Page 101 of The Instruments of Darkness

“I haven’t changed my mind, and I won’t.”

“You are aware that someone tried to set your home on fire?”

“I heard. Mom said you were going to take care of it.”

“I met with the people involved,” I said, “or some of them.”

“What happened?”

“One of them ended up in the ER, but I didn’t put him there. He might have demonstrated too much initiative. Not everyone likes a go getter.”

“So it won’t happen again?”

“I didn’t say that. Firstly, the firebugs were operating at someone else’s instigation. I haven’t had a chance to confront him yet. I’ll do that tomorrow, but I don’t anticipate much more than a denial. The only positive is that the attack was aimed at Moxie and me rather than you, and the person responsible may now have had his fun. Also, if he wants anything else thrown, he’ll have to do it himself or go on a hiring spree. On the other hand, you remain a target for every other coward who secretly misses the days of lynch mobs. It’s not going to be easy for you.”

“Nevertheless,” she said, “I want to go back.”

“Then we’ll continue with the protection detail: obvious at first, as now, but less so as time goes on. The Fulcis will need assistance, because I can’t keep asking them to cover it all unaided.”

I thought of Mattia Reggio. Whatever my reservations about him, he could be relied upon for work of this type. He and the Fulcis could agree on a roster between them.

“But the costs are mounting, right?” said Colleen.

“We’ll do our best to keep them down.”

“And all to prevent a prosecutor from turning me into a trophy on her wall.”

For the first time, I detected something resembling real rage. Good, I thought. She had a right, even a responsibility, to be angry. This was a fight, and she could either stand there and let her opponents brutalize her into submission or start counterpunching. I now realized that the first step was for her to stop hiding and return home.

“Which is why we can’t let Erin Becker win,” I said.

As quickly as it had manifested itself, that brief demonstration of inner strength was gone, like a match flaring and dying.

“How is that going for us?” she asked.

Even though I remained convinced that it was better if she heard directly from Moxie about any progress on the case, I wanted to offer her something. Hope, however faint, remained hope.

“Mara Teller paid for her registration to the forum with a money order,” I said. “I have a lead on the man who may have purchased it for her.”

“Why didn’t she buy it herself?”

“Because she didn’t want to be remembered, which means she may be known locally.”

“Just so she could attend a conference, or sleep with my husband?” Colleen looked puzzled. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I spoke with your therapist. She said you voiced a suspicion that your husband might have been unfaithful in the past, conceivably with the same woman. You never mentioned anything about that to me.”

“It was just a feeling I had when I first discovered the affair, but there was no proof. I was worried that I was jumping at shadows or creating false memories. I came to accept that I might have been mistaken. But even if I wasn’t, would Mara Teller really have gone to all that trouble to renew some old acquaintance with my husband? It’s an affair. It may be unsavory, but it’s not a crime.”

“Abducting a child is, though,” I said. “I keep leaning toward the possibility that she was less interested in your husband than in Henry.”

“So, what? Stephen shared the layout and security details of our house with her as foreplay?”

“She might have coaxed him into discussing his travel plans with her. If she was targeting your son, it would be easier to take Henry when there was only one adult in the home.”

Colleen stared at her bare feet. The nail polish, I saw, was gone.

“An adult who was depressed, and drinking too much wine,” she said quietly. “An adult who was capable of sleeping soundly through her son’s abduction.”