Hood thanked the man, then held on. His heart was thumping out of control. His mind was everywhere yet nowhere. He would think about Gerard Dominique and the hate games, but he always ended up back on Nancy. What they'd had. What she'd done. What they'd lost. And then he would get angry with himself because his heart was out of control that way too. He was consumed, again, with Nancy Jo. Even though his hunger could go, would go nowhere.

"Hello?"

Hood leaned on his forearm, against the wall…"Hi," he said.

"Paul? Is that you?" Nancy sounded genuinely surprised, and pleased.

"Yes, Nancy. I'm in the lobby. Can we talk?"

"Of course! Come up."

He said, "It might be better if you came down."

"Why? Are you afraid I'll attack you the way I used to?"

"No," Hood said, uncomfortable with his thoughts. He wasn't afraid at all, damn him.

"Then come on up and help me pack," she insisted. "Fifth floor, turn right, last door on the left."

She hung up and Hood stood there for a moment, listening to the dial tone. At least it drowned out his heart.

What are you doing, asshole? he asked himself. After a moment of self-pity, he answered, You're going to find out information about Gerard Dominique. About hate games. About what might be going on in Toulouse. And then you're going to go back to Hausen's office to report on what you've found.

Replacing the phone in its cradle, Hood turned toward the elevators and rode to the fifth floor.

Nancy answered the door wearing tight jeans and a pink polo shirt. The shirt was tucked in, emphasizing her delicate shoulders. The raised collar showed off her long neck. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail like the one she'd used to wear when they went bike riding.

She smiled her perfect smile, then turned and walked back to the bed. There was an open suitcase on the cover. As she packed the last of her toiletries, Hood walked over.

"I'm pretty surprised to see you," Nancy said. "I thought when we said good-bye, that was it."

"Which time?" Hood asked.

Nancy looked up. Hood stood at the foot of the bed and watched her.

"Touché," Nancy said with a little smile. She finished packing, closed the suitcase, and set it on the floor. Then she sat down slowly, gracefully, like a lady riding sidesaddle. "So what is it, Paul?" she asked, the smile fading, softening. "Why did you come?"

Hood said, "Truthfully? To ask you a couple of questions about your work."

Nancy stared at him. "Are you serious?"

He shut his eyes and nodded.

"I think I'd rather have heard something untruthful," she said. She rose and turned away. "You haven't changed, have you Paul? Romantic as Scaramouche in the bedroom, celibate as St. Francis on the job."

"That's not true," he said. "This is a bedroom, and I'm being celibate."