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  “That’s what Sam says.”

  “Well, he’s right. Your cover is so tight nothing can possibly leak out. I’m always amazed when Sam talks about—hey, speak of the devil, there he is. Hold on, Carly. I’ll go yell for him before he starts dallying with Sara.”

  The phone hit the counter with a clatter. Carly heard the fading patter of footsteps, then a muffled, “Sam! It’s Carly,” then, after a pause, louder, more solid steps returning.

  “Carly—” Sam’s voice came with reassuring calm over the line “—what happened?”

  “Somebody called, Sam. Somebody asking for Robyn.”

  “Did you recognize the voice?”

  “That’s the worst part! I didn’t hear it! Ryan was here waiting to make a call and when the phone rang he picked it up without thinking.”

  “Carly—”

  “He told whoever it was that there was no Robyn here. I didn’t even want to ask whether it was a man or a woman for fear of arousing suspicion. And I couldn’t call you until he’d gone. Who could it have been, Sam?”

  “Car—”

  “Anybody who calls me here knows me as Carly! Anybody who would use the other name doesn’t call me here! Who could it have been?”

  “Sheila.”

  The babble of chatter gave way to complete silence.

  “Sheila?” Carly half whispered.

  “Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh. “And, boy, am I sorry. I knew at first glance she’d be trouble.”

  “Sheila who?”

  “Sheila Montgomery.”

  “Sheila?” Carly’s face lit instantly. “Sheila’s here?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Sam, that’s great! Sheila’s terrific!”

  “That was what her transfer papers from the marshal’s office in Chicago said, and that was what I believed when I gave her your number. She already knew your name and that you were under my jurisdiction. Did you tell her before you left?”

  “She was in on the planning back there.”

  “Hoffmeister may have been right when he suggested it’d be good for you to have someone to talk to, especially a woman, but now I’m not so sure. She seemed scatterbrained to me. To have called you and asked for Robyn, particularly when someone other than you answered the phone, only proves it.”

  But Carly was full of forgiveness. Sheila had been with her during the entire stint in protective custody. They’d begun as allies and ended fast friends. “She’ll be working here?”

  “Looks that way,” Sam grumbled. He’d have to pair her up with Greg. Let old bedroom eyes tame her.

  “When did she get in?”

  “She stopped by the office early last week on her way to visit a cousin or someone on the Cape and wasn’t due to begin work until a week from Monday. I had no idea she’d contact you so soon or I would have warned you. She must have gotten tired of her cousin.” He gave a snort. “Most likely the other way around.”

  “Sam, Sam, where’s your sense of humor? Here I was scared to death that the wrong someone had my name, and it’s only Sheila. She’s not scatterbrained. That’s just her personality. Bubbly and enthusiastic. Believe me. I’ve seen her in action. She’s smart as a whip and thorough. And she can be one tough cookie when the going gets rough.” Her thoughts slipped back. Her voice grew softer. “I don’t know what I would have done without her through those months.”

  Sam sighed. “Well, it looks like you’re going to have her again. At least the friend part of it. She’ll be working on other things for us, though you can be damn sure I plan to give her a lecture about watching her tongue.”

  “I’m sure she was just excited. Go easy on her, Sam. She’s been through a lot in life. She’s earned her stripes.”

  “That’s a recommendation?”

  “Very definitely.”

  “Then I guess it’ll have to do. At any rate, see if she calls again. If she doesn’t—” his tone grew momentarily somber “—let me know. She’s the only one I can think of who might have—”

  “Wait, Sam. There’s the intercom. Hold on.” Setting the phone on the counter, Carly ran to the panel by the door and pressed the button. “Yes?” she asked, her customary caution softened only by a definite suspicion.

  “Carly Quinn?” came a voice made tinny by the mechanism. “This is Sheila Montgomery. Now I know you’ve got a guy up there with you because I called and completely forgot who I was calling when I heard his sexy voice, but I’ve just driven up from Provincetown and wanted to say hello. Hello? Are you there?”

