"She was the best."

I jerked toward the speaker, feeling guilty and jittery. The woman who stood next to me was in her early fifties.

"Faith that could move mountains," she said. She dabbed her nose with a tissue. "I"m Beth Culbertson. I"m in... was in..." Her voice cracked. "Her circle at Shepherd."

We shook hands. She waited for me to speak, but I was busy trying to look intelligent.

"Did you know her well?" she asked.

"No. I just..." Words failed me, but probably not for the reason she thought. "We were friends... a long while ago."

"But you know Delbert."

I blinked, mind scrambling.

"Her husband."

"Oh... well..."

"They were well yoked."

I ran that weird image frenetically through my mind, then got raggedly back on track. "I don"t remember him from the campaign," I said.

She frowned. "What campaign is that?"

"Becky and I worked for Senator Rivera together," I said.

"Senator Rivera?" She drew back, surprised.

"A long time ago."

"Really? She never mentioned it."

"You were friends?"

"We taught Tykes for Christ together for five years. She never said she had brushed with greatness."

"Greatness?" I gave her a questioning glance, then caught her meaning. "Oh, yes, the senator. Sure. He"s amazing."

"And so good-looking."

"Like a G.o.d," I said, but before I could swallow my tongue, I felt a presence beside me.

"Ms. McMullen." The voice was dark-rum deep. "Can I have a word with you?"

I turned, and there he was. Rivera, in all his glaring glory, dressed in dark slacks and a navy-blue ribbed sweater with a V-neck. I refrained from pa.s.sing out. I also refrained from spewing out an apology. I didn"t owe him anything, regardless of what I had or had not done on New Year"s Eve. But what the c.r.a.p had I done? By the time I got out of bed, D was gone, as were the bottles. The gla.s.ses were clean and set in their proper place. I wondered if, perhaps, I was losing my mind.

"I"m rather busy right now," I said, and gave Beth Culbertson my best refined-sugar smile.

"I"m sorry to disturb you," Rivera said, not sounding sorry at all. "But the senator is on the phone."

I turned toward him, baffled. Beth stared at him, agog.

"If you"ll excuse us," he said, and, nodding curtly, tugged me away.

"The senator called?" I asked, but he glared me down.

"Sure. Said he wanted to take you for a ride at his rancho," he said, spewing sarcasm. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing here?"

"It"s a free country, Rivera. What are you doing here?"

"I"m a police officer, McMullen." He glanced at the crowd. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "A real one. With a last name and everything."

"What"s that supposed to mean?" I asked, and tugged at my arm. He didn"t relent.

"So you decided on a thug instead of milquetoast?"

I stiffened, finally catching up. The noise Harlequin had heard was Rivera at the door. D had left his boots in front of the window by the door. Holy c.r.a.p! I thought, but kept my tone b.u.t.terscotch smooth. "I hardly thought it would be possible," I said, "but Officer Tavis-"

"Glad to hear the dearth is ended," he said, but he didn"t sound glad.

"And how," I said.

His eyes darkened a shade. "So Curly Top lost out."

Anger coursed through me. Anger, and maybe a little madness, but I batted my eyelashes. Innocent as a b.u.t.terfly. "Why would you say that?"

His lips thinned. "Some men don"t like to share."

I smiled. "Some do," I crooned.

For a moment I thought he might explode, erupt like a volcano, but he remained as he was-dark, quiet, and p.i.s.sed. "I want you to get the h.e.l.l out of here."

"I"m just asking a few questions." I yanked at my arm again. He tightened his grip more.

"If I remember correctly, you asked a few questions of the last couple guys who tried to kill you," he gritted.

A man pa.s.sed by carrying a Bible. I gave him a smile. Rivera nodded. If he was any more congenial than that, his head would have popped off. "Why wouldn"t Rebecca have told anyone about working for your dad?" I asked.

"Maybe she wasn"t as hot for him as you are."

