Brazen Virtue

her three yards from his back door and surprised them both by sweeping her up in his arms. Laughing, she kissed him hard and quick. “You’re fast on your feet, Jackson.”
    “I practice chasing the bad guys.” As the rain fell steadily, he pressed his mouth to hers again. It was sweet, and so much sweeter as he heard her murmured sigh. Her face was damp wherever his lips touched. Cool and damp. It seemed she weighed nothing at all, and he could have stood there for hours. Then she shivered so he drew her closer to him.
    “Getting wet.” He made a dash for the back door, then regretfully put her down beside him to draw out his keys. Grace walked inside and shook herself like the family dog.
    “It’s warm. I like warm rain.” She dragged both hands through her hair. It sprang back in the wild disorder that suited her. “I know I’m going to spoil the mood, but I was hoping you might have something more to tell me.”

    It didn’t spoil it, because it was expected. “It’s moving slow, Grace. The only lead we had was a dead end.”
    “You’re sure the congressman’s kid’s alibi holds up?”
    “Like a rock.” He put on the kettle for tea. “He was front row center at the Kennedy Center the night Kathleen was killed. He’s got the ticket stubs, his girl’s word, and another dozen witnesses who saw him there.”
    “He could have slipped away.”
    “Not enough time. There was an intermission at nine-fifteen. He was in the lobby sipping lemonade. I’m sorry.”
    She shook her head. Leaning against the counter, she drew out a cigarette. “You know the really terrible thing? I find myself wishing that this kid I’ve never seen is guilty. I keep hoping his alibi will fall apart and he’ll be arrested. I don’t even know him.”
    “It’s human. You’re just looking for it to be over.”
    “I don’t know what I’m looking for.” A sigh slipped out. She didn’t like the plaintive, fragile sound of it. “I wanted it to be Jonathan, too, because I knew him, because he—it doesn’t matter,” she decided as she flicked on her lighter. “It wasn’t either one of them.”
    “We will find him, Grace.”
    She studied Ed as steam began to shoot through the spout of the kettle. “I know. I don’t think I could go on doing the ordinary things, thinking about what I’ll do tomorrow, if I didn’t know.” She took a long, steadying drag. There was something else she was thinking about, something that couldn’t be avoided. “He isn’t finished, is he?”
    Turning away, he measured out tea. “It’s hard to say.”
    “No, it’s not. Be straight with me, Ed. I don’t like being shielded.”
    He wanted to shield, not simply because it was his vocation, but because it was her. And because it was her, it wasn’t possible to shield. “I don’t think he’s finished.”

    She nodded, then gestured to the kettle. “You’d better fix that before the water boils away.” While he took out mugs, she thought about what she’d done that day. She should tell him. The tug on her conscience was sharp and impatient. It wasn’t easy to ignore. She would tell him, Grace reminded herself. As soon as it was too late for him to do anything about it.
    She walked over to poke into his refrigerator. “I don’t guess you have any hot dogs.”
    He shot her a look of such genuine concern she had to bite her lip. “You don’t really eat those?”
    “Nah.” She shut the door and hoped for peanut butter.
    They worked well together. Grace polished off most of the chips as she tried her hand with a hammer. She’d had to argue with Ed first. His idea of letting her help had been to sit her in a chair so she could watch. He’d finally relented, but kept an eagle eye on her. It wasn’t so much that he was afraid she’d screw up, though that was part of it. It was more that he worried she’d hurt herself. It only took an hour for him to see that once she dug her heels into a project, she handled herself like a pro. She might have been a bit sloppy with the joint compound, but he figured it would sand down. The extra time that took him didn’t matter. It might have been silly, but just having her there made the work go faster.
    “This is going to be a great room.” Grace rubbed at an itch on her chin with the back of her hand. “I really like the way you’re shaping it like a little L. Every civilized bedroom should have a sitting room.”
    He’d wanted her to like it. In his mind he could already see