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freed hand into a fist and rammed it into his stomach.
    He wheezed out a breath, sat up cautiously in case she decided to hit him again. “I stand corrected. Jealousy is definitely unhealthy. I paid her to talk to me.”
    “If I thought otherwise, you’d be well on your way to the rocks down below.” This time she smiled while he eyed her warily. “What did she tell you?”
    “You know, that Yankee cool can be just a little frightening, Dr. Jones. She told me that I was the second man who’d come by that day looking for him. She had a very large gun pointed at me at the time.”
    “A gun. She had a gun?”
    “She didn’t like the look of the first guy. Women in her line of work generally know how to size a man up quickly. From her description, I’d say she was right about him—you’d know that firsthand. I think he was the one who attacked you.”
    Her hand went quickly to her throat. “The man who was here, who stole my purse? He was in San Francisco?”
    “Looking for young Harry—and my guess is, your former student was lucky not to be home. He’s tied in, Miranda. Whoever he made the bronze for, whoever he gave or sold it to, doesn’t want him around any longer.”

    “If they find him—”
    “I arranged for someone to keep an eye out for him. We’ll have to find him first.”
    “Maybe he ran away. Maybe he knew they were looking for him.”
    “No, I looked around his place. He left all his art supplies, a small stash of grass.” Ryan leaned back on his elbows again and watched the clouds puff lazily across the sky. “I didn’t get the impression he’d left in a particular hurry. The advantage is we know someone’s looking for him. At this point, no one knows we are. The way the kid’s been living, either he didn’t get much for the forgery, or he blew it fast and hasn’t explored the wonderful world of blackmail.”
    “Would they have threatened him first?”
    “What would be the point? They didn’t want him to run. They’d want to eliminate him, quick and quiet.” But there was something in her eyes. “Why?”
    “I’ve been getting . . . communications.” It was a clean, professional word and made her less jittery.
    “Communications?”
    “Faxes, for the most part. For some time now. They’ve been coming daily since you left. Faxes, one e-mail, here and at the office.”
    Again, he sat up. This time his eyes were narrow and cool. “Threats?”
    “Not exactly, or not really threats until most recently.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I am telling you.”
    “Why the hell didn’t you let me know this was going on all along?” The blank look she sent him had him getting to his feet so quickly he knocked the glass aside and sent it tumbling over the rocks. “It never occurred to you, did it? To tell me you were being stalked this way, frightened this way? Don’t tell me you weren’t frightened,” he tossed out before she could speak. “I can see it in your face.”
    He saw, she thought, entirely too much, too easily. “What could you have done about it?”
    He stared at her, eyes smoldering, then jamming his hands in his pockets, turned away. “What do they say?”
    “Various things. Some of them are very calm, short and subtly threatening. Others are more disjointed, rambles. They’re more personal, they talk about things that happened or little events in my life.”
    Because a hunted feeling crept up her spine, she got to her feet. “One came after Giovanni . . . after Giovanni,” she repeated. “It said his blood was on my hands.”
    He had no choice but to put his own resentment and hurt aside. It surprised him how much there was of both that she hadn’t trusted him. Hadn’t counted on him. But now he turned back, looked her straight in the eye.
    “If you believe that, if you let some anonymous bastard push you into believing that, you’re a fool, and you’re giving them exactly what they want.”
    “I know that, Ryan. I understand that perfectly.” She thought she could say it calmly, but her voice broke. “I know it’s someone who knows me well enough to use what would hurt me most.”
    He moved to her, wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Hold on to me. Come on, hold on.” When her arms finally encircled him, he rubbed his cheek over her hair. “You’re not alone, Miranda.”
    But she had been, for so long. A man like him would never know what it was like to stand in a roomful of people and feel so alone. So alien. So