explosive pain in her head.
“I don’t remember.” It was true enough. The waking moments in the apartment were clear, but the time surrounding it stretched and pulled thin, unfocused and difficult to hold in memory. Almost a blessing. She wasn’t sure what she might do if she could direct Tony to Alban’s hideaway. Wasn’t at all sure what Tony would do if faced with Alban’s incredible secret.
Wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with the knowledge she now had, or if she could do anything about it at all.
She heard Tony inhale slowly, deliberately, and then let the breath out again. “It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Concussions screw with people’s memories. The important thing is that you’re okay. Thank God you’re okay.”
“I’m all right,” Margrit agreed without opening her eyes. “Just tired. Really tired.”
“They haven’t been letting you sleep, have they?”
“Just naps,” Margrit mumbled. “That’s all Alban would let me have, either. He gave me some kind of tea and I got better. But then I hit my head again.”
“On what?” Tony asked. Margrit pried her eyes open and frowned at him.
“On Alban.” She watched his expression crumble with dismay and let her eyes close again. “Maybe I’m still a little out of it. I just need rest.”
“All right.” Cam appeared from the kitchen, clapping her hands together as if knocking off eraser dust. “I’ll stay up with her. You-”
Margrit was asleep before the arrangements were finished.
She popped awake ten seconds before Cameron’s alarm went off. Twin spots reflected on the television screen gave her a moment’s pause, the headache receded but the double vision remaining. She frowned at the screen as the alarm went off and Cam sat up with a groan. A quarter-size circle of light shone on her forehead, a second one shining past her onto the TV screen. Margrit squinted over her shoulder, then breathed in relieved recognition at the slats of the dining room birdcage, which broke the morning sun into columns of light. “I think I’m better.”
“Oh good. I can get some sleep.” Cameron stretched and climbed to her feet, padding across the living room and through the dining room to the kitchen. “Want some yogurt?”
Margrit’s stomach rumbled and she clapped a hand over it. “Yeah. I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week. Yogurt. Eggs.” She stood up cautiously. The room didn’t sway, and she grinned again. “Yeah, I’m better. Oh! Oh hell. Where’s Tony? I thought of something while I was sleeping.”
Cameron looked around the fridge door and peered through her bangs at Margrit. “He got a call around three and went to work. Did you remember where you were?”
“What? No, but I want to look at the club tapes again. I need to check something.”
“Well, it’s after ten. You could give him a call.”
“Oh, God. My work.” Margrit bolted for the phone.
“I already called them.” Cam held up a carton of strawberry yogurt. “You’re good for a couple of days. They said take the rest of the week off.”
Margrit took the yogurt, then frowned. “Isn’t it Friday?”
“Well.” Cam ate a spoonful of her own yogurt. “Yeah.”
“Generous of them. No, I’ve got to at least call Russell. I have to talk to him about the Delaney case.” Margrit pulled the top off the yogurt cup and licked the foil, fumbling with the phone. “Crap.” She put the yogurt down so she could dial, then wedged the phone against her ear and stole bites of yogurt between speaking. “Voice mail,” she reported a minute later. “I need to go in. I’m gonna take a shower and head over there, okay?”
“Breakfast first,” Cam said equitably.
“Shower, then breakfast, and I swear, you and Cole are like my parents. Did somebody call them?”
“Yes.” The following silence spoke volumes about what they’d had to say. Cam shook her head, then stepped over to Margrit to give her a brief, hard hug. “Call your mom tonight, okay? She’s worried. I’m really glad you’re all right, Grit.”
“Me, too,” Margrit mumbled back. “Okay.”
Cam smiled and let her go. “Go shower. I’ll make you eggs and toast.”
“Thank you. You’re the best. Man, I feel better.”
“Good. Now go.” Cam shooed at her, grinning. “Go, or you’ll be standing here babbling until the sun goes down.”
Blood rushed through Margrit’s ears, suddenly pounding like the sea. Sunset was only hours away.
Only hours until she could see Alban.
She shook herself and went to shower.
Margrit rapped on Russell’s door, announcing her presence. He glanced up and gestured her in, the shirt and tie he wore making her self-conscious as she stopped inside the door and leaned on it, clad in her running tights and sweatshirt. Russell took in her closed-off stance, arms folded around her ribs, and tilted his head. “All the way in, Margrit.”
She shook her head, staying where she was. “I’m fine, thanks. I just wanted to stop by and see if there was anything I needed to take home for the weekend.”
Russell got up, frowning, and came around his desk to put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right? Everyone’s very concerned. I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I’ve been better,” Margrit admitted. “No, but I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” She unwrapped an arm to touch the bruise at her hairline. “Despite appearances, maybe. And I’m not here for work,” she added, flicking her fingers at her clothes. “But you said we were going to have a lot of fast work to do, and I don’t think I can afford a three-day delay if that’s the case. I thought I’d come in tomorrow to start doing groundwork.”
“After being hit by a car and disappearing for half a night?” Russell sounded caught between admiration and dismay. “You have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, Margrit.”
“It’s what makes me a good lawyer. Besides, I’ve got the whole day off today. That’s practically a vacation.”
“Obviously I’m doing something wrong,” Russell said dryly. “I thought vacations involved white sand beaches and cerulean skies, not concussions and working over the weekend. Still.”
Margrit grinned at the floor.
“Still,” Russell added, “I appreciate your dedication. Nichole’s been looking over what Daisani’s corporation has pulled together. They’ve got most of the permits necessary to bring the building down.”
“How many of them did they buy?” Margrit asked under her breath.
Her boss acknowledged the barb with a helpless shrug. “I imagine they’ll have the rest of them bought and paid for soon enough. We’re going to have to move very fast to make a difference.”
Margrit’s smile got bigger and she stretched her legs out, showing off her running tights. “Hey, moving fast is my specialty. As of tomorrow, I’m all about the case.”
“And until then?”
“Rest. I promise.” Margrit lifted her hands, protesting her innocence. “I’ll get some rest.”
She just hadn’t said when she’d get some rest. Margrit threaded her way past desks and chairs, hesitating a few yards from Tony’s workstation. He was wearing last night’s clothes, a department jacket thrown over his shoulders for warmth, and his movements were slower than she was used to seeing from him, exhaustion in every motion. “Tony?”
He glanced up, then did a double take and came to his feet. “Margrit. Jesus.” She pushed the chair by his desk aside and grunted quietly as he pulled her into his arms, trying not to knock her forehead against his chin. He hugged her hard for a few seconds, then set her back, hands on her shoulders as he examined her. “You’re all right?”
“Yeah.” Her smile felt watery. “My head still hurts, but I’m not seeing double anymore. Cam said you didn’t leave until you got called in for work. Thanks.” She stood on her toes to steal a kiss, garnering a catcall from one of his coworkers. “What’d you get dragged in for?”
He ignored the question momentarily, brushing his thumb over her hairline, not touching the bruise. “That looks terrible.”
Margrit smiled and traced a circle around the bruise on his eye, also without touching it. “We’re a matched