  Carly grinned. It was Sheila, all right. “I’m here, Sheila. Come on up.” Holding the front door release long enough to allow Sheila entry, she returned to the phone. “Sam? It’s Sheila. She’s on her way up. Hey, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Seems I jumped the gun and got scared. If I’d been a little more patient I guess the mystery would have solved itself.”

  “No problem, Carly.” And well there wasn’t, since Carly seemed pleased and no apparent harm had been done by Sheila’s carelessness. Sam still vowed to take Sheila down a peg, but another time. “Go greet your friend. Maybe she can coax you out on the town. Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you show her the sights? Explore together. As long as she’s there, make good use of her.”

  “Oh, I will,” Carly said with a smile. “I will.”

  Seven

  sHEILA MONTGOMERY TUGGED AT THE BUZZING door and entered the atrium duly impressed with the surroundings of Robyn Hart’s new home. Carly Quinn. Carly Quinn. Damn it, she’d have to remember. One slipup was bad enough. But it was hard. The woman she’d known, a frightened woman caught between two lives, had been Robyn Hart. Carly Quinn was someone new—new career, new apartment, new boyfriend.

  At the thought of the last, Sheila felt a twinge of remorse. Perhaps she should have waited. But she only wanted to say hi. The Cape had been lonely all by herself. And Boston was as new to her as it had been to Rob—to Carly.

  Pushing her windblown mop of raven hair back from her face, she started up the stairs. Not bad, she mused again, noting the fine carpeting on the stairs, the brass railings, the lush plants hanging hither and yon. Not bad at all. Certainly a sight nicer than the studio she’d rented on Beacon Hill. Though she’d definitely bought the location, the apartment itself left something to be desired. But, she reasoned morosely, she was used to it. This place, though, was something else.

  Rounding the second-floor landing she headed for the third, then tipped her head back and caught sight of the face grinning down at her.

  Carly leaned on the railing, forearms propped on the brass, and watched with pleasure as her friend met her gaze. “Sheila Montgomery, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  Sheila returned the grin and spoke with the faintly nasal twang that was uniquely hers. “You, Carly Quinn, have.” Running quickly up the remaining flight, she slowed as she approached Carly. “Wow, have you!” She ran an eye over the smart running suit Carly still wore, then took in the mass of curly hair that had escaped its ponytail, the flushed cheeks, the light gray eyes. For an instant she held back. There was something about this woman, something richer, something more sophisticated that put her in a class above. In that instant Sheila felt every bit the bodyguard, the woman who’d crossed from the wrong side of the tracks to make it in the world of law enforcement. In Chicago, with a very vulnerable Robyn, it had all seemed irrelevant. Here, though, with this elegant backdrop, with the knowledge that Carly Quinn was an established person, she felt distinctly inferior.

  It was Carly who took the final steps and embraced Sheila warmly. “It’s great to see you, Sheila! I had no idea you’d be in town!”

  “Hey,” Sheila began apologetically, “I know this is a bad time.” She cast a skittering glance toward Carly’s open door. “Maybe I should come back later.”

  “Don’t be silly! I’m alone.” Looping her arm around Sheila’s waist, she guided the woman toward her apartment and spoke in a softer, more conspiratorial whisper. “He
left. Sexy voice and all. You missed him.”

  Sheila managed a chuckle as she retrieved her bravado. “Damn. And here I thought I’d finally get a look at your type of man. Hey, this is gorgeous!” Inside the apartment, she slowly scanned the room. “My word, you really did it right, didn’t you?”

  Closing the door, Carly followed Sheila’s gaze. “They suggested I change my image. I guess I did. I’ve never quite lived this way before. I mean, when I was growing up the house was beautiful in an old and elegant kind of way. This is more—”

  “Chic. Modern. Perfect.” Sheila’s eyes took in the stylish decor before returning to Carly. “It’s lovely,” she said quietly. “You’re very lucky.”

  Feeling suddenly awkward, Carly glanced away. Her home was a luxury, something she doubted Sheila could afford. “Listen, can I get you some coffee? I’ve got a fresh pot brewed.”

  “Sure. That’d be great.”