I was far past trying to mollify him. "And maybe she was," I said, and jerked free.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" he hissed, but I was already slipping into the crowd.

Despite Rivera"s glowering presence from across the room, I examined everyone. Not a soul looked familiar. Easing through the crowd, I offered my condolences to the husband, then studied his face and tone and body language for any smidgeon of guilt, but sorrow and shock seemed to be his only emotions. After a moment he was drawn into another"s condolences.

"I don"t believe we"ve met," said a voice from my left. I turned. It was the man with the Bible.

"Oh, I"m Christina McMullen."

He smiled benevolently. "And how did you know Rebecca?"

"We ... umm ..." I glanced toward Rivera. He was momentarily distracted. Possibly making some sort of pact with the devil. "We worked for the senator together."

"Oh?" He canted his head a little. "What senator is that?"

"Well, he wasn"t actually a senator then. Just a mayor."

He still looked confused. I refrained from scowling.

"Reverend, if I could have a moment," someone said, and he turned away with an apology.

I spoke to four other people. None of them had any idea Rebecca had worked for the man who might very well be the next President of the United States.

I glanced to the right, and Rivera was there, not three feet away. I kept my heart firmly in my chest.

His cheek twitched. "Have you lost your mind completely or do you have some reason to think she had an affair with him?"

I considered refusing to speak to him, but he was so ... loomy "Other than the law of averages?"

He snorted. "The woman was a saint."

"Why only one child, then?"

He glared a question.

"Even the Virgin Mary had a bunch of kids, and she was a virgin."

"I"m surprised you even know the meaning," he said.

I stared at him a full fifteen seconds, then cracked a faux laugh and turned toward the crowd, but he grabbed my arm. "Who was it?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell me you didn"t really sleep with that d.a.m.n smalltown crossing guard."

I faced him, breath stopping in my throat. "Why do you think it was anyone?"

His brows dipped a little lower.

"You should have rung the doorbell," I said. "As long as you were in the neighborhood."

The world pulsed around us. "I"m not that fond of orgies," he said.

"Too bad," I quipped, and glided back into the crowd.

There was a woman standing alone, watching a little girl twirl like a top in her gauzy black skirt. I approached from a tangent.

"It"s unfortunate Becky never had more children," I said.

The woman was short, plump, pretty in a bland sort of way. She smiled.

"The Lord"s will, I guess," I continued.

She narrowed her eyes a little. "Or her fallopian tubes."

"What?"

"I don"t necessarily believe in G.o.d," she said. "But I have a lot of faith in a good healthy reproductive system."

"And?"

She smiled, seeming to draw out of herself. "I don"t recognize you. Do you work at Children"s?"

"Becky and I worked for the senator together a long time ago." Lying is like most things. Practice makes perfect.

"What senator is that?"

c.r.a.p.

"Senator Rivera. Are you a nurse?"

"A doctor. Obstetrics."

Huh. Who would have thought I was s.e.xist.

"Rebecca volunteered there. She also initiated a program to counsel couples with fertility problems."

"Did she have one? A fertility problem? I mean, she seemed the type to want a whole house full of kids."

"She and Delbert tried for years. But endometriosis can be a real b.i.t.c.h. They finally tried in vitro fertilization. Obstetrics threw her a party when they found out she was pregnant with Shane."

"So Shane was her first child." I realized after I spoke that it sounded like I didn"t know the deceased from the Parthenon. "We"ve been out of touch for decades," I said. "I just happened to hear of her awful death."

"Breech. Seven pounds, two ounces," she said. "I was the attending when he was born. She had a lot of Demerol. Yammered like a parakeet. Funny, though," she said. "She never mentioned working for a senator. Or you," she added, eyeing me.

"I"m just one of those people who fade into the woodwork," I said, and, glancing to my right, saw that Rivera was watching me. Eyes dark, mood stormy.

Apparently I hadn"t faded yet.

31.