She blushed. “I’m sorry. You know every pitiful fact about mine. I don’t know why I haven’t asked.”

Jason, his hands stuffed in his pockets, lifted his shoulders. “Up until a couple of months ago, you weren’t sober enough to hold a conversation and then remember it. Lately, you’ve had a lot on your plate. Everything’s changing. I don’t think you’re self-absorbed, if that’s what worries you.” He smiled. “Tell you what, when this thing’s over, I’ll tell you all my dating woes.”

She grinned, then snuck a glance down the hall. Leland was still on his tirade, no doubt reading Sam the riot act and warning him not to give her an inch of rope he couldn’t yank. Sam’s face was red too, but his gaze was on her.

“Let’s head on down to the meeting,” she said. “We’ll catch up with him later.” And he’d have a chance to cool off before he approached her again. Sam didn’t like being laid into like he was a rookie. He’d been a Marine and was a decorated cop. She hated that she still affected his work relationships, although they weren’t even married and she wasn’t on the force any longer. He must think she was nothing but bad luck.

She mouthed, I’m sorry, then turned away at the elevator’s arrival.

The trip to the first floor passed in total silence. A miracle, given Sylvia slipped in with them at the last moment. The main-floor foyer was empty. The clerk behind the registration desk dozed in his chair.

When they passed the bar, a TV blared, but a quick glance inside revealed very few patrons, all sitting at the bar watching some game on the widescreen.

With reluctance slowing her steps, Cait led the way into the dining room. Ten rows of mismatched chairs faced a dais. A table to the side was draped with a white linen cloth and held a coffee urn and mugs and boxes of store-bought cookies. There was no sign of Eddie Bradley.

The meeting was set to start in a few minutes, but several people milled in the area in front of the chairs, chatting. She wondered if the turnout was always this good or whether curiosity had drawn them all. She hadn’t had time to watch the news, but word had to be spreading about the goings-on at the Deluxe.

A tall, thin man with shaggy brown hair and a long-sleeved dress shirt rolled up to his elbows detached himself from the group and approached them. He held out his hand to Cait. “I’m Larry,” he said, his voice an even-timbred tenor. “Nice to meet you folks.”

Cait shook his hand, but he kept right on holding it. “I’m Cait. This is Jason. He’s with me, but he’s not a drunk.”

Larry’s eyebrows shot up. “We don’t refer to ourselves as drunks, Cait,” he chided gently. “We’re all recovering alcoholics in different stages of sobriety. We’ve all been where you are. A little bitter, maybe grudging about being here, right?”

She frowned and wiggled her fingers. At last, he released her hand, and she fought the urge to wipe it on the side of her jeans.

“It’s okay to feel uncomfortable. You might at first, but we’re all on this journey together.”

“Do I have to sign up or something?” she said, her voice sounding a little gruff to her own ears. But just being here, even if she wasn’t really here for the meeting, irritated her.

“This meeting is anonymous. We don’t have a sign-in register. The only requirement to be a member is a desire to stop drinking. Would you like to join us?”

“I was thinking a friend of mine might be here, Eddie Bradley. Have you seen him?”

At his blank stare, she added, “He’s an EMT with the fire department.”

His expression brightened. “Ah, Eddie. He has stopped in a couple of times. Drinks the coffee and listens. He referred you?”

“Yes, but seeing as he’s not here…”

“Why not stay a little while? The meeting doesn’t usually last long. He might still show.”

When he turned and moved across the room, she followed for a few steps and slid into the last row. Jason sat beside her.

“Wonder if Eddie looks the same to him,” Jason whispered.

“Notice I didn’t describe him.”

Larry, standing at the front, rapped a spoon against a glass. “If we’ll all take our seats, we can get started. Welcome, everyone. Looks like we have a full house tonight. And we have a couple of guests.”

Everyone turned to eye her and Jason. Cait slid deeper into her chair. “He might not come,” she said out of the side of her mouth. Maybe when everyone looked the other way she might slip out the door.

“Do you have anything better to do?” Jason whispered, hardly moving his lips. “Sam’s probably still upstairs getting his ass reamed. And then he’ll have to wait for a team to come out and take the body. Really want to be in the middle of all that?”

Someone sitting in front of them cleared his throat. Jason elbowed Cait and drew a zipper being closed across his mouth.

Cait sighed and slouched lower. Could the evening get any worse?

“Hi, my name’s Dave,” a heavyset middle-aged man said after walking to the front to face the group.

“Hi, Dave,” the group responded in unison.

Cait mumbled like she used to, sitting at Mass beside her father when she’d forgotten the liturgy.

“I’ve been sober for ten years now.”

After Dave launched into a long-assed story about how his addictions to hookers and buying lottery cards led him to drink, Cait turned toward Jason. “This will never be my thing. All this sharing.”

“Shhh,” Jason said. “I wanna hear about the hookers.”

“You would.”

She stared at Dave, then glanced around the room as he droned on, making up stories in her mind about the others who were listening so intently to every word Dave spoke.

“Does anyone else have something they’d like to share?” Larry asked, his gaze scanning the crowd.

The murmur of voices had died down without her realizing it.

“Cait, would you like to tell us something about yourself?” Larry asked, his gaze pinning her.

Her eyes widened. “I thought I could just listen this first time,” she said as everyone turned in their seats to stare.

“And you can. But if you’d like to share, we’re all here to listen.”

With embarrassment stinging her cheeks, she rose. “Hi, I’m Cait,” she said with a little wave.

“Hi, Cait.”

Good Lord, they sounded like Moonies. “I haven’t had a drink for forty-seven days.” Ready to plop back into her chair, she saw Larry’s encouraging nod and gave an inward groan. “I like scotch. It quiets the voices.”

“Yeah, that’s just where I thought you’d start,” Jason muttered beside her.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Eddie Bradley. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest, smiling in her direction.

“Um, it’s been a great meeting,” she said, edging out of the row. “I’ll think about coming back, but I have to go.”

Larry stood. “We’ll be here for you, Cait.”

“Thanks.” She gave them a tight smile and wave, and then bent to Jason. “Showtime. Hang back. You too, Syl,” she said, glancing at the chair beside Jason and smiling when Jason automatically jerked away.

Keeping her steps unhurried, she strode toward the incubus. Or at least she hoped like hell he was, because his smile was all kinds of wrong. Intimate, proud of her, softly supportive.

Her heart beat like a drum as she forced her own smile. “Hi there. I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” she lied.

“Told you I’d introduce you around. Larry and I know each other.”

“So he said,” she murmured, following him into the hallway.

“I see things have quieted down,” he said with a nod toward the foyer.

“Yeah, everyone’s pretty much cleared out. Guests are back in their rooms—those who decided to stay, that is.”

“No more excitement.”

Considering how best to bait the trap, she paused. “We had another incident. Just a little while ago. It rattled me.”

“You seem to be taking it all in stride. Want to tell me about it?”