caller's number. She decided to answer it and immediately regretted it.
'Hey. It's me. Doug.'
If she wasn't normally keen to talk to her ex-husband, right now was a particularly unwelcome moment. Avoiding Reilly's eyes, she lowered her voice.
'What do you want?' she asked flatly.
'I know you were at the Met that night, and I wanted to know if there was anything—'
There it was. With Doug, there was always an angle. She cut him off. 'I can't talk about it, all right,' she lied, 'I've been specifically asked by the FBI not to talk to the press.'
'You have? That's terrific.' Terrific? Why was that terrific? 'No one else has been told that,' he enthused. 'So why is that, huh? What do you know that they don't?'
The lie had backfired. 'Forget it, Doug.'
'Don't be like that.' The smarmy charm reared its ugly head. 'This is me, remember.'
As if she could forget. 'No,' she repeated.
'Tess, give me a break.'
'I'm hanging up now.'
'Come on, baby—'
She snapped the phone shut, slammed it into her purse with a whole lot more force than was necessary, then exhaled heavily and stared ahead.
After a couple of minutes, she forced herself to relax her neck and shoulder muscles and, without looking at Reilly, said, 'Sorry. My ex-husband.'
'I figured. A little something I picked up in Quantico.'
She managed a small chortle. 'You don't miss a thing, do you?'
He glanced at her. 'Not usually. Unless it's about the Templars, in which case there's this really annoying archaeologist who always seems to be a couple of steps ahead of the rest of us laymen.'
She smiled. 'Don't stop on my account.'
He looked at her again and saw that she was looking back. He held her eyes a moment longer than before.
He was definitely glad she'd accepted his offer to drive her home.
The road lights were on by the time they got to her street, and the sight of her house was enough to bring all the fears and worries of the last couple of days flooding back.
Vance was here, she shuddered. He was in my house.
They drove past the police cruiser parked down the road from her house. Reilly flicked a small wave to the cop sitting inside, who waved back, recognizing Tess from his briefing.
When they reached her house, Reilly pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. She glanced at the house and felt uneasy. She wondered whether or not to ask him in for a moment before the words spilled out of her mouth. 'Do you want to come in?'
He hesitated, then said, 'Sure.' There was nothing flirtatious about his tone. 'It'd be good to take a quick look around.'
At the front door, he held out his hand for the key and went in first.
It was unnaturally quiet, and Tess followed him into the living room, automatically switching on all the lights, then the television, lowering the sound. The set was tuned to the WB, Kim's favorite channel. Tess didn't bother changing it.
Reilly looked at her, somewhat surprised.
'I do it when I'm alone,' she explained. 'Creates the illusion of company.'
'You'll be fine.' His tone was comforting. 'I'll check the rooms,' he continued before hesitating, then added, 'Is that okay?'
The hesitation must be because he would be going into her bedroom, she thought. She was grateful for his concern and pleased at his sensitivity.
'Sure.'
He nodded and, as he went out of the room, Tess dropped onto the couch, pulled the phone over, and dialed her aunt's house in Prescott, Arizona. Hazel picked up after three rings. She had just arrived home, having collected Kim and Eileen from the airport at Phoenix and taken them out for dinner. Both of them, Hazel told her, were fine. Tess talked briefly with her mother while Hazel went to fetch Kim, who was in the stables checking out the horses. Eileen sounded a whole lot less worried than she had been. Tess guessed that it must be due to a combination of being calmed by her affable and easygoing sister and the distance the day's traveling had put between her and New York. When Kim came on, she was all lit up over the prospect of going riding tomorrow and appeared not to be missing her mother at all.
As she said good night and hung up the phone, Reilly came back into the room.
He looked as tired as she felt. 'It's all clear, as expected. I really don't think you have anything to worry about anymore.'
'I'm sure you're right. Thanks for taking a look anyway.'
'Not a problem.' He took one last look and nodded to her, seeming to hover for the briefest of moments. Tess picked up on it.
'I'm sure we could both use a drink,' she said as she got up and led him into the kitchen. 'How about a beer or a glass of wine, maybe?'
'No,' he said, smiling. 'Thanks anyway.'
'Oh, I forgot, you're on duly, right? Coffee then?'
'No, it's not that. It's just . . .' He seemed reticent to go on.
'What?'
He paused before adding, 'It's Lent.'
'Lent? Really?'
'Yeah.'
'And I'm guessing you're not doing it as an excuse to lose weight, are you?'
He just shook his head.
'Forty days without booze. Wow.' She blushed. 'Okay, that didn't come out right, did it? I don't want you to get the wrong idea, it's not like I'm ripe for AA or anything.'
'Too late. The image is burned in.'
'Great.' She walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of white wine. 'It's funny, it's just that I didn't think anyone did that anymore. Especially not in this town.'
'Actually, it's an obvious place to live a ... a spiritual life.'
'You're kidding, right? New York City?'
'No. It's the perfect place for it. Think about it. It's not like there aren't enough moral or ethical challenges to deal with here. The differences between right and wrong, between good and bad, they're pretty clear in this town. You have to make a choice.'
Tess was still processing his revelation. 'So how religious are you? If you don't mind my asking.'
'No, that's fine.'
She grinned. 'Just tell me you don't hike out to some cowfield in the middle of nowhere because someone there thinks he saw the Virgin appear up in the clouds or something?'
'No, not recently anyway. I'm guessing you're not a particularly religious person.'
'Well . . . let's just say I'd need to see something a bit more conclusive before you'd get me shlepping halfway across the country for something like that.'
'Something a bit more conclusive . . . You're saying you'd need a sign. An irrefutable, substantiated miracle?'
'Something like that.'
He didn't say anything. He just smiled.
'What?'
'See, the thing about miracles is . . . if you have faith, you don't need them, and if you're a doubter, well then no miracle is ever enough.'
'Oh, I can think of a few things that would convince me just fine.'
