"I"ll clean it up while supper is cooking."
"That"s okay,"
she rap lied amused.
"~l planned to hose down the kitchen tonight, anyway.
" She strolled into the room and s.n.a.t.c.hed a carrot from a bowl. " To
what do I owe this display of culinary expertise?
" He"d gone back to chopping. " I just thought it was my turn to
cook.
You seemed busy so I decided to get supper going.
" " Uh-huh.
" She wasn"t convinced. Seating herself on the edge of the counter,
she filched another carrot. Munching, she considered him shrewdly. The
only other time he"d felt compelled to cook something was on the night he"d brought her home from the hospital. She had a bad feeling aboutthis.
Something had happened today to elicit this thoughtfulness, and nodoubt it was something that affected her. He"d barely looked at hersince the night they"d made love, and conversation had been practicallynonexistent. Chewing reflectively, she decided that whatever the newswas, it could wait. She was going to bask in the pleasure of watchinghim perform the mundane task of cooking in her kitchen. For a few precious minutes she was going to allow herself to pretend thatMacauley was a different sort of man than he was, one free of regretsand dark places in his soul. But then he wouldn"t be the man who"d made such a huge difference in her life, and he wouldn"t be the one sheso desperately wanted a chance with. She watched, fascinated, as hewielded the knife with swift, economical movements. " Are you going tosit them and eat the fruits of my labors, or do you want to actually dosomething constructive?
" he asked after several minutes. " I could help," she saidjudiciously, " but I rather enjoy watching you do it.
" A small smile pulled at the corner: of his mouth. " Here"s a knife.
" He slid a smaller paring knife toward her. " You can chop up thosemushrooms.
" Lazily, she slid from the counter and did as he asked. They workedtogether in a companionable silence that made her wistful at itsordinariness. There was another side to Macauley"O"Ncill, one herefused to even recognize. It was the side that would put a mealtogether, in an awkward attempt to soft-pedal some bad news. A side that took a kind of wonder from the simple pleasure of sitting in theporch swing and watching the stars. It was a side that would make love to a woman to comfort her, giving her gentleness in the only way heknew how. She ached with the need to argue with him again, to pressthe point she"d tried to make the other morning after he"d left her.But she knew it would be useless. He was the only one who could find away out of the shadows in his soul. She knew from experience thatwhile others coulc[try to show the way, he would have to be the guideon that particular journey. But she hated thinking of him living hislife cold and alone, never letting anybody get too close to him. She"d tried to live that way herself and-knew the damage it inflicted. She let him get through the preparation and the entire meal before sheasked evenly, " So, when are you going to tell me what happenedtoday?
" He froze in the act of reaching for his gla.s.s, but (rely for aninstant.
The next moment he picked it up in a smooth movement and finished hislemonade. Setting the gla.s.s on the table with a deliberate motion, hemet her eyes. " What makes you think something happened?
" She leaned forward. " Because I"m beginning to know you, Ma-cauleyO"Neill.
Better than you.
suspect.
" " If you knew me half as well as you claim to," he said withirritation in his voice, " you"dknow that n.o.body calls me Macau-ley.
Ever.
" " n.o.body?
" He shook his head. " Not your mother?
" " Only when she"s mad at me.
" She wouldn"t even try to guess at the frequency that occurred. " I"ll bet you had a grandma who did.
I"ll bet she insisted on calling you by your given name.
I"m guessing she refused to call you Mac.
" He frowned at her, annoyed, wanting to deny it. How the h.e.l.l had she known that? His grandmother O"Neill had insisted that Mac was no namefor a boy, and she"d never called him that. She"d died when he was twelve, but he could still remember spending weeks in the summer at herhome, eating freshly baked cookies and exploring her neighborhood. Odd,how Raine"s slightly teasing words had brought" the visions back sovividly. He didn"t remember that carefre~ boy often. He"d been buried under years of living on the edge, where black and white blurred into an ugly shade of gray. Where right and wrong didn"t seem likeopposites, but like a flip of a two-headed coin. " You"re right," hesaid finally. " About your grandma?
" He wasn"t ready to admit to the accuracy of her guess.
"JAn-other letter came today."
Her face went still, the amus.e.m.e.nt wiped from it.
He noticed the change grir~ly.
It seemed as if he was always responsible for bringing that look to her
face.
Intentionally or not, he was the one who"d put it there.
He"d had no choice in the matter, however.
She wouldn"t thank him for shielding "her from the truth, and he
wouldn"t insult her by trying to do so.
She stood up abruptly.
"I want to see it."
"There"s nothing new in it,"
he said quietly, rising, too.
"The detective will be here to pick it up tomorrow."
"I want to see fit she repeated.
He looked into her face for a long moment, then nodded.
He led her silently into the office and over to his de ski "Don"t touch
it,"
he cautioned.
"There"s always a chance they could find prints."
Raine read it silently.
Long after she"d finished reading the message, it reverberated in her
head.
She swallowed and looked at him.
"Doesn"t sound like it"s going to quit anytime soon."
He watched her carefully, judging her reaction.
"No."
She turned away from him, crossing her arms and rubbing them, suddenly
cold.
"So l~ow long does this go on? Indefinitely? How much longer do I
have to be careful of who I see and where I go?"
"I don"t know."
"I mean, it"s not that I"m trying to get rid of you,"
she said, trying and failing at a light tone, "but I"m sure you have a
life you want to get back to. And then there"s that vacation you wereplanning.You don"t have time to stick around here indefinitely, either.""I"ll have two men patrolling the grounds, day and night,"he said quietly."The crew has already started work on the fence in front. And,"he added without thinking, "I"ll be here as long as you need me."She gave a little laugh."Macauley O"Neill, duty first, that"s your motto, right?"
She forced herself to stop then, doubting her ability to keep her next
words from being shaded with the bitterness she suddenly felt.
He"d stay for the job, out of duty, a sense of honor perhaps, but he wouldn"t be staying for her.
The difference was glaring.
"I won"t leave until this thing is over."
It was a promise, to himself as much as to her, and he meant it.
It was all he could offer her, but he knew it wasn"t enough.
Not nearly enough.
"We"ve got a postmark on the envelope, and that will give the police
something to look for."
"What will they be able to learn from that?"
"The detective will probably turn the letter over to the Postal