with Luther in Luther’s private quarters above the Paradise Club. They were composing a carefully worded report for the FBI and a certain clandestine government agency.
In the end everyone had concluded that the only thing that required an explanation was the kidnapping of Raina. Luther had decreed that they would stick with the simplest story—the kidnappers had believed he could be persuaded to pay the ransom. Instead, he and some of his associates had organized a rescue mission. There was no need to mention Raina’s connection to the now-defunct firm of Enright & Enright.
Lyra slumped against the back of her desk chair and blew out a sigh. She had spent another sleepless night wondering if dawn would bring the news that Marcella Adlington had died of her wound. Now that it looked like Adlington would live, there was another, possibly bigger problem.
“What happens if Marcella talks?” she said. “She might tell the police that she suspects you were, uh, responsible for Graham Enright’s death.”
“She has absolutely no proof,” Raina said. “And why would anyone take the word of a former spy who worked for a hostile power in the Great War over that of an innocent secretary who was on vacation when her boss died? Trust me, Luther will take care of any problems from that direction.”
“Good point,” Lyra said.
“Don’t worry, no one questioned Enright’s death at the time. By then his only son was dead in a car crash. There was no other close family. His estate went to distant relatives who certainly won’t want anyone to open up an investigation that might bring other would-be heirs out of the woodwork.”
“I don’t see any way they can connect her to the so-called drug ring that was operating out of the Labyrinth Springs resort, either,” Lyra said. “That doesn’t leave much except attempted murder.”
“Which is enough to ensure that she does prison time,” Raina said. “However, I doubt it will come to that. Luther is going to see to it that she is turned over to the FBI. The Bureau will want to question her about her previous career as a spy. There will be a lot of juicy headlines in the press. When all is said and done she will be notorious. That is not a particularly useful status for a professional spy or a socialite.”
Encouraged, Lyra sat forward. “I wonder what will happen to her?”
There was a short silence from the other desk.
“You seem to be a woman of boundless curiosity,” Raina said.
“Character flaw.”
“In view of that particular flaw I can’t help but notice that you haven’t asked me if Marcella Adlington’s assumptions concerning Graham Enright’s death are right.”
“You mean, I haven’t asked you if you killed your old boss? Nope.”
“Why not?”
“If you did give him the cyanide, you did what you had to do to save yourself. The same reason I used the golf club on Charles Adlington.”
“But aren’t you curious to know for sure if you’re working for a woman who—”
Lyra looked at her. “I know the truth, Raina. You and everyone else seem to think I’m naïve, but I’m very good when it comes to reading people. If you ever need to talk about what happened in New York, I’ll listen. But I think you should talk to Luther Pell first. He loves you and I’m sure he knows the truth about you.”
“Yes,” Raina said. “He knows.”
“He doesn’t care. Neither do I. I am curious about Marcella’s file, however. Does it exist?”
“If it did and if it’s one that I took when I closed the office, it no longer exists. I burned all the blackmail files somewhere along Route 66. The names were all coded. Enright is the only one who could have identified them.”
“Marcella would have had no way to know that you destroyed her file.”
“No.” Raina looked out the window at the sun-dappled street. “When I came to Burning Cove I was hoping to find a new life but I never expected to discover something else.”
“What have you found here?”
“A man I can trust enough to love. Good friends. A place where I feel like I belong.”
“It’s called home, Raina.”
Raina smiled. “I’m starting to realize that.”
“You know, it occurs to me that you have been through a lot of stress lately.”
Raina’s brows rose. “So have you.”
“We both survived. I suggest we do what successful investigators do when they close a case—celebrate with a dinner at the Burning Cove Hotel and then hit the hottest nightclub in town.”
For a few seconds Raina looked as