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  Not Nora. “Let’s go to your place,” she said.

  I regarded her for a moment, fixing on her expression. She’d already seen “my place,” run-down shoebox that it was. Was she playing me, wondering how I’d react? Or did she really not care how I lived?

  “My place, huh?”

  “Is that all right?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ve got to warn you, though, it may not be what you’re expecting.”

  “What would that be? What am I expecting?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a far cry from what you’re used to.”

  Nora looked me in the eye then. “Craig, I like you. That’s what this is about. Just you and me. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Can I trust you? I want to.”

  “Yeah, of course you can trust me. I’m your insurance guy.”

  With that, we drove to my place. Nora didn’t bat a pretty eyelash when she saw it—for the second time. Ashford Court Gardens, my home sweet home.

  Hand in hand, we ventured inside.

  “I should point out, the maid is on strike,” I said with a grin. “Unbearable work conditions, she claims.”

  Nora looked around at my less-than-tidy surroundings. “That’s okay,” she said. “It tells me you’re not seeing anybody else. I kind of like it, actually.”

  I offered her a beer and she accepted. Handing it to her in the kitchen, I was sure to make fun of the yellow Formica countertops before she did.

  She took a swig and put down her red leather purse. “Well, aren’t you going to show me around?”

  “You’re pretty much looking at it,” I said.

  “You do have a bedroom, don’t you?”

  I’d told myself this had to stop right here, right now. Of course, if I’d really meant it, we never would’ve been standing in my kitchen. I would’ve said something back at the movie theater, a pretense of wanting to “slow things down.”

  Instead, we were already starting to kiss as we headed to my bedroom. I was about to get between the sheets with Nora again. Talk about giving new meaning to undercover agent.

  But I was actually planning to turn it to my advantage. And I thought I knew right where to start.

  Chapter 78

  “HOW’D YOU GET into her purse without her knowing?” Susan asked.

  Well, you see, boss, after Nora and I had wild, crazy sex in my bachelor digs, I waited until she fell asleep. Then I slipped out to the kitchen and rummaged through her bag.

  On second thought…

  “I have my ways,” I simply said. “Isn’t that why you chose me for this?”

  “Let’s just say you have a track record, O’Hara. And you were available.”

  I was in the office behind my desk the next day, giving Susan an update over the phone on what we’d last discussed: my “dinner date” with Nora. Susan’s main concern was that I might be coming on too strong—that I might scare Nora off.

  Ha.

  Once I assured Susan that wasn’t the case, her attention fell on what I’d found in Nora’s purse.

  “What’s the shyster’s name again?” asked Susan.

  “Steven A. Keppler.”

  “And he’s a tax attorney in New York City?”

  “That’s what his card said.”

  “How soon can you talk to him?”

  “That’s the thing. I called and Keppler’s away on vacation until next week.”

  “Of course, he may not know anything.”

  “Or he may know everything. I’m an optimist, remember?”

  “He’ll claim client privilege if indeed that’s what Nora is.”

  “He probably will.”

  “What will you do then?”

  “Like I said, I have my ways.”

  “I know, that’s what scares me,” she said. “Remember, you’ve got to be careful with lawyers. Some of them, believe it or not, actually know the law.”

  “Funny how that works, huh?”

  “You’ll keep me informed? You will keep me informed.”

  “I always do.”

  Hanging up with Susan, I pushed my office chair back and took a deep breath. I felt restless and out of sorts. My computer was in screen-saver mode, and with the heel of my shoe I hit the space bar on the keyboard. The monitor lit. I pulled up my chair and clicked open the file I had on Nora. I started to browse through the pictures I’d first taken of her with the digicam after Connor Brown’s funeral.

  I stopped on the last one and studied it.

  It was the shot of her talking with Connor’s sister, Elizabeth, on the front steps. Nora was dressed in black, with the same pair of sunglasses she wore with me on our picnic. Elizabeth Brown was almost as good-looking, only she was a California blonde—an architect, according to my notes.

  I leaned forward and stared at the photograph closely. On the surface there was nothing unusual about what I was looking at. But that was the thing. Perception versus reality. Either Nora had nothing to hide… or she had everyone fooled. The police. Friends. Elizabeth Brown. Christ. Could she really be standing there and calmly talking to the sister of the man she’d murdered?

  Was Nora that convincing? That conniving? What made her so dangerous was that I couldn’t tell for sure. Not even now.

  All I knew was one thing: I couldn’t wait to see her again.

  I closed the file, telling myself I was out of control. I had to do something. I was standing way too close to the flame, the heat was getting to be too much. I needed to get away. Cool it, O’Hara. At least for a few days.

  I had an idea then. Maybe a way of getting my priorities back in order.

  I dialed Susan again and told her what I wanted to do.

  “I need a couple of days off.”

