beside me, my legs began to melt. Why was he doing this to me? What did he want? To apologize? To talk? Fine. When would he tell me?

“Why don’t you let me help? I can make breakfast.”

Get out, I thought. Don’t touch my pots. I’ve only just reclaimed them from the last time you were here. “That’s okay,” I started. “I can do it—”

“Pancakes? With nuts like last time?” Molly was in heaven.

“If your mom says so.”

Molly’s eyes pleaded. What could I do? Fine. Okay. Let Michael bring doughnuts and Nick make pancakes. Let’s stuff ourselves till we all pass out. What the hell. I had a stairMaster.

So Nick took over the kitchen. Once again, events had taken a turn, leaving me on my own without control. But I wasn’t going to stay there and watch Nick and Molly play house. I went up to shower and dress while they made pancakes, Molly flipping them herself, just as he’d taught her.

Upstairs, alone, I began to think more clearly, and I realized that Nick probably hadn’t come to see me or talk about us. He’d come about the profile, Dr. Gardener’s report. Of course. She’d given it to me the day before; he wanted to know if I’d read it and what I thought. He was there legitimately, about the case.

Of course. This wasn’t personal; it was business. I dressed for work in a loose long black skirt and sweater, prepared to go over my list of neighbors and compare them to the profile. To keep my feelings—like the rest of me—under wraps and focus on the case. Then I saw the table so carefully set and the two of them standing so proudly waiting for me, and I realized that, for all my preparation, I had not steeled myself against two pairs of eager shining eyes.

Once again, we sat like a little imitation family, eating breakfast, chatting, being pleasant and seeming to care. Halfway through my pancakes, acting my role, I wondered. Was it for Molly’s sake I went along with this charade? Or for my own?

THIRTY-ONE

AFTER BREAKFAST, NICK AND I TALKED ABOUT THE PROFILE. BY then, our technique for conversation had been well established. One of us spoke; the other listened and replied. Everything was polite, proper in rhythm and tone. No one who saw or heard us would think anything was wrong, except me. And him. After all, he knew as well as I did that we’d once talked in other rhythms using different tones; we’d used postures less stiff, made contact more physical, held gazes less veiled. Not this time. This time was an official consultation. A report. A presentation of information. He even took notes when I talked. I watched his hands as they wrote. I knew the texture of those hands. Hell, I knew the circumference of each finger and what they tasted like. But that was useless knowledge, distracting knowledge that I didn’t want.

“so. This handyman. Charlie. You say he’s delusional. Do you think he’s dangerous?”

Charlie? Dangerous? “Not that I can see.”

“But possibly?” His eyes searched mine; I felt them probing. He’s looking for facts, I reminded myself. It’s not personal.

“Dangerous to whom? Himself? Yes, maybe. Others? Not likely. He says someone’s controlling his thoughts. And that there’s a conspiracy among the police, mailmen, and taxi drivers—no, among people disguised as police, mailmen, and taxi drivers.”

Nick scrawled some notes on his pad. “Has he threatened you in any way?”

“No. But he says we’re in danger, so he’s appointed himself our guardian. He watches over us, day and night.” “In other words, he’s stalking you.”

“No. Protecting. He says he’s my only ally, the only one we can trust. Look, Charlie’s old and he’s got bad knees. He’s not your guy.”

“You’re sure.”

I heard the thump of a finger landing inside a plastic bag and blinked it away. “Yes.”

“All right.” He crossed his leg, rested an ankle on a knee. Why did my gut react to every little move his body made? “What about Phillip Woods?”

“Come on, Nick, I’ve told you all this. Ask Dr. Gardener, about him. she must know more about him than I do.”

“When you saw him at the Institute, he said nothing about why he wanted to see her?”

“Nick, you asked me that same question two minutes ago.” He waited. His eyes took in everything, not just me. The entire room, the house, the street. “He just said that they were friends. He was dropping by to see her since he hadn’t been