He turned completely around and stepped toward her. The dread curled in her stomach, her palms went clammy, but she stood her ground.

"It's a hell of a time to pick a fight with me, especially when you're wrong."

"I'm only wrong if I'm standing where you are. Standing here, I did what I had to do. I wish I hadn't hurt you, but I can't go back and change that."

"No, you can't. So we go from here. Did you leave out anything else I should know?"

"The woman who drove off that cliff was named Helen Remington. Mrs. Evan Remington. I don't answer to that name anymore. It's not who I am."

"Remington." He said it softly. She could all but see him flipping through some mental data file. "Hollywood type."

"That's right."

"You got about as far away from that as you could manage."

"That's right, too. I'll never go back. I've found the life I want here."

"With or without me?"

For the first time since she'd begun her story, her stomach clutched. "That's up to you."

"No, it's not. You already know what I want. Now it's what you want."

"I want you. You know that."

"Then you have to finish what you started. You have to end it. File for divorce."

"I can't. Haven't you heard anything I've said?"

"Every word, and more that you didn't say." Part of him wanted to soothe her, to draw her close, shelter her. To tell her none of it mattered now.

But it did.

"You can't live your whole life wondering, looking over your shoulder, or pretending three years away. Neither can I. For one thing, it's going to start eating at you, and for another, the world's a small place. You'll never be sure he won't find you. If he does, or if you're afraid he has, are you going to run again?"

"It's been more than a year since I left. He can't find me if he thinks I'm dead."

"You'll never be sure. You have to end it, but you don't have to end it alone. I won't let him touch you. This isn't his turf," he said, lifting her face with a finger under her chin. "It's mine."

"You're underestimating him."

"I don't think so. I know I'm not underestimating myself, or Ripley, or Mia. Or a lot of people on the island who would go out of their way for you."

"I don't know if I can do what you're asking. For more than a year I've focused on doing everything I could to make certain he doesn't find out I'm alive, he doesn't find out where I am. I don't know if I've got it in me to step out again. I need to think. I need you to give me time to think."

"All right. Tell me what you decide." He stooped to get the ice bag. The ice was mostly melted. As he didn't care a great deal about the pain in his jaw, he opened it, spilled out the contents. "If you don't want to marry me, Nell, I'll accept that. But after you think all this through, I need you to tell me what you decide there, too."

"I love you. I don't have to think that through."

He stared at her, standing in the quiet woods where the leaves rioted color and the air still carried the faintest scent of yesterday's rain.

He held out a hand for hers. "I'll walk you home."

Ripley gave Zack her most pitiful look. And whined. She saved up her whines to add to the impact when she whipped one out.

"But I don't wanna go to Mia's."

Living with her for nearly thirty years made him immune to such tactics. Though he had to give her big points for delivery.

"When you were a kid you practically lived at Mia's."

"Then, now. See the difference? Why can't you go?"

"Because I have a penis. I'll restrain myself and not ask if you see the difference. Be a pal, Rip."

She spun in a circle, her version of drumming her heels on the floor. "If Nell's going to be hanging out at Mia's tonight, then Mia can keep an eye on her. Jesus, Zack, don't be such a mommy. The asshole in L.A. doesn't even know she's alive yet."

"If I'm being overprotective we'll just all have to live with it. I don't want her driving to the cliffs alone at night." The thought of her car flying over cliffs three thousand miles away left a ball of ice in his gut. "Until this thing is resolved, I want to keep an eye on her."

"So keep your eye on her. You're the ones trying to decide if you're going to be long-suffering, star-crossed lovers, or Ward and June Cleaver."

He let the insult pass, as it was her way of starting a pissing match so she could storm out and get out of doing what he asked. "I'll never figure how it is I know more about women than you do, when you're of the same species."

"Watch it, slick."

He supposed he hadn't let the insult pass after all. "She doesn't need me hovering over her. She doesn't need a man, even such a sterling example of manhood as myself, crowding her. She's got tough decisions to make. I'm trying to keep a little distance, without making an issue of keeping a little distance, until she's made them."

"Gee, you sure do think a lot."

The simple fact was, he was putting her in a hell of a pinch. He wanted her to keep an eye on Nell, and Ripley wanted to keep an eye on Zack. She hadn't had an easy moment in the two days since he'd told her Nell's story.

Blood on the moon, she thought. Nell's vision of Zack covered with blood. A sociopathic, potentially homicidal husband, and Ripley's own disturbing dreams. She hated knowing she was dipping into omen territory, but… hell, it didn't bode well.

"What are you going to be doing while I'm babysitting the love of your life at Witch Central?"

There was something else he'd learned in nearly thirty years of knowing her. He could always count on Ripley. "Taking both our evening patrols, buying some takeout, and going home to a lonely dinner."

"If you think that makes me feel sorry for you, think again. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat." She walked to the door. "I'll go by Nell's, tell her I want to tag along tonight. I want you to watch your back."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm just saying."

"I'll watch my back."

"And buy some beer. You drank the last bottle."

She slammed the door because… just because.

Mia set out fresh charms. Every day, it seemed, the air got a little heavier. As if something was dragging it down. She glanced outside. It was already dark. There was so much night at the end of October, so many hours until dawn.

There were things it wasn't wise to speak of at night, or even think. Night could be an open window.

She burned incense of sage to counter negativity, fastened on earrings of amethyst to strengthen her intuition. She'd been tempted to slip some rosemary under her pillow, to help chase away her troubled dreams. But she needed to see, needed to look.

She added jasper to the chain around her neck, a strengthener of energy, a reliever of stress.

It was the first time in years she could recall being so constantly hounded by stress.

Tonight wasn't the time for it, she reminded herself. She was going to take Nell to the next step, and such things should be joyful.

She fingered the magic bag in her pocket, filled with crystals and herbs, and, as she'd taught Nell, tied with seven knots. She detested being so edgy, as if waiting and waiting for disaster to strike.

Foolish, really, when she'd been preparing for disaster, and how to divert it, all her life.

She heard the car, saw the streak of lights slash across her front windows. As she walked to the door, she visualized pouring the stress into a small silver box, locking it.

So she appeared to be her usual calm self as she opened the door. Until she saw Ripley.

"Slumming, Deputy?"