He had no idea what time it was, so he went to the refrigerator and opened the door a crack. He angled his wristwatch to the dim sliver of light that leaked out with the cold, heavy air. It was just after eight. The lieutenant would have gone home by now, Keegan’s deadline lapsed. How long would it be before they came for him and hauled him away? If the ballistics report had come in that afternoon, Keegan would already be in cuffs. Tomorrow at the soonest.

The phone was on the side table right next to the love seat, so he went and sat back down in the warm, moist aura he’d left there. He rested his hand on the receiver a few seconds before he picked it up.

“We need to talk,” he said when Eve answered.

He could hear her cautious breathing. “I’ll come up in a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll tell my aunt I’m going to bed.”

“I’m not there,” Keegan said. “I’m in town.” The heat felt like ants crawling on him under his shirt. “Listen to me,” he said. “I need you to do exactly what I say. When you hang up, call a taxi. Have him take you to a payphone.”

“What’s this about, Jim?”

“Not on the phone,” he said. “Not now. Please. I just need you to go to a payphone.”

Eve was silent a few seconds. “I can go down to the—”

“No,” Keegan cut her off. “Don’t tell me where you’re going. Do you have pen and paper?”

“Yes.”

“Write this down,” he said. He dictated his apartment’s unlisted number. “Call from a payphone as soon as you can. Ask the taxi driver to wait.”

Eve’s voice became quiet, as though she was afraid of being overheard. He could picture her in her bedroom, sitting on the bed—but she might have been in the kitchen or in the living room. The images of the big house got all jumbled in his head.

“What’s happening, Jim?” she said. “What’s going on?”

“We just need to talk,” he said. “We can’t do it at the cottage. And we can’t do it on the phone.”

“Why not?”

Keegan sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. She was so naïve, so sheltered—sealed off and protected from the bruising world by all that money. In some ways, she was younger than her years. How could she possibly be the woman Moore made her out to be? “Because they’re probably watching us.” He let his head fall back on the love seat, eyes still closed. Colors pulsed and swam on the insides of his eyelids. “They’re probably tapping your phone,” he told her. “That’s why you need to call from a payphone.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, her voice dismissive, imperious, too loud.