Question: If Timmy was sleeping with Audie, what motive would he have for stalking her? It ran contrary to everything he knew about the psychology of stalkers-people obsessed with "proving their love" to someone who had rejected their advances. That love letter described a lot of activities, but rejection wasn't one of them.

Fact: Timmy hated Quinn. Audie's letter had been lying right on top of the desk for the world to see, and Timmy surely wanted Quinn to read it and go insane with jealousy-which was exactly what had happened.

Quinn rubbed his eyes and his groan of frustration echoed off the bathroom walls.

Why the hell had Timmy taken everything so calmly? Why didn't his lawyers raise a stink about anything? It was almost as if Tim wanted to be arrested, wanted to go to jail.

Quinn raked his hands through his wet hair. Maybe he needed to look at this another way, keep the two pieces of evidence separate. First the love letter. Was it possible-just possible-thatthe love letter was a fake put there for his benefit? Was it meant to distract him? Keep him away from Audie?

Quinn's heart was hammering in his chest. Was it possible that Timmy was willingly taking the fall for someone else? But who? Andrew Adams? And why? It made no goddamn sense!

Quinn hung his head and let the water fall like a curtain over his eyes. The uneasy feeling he'd been carrying around for two days was now a screeching, piercing alarm going off in his brain. And it was telling him to look at whoever had picked up the phone and called 911.

The caller may have been a female-was she the perpetrator? This female would have to have known everyone involved and know exactly how to make all the pieces fit together. She had to know Tim Burke. She had to know enough about Audie's life to use it against her. She had to have access to Audie's stationery.

Quinn slammed off the shower, bashed his fist against the tile wall, and hung his dripping head. Jaysus God.

Marjorie Stoddard?

He didn't know why or how, but he knew he was right.

The next few moments were a blur. Quinn raced around the house naked and wet, making one call after the next. First Audie's home-he got her answering machine. Where was she? Next he paged Stan, Connelly, and the state's attorney's office. He threw on his clothes, ran out through his backyard, and got into his car.

"Goddamn it!" he hissed, spinning out of the alley. Didn't Audie say she was going to some ball tonight? Where? The Drake? He called for backup at the Drake and requested officers he sent to Marjorie's home address.

As he blew through red lights and snaked through weekend traffic, Quinn realized with rising fear exactly what Marjorie Stoddard was capable of. He thought of her competence. Her thoroughness and attention to detail. He remembered how she'd looked him in the eye and asked whether Audie had constant police protection.

Not tonight she didn't, thanks to Quinn. He'd pulled the uniforms off duty once Tim was charged-just in time for September 22.

He suddenly saw it so clearly-Marjorie had killed Helen Adams. Why and how, he couldn't say yet, but she'd done it. Marjorie was a killer. A killer with big plans for Audie.

Quinn slammed the gas pedal to the floor and felt the fury build inside him.

What had he done? Had he been too busy fighting with Timmy Burke to protect someone he loved? Was history about to repeat itself?

Had he just let Audie die?

Drew flicked on the lights.

He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been in this place and he'd hated every moment of every visit-because she'd always been there. Tonight it was the silence that made it eerie. He shivered.

Drew headed straight into Audie's office.He hadn't seen it since Helen died, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. My God, it was amazing that Audie had held up as long as she had! Drew had to give her credit. He was proud of his sister for trying so hard.

He spied the legal-sized folder on top of a precariously balanced pile of… debris, really, and smiled to himself. Things were certainly going to be different around here from now on, now that he was going to be running the show.

The first mistake to be corrected would be Marjorie. The next thing to go would be the god-awful name Homey Helen. He'd give Griffin a trial run, see how things went. He seemed like a decent enough guy.

Drew strolled back into the front office and headed for the door, but something caught his eye.A plain white envelope sat propped up against the back of Marjorie's desk chair. In flowing cursive writing he saw the words "Getting My Affairs in Order."

A tingle spread through Drew's body, and he found himself standing over the chair, staring, reaching toward the envelope in slow motion with a shaking hand.

The sickening sense of dread was back and his mouth went dry as he opened the envelope and a pair of earrings fell out into his palm-small, elegant gold twists he'd given to his mother for her birthday several years ago. But these were the ones the police said were never recovered…

As Drew's eyes raced across the first sentence, he knew he didn't have a second to waste. He called the police, ran out of the building, and prayed that Audie wasn't already dead.

Tim Burke's hair and smile were perfect and he was wearing an outrageously expensive tuxedo accessorized with a surgically enhanced blonde, and Audie smiled-it was like looking at Satanic Ken on a date with Hose-Bag Barbie!

"Tim Burke," she chirped. "Is prison food as bland as they say?"

"Audie, please." His voice was soft and tortured and it was the last thing she expected. She turned slowly to see that he was absolutely stricken. "Please. One minute."

Tim whispered to his date and she went down the stairs without him.

Audie's heart was thumping and she could barely breathe. "The clock's ticking."

"I didn't threaten you with those letters, Audie. Please believe me."

"Good-bye."

"Audie!" He gripped her arm-hard. "I love you! I've loved you since the first minute I saw you!" He lowered his voice to a whisper, aware that people were starting to stare. "I would never hurt you, sweetheart, but I think you really are in danger-it's Marjorie."

Audie's jaw dropped and she shook her arm away from his. "You're sick. And your girlfriend's waiting."

He shook his head sadly. "She means nothing to me, and I'm not the one who's sick. Marjorie is. I hate to say this, but I'd stick close to the police for a while if I were you. She put those letters in my computer yesterday, Audie. She forged that love letter to me. She wants to hurt you."

Audie began to tremble.

"I'm real worried about you."

Tim was absolutely sincere, Audie realized. He was telling the truth-at least what he thought was the truth-and the questions whirled around in her mind and her heart until she could hardly breathe. Then Tim said, "I'll never stop trying with you, Audie," and he reached for her hand.

That did it. Her brain snapped to attention. She almost fell for it! "Are you threatening me?" she whispered.

"I'm telling you that you deserve so much better than Quinn. I'll wait as long as I have to."

Suddenly the fear disappeared and she started laughing, somewhat hysterically.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," she said, still laughing. "You're innocent. Marjorie is a head case. And you're going to wait around until you're a better man than Stacey Quinn? Is that it? 'Cause that means you'll be waiting for all eternity, Timmy-like until the Cubs win the World Series!"