  Heading for the kitchen, Carly called over her shoulder, “Sam tells me you’ve been transferred to the Boston office.”

  “Sam Loomis? He told you I’d seen him?”

  “Only when I called him a few minutes ago.” She pulled a fresh mug from the cabinet for Sheila and filled it, adding hot coffee to her own, the one she’d used when Ryan had been there earlier. His stood cold and lonely in the sink, a stark reminder that he’d been and gone. “You really gave me a scare. When the phone rang and you asked for Robyn—”

  “Listen, I’m sorry about that. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Don’t tell Sam that,” Carly advised, arching a brow as she handed Sheila the coffee. “Tell him you thought you recognized his voice at the other end of the line or something.”

  “He was ticked?”

  Carly shrugged, then led the way back to the living room. “Only because I was frightened. I was sure that someone had penetrated my cover and I couldn’t call Sam until Ryan left—”

  “Who is Ryan?”

  “My neighbor,” she said as she sank onto the sofa.

  Sheila settled in the armchair across from Carly. “Is he as good-looking as he sounds?”

  “He’s good-looking.”

  “Boy, you didn’t waste any time! Tell me about him.”

  “There’s not much to tell.” At least not much she wanted to tell. “I just met him. He moved in last weekend. His phone isn’t going in until tomorrow, so he’s been using mine. He was standing right next to it when you called. That was why he answered.”

  Feeling more bold now that they’d begun to talk, Sheila’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re going after him.”

  “No, I am not going after him. You know my situation. It’s shaky, to say the least.”

  Sheila gave another envious glance at her surroundings. “Doesn’t look shaky to me. You’ve got a new town, a new career. How’s the teaching going, by the way?”

  “Great. Busy. I enjoy it.”

  “Then you’ve got it made. What’s to be shaky about?” It sounded like a perfect life to Sheila. What with a husband’s life insurance, a job that paid well, plus money from Uncle Sam to work with, Carly had it easy.

  Carly didn’t see it quite that way. For a minute she was surprised at Sheila’s lack of understanding. For a minute too she had forgotten Sheila’s lot in life, compared to hers.

  “Things aren’t that simple,” she said quietly. She sipped her coffee and gazed toward the window. “There’s still the fact of where I’ve been, who I’ve been. If you think you had trouble remembering to call me Carly, just think about what it must be like for me. Twenty-nine years as Robyn, four months a Carly—it’s an adjustment.”

  “But it’s a fact,” Sheila countered. “It’s done. Robyn Hart has been wiped off the map. Carly Quinn has been put on it—and in style, I might add.” Dryly, at that.

  “Mechanically, yes. Emotionally, only maybe. It’s been a lonely four months.”

  “Which is where sexy-voiced gentlemen come into play. You mean that you haven’t begun to sow those wild oats of yours?”

  “Wild oats?” Carly laughed. “Not quite. I’ve turned conservative, or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “You were always conservative—at least while I knew you. But not before. I got the impression you were a spitfire back then.”

  Carly nodded, smiling. “A spitfire…I suppose that’s a good way to put it.” Then she sobered and her eyes grew distant. “But that’s changed. When Peter died, I guess. Or maybe later, when Culbert’s thug came after me with a gun.” She shivered. “In many ways I’m back where I was as a teenager. Quiet. Private.”

  “Then you’ll just have to bloom all over again.”

  Carly studied her friend, taking in at a glance the light wool tunic, tights and calf-high boots. She’d always thought of Sheila as a character, a free spirit straitjacketed into an oddly controlled job. More than once she’d wondered if Sheila wouldn’t have been happier as an aerobics instructor or a salesgirl at a specialty boutique. Her clothes were usually startling in either color or combination—exotic verging on the garish. It was as though she wanted to shock people into seeing her, then pull out her ID and put them in their place. Though Carly didn’t agree with the philosophy, knowing Sheila’s background made it no great surprise.

  “How about if I let you do the blooming for me?” she teased. “Tell me about this transfer. How did it come about?”

  “I requested it.”

  Carly frowned. “You wanted to leave Chicago? I thought you liked it there.”

