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‘He kept trying to tell me that you were off with Malcolm in Thailand or whatever, and that Lynne was just trying to smoke you out. He’ll be glad you’re safe, but pissed that I was right,’ she concluded with a smirk.
    ‘Don’t tell him,’ Jane blurted out, surprising them both. Her brain tried to catch up with her mouth, but there were just too many pieces of the puzzle to see the whole picture. ‘He thinks I’m safe,’ she finally said, and it rang true in her ears. ‘He’d just worry, and I
am
safe, so there’s no point in that. Plus, now that I know they’re both okay,
I
can stop worrying, and that’s all I really need. I mean, Maeve almost died.’ Jane’s eyes felt hot, and she realized that she was near tears. She flipped her fork over and stabbed it into a slice of lamb. ‘I’m sorry I ever involved them in my drama, and I’m sorry to you, too, and I probably shouldn’t have even called you today, but the least I can do to make up for that is not drag them back into this craziness.’
    She sighed, feeling almost cleansed, and waited for Dee’s inevitable sensible argument. It didn’t come, though; instead, Dee bit her lower lip and looked thoughtful. Finally she spoke, her voice even throatier than usual. ‘I won’t tell him for now. The thing with Mae was so hard on him . . . I know he would want to help you, Jane, but I think I have to agree that your way is best. For now,’ she repeated, her black eyebrows arching meaningfully. ‘If you plan to get into trouble again, I don’t make any promises.’
    Jane smiled weakly. She knew she was doing the right thing, but she had half hoped to be talked out of it. ‘It’s okay,’ she declared, to both Dee and herself. ‘I don’t have a plan yet, but I’m set up to wait it out here until I come up with a really good one. No crises, no panics. Thanks to Malcolm, I’ve got as long as I need to figure out my next step.’ A stab of jealousy twisted in her abdomen, and she deliberately misinterpreted it as concern. ‘I just wish I knew where
he
was,’ she added pointedly. She did wish that, even if it wasn’t the main thing on her mind.
    ‘He didn’t leave you any clues?’ Dee asked sympathetically.
    ‘Not one.’ Jane shook her head. ‘I told him to set up an email address to get in touch, but if he ever did, it was too realistically junk mail-like for me to even notice.’ She certainly had been getting plenty of junk mail since she’d become associated with the Dorans. Vendors were still fighting to work on her wedding, which had gone off in such spectacular fashion three weeks before. She twisted her lips wryly. ‘I think I got caught up in the
Mr and Mrs Smith
-ness of the situation, but I really probably should have been a little more specific. I really wish that I at least knew . . .’ Jane waved her hands vaguely; there was so much she didn’t know about Malcolm’s current situation that pretty much any information would be an improvement.
    A beach somewhere. Maybe some palm trees,
she reminded herself firmly, returning to the vision of Malcolm she had imagined earlier that day in the bank. His full lips curled up in the warm, tropical sunlight. Jane felt some of the tension in her body relax.
    Dee frowned, turning her champagne glass so the glow of the street twelve floors below them made gentle gold sparks in the liquid. ‘You read minds, though,’ she pointed out, although it sounded as though her mind was on something else.
    ‘I do,’ Jane admitted, ‘but I think I need to see the person. Or . . . not, because I did hear Malcolm’s mind when he was locked in the basement. So maybe I need to be nearby, or be able to see them, and I get a little more distance if I know the person . . .’ She trailed off and spread her hands helplessly. ‘I have no idea how this stuff works.’
    ‘I do,’ Dee said, still thoughtfully. ‘I’ve been putting all of those pity shifts at Book and Bell to good use, research-wise. I