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  Softly from his place at the wall, Hawk said, “Uh-huh.”

  “Later,” Rugar said, “I tried to rectify my mistake by making another one. If you were to be killed, I should have done it myself.”

  “But,” I said, “you had Adelaide to think about. You couldn’t take the same risks you would once have taken.”

  “Your mind is quick,” he said. “What has made me so successful in my profession is that I am not bothered by death, and until Adelaide, that included my own.”

  “Things do change,” I said.

  “They do,” Rugar said.

  “Things went awry, too,” I said.

  “Yes,” Rugar said. “As you know, I am meticulous. But the plan was too foolish, and my co-conspirators were too . . .”

  “Crazy,” I said.

  “Something like that.”

  “Was Bradshaw in on any of this?”

  “I think,” Rugar said, “that he thought he was.”

  He smiled faintly. “I doubt that he was apprised that I was to kill him.”

  “He didn’t show,” I said.

  “No.”

  “And the hurricane was hard to plan for.”

  “It was. Obviously, when Bradshaw didn’t show up, and the hurricane did,” Rugar said, “I began to improvise. And you know how that went. I got as much done as I could, and I got Adelaide and myself out of there.”

  “You could still have pulled off most of it,” I said. “Maybe all of it, you ended up killing Bradshaw anyway.”

  “I took Adelaide to a safe house and had a doctor in to see her,” Rugar said. “I have, as you might imagine, considerable access to covert amenities.”

  “When she fainted,” I said, “it was real.”

  Rugar looked at Adelaide.

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t realize how violent it all was going to be. Momma never said anything about Maurice being killed.”

  “You loved Maurice?” I said.

  “Not like a husband, but like a friend, yes.”

  “Maurice was gay,” I said.

  “Yes. Marriage was Mother’s idea.”

  “You didn’t mind marrying a gay man?”

  She shrugged. “At least he was nice,” she said.

  “And you’re still in the safe house?” I said.

  Rugar smiled and didn’t answer. I nodded.

  “So you hid out in the safe house,” I said, “and while you were doing it you got to know each other.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you found out some things,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Like that she had attempted suicide,” I said.

  Rugar nodded.

  “And that she had been sexually molested,” I said.

  “Bradshaw,” Rugar said. “For years.”

  “Did you tell anyone?” I said to Adelaide.

  “Momma knew.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said I’d have to put up with it, for a while at least, because we didn’t have any money.”

  Again, silence. I think even Hawk was appalled. He had stopped slapping the gun against his thigh. The only sound in the room was the rain on the window. Adelaide started to cry. I gave her a Kleenex. Rugar put his hand on her back.

  “Which,” I said, “finally is why you killed Bradshaw. It had nothing to do with insurance.”

  “Correct,” Rugar said.

  “And why you never sent a ransom note, which eventually forced Heidi to make a very late and amateurish forgery.”

  “Correct.”

  “You were supposed to get, what, the ransom money?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you walked away from it?” I said.

  “I didn’t want it,” Rugar said. “Adelaide didn’t want her inheritance.”

  “So why didn’t you just take her and go?” I said.

  “You,” Rugar said. “I knew you would not let it go. If you thought there was a possibility that the young girl, whom you perceived a kidnap victim, were still alive, you’d plow along looking for her. We could never be safe.”

  “Bradshaw called me a little while before he died and said he was in danger,” I said.

  “I wanted him to feel fear, as Adelaide had. I couldn’t afford to let it linger as long as it should have. But I told him I would kill him and I gave him a little time to be terrified before I killed him.”

  “And you weren’t worried about Adelaide.”

  “Adelaide is getting help, she is becoming more stable . . . and”—Rugar smiled—“killing Bradshaw was a somewhat smaller challenge than killing you.”

  “Heidi called on me for help as well,” I said.

  “I told her I knew everything about Adelaide and Bradshaw and her.”

  “So she’s afraid you’ll kill her,” I said.

  “Adelaide has asked me not to,” Rugar said.

  I nodded.

  “Have we left anything out?” I said.

  “Probably,” Rugar said. “But you have most of it.”

  “Enough,” I said.

  “Except,” Rugar said.

  “Except,” I said.

  Another faint smile from Rugar. He might have humanized slightly, but he hadn’t become snuggly.

  “Except where do we go from here?” Rugar said.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  64

  It was very dark outside, though it was early in the day. And the rain was falling hard. It was so dense on my windows that the view was distorted.

  “Adelaide,” I said. “Tell me about . . . Papa.”

  “I don’t know very much about him,” she said with very little affect in her voice. “But I love him and he loves me. Neither of us has anyone else in the world. We have found each other.”

  I looked at Rugar.

  “How many people you kill in this deal?” I said.

  Rugar thought a minute.

