The jury returned a guilty verdict. As a seemingly limp Farley was led out of the courtroom, he'd suddenly snapped to life. With amazing speed he grabbed a deputy's gun and shot himself in the head. Everyone screamed and hit the floor, dodging the hail of bullets they thought would follow. But no other shots were fired and when the screaming stopped, someone checked Farley to find him still alive. They'd rushed him to the hospital and St. John operated. Dee was a surgical nurse. She'd hurried back to the hospital, slipped into the operating room and watched Eugene Farley die on the table. For two years she'd never stopped talking about Farley, claiming his death resulted from Andrew St. John botching the operation.

Ted sighed. " Dee, are you going to start this crap about Farley again?"

"It's not crap!" Dee snarled. "And just because I told the truth about Eugene dying because of St. John, I was fired."

No, you were fired because Andrew St. John accused you of stealing drugs and an investigation proved him right, Ted thought, although the hospital had not filed charges, fearing bad publicity. But he'd been seeing Dee for six months. She might be short-tempered, she might be loud and bawdy, she was even guilty of stealing a few drugs on the side, but she was still wild and sometimes fun and made him feel important.

Ted needed to feel important now because Nick Meredith obviously thought he was a not-so-smart hick. Big city know-it-all. Important people in county government didn't like him. They'd get rid of him someday. Ted took some satisfaction in this, but he would prefer that Meredith rec ognize he was a better cop than he seemed. Winning Meredith's respect would mean a hell of a lot.

"Are you still there?" Dee demanded.

"Yeah, sure."

"Well, I wish you wouldn't call if you're just going to daydream and not say anything."

"Sorry. You free tonight?"

"Uh, no, not tonight," she said abruptly. "Ma's not so well. I can't leave her."

"I could come to your house."

"No. She needs to sleep and she can hear a pin drop. We couldn't watch TV or talk above whispers."

"When do I get to see you?"

"I don't know." Petulant silence spun out on the other end. She lowered her voice, making it soft and husky. "Just be patient, baby, okay? I'll make it worth the wait."

"Okay," Ted said sulkily. "But it'd better be soon."

Well, hell, Ted thought after he'd hung up. A dull evening alone in front of the television lay ahead. Angrily he filled out another endless, boring report. Then a thought suddenly crossed his mind and he looked up, frowning.

Dee hadn't asked how Tamara Hunt had been murdered.

Natalie and her father sat in near silence for the next hour. A second mug of coffee warmed her chilled body, and she was tempted to have a third, but Andrew St. John made strong coffee. Three jolts of caffeine would be too much, Natalie realized as she looked at her hands that already showed signs of chemically induced tremor. "Can't I get you something to eat?" Andrew asked.

Food. Andrew's panacea for all problems. "I don't think I could eat a bite if my life depended on it."

"If your life depended on it, you'd eat that dog standing over there," he answered absently, although the dog's head shot up as if in alarm. They both smiled. "I guess she understands more than I think."

"I believe she's quite intelligent, Dad. Sometimes mixed breeds are smarter than the pure breeds where there's been too much interbreeding among the blue bloods." She sighed. "I think she stayed with Tamara all night."

Her father looked out the window again. "I remember when you were six. Shortly after your mother left, you ran off one December night. It was so cold. Harvey and Mary Coombs helped me search for you. We finally found you in an old boathouse half a mile from here. The dog Clytemnestra led us to you. If she hadn't, you might have frozen to death."

"I remember that night," Natalie said softly. "I'd overheard Harvey talking about Kira. He said the responsibility of a child was too much for her. I decided she left because of me. I thought if I took off, she'd come back to you. Run ning away on a freezing winter night wasn't so easy, though. I made it to the boathouse. I thought I'd spend the night and be on my way the next morning, but I fell asleep."

"And if it weren't for the dog, you would have died." Andrew shook his head. " Harvey thought you were asleep in bed or he wouldn't have said that about your mother. He felt terrible. But Kira didn't leave because of you. She was bored with me and with this town. She wanted to remain a kid having fun."

"I know that now, but I'm still mad at her."

"Then why do you always wear the ring she left for you?"

Natalie looked down at the lovely pearl surrounded by small diamonds. "It belonged to Great-grandmother Uehara. I wear it for her."

"You never knew her."

"Kira's mother told me about her. I think I would have liked her." Natalie paused. "Dad, do you wish Kira would come back?"

"I did for a long time but not anymore."

"I wonder if she would come back if I were murdered like Tamara."

"Don't even think about such a thing! My God, if I lost you, Natalie I'd…" Her father stood up abruptly. "More coffee?"

"No thanks, Dad. I think I'll take a shower. I need to feel hot water and soap on my skin."

"Good idea. I'll look after Fido for you."

"Fido?"

"Is there a name on her tag?"

"She has no tags."

"Okay, for now she's Fido. Go take your shower."

Natalie took one last sip of her lukewarm coffee and headed out of the kitchen toward her bedroom. As she passed through the living room, the phone rang. "I'll get it," she called.

She picked up the handset of the cordless phone and pressed talk. "Hello."

Nothing.

"Hello."

Finally Natalie heard a long sigh. "Na-ta-lie."

Female voice, soprano, sweet, breathy.

A prank, obviously, but her heart beat a little harder. "This is Natalie. What do you want?"

"Na-ta-lie."

That sweet voice caressing her name. Uneasiness tingled through her. "If you don't tell me what you want, I'm hanging up."

Another sigh. Then the gentle voice. "Their throat is an open tomb."

Natalie drew a sharp breath. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll find out soon."

Click. Silence.

Natalie stared at the handset as if it were a snake. A chill passed through her as she realized the voice had sounded exactly like Tamara's.

Warren Hunt wiped perspiration from his upper lip and turned the car air conditioner to an even lower temperature. Usually he listened to classical music when he drove, but not today.

He'd returned to his hotel room to pack when he saw the phone light blinking. Voice mail told him to call Oliver Peyton's house. When he did, Oliver's sobbing housekeeper Mrs. Ebert told him Tamara was dead. No, she didn't know any details. No, she didn't know where Mr. Peyton was right now. But Dr. Hunt had to come home. He had to come home immediately.

What did the sobbing fool think I was going to do? Warren had thought irritably. Hang around here for another night? Why couldn't people maintain a modicum of sense during an emergency? Nevertheless, when he'd hung up on the hysterical woman he'd noticed to his disgust that his hands were shaking.

And why not? he asked himself. He had to go home and face this damned mess-Lily and Oliver, the funeral, keeping his relationship with Charlotte a secret until a suitable period of time passed. And what was a suitable period of time? A year? Impossible. Charlotte would never stand for that. He'd lose her. Six months? He couldn't possibly see anyone publicly for six months, but even that amount of time seemed impossible. Charlotte was demanding. She wasn't the kind of woman you could stall. He didn't want to stall her.