She shook her head and he wasn’t sure she’d answer him. But then she leaned her head back against the seat and said, “It was at college-UCLA.” She cleared her throat and her voice grew firmer. “I was finishing medical school-my last term. Nicky was in my psych class.”

He made a snorting sound; it seemed an unlikely major for a mobster’s son.

She glanced at him, then hitched in a breath and plowed on. “Anyway…by the time I graduated, my grandmother had died and we were, uh, together. I started my internship, but-”

“Did you give up on your medical career because you wanted to, or because he wanted you to?”

She was silent for a moment, which he considered an answer, probably the true one no matter what she told him.

He expected her to be defensive, so she surprised him when she drew a breath and said thoughtfully, “I don’t know, now. At the time it seemed…I felt like my relationship with Nicky was so consuming, it didn’t seem to leave any time or energy for anything else. So, when he suggested-”

“Suggested?”

The breath came out in a gust. “He didn’t understand why I felt I needed to work, when he was so…wealthy. And as I said, my grandmother had died and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a doctor anymore. So, when he brought it up, it seemed like the right thing to do. At the time. So…I dropped out.”

Gave in, is what he thought. Caved. Knuckled under. He thought he was beginning to get a pretty clear picture of Spoiled Nicky the Mobster’s Son.

“Everything happened so fast. The next thing I knew, I was married, and then I was pregnant…then Nicky got shot.” Her voice had thickened, and when J.J. looked over at her, he caught a glimpse of tears glistening on her cheek. “He didn’t have anything to do with his father’s business. He’d promised me…”

“And you believed him? Nicholas Delacorte was the only son of the head of an organized crime syndicate roughly the size of New Jersey,” J.J. said roughly, angry all of a sudden without really knowing why. “You’re kidding yourself if you think he somehow managed to keep his hands squeaky clean. Didn’t you ever see The Godfather? If he wasn’t involved yet, trust me, it was only a matter of time.”

There was a little silence, and then she opened her eyes and said without looking at him, “Have you ever been in love, Jethro?”

“Many times,” he said dryly, and she surprised him with a watery-sounding laugh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her brush the tears from her cheeks and sit up straighter.

“Doesn’t seem like there would be that many opportunities, out here in the desert.”

It was his turn to laugh without much humor in it. “No, there aren’t. Just another reason why I love it here so much.”

He could feel her studying him. After a moment she asked, “If you don’t like it, why are you here?”

“Long story.”

“Well-” she held up both hands, gesturing at the barren landscape and the road stretching ahead of them as far as they could see “-looks like we’ve both got time.” He could feel her eyes on him again-those exotic, black-almond eyes. “Unless,” she added with a hint of a sly smile, “it’s something you’re terribly ashamed of.”

“Oh, yeah,” he growled, “it’s definitely that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, and looked away, as if it embarrassed her to have stumbled upon his closet full of skeletons. Like a curious-or nosy-little girl, belatedly remembering her manners.

What the hell, he thought. He wanted her to trust him, didn’t he? Maybe if he came clean with her it might inspire her to do the same.

So he blew out a breath and scrubbed at his beard stubble, and finally said, “I told you how I feel about predators.” She nodded. “Okay, well, because of me, there’s one out there somewhere who should have been locked up. Put in a cage where he couldn’t hurt another innocent child.”

Even through the growth of beard she could see the muscles bunch in his jaw, and knew he must be clenching his teeth-hard. After a moment she said in a low voice, “Okay, I don’t understand.”

“It’s not that complicated. The guy was the worst kind of predator, the kind that preys on children-in particular, little girls.” His voice was tight…harsh. Rachel could feel her heart tap-tapping in her loose, quivery belly, and pressed her fist against it while she waited for him to go on. “I had him for the kidnapping and murder of a six-year-old girl. Had him in custody. And I let my personal feelings override my professional judgment. As a result-” He let out an explosive breath. “As a result, he was released on a technicality. Promptly lit out for parts unknown. Now he’s gone. Vanished. In the wind.”

