“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you said that. Sorry for what?”
“You know—for . . . everything.”
“You don’t even know what to apologize for, do you? You don’t even know what you did wrong.”
“Tell me.”
“I shouldn’t have to.”
“Look, we’ve got two choices here: Either you can tell me what’s bothering you, or we can both stand here while I play Emotional Jeopardy—‘I’ll take Hidden Emotions for a hundred, please.’ ”
“Trust me, Nick, this is really not the time to be a wise guy.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”
“
You’re
frustrated?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call, okay? I’m sorry I interrupted the wedding plans.”
“Not even close.”
“Is it that I made you dig your own grave? Because every couple goes through that.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Please—just tell me.”
Alena lowered her voice to a whisper. “I had to chase you.”
“What?”
“Do you know what I really want, Nick? I’m talking about way down deep inside . . . I want to be
pursued
—maybe that’s what all women want when it comes right down to it. I want a man to come after me—and I want him to keep on coming after me, even after he’s got me, ’cause that’s what makes me feel special. That’s what I want, Nick—I want you to chase me and keep on chasing me right up until the day one of us drops dead. I’ve been chasing things, hunting things, tracking things all my life; I guess I just want somebody to chase me for a change. Do you think that’s asking too much?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good—’cause neither do I. But I had to chase
you
—before we even got married—and if you won’t chase me now, you sure won’t do it later on. That’s what you did wrong, Nick—you made
me
chase
you
.”
“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “If it makes you feel any better, you sure are good at it.”
“It doesn’t—but thanks anyway.”
“Can I ask you something? When you went to that lake house looking for me—why did Malone let you in?”
“Have you even been listening to me?”
“I’ve heard everything you’ve said—I’ve just been thinking about this all night. Why did he let you in? What did you tell him?”
“I told him I was there to fix his bedroom wall.”
“And he believed you?”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to lie.”
“How did you explain the dogs?”
“Protection. Haven’t you heard? I’m a defenseless woman.”
“Noah told me you sent him photos of puparia. He said you took them with your cell phone.”
“I figured the stupid phone must be good for something.”
“And that’s how you knew the home-care nurse was negligent?”
“I already knew that.”
“How?”
“I had Trygg check the bedroom. She alerted twice—once on the carpet and once on the mattress. Malone said they found the old man on the floor; that meant somebody moved the body to the bed and back again. I figured that had to be the nurse.”
“Why didn’t you tell somebody?”
“I wasn’t there to solve a crime, Nick—I was there to find you.”
“You knew before I did,” Nick said. “What an amazing woman.”
Alena’s next words came out in a muffled sob. “Are you just figuring that out now?”
“Alena,” Nick said. “Come out here—let me see you.”
“Go away, Nick.”
“C’mon—we’re getting married tomorrow, aren’t we?”
There was a long silence.
Nick stared into the darkness. “Aren’t we?”
“I was so sure about you,” she said. “Every step of the way—I was so sure. Now I’m not sure what I want. Funny, isn’t it? I was sure and you weren’t; now you’re sure and I’m not. We can’t seem to get on the same page.”
“We’re on the same page,” Nick said. “I know what I want now.”
“Well, I’m not sure I do.”
“Everybody’s going to be at the church,” Nick said. “They’ll be expecting us to show up.”
“That’s a lousy reason to get married.”
“I just mean everything’s ready. We did all that work.”
“I think we did the wrong kind of work. People spend so much time getting ready for a wedding; nobody thinks about getting ready for a marriage.”
“I’m ready.”
“Are you? I’m not sure I am—not anymore.”
Nick didn’t know what to say.
In the silence that followed all the sounds of the woods became audible: the chirping of the wood crickets, the soft rush of wind through the leaves, even the rhythmic panting of the dogs as they stared up at their captive. The sounds were no louder than they were a moment before; they were simply amplified by the absence of human voice. Nick finally spoke: “The wedding’s at six, Alena. Are you going to be there?”
“I don’t know. I need some time.”
“Well—I’ll be there. I just want you to know that. No trips to Philadelphia this time, no bachelor parties, no distractions, no excuses—I know what I want, and I’ll be waiting for it at that church.”
Alena didn’t respond.
“I really am sorry,” he said. “I don’t blame you for being angry. I know—I’m a piece of work sometimes.”
“You’re a piece of something,” Alena replied. “Just don’t ask me what right now.”
Nick heard a
snap
from somewhere in the darkness; the three dogs suddenly turned and trotted off into the underbrush. “Does this mean I’m free to go?” he asked.
“You’re free to do what you want,” Alena said.
“Well, I want to get married. Six o’clock, Alena—I’ll be waiting.”