  Chapter 79

  NORA STEPPED OFF the elevator on the eighth floor of the Pine Woods Psychiatric Facility. She took a swig of water, finished it off, and tossed the empty bottle in a trash barrel. As she always did, she walked to the nurses’ station. Except no one was there that afternoon. Not Emily. Or Patsy. What an apt name that is. Not anyone.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  There was no response, just the echo of her own voice.

  Nora hesitated for a moment before deciding to continue on down the hallway. It wasn’t as if she had to sign in after all these years.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Olivia Sinclair turned to her daughter, who was standing in the doorway. “Hello,” she replied with her usual blank smile.

  Nora gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled up a chair. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I like to read, you know.”

  “You do,” said Nora. She placed her purse down on the floor and reached into the plastic bag she had with her. Out came a copy of Patricia Cornwell’s latest novel. “Here you go. I didn’t forget this time.”

  Olivia Sinclair took the book and slowly ran the palm of her hand over the cover. With her index finger she traced the embossed lettering of the title.

  “You’re looking a lot better, Mother. Do you realize how much you scared me last time?”

  Nora watched as her mother’s gaze remained on the novel’s shiny cover. Of course she doesn’t realize anything. The walls she’d built around her world were too thick.

  But that fact, usually the cause for Nora’s pain every time she visited, was now cause for relief. From the moment her mother suffered the seizure, she worried that she’d been responsible. Her tears, her emotions, the sudden compulsion to admit her sins—everything she had no business bringing with her into that room—had triggered the reaction. The more Nora thought about it, the more she was convinced that’s what had happened.

  Not now, though.

  To look at her mother—so removed, so totally oblivious—was to know that the incident had nothing to do with her. Strange as it seemed, the idea that she could’ve been responsible for the seizure would have been reason for hope.

  “I think you’re going to enjoy
that book, Mother. Kay Scarpetta. You’ll let me know next time, okay?”

  “I like to read, you know.”

  Nora smiled. For the remainder of her visit she spoke only of positive things, fun things. Occasionally her mother looked at her, but most of the time she stared at the turned-off television.

  “Okay, I think I’m going to be leaving now,” Nora said after about an hour.

  She watched as her mother picked up the plastic cup sitting on the bedside table. It was empty.

  “Do you want some water?” asked Nora.

  Her mother nodded as Nora stood and reached for the pitcher.

  “Whoops, that’s empty, too.” Nora took the pitcher and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

  Her mother nodded again.

  Then she waited. As soon as she heard the sound of the faucet, Olivia reached beneath the bedcover for the letter she’d written. It explained so many things she’d wanted to tell her daughter for so many years but knew she couldn’t.

  Now she felt she had to tell Nora the truth.

  Olivia swung her bare feet off the bed and reached down to Nora’s open purse, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. She let it fall inside. After all this time, it was as simple as letting go.

  Chapter 80

  “THERE YOU ARE!”

  A startled Emily Barrows looked up from her seat at the nurses’ station to see Nora standing in front of her, looking gorgeous as ever, of course. She hadn’t heard her footsteps. She was too engrossed in her book.

  “Oh, hi, Nora.”

  “I didn’t see you when I got here.”

  “Sorry, dear. I must have been in the bathroom,” said Emily. “It’s just me here this afternoon.”

  “What happened to that other nurse—the one you were training?”

  “You mean Patsy? She called in sick today.” Emily nodded at the open book in front of her. “Thankfully, it’s been a quiet one.”

  “What are you reading?”

  Emily held up the cover. A Time for Mercy, by Jeffrey Walker. Nora smiled. “He’s good.”

  “The best.”

  “Not too hard on the eyes, either, huh?”

  “If you’re into tall and ruggedly handsome, I suppose.”

  Emily watched as Nora laughed. This was definitely not the tight, dour woman who’d shown up last time. If anything, she seemed in a better mood than she’d ever been.

  “Did you have a nice visit with your mother, Nora? Seems like it.”

  “Yes, I did. It was certainly better than the last time I was here.” Nora tucked her hair behind her ears. “That reminds me,” she said. “I want to apologize for my behavior that day. I was very emotional. You, on the other hand, calmly took care of things. You were great. Thank you, Emily.”

  “You’re welcome, but that’s what I’m here for.”

  “Well, I’m glad you were here that day.” Nora glanced down at Emily’s book. “Tell you what, when his next one comes out I’ll get you an autographed copy.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I happen to know Mr. Walker. I did some work with him.”

  Emily’s smile was radiant. “Oh God, that would make my day all right. My week!”

  “It’s the least I could do.” Nora flashed a warm smile. “After all, what are friends for?”

  Figure of speech or not, Emily knew that it was a nice thing to say. Nora finally waved good-bye and headed for the elevator bank.

  After Emily watched her hit the DOWN button, she returned to her Jeffrey Walker novel. Only when she heard the closing elevator doors did she look back up. That’s when she saw it.

  Nora’s purse was on the counter.

  Emily figured that she’d realize she’d left it by the time she reached the lobby. Just the same, she called down to security. Hanging up the phone, she resumed her reading. But before she could finish a sentence, her eyes went back to the beautiful and expensive-looking purse.

