“Because Olivia was digging bodies out of that psycho’s lime pit, informing all those families. Evie would tell me how withdrawn Olivia was becoming, so I watched her for a few weeks. I wanted to see if she looked better, less stressed. I wanted to walk up to her front door and”-he drew a breath-“take up where we left off. But she looked worse as the weeks passed, and there was never a good time. Look, Evie told her I’d bought this place. I figured if she didn’t call, she didn’t want to take up where we’d left off. So I waited. I could be patient.”

“Seven months?” Paige shook her head. “Not even you’re that patient. I want the truth.”

He closed his eyes. He wasn’t certain he could handle the truth. “The truth is, I don’t remember much of that night.”

“Yeah, right. You remember everything you’ve ever seen or read. You have a photographic memory. How could you possibly not remember that night?”

“I had too much to drink at the reception. I never get drunk. Never.” A memory jabbed at him. He hadn’t gotten drunk since that night nearly twenty years ago. A night that ruined so many lives. A night for which he’d done penance ever since, but all the good deeds in the world would never bring the dead back to life. “I don’t know why Olivia ran. I don’t know what I did.”

“Can I give you some advice?” she said softly.

He opened his eyes, found hers warm again. “Why not?”

“Olivia can take whatever demons you’ve got burning you from the inside out. Tell her the truth. Let her decide if you can take up where you left off. David, you can’t take care of everyone. By trying to protect her, you did the exact opposite. You hurt her.”

“I never meant to. She said she’d talk to me.”

“Good. Don’t fuck it up again.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Good luck, David. Trust yourself.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s too important.”

“You have to. I’ll see you tomorrow at the dojo. And don’t worry.” She made a locking motion across her lips. “I won’t tell. Gotta get back. My lunch break is over.”

Monday, September 20, 12:15 p.m.

You are batshit crazy,” Albert said, backing away, palms out. “No fucking way.”

Mary sat on the grass in front of the library, her eyes red-rimmed. “Eric, Joel’s dead. How can you even suggest such a thing, now of all times?”

Joel’s death had actually given him the argument he needed to convince the others to help him torch the texter’s target. Just this one, he thought. Tomorrow, we run.

When do you tell them about the video so they know they need to run?

Tonight. After the job is done.

The warehouse belonged to a guy named Tomlinson who sold plumbing fixtures but who had to have done something bad to be a target of blackmail and arson.

“Albert, come over here and stop pacing like a tiger. People will notice.” Eric sat down next to Mary and patted her hand. “Look, Tomlinson’s warehouse was next on Joel’s list.” Which was so totally not true, but fortunately Joel was not there to refute it.

“He sells plumbing fixtures. What does he have to do with wetlands or habitat?” Mary asked. “Joel never mentioned Tomlinson to me.”

“He mentioned him to me, lots of times,” Eric lied smoothly. “Tomlinson’s an investor in KRB, Inc. One of the bigger investors, in fact.” Of course he was not. But he didn’t expect either Mary or Albert to know how to double-check him. “If KRB goes forward with their project, it’ll be with money this guy gives them.”

“You’re batshit crazy,” Albert mumbled again. “Doing another one, after last night?”

“It’s the perfect time,” Eric said. “Look at it this way. Who knows what Joel told his parents or what they may have suspected? He goes home upset. He’s been going on about saving the wetlands and there’s a fire. You all took showers, but his clothes still smelled like smoke. The Fischers aren’t stupid. If we never do another, they’ll think Joel did the condo fire. If we strike again, they’ll know Joel had nothing to do with it.”

“They’ll suspect you,” Albert said stonily. “You were his friend.”

Hell of a friend. I gave the order to have him killed. “No, they won’t suspect me,” he said flatly. “Mr. Fischer used to say I had no imagination. No passion. Just a number cruncher. He’d laugh about it. Say I was the one safe person to have around Joel. That I kept him from running off half-cocked to do his causes.”

“How could this happen?” Mary lamented. “Joel was upset when I dropped him off last night, but he wasn’t… you know.”

“No, what?” Albert asked.

“Suicidal,” she said. “The road was dry. It was daylight. I think he ran off the road deliberately. If I’d thought he’d hurt himself, I never would have left him.”

Eric didn’t dare look at Albert. “It was an accident, just like the girl. Nobody meant for the girl to get hurt. It was an accident.”

Mary covered her face with her hands. “I can’t watch the news. I couldn’t stand knowing her name. I keep trying to forget her, but I see her there, screaming.”

A shiver slithered down Eric’s spine. The image hadn’t left his mind either. But at least Mary wasn’t watching the news, so she hadn’t heard about the guard yet.

“Mary, listen. Think about what had Joel so fired up. What had you fired up. Those wetlands. Our earth. We wanted to keep one corner of our earth… safe.” He oozed sincerity. He was choking on it. Yesterday he’d believed every word. Today he just wanted it to be over. “We stopped them, but only temporarily. With Tomlinson’s money, they’ll rebuild. Bigger, maybe. That means all of our sacrifice was for nothing. Joel would have died in vain. You don’t want that, do you?”

Mary shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“He would have wanted this,” Eric murmured. “You know it. We owe it to him.”

She went very still. “What do we do?” she whispered.

Eric wanted to blow out a relieved breath but kept it in. “Meet in the parking lot, same place as before. Tomlinson has a guard dog. We’ll need to bring some steak with some sleeping powder on it. Just to make him sleep, Mary,” he added when she flinched. “I had some muscle relaxants, but they expired a long time ago.”

“I have some sleeping pills,” she murmured. “Just to make him sleep.”

“Absolutely,” Eric assured her.

She squared her shoulders. “Joel’s burial is tomorrow.”

Eric’s brows rose. “Tomorrow? Oh yeah. That’s some Orthodox rule, right?”

“Burial within twenty-four hours. I want to go, but if I go alone his parents will freak. You’re going, right? You’ll go with me?”

If I’m still in the country. “Of course. Get some rest. Don’t watch the news.”

He watched her go, then turned to Albert. “You in?”

Albert looked straight ahead. “What does he have?”

“What does who have?”

A muscle twitched in Albert’s taut jaw. “The guy who shot the guard. He saw us. He’s making us do this stupid crime.” His accent became more pronounced, as it always did when he became emotional. Usually Eric found it a turn-on. Not today. “That’s the only explanation for this ridiculous charade. So what does he have on us?”

What was there to say? “Video. The whole thing. Close-ups of our faces and of the girl’s face in the window. You smacking Joel and us dragging him away.”

“So we are now his bitches?” Albert asked bitterly.

“Either that or we run.”

“Where would we run? The world is a very small place.”

Eric attempted a small smile that fell painfully flat. “ France? They don’t extradite if there is a possibility of the death penalty. And you do speak the language.”

Albert did not smile. “This is Minnesota. We’d just go to prison for life.” He turned only his head, spearing Eric with his eyes. “When did you plan to tell me, mon ami?” What had once been an endearment was now a soft snarl.