See Jane Die (38 page)

Saturday, March 20, 2004
10:45 p.m
.

J
ane sat in her dark screening room, gaze fixed on the flickering black-and-white image on the video screen.

“Tell me what you're afraid of, Joyce. When you're alone with your thoughts, who's the monster?”

Jane worked to focus on the woman's answer. She found her mind wandering, anyway. Truth was, recent events had dimmed the sense of urgency she had once had for her work. For its message. She didn't yet know where her thoughts and feelings would lead her, she simply knew that they would.

And that she would trust them.

Trust
. She thought of Stacy. Her sister had stopped by to see her this afternoon; she had relayed some shocking news.

She had quit her job with the DPD. She'd had enough of the blood and death, she wanted to start fresh. She was thinking about going back to school and had applied to several graduate programs out of state.

Jane had been stunned. She had begged Stacy to reconsider. She couldn't move away now, not now, after they had finally found each other.

Stacy had remained firm in her decision.

“No one can change my life but me, Jane. And I'm going to do it.”

Ranger limped into the screening room, dog tags jangling. Mac's bullet had ripped into his shoulder, damaging his radial nerve, leaving him with a noticeable limp. A permanent reminder of that awful time—and his unwavering loyalty. Jane would be dead if he hadn't worked the cane latch on his kennel free.

He crossed to her and laid his big, ugly head in her lap. “My hero,” she said, bending her face to his. The dog seemed to smile and gave her a big, sloppy kiss.

“I'm thinking you love that dog way more than you do me.”

She lifted her gaze. Ian stood in the doorway behind her, hands behind his back. She smiled. “He saved my life.”

“And mine, too.”

A terrifying
What if?
filled her head. She pushed it out. Fear could only control her if she allowed it to. Only she could give it life, power. Never again. She would probably never know who had driven the boat that day, would probably never know if had hit her on purpose.

And it didn't matter.

“Nothing but prime for him,” she said. “From now on. Period.”

“No arguments from me, love.” He motioned to the screen. “How's the work?”

“Okay.”

They exchanged a long glance. He understood. They had both been changed by the events of this past fall. In ways deeper than the lines around his eyes or the threads of gray in her dark hair.

Their relationship had been changed
.

They had weathered the hurts caused by her doubts and his lies, their guilt and regrets. They had mourned their losses together: that of their unborn child; the marriage they had had before Mac had set his plan into motion. Their innocence.

Perhaps that last loss had been the worst—they had gone places they'd never dreamed of, even in their worst nightmares.

In the end it had made them stronger—their marriage stronger. No one would ever come between them again.

She stood and crossed to him. Wrapped her arms around his middle and rested a cheek against his chest. The cold clung to him and she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “You've been outside.”

“I walked Ranger.”

“Did you? He appears to be here, with me.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you hiding something from me, Dr. Westbrook?”

“Guilty as charged, Mrs. Westbrook.” He smiled wickedly and produced a white-and-pink bag from behind his back. “Pistachio-almond fudge ice cream. Just what the baby ordered.”