N
ick stood in front of a full-length mirror in the foyer of Resurrection Lutheran Church and looked at his unfamiliar costume: black wool tux with satin lapel, gleaming onyx shirt studs, perfect white handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket.
It looked a lot better on the mannequin
, he thought. He tugged on the sleeves, pulling them down a little; the woman at the rental place had assured him it was the perfect length, but it sure felt short to him. He hooked a finger under his collar and tugged; he hadn’t worn a tie in years, let alone a bow tie. For that matter, he couldn’t remember the last time he had buttoned the top button of a shirt.
Nathan Donovan stepped into the foyer from the sanctuary. “Any sign of her?”
“Not yet,” Nick said. “How do I look?”
“No worse than me.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“It’s almost six,” Donovan said.
“Thanks—I’m aware of the time.”
“Look, Nick, I’m sorry about all this. If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the doghouse too—Macy won’t even talk to me. When I told her what happened with Alena she was furious. Sorry if I screwed things up.”
“If anybody screwed things up it was me,” Nick said. “You were right, Donovan—I needed help figuring out what I want. It just took me too long to decide.”
“She’ll be here, Nick. She’s probably on her way right now.”
“I hope so,” Nick said with a halfhearted shrug. “What’s the point in figuring out what you want if you can’t have it?”
“She’ll be here. She’s just making you suffer—women are experts at that.”
Donovan returned to the sanctuary and left Nick to wait in the foyer alone.
When the church door opened, Nick jumped.
“Am I too late?” Dr. Beth Woodbridge poked her head into the foyer and glanced around. “Nick—I’m so sorry. One of my patients had a meltdown this morning and I had to do an emergency session—the joys of psychiatry. I was late getting to the airport, then my flight from San Francisco was late into Dulles. And it’s a full hour’s drive out here—this little town is hard to find. Did I miss it? Did you pull the trigger yet?”
“Don’t worry, Beth,” Nick said. “You’re still in time for my execution.”
“Good—I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” She stepped into the foyer, kissed Nick on the cheek, and handed him a box wrapped in silver paper.
“What’s this?”
“A wedding present.”
“Obviously. What is it?”
“You’re not supposed to ask—you’re supposed to wait and open it later.”
“I’m not big on waiting.”
“No kidding. I used to be your psychiatrist, remember?”
“So what is it?”
“If you must know, it’s one of those little handheld milk frothers.”
Nick blinked. “What’s it for?”
“You know—for lattes.”
“You’re putting me on.”
“What was I supposed to get you, a toaster? It’s not like you’re setting up house for the first time.”
“So you figured that by now I’ve collected so many useless kitchen utensils that I actually have need of a milk frother?”
“Nick, it’s a gift—it’s the thought that counts.”
“And your thoughts led you to buy a milk frother? You’re a psychiatrist—that should alarm you.”
“If you don’t like it, take it back—there’s a gift receipt in the box.”
“Why didn’t you just bring the receipt? It would have saved you a carry-on.”
“Nick, you’re being even more obnoxious than usual. Is something wrong?”
He paused. “Alena’s not here. I’m not sure if she’s going to show up.”
“Oh, Nick. What happened?”
“I had second thoughts. Then she had second thoughts. I think my second thoughts caused her second thoughts. It’s kind of complicated.”
“Maybe she’s just late.”
“I hope so,” Nick said. “I really want to marry her.”
Beth looked into his eyes. “I’m just
dying
to see this woman.”
“So am I.”
Donovan stepped into the foyer. “I heard the door.”
Beth looked at him. “Agent Donovan. I see the FBI is providing security today.”
“Dr. Woodbridge,” Donovan said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m not a wedding crasher, if that’s what you’re implying—I was actually invited.”
“If you say so.” Donovan held out his arm. “Friend of the bride or groom?”
She gave Nick a quick wink. “Do you really need to ask?”
When they left the foyer, Nick opened the church door a crack and looked out at the parking lot again; there was still no sign of Alena’s truck.
Donovan returned from the sanctuary. “Nick—what were you thinking?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You don’t invite an old girlfriend to your wedding.”
“We agreed to invite friends and colleagues. Beth Woodbridge is an old colleague.”
“She’s also an old girlfriend. Did you tell Alena the two of you used to be romantically involved?”
Nick stopped to think. “I may have failed to mention that.”
“Well, fail to mention it again—you’re in enough trouble already.” Donovan looked at his watch. “Six o’clock, Nick—what do you want to do?”
“Let’s get started.”
“What?”
“The wedding starts at six, Donovan—it says so on the announcement.”
“It’s sort of customary to wait for the bride—they like to be part of things.”
“It’s six o’clock,” Nick said. “When Alena walks in, I don’t want her to find me waiting in the foyer like I thought she might not come. I want to be standing up front, right where I told her I would be.”