The Edge

said suddenly, "Maybe somebody took her." It was the first time he'd said anything like that since we'd all run out of the Tarcher party more than three hours before.

    I turned slowly to face Paul. "Why would anyone take

    Jilly?"

    "I don't know," Paul said. "But somebody may have been afraid she'd remember everything that happened Tuesday night. She was gone for three hours, dammit. Where did she go? What did she do?" He added on a whisper, "Maybe it was Laura. I don't understand what was going on between Jilly and Laura anymore. Who else would have done it?"

    I pictured Laura in my mind and I couldn't begin to believe she could have done anything like that. But Jilly had said that Laura had betrayed her, that Laura was dangerous.

    "Fine," I said. I took Paul's arm and pulled him out of Jilly's room as I said, "Excuse us, Maggie, Rob, but I've got to clear something up with Paul, and it just can't wait."

    "Maybe Laura took her," Paul said again once we were in the empty hospital corridor.

    "Let's say that Laura did take her. Did she have a gun to her head? Maybe Laura was carrying her over her shoulder? That means that someone must have seen Laura with her. It's ridiculous, Paul, just plain ridiculous. Now, I dragged you out here because I want the truth out of you and I want it now. Did you sleep with Laura?"

    "All right, so I didn't sleep with her," he said, and my nerd brother-in-law actually flushed up to his eyebrows.

    "Why would you tell a lie like that about an innocent woman?"

    "I wanted to sleep with her, but she turned me down. I wanted to get even."

    "That doesn't make sense, Paul. You never knew I'd even meet Laura Scott. How would that be getting even?"

    "It wouldn't. Look, Mac, I wanted to sleep with her. It was a fantasy, nothing more really, just lay off. It's not something I'm proud of doing, but I did it. Now I'm undoing it."

    I said slowly, "Jilly told me that Laura had betrayed her. If you didn't sleep with Laura, if you made it all up, then what did Jilly mean?"

    Paul shrugged. "I guess Jilly must have believed that Laura was my lover."

    "I suppose you made some comments that Jilly might have misinterpreted?" I wanted to slug him. It was hard not to.

    "Look, Mac, Jilly and I were married for eight years. You can't be married that long and not have some problems. We had our share."

    "According to Jilly in February when I saw her, you and she were in the sack all the time, having a fine time."

    "Yeah, well, sex isn't everything."

    "Paul, was Laura at your house last Tuesday night?"

    "Of course she wasn't there. Why would she be? I already told you, Mac, it was just Jilly and me and the halibut we broiled. What the hell does that matter anyway? I'm going back to Jilly's room."

    I watched him until he disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. I heard Maggie speaking to Rob as they walked out of Jilly's room, over the security guards' voices, all of them talking over one another, making no sense really.

    Mrs. Himmel caught sight of me and waved me down. I saw at least half a dozen hospital personnel milling about behind her. She was wringing her hands. I'd never seen Mrs. Himmel flustered before. She looked like she was going to burst into tears. Her pallor worried me. "Mrs. Himmel," I said, gently touching her shoulder.

    "Oh, Mr. MacDougal, it's all my fault. Oh, God, Mrs. Bartlett is gone and it's my fault."

    I pulled out my firm, very matter-of-fact voice that sometimes worked to calm things down. "Let's go someplace quiet, Mrs. Himmel. I need your help." I followed her to the nurses' lounge. There were two nurses inside, drinking coffee. I heard one of them say, "People said that she'd tried to kill herself. Well, now she just left to do it right this time."

    The other nurse jumped to her feet when she saw me. "Oh, Mr. MacDougal."

    "Excuse us, please. Mrs. Himmel and I need to be alone for a moment."

    The nurses were out of there in under two seconds. I led Mrs. Himmel to an old brown vinyl sofa that had seen better days maybe three decades ago. "Tell me what happened," I said, sitting down beside her.

    She drew a deep breath, her fingers curling into a fist. I saw that she was a strong woman. Her biceps rippled as she clenched and unclenched her hands. She was regaining some healthy color, thank God. "Mrs. Bartlett was very quiet," she said finally. "I just thought she had a lot on her mind, and no wonder. I've heard a lot of the stuff that's been going on,