.

And she was what she was-a complete idiot because she had fallen in love with him.

Definitely melancholy tonight, she decided. Stress was putting her on edge. That's what it was, all right. Stress. And feeling completely helpless.

The doorbell rang, and she was forced to stop feeling sorry for herself. She assumed it was Drummond with dinner, and she was suddenly ravenous. It wasn't Drummond, though. It was Nate, and when she opened the door for him, he looked astonished to see her.

He was quick to recover. "What are you doing opening this door?" he demanded.

His glare made her flinch. "You rang the doorbell. Answering it seemed the proper thing to do. Please, come in."

"Are you alone in here?" he demanded as he stormed past her. "What the hell's wrong with you? Don't you know someone's trying to kill you? Or don't you care?"

"Yes, I know, and yes, I care," she said softly. "Please stop shouting at me. My ears are ringing."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "I've got to yell at someone. Where's Dylan?"

"In the backyard. There are deputies in the front and the back," she said. "So it was all right for me to open the door."

"That's not why I'm angry," he snapped.

She chased him to the kitchen. "Then why are you?"

"Because I didn't know where the hell you were last night. Not good," he snapped. "You two just… vanished. What if I had vital information? What then? Dylan wasn't answering his cell phone, and you weren't answering yours… what the hell's the matter with him? He knows better. Where is he?"

Nate was on a rampage. "I just told you," she answered.

"Tell me again," he demanded.

"In the backyard," she said. "Have at him."

"Don't you dare open that front door again. Understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer but tore the kitchen door open and went outside. The door slammed shut behind him.

He's just lost his dinner invitation, she thought. How dare he shout at her. She wasn't a child he could scold.

But he was right, she reluctantly admitted. They should have let him know where they were going. It wasn't deliberate; they weren't trying to hide from him. They hadn't been sure where they would spend the night, and once they had checked into the hotel, one thing led to another, and they had become occupied.

Oh, that's a great excuse. Sorry we didn't call. We were too busy having sex. Nate would understand. Sure he would.

The chief arrived a few minutes later with enough food to feed half the town.

"What's going on out there?" he asked as he set the bags on the kitchen counter and looked out the window. "Looks like Hallinger is giving Dylan hell."

Kate quickly explained.

The chief glanced out the window again. "Dylan doesn't seem contrite. Fact is, he's giving it back." With a shrug he added, "They'll work it out. Let's eat."

The chief was right; they did work it out. Nate didn't ask if he could stay for dinner. He grabbed a plate and helped himself.

"I'll get some men here in an hour and let you off the hook, chief," he offered.