WITHIN minutes, the lobby was filled with law enforcement officers from across the Midwest. All exits were guarded. Elevators were watched. Stairwells were examined at all twenty-five levels. The kitchen had been invaded and the staff questioned. Despite the overwhelming manpower, Maggie knew they would never find him.

Most criminals would consider it suicide to show up in a hotel where hundreds of cops, sheriffs, detectives and FBI agents were staying. For Albert Stucky it would simply be another challenge. Maggie imagined him watching somewhere, amused by the commotion, the blunders. That was why she was checking the most obvious places.

The second floor included an atrium overlooking the lobby. She stayed at the brass railing while her eyes searched down below—the line at the reservations counter, the pianist, the few diners in the glass-encased café, the concierge, the cabdriver hauling out luggage. Stucky would blend in. Even the room-service staff would not have noticed him had he walked into their kitchen in a white jacket and black tie.

“Any luck?”

Maggie jumped but managed to restrain herself from automatically reaching for her gun.

“Sorry.” Nick looked genuinely concerned. “He’d be nuts to stick around. I’m guessing he’s long gone.”

“Stucky likes to watch. It isn’t much fun if he doesn’t get to see people’s reactions. Half of these officers don’t know what he looks like. If he plays it cool, they might never spot him. He has the uncanny ability to blend in.”

Maggie continued searching, standing quietly and still. She could feel Nick examining her. She was tired of everyone watching for signs of some kind of mental meltdown, though she knew Nick was sincere.

“I’m fine,” she said without looking at him, answering his unspoken question.

“I know you are. I still get to be concerned.”

“Assistant Director Cunningham thinks he’s protecting me by keeping me off the investigation.”

“I wondered why you were teaching. John said there were rumors that you were burned out, losing your touch.”

She had guessed as much, yet it felt like a slap in the face to hear it out loud. She avoided looking at him. She probably looked the part of the crazed FBI agent, with her tangled hair and baggy clothes.

“Is that what you think?” she asked, not certain she wanted to know.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Maggie, but I think Cunningham may be smart in keeping you out of this.”

“How can you say that? It’s obvious Stucky is playing with me again.”

“Exactly. He wants to drag you into his games. Why give him what he wants?”

“But you don’t understand, Nick.” She tried to keep her voice calm and level. “Stucky will continue to goad me whether I’m on the case or not. Cunningham can’t protect me. Instead, he’s keeping me from the one way I have to fight back.”

“I’m guessing he must have told you he wants you on that flight back to D.C. tonight?”

“Agent Turner is escorting me.” Why bother hiding her anger. “It’s ridiculous, Nick. Stucky is right here in Kansas City. I should stay.”

More silence. They were back to searching the crowd below. Nick moved closer as though purposely bringing their bodies into contact. His shoulder no longer accidentally brushed hers. Now it stayed against her. She found a weird sense of comfort in this slight contact, feeling perhaps that she wasn’t in this alone.

“I called you when I first moved to Boston,” he said quietly, still not looking at her.

She glanced at him. Was this some line?

“I didn’t get any message,” she said, now curious and anxious to call him on his bluff.

“Quantico wouldn’t give me any information as to where you were, or when you’d be back. I even told them I was with the Suffolk County D.A.’ s office.” He glanced at her and smiled. “They weren’t impressed.”

It was a safe story. She wouldn’t be able to confirm it or deny it. She concentrated on the lobby. Below, three men toted luggage behind a well-dressed woman with silver hair and a raincoat that didn’t have a raindrop on it.

“I ended up calling Greg’s law firm.”

“You did what?”

“Neither of you are in the telephone directory,” he defended himself. “I figured the office of Brackman, Harvey and Lowe might be more understanding. They might actually care about someone from a D.A.’ s office getting in touch with one of their attorneys. Even if it was after hours.”

“You talked to Greg?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was hoping to catch you at home. I thought if Greg answered, I could tell him I needed to talk to you about unfinished business in Nebraska. After all, I knew you were still looking for Father Keller.”

“But Greg didn’t buy it.”

“No.” Nick looked embarrassed. “He told me the two of you were working on your marriage. He asked me as a gentleman to respect that and stay away.”

“Greg said that? About being a gentleman? As if he knew.” Maggie wondered if Greg actually believed his own bullshit. “How long ago was this?”

“Couple months ago.”

“Months ago?” She couldn’t believe Greg hadn’t mentioned it, or that he hadn’t let it slip out during one of their arguments.

“It was right after I moved, so it had to be around the last week of January. I got the impression the two of you were still living together.”

“Greg and I both decided to stay at the condo, since neither of us were there that often. But I asked Greg for a divorce on New Year’s Eve. That probably sounds heartless—I meant to wait.” She watched as a maintenance crew pushed huge floor waxers into the lobby. “We were at his firm’s party. He wanted us to masquerade as the happy couple.”

The supervisor of the maintenance crew had a clipboard and wore shiny leather dress shoes. Maggie craned over the railing to get a glimpse of his face. Too young and too tall to be Stucky.

“People at the party kept congratulating me and welcoming me to the firm. They spoiled Greg’s surprise. He had managed to get me a job as the head of their investigations department without even talking to me about it. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t jump at the chance to be digging through files, looking for misappropriation of funds instead of digging through Dumpsters, looking for body parts.”

“Right. Jesus, how silly of him.”

She turned and rewarded his sarcasm with a smile.

“I finally moved into a house of my own last week. In a few weeks the divorce should be final.”

“Maybe it would have been safer to stay at the condo. I mean as far as this thing with Stucky is concerned.”

“Newburgh Heights is just outside D.C. It’s probably one of the safest neighborhoods in Virginia.”

“Yeah, but I hate thinking about you being all alone.”

“I’d rather be alone when he comes for me. That way no one else gets hurt. Not this time.”

“Jesus, Maggie! You want him to come after you?”

She avoided looking at him. She didn’t need to see his concern. She couldn’t take on the weight of it, the responsibility of it. So instead, she concentrated on the men in blue overalls wrestling with cords and mops. When she didn’t answer, Nick reached for her hand, gently taking it. He intertwined her arm with his, bringing her hand to his chest and keeping it there, tight against the pounding of his heart. Then they stood there while they watched the hotel get its floors waxed.