Holly laughed. “She certainly does, and she loves sticking it where it shouldn’t be. Don’t worry, there’s no one in the house. Daisy would have let us know.”

Stone looked her up and down. “You look very nice in the moonlight.”

She placed a hand on his chest. “You look pretty good yourself,” she said. “Daisy, guard.”

Daisy went and sat by the door, and Holly took Stone by the hand and led him back upstairs. She took the gun from him and dropped it in her purse, then she went to the bed and pulled Stone on top of her. “As long as we’re awake,” she said, wrapping her long legs around him.

“Funny,” he replied, “I’m not in the least sleepy.”

She reached down and put him inside her. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, thrusting.

STONE WOKE TO find Holly sprawled across his chest. Gently, he rolled her over until she was beside him, on her back.

“Am I awake?” Holly asked, her eyes still closed.

“Probably not.”

“I think I am. You must be, too.”

“I think we should go back to the city this morning,” he said.

“Why?”

“I don’t like the idea of somebody following us up here, especially since I don’t know who or why.”

“Neither do I, come to think of it.”

“I’d feel better in the city. I’m not sure why.”

“I’ll trust your judgment.”

Stone showered, got dressed, and scrambled them some eggs, while Holly took Daisy for her morning walk around the Rocks, next door.

When they had finished breakfast, they put their things and Daisy into the Mercedes and drove away from the house.

“Why are you driving so fast?” Holly asked.

“Because I like driving fast; because for once, nobody is in front of me on these roads; and because if these people are still keeping tabs on us, I don’t want to make it easy for them.”

“All good reasons,” she said. “Anyway, you drive well, and I don’t see how anyone could drive this car slowly. Do you ever get tickets?”

“Not as long as I carry a badge,” Stone replied.

“You do? Let me see it.”

Stone reached into an inside pocket and fished out the wallet that held his ID card and badge. “It’s not the real thing,” he said, handing it to her. “It’s something like a seven-eighths reproduction. Most retirees carry one.”

“It says ‘retired’ down at the bottom of your ID card,” she said, “but in very small letters.”

“You learn to cover that with a finger, when you’re flashing it,” Stone said.

“Does this allow you to carry a weapon?”

“No, but the department gives you a carry license when you retire. It’s in the wallet, behind the ID, along with a Connecticut carry license.”

Holly looked at them. “Do you carry a lot?”

“Not a lot, just when I feel nervous about the situation.”

“I can’t imagine you being nervous.”

“All right, wary.”

“Wary is more like you.”

They turned onto the interstate just north of Danbury, and Stone caught sight of a black SUV a quarter of a mile behind them. “There they are,” he said.

Holly didn’t look back. “What are they driving?”

“Black SUV, probably an Explorer.”

“That sounds like government, not something Trini’s friends would drive.”

“You could be right. After all, your boyfriend is pissed off; he could be keeping tabs.”

“He’s probably jealous,” she said, putting her hand on his thigh.

“Good.”

“You enjoy annoying the Feds?”

“Always.”

“What do you have against them?” she asked.

“I find them untrustworthy. When I had to work with them as a cop, they always wanted the collar and the press, and they usually got it. They were lousy at sharing information, and you couldn’t trust it when they did.”

“That pretty much sums up my experience, too,” she said. “Why do you suppose they’re that way?”

“It’s the federal culture, I think. They think they’re the pinnacle of law enforcement, and they tend to look down on anybody at the local level as backward children.”

She laughed.

“I don’t find them all that good at solving crimes, either.”

“Stone, you’re driving nearly a hundred miles an hour.”

“It’s Sunday morning, and the traffic is light.”

“Doesn’t this car attract cops like flies?”

“If they’re around, and if they feel like a pursuit.”

“Is the Explorer keeping pace?”

Stone glanced in his mirror. “So far.” He turned off I-84 and accelerated through a long curve and onto I- 684. “There’s a place a few miles down the road where the New York State cops like to lie in wait with their radar gun.” He accelerated some more.

“You just passed a hundred and twenty,” she said.

“Don’t worry. Our speed is electronically limited to a hundred and fifty-five.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “I feel better now.”

A beep sounded and a tiny red light on the steering column began to flash.

“Radar detector?”

“Yep.”

“Why aren’t you slowing down?”

“I want to try something.” He pointed ahead. “There they are.”

A state police vehicle was parked in the meridian, a radar gun hanging out a window.

Stone took out his wallet, rolled down the window a bit, and held his badge in the slipstream, creating wind noise. They flew past the police car, and Stone rolled up the window and checked his mirror. “They’re not budging,” he said. “Not yet, anyway. Hang on, there go the cops.”

Holly looked back. “They’re after the Explorer,” she said.

“I guess they’re not flashing a badge,” he said, checking the mirror again. “Yep, light’s on, they’ve got him.” He accelerated again.

“A hundred and forty,” she said. “Do you always drive this fast on the interstate?”

“Well, we know the cops are all involved with the Explorer,” he said, “so unless they radio ahead for a trap, we’re home free. Something else: If the guys in the Explorer are Feds, they’ll call ahead for somebody to pick up the tail at the other end. The goombahs wouldn’t think of that.” He pressed on through the light traffic, passing cars doing eighty as if they were standing still.

In what seemed an incredibly short time, they were turning into Stone’s block.

“Two guys on my front steps,” Stone said, slowing.

“It’s Ham!” Holly said. “What’s he doing here?”

“Who’s Ham?”

“My father.”

“Oh, God,” Stone said.

“You don’t want to meet my father?”

“The other guy on the steps is Herbie Fisher.”

“Who?”

“The guy Lance had me represent in court. I told you about him.”

“What does he want?”

“I dread to think.”

HAM BARKER WAS taller than Stone, and skinnier. Stone stuck out his hand. “Hello, Ham, I’m Stone Barrington.”

“Good to meet you,” Ham said gravely.

“Herbie,” Stone said, “what the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the Virgin Islands.”

“I just thought I’d drop by,” Herbie said, offering his hand.

Stone ignored it. “Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Drop by.”

“Aw, Stone…”

Ham spoke up. “Stone, there are two men in your block, watching this house.”

“Oh, my God!” Stone said. “Herbie, they’re after you!” He stuck a hundred-dollar bill in Herbie’s hand. “Get out of here, quick!”

“Where am I going to go?” Herbie wailed.

“Go to your mother’s place, in Brooklyn. They’ll never think of looking for you there. Get out of here!”

Herbie sprinted down the block and was gone.

“Sorry about that,” Stone said to Ham. “Herbie’s a pest, hard to get rid of.”

“Quick thinking, there,” Holly said. “Ham, what are you doing here?”

Stone picked up Ham’s bag. “Let’s talk inside. The Feds may be able to read lips.”

“Is that who those two guys are?” Ham asked as Stone unlocked the front door and turned off the burglar alarm.