Page 86 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

We really need to talk. I need to explain.

I stared at it. She had answers, but I didn't want to hear them from her. I don't think I wanted her to explain herself. The anger was hot and clear and simple, and I understood it. I texted back.

Not this week.

The three dots came up right away, stayed a long time, and stopped.

I nodded. It was the right answer.

At the end of the day, still with no answers, still with the sick feeling, I was having dinner tonight with Derek. With Derek, and my epiphany.

37 - VERSAILLES

Lacey

I had changed in the locker room before leaving. Slate-blue blouse from the back of my locker, the one I had been keeping for clinic photos and had not worn in a year and a half. Hair quickly redone.

I had stood in front of the locker-room mirror with a paper towel in one hand and my lipstick in the other and said to myself, out loud, this is a business meeting. The woman in the mirror had not believed me.

Then I got a text.

Derek. Car is outside waiting whenever you're ready.

The car was a black SUV. The driver was tall and wiry. He introduced himself as Karl with an easy smile. I got in. "You're Mr. Harrington's driver?" I asked.

He chuckled. "No, Derek doesn't have a driver. I was just the one who was free at the moment. Usually it's Aaron."

The drive to Versailles took us out of Lexington into low rolling country. A winding road showing off the old stone fences built by Scottish stonemasons maybe a hundred and fifty years ago. Beautiful pastures with million-dollar horses and impenetrable forest that Daniel Boone had made famous.

My phone rang twenty minutes in. Harrington.

"Hi?"

"Hi." There was a clatter behind him, a pan being set down hard. "Quick question."

"Go."

"Do you like fish?"

"Um. Depends."

"What's the failure mode?"

"Salmon under fluorescent lights at a hotel buffet."

"Reasonable. What I'm making is Iraqi. Spicy baked fish. If you hate it, I have a frozen pizza behind a bag of peas. I'm running a little behind because of Jessica. Have Aaron show you in."

He hung up.

The driveway was a quarter mile long. The house at the end of it was big, with stone walls, two main wings, and more chimneys than I bothered to count. Mature oaks. To the right, a low cluster of outbuildings, each larger than my comfortable house. Farther on, the long line of a paddock with horses moving along it, more pasture and what might have been cattle in the failing light. A working ranch, maybe?

The house had lamps lit in every front room and a pair of small purple rubber boots near the front door.

The man holding the door open was about six-foot-three, broad through the shoulders. Friendly face, scraggly blond beard. The easy grin of a man who didn't have to work very hard at being intimidating.

"Dr. Bonds. I'm Aaron. Derek is upstairs."

"Hello, Aaron. Just Lacey, please."