They ordered lunch and talked companionably, but Audie felt Griffin studying her, and it made her a little uncomfortable. She gazed out over the brass curtain rod toward the street, letting the sunshine hit her face. When she turned back he was still staring at her, frowning.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just… nothing."

"Griff, what? What is it? Are you worried about tomorrow?"

"Nah, not at all." He shook his head with a sad smile and Audie watched his dreadlocks tap against the sides of his face. "I just plan to tell the detectives the truth-that I only stalk you on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and I'm more of an obscene phone-callin' man myself, not some anonymous-note-writin' wimp."

Audie leaned forward and admired his sweet face. "I've told Quinn all about you-about us-and he knows you're not really a suspect, so don't worry."

Griffin 's eyebrows shot high on his forehead. "God, mon, I hope I'm not."

"So what's the problem, then? You look upset."

Griffin reached out and cupped his hand over Audie's and tried to smile. "I was just watching you sitting there, and I was thinking that I've never seen you more beautiful than you are right now-that you seem wiser, more sure of yourself, such a lovely woman."

Audie was shocked by this unusual burst of sentiment. "Uh, thanks."

"And I've never seen you sadder." He removed his hand and leaned back in the booth. "I really hate these letters, you know? I hate what they're doing to you, girl. Whoever is sending them is one sick mother, and I'm worried about you."

Audie exhaled deeply and produced a weak smile. "They're talking to Drew, too. Did I tell you?"

Griffin laughed. "I'd pay good money to eavesdrop on that party."

"Mmm… " Audie looked down into her iced tea.

"So what's the story with the Mighty Quinn? How much do you like him?"

Her head popped up and her mouth hung open. "How…? What do you mean?"

Griffin smiled affectionately. "Damn, girl! How long have I known you? You've got a crush on your policeman, at the very least. So tell me all about it."

She shook her head, looking outside again.

"Audie. Come on."

She scowled at him. "I'm thirty years old, Griffin. Thirty-year-old women don't get crushes."

"Fine." He stared at her, unblinking.

She stared right back.

"All right. Since you asked, Stacey Quinn aggravates the hell out of me, OK? We've had these two extremely awkward groping sessions, including falling off a table. But that's it-not that I don't think about the possibilities every second of every day."

Griffin blinked rapidly and leaned back in his booth. "Really now?"

"And he doesn't talk a whole lot, which bugs me to no end, but when he does say something it either pisses me off or makes me laugh." She sighed. "We've got nothing in common, all right? And, Griffin, the guy's house is immaculate and his spices are alphabetized, and I can't stop thinking about him."

"I see."

"And out of nowhere he can be so sweet-like sending me these!" She waved her hand over the box, her eyes wide. "And the way he kisses me-my God… two kisses, that's all I've had, but… oh, God, they made me forget my own name…

"And now I haven't seen him for days and days. I keep trying to come up with some excuse to call him, but I haven't gotten any more letters and Detective Oleskiewicz has been taking me home every night and it's like Quinn doesn't want to see me ever again and I don't know what to do."

Griffin gawked at her.

"But don't push me to talk about it, Griffin. I just can't right now."

He buried a smile in his coffee cup. "Of course."

"He makes me crazy. Completely insane. And I miss him. I'm lonely for him. What is that all about? Is that the stupidest thing you've ever heard me say, or what?"

Griffin leaned forward on his elbows and studied her carefully. "You're right, Audie. This is not a crush. It sounds like you're in love with the man."

Her mouth hung open and she blinked. "Oh, for God's sake," she said, standing up. "You know me better than that. I'm going to the ladies' room."

Griffin watched her start off in a huff, catch her heel in his computer shoulder strap, and crash into the unoccupied table for two across the aisle. He winced, then rubbed his mouth nervously until she was safely on her way.

"Be careful, girl," he whispered.

Audie drove the car along the semicircular brick drive and parked in front of the grand front door. The imposing brick-and-stucco Tudor looked exactly as it always had, as formal and as haughty as North Shore houses come, the thin steel blue line of Lake Michigan visible behind the heavily treed grounds.

She knocked on the door.

"Well, what an unexpected pleasure this is!" Andrew Adams swept his arm through the airy foyer as his sister scowled at him.

"I thought you knew I was coming."

"Oh, sure. I'm just teasing you. Come on in. Drink?"

"No thanks."

Apparently, the divorce was final, because it seemed a few more items had gone missing from the family estate: the antique Portuguese vase that had always sat beneath the hall table was gone, and so were the Impressionist landscape from the top of the landing, a mirror, and a few lamps.

Either these items were part of the latest ex-wife's settlement or Drew had been reduced to selling things for cash. Audie didn't care much either way. They were just things-Drew's things. He could do whatever he liked with them.

Drew handed her what looked like a gin and tonic. "Relax, Audie. How's the column going? How's soccer this season? How's Russell?"

Audie stared at the drink in her hand, carried it patiently to the bar, and set it down. Her brother had already deposited himself in a slip-covered chair, looking quite self-satisfied.

"I'm not seeing Russell Ketchum anymore, not for six months. We're seven-and-two. And some kook is threatening to kill me."

"So I hear." Drew gestured for his sister to have a seat near him in the library. Audie saw that he'd had the Oriental carpets and heavy draperies removed for the summer, just like Helen used to do. The property seemed well tended. Drew seemed to be staying on top of things, wife or no.

"The Chicago Police have already paid me a call-fine public servants they were, too. One of them seemed to be quite interested in your welfare." Drew brought the crystal tumbler to his lips and inclined his head a bit. "The macho Irish one. Finn."

Audie frowned at him. "Quinn. And I didn't know they'd already come to see you."

"Right after lunch today, actually. We spent quite a bit of quality time together, discussing sibling rivalry, my private financial affairs, my ex-wives, that sort of unpleasantness. Mrs. Splawinski was here, so it was like Warsaw old home week for the big Polish guy-they were jabbering in the kitchen while she made him brownies. You sure you won't have a drink?"

Audie felt her eyes glaze over for a moment, then tried to refocus. There he was-her brother, her flesh and blood-in his urban-chic eyeglasses, his Ralph Lauren khakis and Polo shirt and his Sperry topsiders, and she felt so little of anything for him.

Audie didn't hate Drew, but she didn't love him, either. He was just some man she never would have tolerated had he not been her brother, had he not shared a childhood with her and was now the only living relative she had in the world.

She saw that Drew's dark hair was starting to thin, leaving a shiny spot on top of his head. His skin was as tanned as it was every summer, but she saw a touch of gray beneath the brown this year. He was drinking too much, obviously, and he looked much older than thirty-three. He also seemed more arrogant and bored than the last time she'd seen him, if that could be possible.