The Mephisto Club

was unnecessarily brutal, and for a moment Maura considered getting out at the next town, calling for a rental car, and driving home by herself.
    “I’m old enough to make my own choices,” she said.
    “But what’s
his
choice going to be?”
    Maura turned her head to stare out the window at snowy fields, at toppling fence posts half-buried in drifts.
If he doesn’t choose me, will I really be all that surprised? He can tell me again and again how much he loves me. But will he ever leave his church for me?
    Jane sighed. “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s my life, not yours.”
    “Yeah, you’re right. It’s your life.” Jane shook her head and laughed. “Man, the whole world’s gone totally bonkers. I can’t count on anything anymore. Not a single goddamn thing.” She drove for a moment in silence, squinting at the setting sun. “I didn’t tell you about my own wonderful news.”
    “What news?”
    “My parents have split up.”
    At last Maura looked at her. “When did this happen?”
    “Right after Christmas. Thirty-seven years of marriage, and my dad suddenly goes sniffing after some blondie from work.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “Then this thing with you and Brophy—it’s like everyone’s gone sex crazy. You. My idiot dad. Even my mom.” She paused. “Vince Korsak asked her out on a date.
That’s
how weird everything’s gotten.” Suddenly Jane gave a groan. “Oh, Christ. I just thought about it. Do you realize that he could end up being my
stepdad
?”
    “The world hasn’t gone that crazy.”
    “It could happen.” Jane shuddered. “It gives me the creeps just thinking about the two of them.”
    “Then don’t think about it.”
    Jane gritted her teeth. “I’m trying not to.”
    And I’ll try not to think of Daniel.
    But as they continued driving west toward the setting sun, through the city of Springfield and into the rolling Berkshire Hills, all she could think about was him. She breathed in and could still smell his scent, crossed her arms and could still feel his touch, as though the memories were engraved on her skin. And she wondered:
Is it the same for you, Daniel? When you stood before your congregation this morning and looked around at the faces watching you, waiting for your words, was it my face you sought, my face you thought about?
    By the time they crossed the state line into New York, night had fallen. Her cell phone rang, and in the dark car it took her a moment to find it among the jumbled contents of her purse. “Dr. Isles,” she answered.
    “Maura, it’s me.”
    At the sound of Daniel’s voice, she felt her cheeks flame and was glad that darkness masked her face from Jane’s gaze.
    “Detective Frost came to see me,” he said.
    “I had to tell them.”
    “Of course you had to. But I wish you’d called me about it. You should have told me.”
    “I’m sorry. It must have been so embarrassing, to hear it from him first.”
    “No, I mean about the writing on your door. I had no idea. I would have been there for you in an instant. You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”
    She paused, acutely aware that Jane was listening to every word. And would no doubt express her disapproval the instant the call ended.
    “I went by your house a little while ago,” he said. “I was hoping to find you at home.”
    “I’m going to be away tonight.”
    “Where are you?”
    “I’m in the car with Jane. We just passed through Albany a while ago.”
    “You’re in New York? Why?”
    “They’ve found another victim. We think…” Jane’s hand suddenly closed around Maura’s arm, an unmistakable warning that the less revealed, the better. Jane didn’t trust him anymore, now that he’d proven himself to be all too human. “I can’t talk about it,” she said.
    There was a silence on the line. Then, a quiet “I understand.”
    “There are details we have to keep confidential.”
    “You don’t need to explain. I know how it works.”
    “Can I call you back later?”
When there isn’t another pair of ears listening.
    “You don’t have to, Maura.”
    “I want to.”
I need to.
    She hung up and stared at a night pierced only by the beams of their headlights. They had left the turnpike behind them, and their route now took them southwest, on a road that cut through snow-covered fields. Here, the only lights they saw came from the occasional passing car or the glow of a distant farmhouse.
    “You’re not going to talk to him about the case, are you?”