  Sheila made an impish face. “I’d been there for seven years. Time to move on.”

  “What about Lee? And Harmon? And Mickey?” Sheila’s social life had been a constant source of amazement to Carly. It seemed she never had an evening off without a date. The phone calls coming in to the house had been endless.

  “Nothing special.”

  “With none of them?”

  “Nah. It was going nowhere. I needed a change of scenery.”

  “Why Boston?”

  Sheila eyed her sheepishly. “Because you made it sound so good. Remember those days we spent poring over maps and brochures and real-estate magazines when you were trying to decide where you wanted to go?” Carly remembered and felt a return of the camaraderie revealed in Sheila’s smile. “Boston was perfect for you. Not too big, not too small. Lots of schools and universities around.” She lowered her voice to a deep drawl. “Lots of up-and-coming businessmen and professionals.”

  “Wait a minute,” Carly reminded her, with a chiding grin. “I never said that. You were the one with the eye out for social possibilities. All I wanted was an interesting place to live and teach. Where are you living, anyway?”

  “I’ve taken an apartment on Beacon Hill.”

  “Not bad.”

  Sheila gave a comical scowl. “Not great. It’s a studio. Subbasement. Kinda small and dark.”

  “But a good location.”

  “Hmmph. That’s what I’m paying for.”

  “And lots of interesting guys living nearby?” Carly intersected with a sly smile.

  “Damn it, I hope so.” Sheila sat back in her chair and took a pose of idle indulgence. “What I’m looking for,” she said airily, “is a tall blond with a great physique and a bulging wallet who’ll fall madly in love with me and devote the rest of his days to showering me with lavish gifts and his undivided attention.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “But it’s a dream.” She sighed.

  “Maybe not.”

  “Do you dream?”

  “Sure. About fires. And guns. And people chasing me.”

  “Still? Oh, Robyn—”

  “Carly.”

  Feeling a touch of impatience, Sheila ignored the correction. “Don’t you know how safe you are?”

  “It’s one thing to say it, something else to believe it.”

  “Are you in touch with…anyone?”

  “From Chicago?” Carly shook her head. “No. That was part of the deal, remember?”
/>
  “I know. But you had so many friends. I can remember the calls you used to get. They were all very concerned.”

  A flicker of pain crossed Carly’s brow. “I know. It helped. But I made a choice when I decided to testify for the state. My life—a new life—for that one.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  “Sometimes.” She shrugged. “But I can’t change things. And I’ve been lucky.”

  “You must have new friends—”

  Carly’s smile was a weary one. “Now you’re starting to sound like Sam. And my father. Sure I have friends. But friends do nothing for the dreams, the fear. It’s always there, Sheila. What can I say?”

  Sheila wished she could feel more sympathy. In her heart, she supposed she did. In her mind, well, looking around and at Carly, the woman had a lot going for her. Good background. A loving family. Memories of a husband who adored her. And financial stability. Bingo.

  As though attuned to Sheila’s thoughts, Carly threw a hand into the air. “Listen to me. I sound positively morbid. It must be because with you I can air those things I can’t with another friend. I’m glad you’ve come, Sheila,” she said more softly. “It’ll be nice to keep in touch.”

  “Speaking of which,” Sheila bubbled, leaning forward in her seat, “why don’t we celebrate and go out for brunch. I hear there are some terrific places near Faneuil Hall.”

  Carly grimaced. “I’d love to, but I have to work.”

  “Today? It’s Sunday!”

  “What else is new?”

  “Come on, Carly. You’ve got to take some time off.”

  Where had she heard that before? Thank you, Ryan Cornell. “I took yesterday off. Today I have to work.” She was beginning to sound like a broken record.

  “But it’d only be for an hour or two.”

  “I’ve already taken an hour or two,” Carly overrode Sheila’s coaxing with her own gently teasing tone. “And I’ve got a good six or seven hours of work to do before tomorrow. Really, Sheila. We’ll make it another time, okay?” She put her mug down and stood with Sheila.

  “Promise? After all, you’ve got to show me around. You must know all the ins and outs of Boston by now.”