  “Two at the altar,” he said. “Four security people, would be six. If you count Bradshaw, seven.”

  “And some other people died because of it,” I said.

  “Um-hm.”

  “You see my problem,” I said.

  “Yes,” Rugar said. “And you see mine. If you continue to pursue this, what will become of Adelaide, if you should prevail.”

  I nodded.

  “The man you thought was your father?” I said. “Van Meer? Could you find any solace with him?”

  “He’s an empty drunk,” Adelaide said flatly. “He says things but does nothing.”

  “So he’s not much of an option.”

  “None,” she said.

  There was something about the affectless little voice that made what she said seem absolute.

  “Hard question, Adelaide, but . . . what happens if you lose Papa?”

  “I will die,” she said.

  I looked at Rugar. His face showed nothing. I looked at Hawk. His face showed the same thing.

  “You got a plan?” I said to Rugar.

  “Adelaide has been mistreated all her life,” he said. “She and I will go away and allow her to heal. You will never see either of us again.”

  “And a bunch of people died for nothing?”

  “Destroying Adelaide’s life will not bring them back.”

  “And Heidi?” I said. “We leave Heidi in place?”

  “You do with Heidi what you will,” Rugar said. “You are resourceful; perhaps knowing what you know, you can make a case against her without us.”

  I sat back and tilted my chair and looked at them. Then I leaned forward and closed the gun drawer, and stood and turned my back on them and stared through the rain-shimmered window out at the dark streets. Most of the cars had their headlights on. The wipers struggled with the rain. Then I turned back. Hawk had put his gun away, though he still stood by the wall. I took in some air and let it out and walked to the file cabinet where the coffeemaker sat. I opened the bottom drawer and took out a bottle of Bushmills Irish whiskey, and four of the little transp
arent plastic cups that always horrified Susan when I used them. I poured an inch of whiskey into each and handed out the cups.

  Everyone stared at me.

  I raised my cup.

  “One for the road,” I said.

  Adelaide looked quickly at Rugar. Rugar smiled at her.

  “He has taken our deal,” Rugar said.

  We drank. Adelaide handled the straight booze as well as anyone. Then Rugar stood. Adelaide stood up with him.

  “We will never be friends,” Rugar said. “But we will never again be enemies.”

  I nodded. Rugar glanced at Hawk and nodded once. Hawk nodded back. Then Rugar and Adelaide left. I sat back down behind my desk and poured another drink. Hawk sat down on the other side of my desk and held out his cup and I poured him some.

  “You let him go,” Hawk said.

  I nodded.

  “Soft as mush,” Hawk said.

  I nodded.

  We drank our whiskey.

  “Had him right here,” Hawk said. “Between us. Had a confession, witnessed by me. And you let him go.”

  I nodded. We drank some more whiskey. The rain hammered down in the near darkness.

  “You think you can get Heidi without him?”

  “Gonna try,” I said.

  “Ten times the work it woulda been, you hadn’t let him go.”

  I nodded. We hadn’t turned the lights on in my office. We sat in semidarkness drinking straight whiskey.

  “What would you have done?” I said after a while.

  “Let him go,” Hawk said.

  His face was without expression.

  OTHER BOOKS BY ROBERT B. PARKER

  THE SPENSER NOVELS

  Now and Then

  Hundred-Dollar Baby

  School Days

  Cold Service

  Bad Business

  Back Story

  Widow’s Walk

  Potshot

  Hugger Mugger

  Hush Money

  Sudden Mischief

  Small Vices

  Chance

  Thin Air

  Walking Shadow

  Paper Doll

  Double Deuce

  Pastime

  Stardust

  Playmates

  Crimson Joy

  Pale Kings and Princes

  Taming a Sea-Horse

  A Catskill Eagle

  Valediction

  The Widening Gyre

  Ceremony

  A Savage Place

  Early Autumn

  Looking for Rachel Wallace

  The Judas Goat

  Promised Land

  Mortal Stakes

  God Save the Child

  The Godwulf Manuscript

  THE JESSE STONE NOVELS

  Stranger in Paradise

  High Profile

  Sea Change

  Stone Cold

  Death in Paradise

  Trouble in Paradise

  Night Passage

  THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS

  Spare Change

  Blue Screen

  Melancholy Baby

  Shrink Rap

  Perish Twice

  Family Honor

  ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER

  Resolution

  Appaloosa

  Double Play

  Gunman’s Rhapsody

  All Our Yesterdays

  A Year at the Races

  (with Joan H. Parker)

  Perchance to Dream

  Poodle Springs

  (with Raymond Chandler)

  Love and Glory

  Wilderness

  Three Weeks in Spring

  (with Joan H. Parker)

  Training with Weights

  (with John R. Marsh)