  She noticed it was open.

  Chapter 81

  ELAINE AND ALLISON could hardly believe their ears. They weren’t used to Nora talking about another man—not since her husband, Tom, had died suddenly.

  But that’s what their good friend was doing as they ate dinner amid the exposed brick walls of the Mercer Kitchen in SoHo that night. In fact, talking didn’t begin to describe it. Gushing was more like it. This was so not Nora.

  “There’s this incredible energy with him, just beneath the surface. This quiet confidence I just love. He’s down-to-earth, but he’s special.”

  “Wow. Who knew insurance guys could be so sexy?” joked Elaine.

  “Certainly not me,” said Nora. “But Craig, well, he shouldn’t be an insurance man.”

  “More important, how does he dress?” asked Allison, ever the fashion editor.

  “Nice suits, but nothing stuffy. He likes to go open collar. I don’t think I’ve seen him in a tie.”

  “Okay, let’s cut to the chase,” said Elaine with a wave of her hand. “How is your fella in bed?”

  Allison rolled her eyes. “Elaine!”

  “What? We tell each other everything.”

  “Yeah, but they just met. How do you know they’ve even had sex yet?” Allison turned to Nora with a sneaky grin.

  “We’ve had sex.”

  Elaine and Allison leaned forward on their elbows. “And?” they both asked simultaneously.

  Nora, in complete control of the moment, took a slow sip of her cosmopolitan. “The sex was okay…. No, I’m kidding. It was incredible.”

  The three of them laughed like teenagers.

  “I am so jealous,” said Elaine.

  Nora got a little serious suddenly, and it surprised even her. “I don’t feel alone when I’m with him. I haven’t felt like that in a long time. I think… I think we’re a lot alike.”

  Elaine turned to Allison. “Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place. A city of a million single men and she meets Mr. Incredible out in the ’burbs.”

  “You didn’t tell us, what were you doing there in the first place?” asked Allison.

  “I’ve got a client in Briarcliff Manor,” said Nora. “I was in Chappaqua at an antiques store and there he was, looking for old fly-fishing rods. He collects them.”

  “And the rest is history,” said Allison.

  “She reeled him in from there,” added Elaine. “I repeat, I am so jealous!”

  She wasn’t really and Nora knew it. The only thing Elaine was, was happy—happy that her friend, who hadn’t seemed able to get on with her life, had met someone. And Allison was equally happy for Nora.

  “So when do we meet this Craig?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” said Elaine. “When do we get to meet Mr. Incredible?”

  Chapter 82

  NORA RETURNED TO her loft after dinner with one thing on her mind: Craig. All that talk about their sex life had her wishing she were with him now. She’d have to settle for hearing his voice. After changing into her pajamas, she climbed into bed and dialed his number.

  It rang five times before he picked up.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I was in the other room, reading.”

  “Anything good?”

  “Unfortunately, no. It’s all work stuff.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “It is. All the more reason I’m glad you called.”

  “Do you miss me?”

  “More than you know.”

  “Ditto for me,” she said. “I wish I were there with you. I have a feeling you wouldn’t be doing any reading.”

  “Oh yeah? What would I be doing?”

  “You’d be holding me.”

  “Anything else?”

  Nora breathed into the phone. “Kissing me.”

  “Kissing you where?”

  “On the lips.”

  “Soft or hard?”

  “First soft, then hard.”

  “Where are my hands?” he asked.

&
nbsp; “Different interesting places.”

  “Where exactly?”

  “My breasts. For starters.”

  “Hmmmm. Good start, as I remember. Where else?”

  “My inner thighs.”

  “Ooh, I like that.”

  “Wait… they’re moving higher. Slowly. You tease.”

  “I like that even more.”

  Nora bit her lower lip. “So do I, actually.”

  “Can you feel me?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I inside you?”

  Click.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Shit, it’s the other line.”

  “Ignore it.”

  Nora looked at her caller ID. “I can’t, it’s one of my girlfriends.”

  “Now we’re talking,” he said with a laugh.

  “Very funny. Hold on a second, okay? I had dinner with her earlier and if I don’t answer, she’ll be worried.”

  She clicked over to the other line. “Elaine?”

  “You weren’t asleep yet, were you?” she asked.

  “No, I was very wide awake.”

  “Wait, you sound out of breath.”

  “I’m on the other line.”

  “Don’t tell me… Craig?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I beeped right in the middle of it, didn’t I?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Call waiting interruptus. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I just wanted to tell you again how ecstatic I am for you, honey. Now get back to whatever you two were doing.”

  “I think I will.”

  “Soooo jealous!”

  Click.

  “You still there?” asked Nora.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “So, where were we?”

  “We were at the point where I definitely wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Me, either. Tomorrow I’m driving out there for the real thing.”

  Nora waited for him to say something. Instead, there was silence. What is he thinking?