“What did you do?” Her voice was barely audible. “I can’t imagine-”

“Oh, I got…physical. Rough with him. You know-slammed him up against a wall, I think.” He glanced at her briefly, but long enough for her to see the anger, guilt and anguish in his eyes. “He taunted me with what he’d done to that little girl-details. And I lost it. But that’s no excuse. Maybe the miserable freak was hoping I’d kill him-put him down like a mad dog, you know? But I shouldn’t have lost control. No excuses. Because of what I did that animal is out there somewhere, and sooner or later he’s going to do what he does, because that’s what they always do, and some other little girl is going to suffer and die and her entire family’s lives are going to be destroyed. And that’s on me. Innocent people will suffer for what I did.”

“But,” Rachel said softly, “you are suffering, too. Aren’t you?”

He gave a huff of painful laughter as he looked at the expanse of darkening desert all around them. “Every day,” he growled. “Every day.”

“I don’t just mean because you’re out here in the desert, now, and you hate it-I’m assuming you being here has something to do with what happened?”

“Yeah, something.”

“But that’s not the worst part, is it?” He didn’t look at her, or reply. “I think you must think about it…live with it, every day. And at night you probably-”

“Jeez, what are you now, my shrink?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, because she could see by the stiffness in his neck and shoulders that she’d gone too far.

But I know you have nightmares, Jethro Fox. I know, because I have them, too. About Nicky, and what happened that night. I keep playing it over and over in my head, trying to make it come out differently. And I know you do, too.

Chapter 6

“It’s not much,” J.J. said, “but at least nobody bothers me out here. And like I said, the only ones who know where I live I’d trust with my life. You should be safe here. For tonight, anyway. We’ll have to figure out what we’re going to do after that, but right now, you can at least get some rest.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. He figured she had to be pretty near worn out, given the day she’d had yesterday, and the fact that nobody ever really gets to rest in a hospital. She’d fallen asleep again, once the talking stopped, until they’d had to stop a ways back when the baby woke up and started fussing so she could nurse him. It was an odd experience for J.J.-definitely a first for him-sitting in the darkness with only the sounds of the desert wind and the occasional yip of a coyote outside the car, and inside, the soft, wet sounds a hungry baby made, nursing at his mother’s breast.

Now, though, she was sitting up straight and alert, staring ahead at the silhouette of his trailer, lonely against the slate-dark sky. A three-quarter moon hung high and bright, bright enough to cast shadows on the desert landscape.

“Moonshine,” she said.

He thought at first she was talking about the moonlight, but then he saw the dog sitting out in the road in front of the trailer, waiting for him. He gave a little laugh and said, “Yeah, and it’s actually her you can thank for saving your life.” He nodded at the baby, now sleeping again in the carrier in the backseat. “And your son’s. I probably wouldn’t have found you without her.”

She nodded but didn’t reply. He pulled up in the bare place in front of the trailer and stopped, but when he started to open the door and get out, she hitched in a breath and said in a nervous, hurried kind of way, “Is she yours? Or, you know…a police dog?”

“Canine Unit, you mean? Nah, she just wandered in here one day and parked herself, didn’t look like she was going to leave, so I let her stay. I call her Moonshine because she always looks like she’s a little bit drunk, which is pretty normal for a hound dog. Now and then she comes in handy, like she did today. Why?” he added, because there’d been that something in her voice. “You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

“Not…afraid, just careful.” Her voice was without expression. It had a hollow sound in the dark car. He heard her take another breath. “Carlos has dogs. Dobermans. They have the run of the estate at night, and other times-whenever he wants to make sure nobody comes or goes without his knowledge and consent.”

“Prison wardens,” J.J. said with a snort.

She nodded. “I’ve never had a dog as a…you know, a pet.”

“Not even growing up? What, your grandmother didn’t like dogs?”

“My grandmother liked to garden-flowers, not vegetables. Dogs and flower gardens don’t exactly mix.”

“Ah. Well, Moonshine isn’t exactly a pet. She’s more like a roomy, I guess.” He shrugged and opened the car door. “Anyway, we seem to get along okay.”

He got out, went around and opened Rachel’s door. Moonshine came ambling over to give her a good sniff, then sat back and let him help her out of the car. Rachel managed that part okay, but he could see she was having trouble getting her legs under her and working right, and it hit him again, like a slap upside the head, what she’d been through in the last forty-eight hours or so. He didn’t even think twice about it, tiny as she was, just scooped her up in his arms.