Outside the vice mayor's door, Quinn could hear a crowd gathering, and he wondered how many minutes he had until the City Hall press corps got wind of the search warrant and descended on them like sharks in a feeding frenzy. How many minutes did they have before the mayor himself was rousted from his committee meeting?

When the evidence techs got the last of the equipment, Quinn closed the office door behind them, leaving just himself and Stanny-O alone with Tim. Stan was looking through the desk drawers. Quinn took a seat across from Tim.

"Can I tell you something off the record?" Tim asked, smiling. "Just a little something between old friends?"

Quinn shrugged. "Have at it. Timmy."

Tim leaned forward and whispered, "You're a bigger idiot than I thought."

Quinn grinned at him. "I'm crushed to learn you feel that way about me."

Tim's shoulders began bobbing with laughter and he shook his head. "I just hope you've got other job skills to fall back on-bricklaying or driving the big rigs or something-because you're going to be unemployed real soon, boy-o."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up with amusement. "You don't say?"

"Oh, boy."

Quinn turned around to see Stanny-O leaning on both palms, staring at the surface of Tim's cluttered desk. Stan raised his head and glanced toward Tim, then locked a pair of startled eyes with Quinn's.

"I think you'd better have a look at this, buddy."

The instant Quinn saw the single sheet of elegant off-white stationery, individual words popped from the page like they were in 3-D, and his hand began to shake. His gaze flew to the familiar messy display of a signature at the bottom of the page, and for a moment he couldn't remember how to breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't feel.

Quinn looked to Stanny-O, but his partner only frowned and shook his head, stunned. Then ever so slowly, Quinn turned his gaze toward Timmy.

The vice mayor sat comfortably against the leather cushions, legs crossed casually, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face. "Life's a bitch, ain't it, Stace?"

Then the mayor burst through the door, which was the only reason Tim lived long enough to be taken into custody.

Marjorie's gray head popped cheerfully through the office door. "There's a Sheila Quinn here to see you, Autumn," she whispered. "Do you want me to tell her you've got a lunch date and don't have time for visitors?"

Audie looked up in disbelief. "Sheila?"

"Yes. That's what she said. Isn't she the detective's sister-in-law you told me about?"

"She is." Audie stood up from behind her desk, so dizzy she thought she would faint.

It had been fourteen hours and a thousand years since Quinn had thrown her out. He hadn't returned her calls. He wouldn't answer his door or see her at the station house. And it was downright pathetic how often she'd checked to make certain her new answering machine was working.

But why was Sheila here?

Audie wondered how much Quinn had told his family about what had happened between them. Maybe Sheila drew the short straw and was sent out as the Quinn family emissary, here to put Audie under an ancient Irish curse or something.

This could be bad.

"Autumn?" Marjorie stood poised at the door. "Mrs. Quinn is waiting."

"Tell her I'll be right out."

Marjorie nodded and was about to leave when she turned around, tapping the door shut. "Are you feeling any better, honey? I worry about you."

"I'm fine," Audie said with a sigh. Marjorie had been so supportive this morning, assuring her it was all for the best, telling her things always happen for a reason.

Audie was suddenly seized by an enormous rush of guilt. She'd been so distracted that she hadn't even told Marjorie about her decision on the column. She owed this woman everything. She owed her the straight story. Homey Helen had been Marjorie Stoddard's life.

"Marjie? Do you think you could be my lunch date today? I think we need to spend some time together."

The older woman tapped her temple with an index finger and grinned. "My hunch is you're going to tell me you're through with the column and that you're not resigning with the Banner."

Audie's mouth fell open.

"Honey, it doesn't take a mind reader to see how miserable you've been. I'm sixty-three years old. I'm ready to slow down. I was expecting this, really, and I only want you to have all the happiness you deserve."

Audie still couldn't say anything.

"We'll have plenty of time to talk. What is most important to me right now is you don't get yourself all riled up about that detective. I'm sure you'll forget about him soon, like all the others." Marjorie had her hand on the door.

Audie tried to smile. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Audie's eyes glazed over. Could she ever forget Quinn? Why would she even want to?

She couldn't sleep last night. In the dark, she could see his intense green gaze. She could hear his gravelly voice saying, "Come here to me." She could still feel his hands move on her skin and his …his… Oh, crap! Hell! She could still feel him hot and hard inside her!

This was no way to live!

"Autumn?" Marjorie grabbed on to her wrist. "What about Sheila?"

"Right."

At that moment, Audie did something quite out of character for her. She pulled Marjorie close and hugged her, feeling with a shock how thin she seemed, how delicate. Maybe she really did want to slow down.

"Thank you," she whispered, stepping back.

Marjorie seemed too overcome to look Audie in the eye and walked into the front office.

After taking a few moments to steel herself, Audie peered out to see Sheila sitting quietly on the sofa, nearly dwarfed by the coffee-table floral arrangement. Sheila looked up with those expressive blue eyes and Audie watched as she smiled, obviously in spite of herself.

Audie had never had many girlfriends-usually just her soccer teammates in high school, college, and the adult leagues. The reason was simple: From what she'd seen, it looked like hard work. The process of finding and keeping women friends seemed fraught with twists and turns and chances for bad mistakes that she'd just prefer to avoid from the start. In fact, it seemed almost as difficult as dating.

But Sheila's friendship had been so easy, so relaxed. It had been one of the many perks of being with Quinn. And now what?

As she watched Sheila stand up and walk toward her, Audie went down the list of possible reasons for this visit-she was here to yell at her or to cry or to ask a lot of questions that were none of her business. Or maybe she had a message from Quinn!

"Hi, Sheila. Come on in." Audie nodded toward her office and offered her a seat in one of the chairs by her desk. She took the other one.

"Did the maid take the day off?" Sheila asked, one dark eyebrow arched high as she surveyed the room.

Audie laughed. Maybe this wouldn't be so excruciating after all. "She took the year off. The decade."

They sat quietly for a long moment, just examining each other as if unsure where they stood. Audie watched Sheila's pleasant face slowly go hard with anger, and she braced herself.

She knew Sheila was tough, direct, and stubborn as hell. She had to be. She was married to Michael Quinn. She took care of a sick child all day, every day.

"Where's Kiley?" Audie managed, her voice distinctly strained.

"With Da." Sheila's month was turned down and trembling. "We need to talk."

With a groan, Audie let her shoulders slump and her head fall forward into her hands. She'd been sitting like this a lot in the last fourteen hours.

"What the hell happened with you two?"

Audie raised up. "That's between me and Quinn."