See Jane Die Part 18

"Like she had betrayed me," he said finally. "Betrayed our friends.h.i.+p."

"But how could she have done tha-"

This time it was Jane who didn't finish the thought. She didn't need to.

Betrayed him by telling the police that he and Elle Vanmeer had had an affair.

Were having an affair.

No. She believed in her husband. His honesty.

How well do you know your husband, Jane?

Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do.

Jane shook her head against the questions, their meaning. The way they made her feel: uncertain,

vulnerable. Suspicious.

It wasn't true. Ian had been faithful to her. He loved her.

As if he read her thoughts, he held out a hand. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course." She caught it, curled her fingers around his. "You're my husband. I love you."

He held her hand tightly. "I wish I could help them. I wish I knew something. But I don't."

"It's all going to go away," she said, her voice taking on a fierce edge. "The problem is, they don't have

any real leads. They're focusing on you because they have to focus on someone."

They fell silent. Beside them Ranger whimpered.

Ian said her name softly. She looked up at him.

"I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling about this."

Jane shuddered and brought a hand protectively to her middle, acknowledging that she did, too. And that she was afraid.

FIFTEEN.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003.

7:50 p.m.

Chubby Charlie's specialized in big burgers, barbecue and grilled cowboy-cut steaks. The food was not only tasty, but plentiful and cheap as well, making it a favorite of the DPD's finest. It didn't hurt that the draft was served in jumbo iced mugs and the music in the jukebox was country. At present, Shania Twain was belting out a song about the right kind of love with the wrong kind of man. Stacy scanned the dimly lit bar for Dave. She saw him at the end, talking on his cell phone. He caught sight of her and waved her over.

Affection born of familiarity and earned trust moved over her. She'd called him this morning, the moment

she had been alone. The message she'd left on his machine had been simple and to the point: Jane's having a baby. Help.

He'd returned her call; offered to meet her tonight.

So here they were.

The pattern had been set years ago. Friends since high school, both she and Jane had turned to Dave for

help with every crisis-particularly if it had to do with the other sister. He had always been the voice of reason, the calm in the storm. And inevitably, he had resolved the crisis and gotten them back on speaking terms.

Stacy hadn't been surprised when Dave had gone into counseling; as far as she was concerned, he had been born to help people resolve their problems.

She reached him as he was wrapping up his conversation. "Call me if her condition deteriorates," he said, then snapped his flip phone shut.

He stood and hugged her. "Sorry about that. It's good to see you, Stacy."

She hugged him back. "You, too."

He motioned a corner booth. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good. Me, too."

They sat, ordered soft drinks, barbecue sandwiches and thick-sliced onion rings.

"How are you?" he asked.

A soft, bitter-sounding laugh slipped past her lips. "Heartbroken and jealous. Your first tip should have

been the quiver in my voice. Your second the onion rings."

"Comfort food," he murmured. "You know, there's actually a psychological basis to that. I say, whatever it takes. Within reason, of course."

"I hate feeling this way. I know it's wrong. I should be happy for my sister."

"It's not wrong. It's destructive." He reached across the table and took her hand. "When did she tell

you?"

"This morning. She's eight weeks along-" She swallowed the words as she realized that Dave already knew. "She told you first, didn't she? Figures."

He tightened his fingers. "It doesn't mean anything, Stacy."

"That's such a crock, Dave. Of course it does."

"She was worried you'd be upset."

"Lucky and perceptive." Stacy eased her hand from his, dropped it to her lap. "She truly does have it all."

"She misses you."

"She told me the same thing."

"You didn't believe her."

"It's not that. It's-" She held on to the thought as the waitress delivered their c.o.kes. She took a sip of

the cold drink, using the moments to gather her thoughts.

"Why does she miss me?" she asked finally. "Seems to me her life is pretty full."

"She misses you because you're her sister. No one can replace what you share."

Stacy looked away, hurting.

"What you're feeling is envy, a normal human emotion. In this case an understandable emotion, one with

easily definable roots." He ticked off Jane's good fortune on his fingers. "A multimillion-dollar inheritance.

Marriage to a handsome doctor-a man you dated first. A career she not only adores, but one that is

beginning to garner national acclaim. And now a baby on the way."

Stacy laughed, the sound tight. "She's easy to hate, isn't she?"

"She's easy to love as well."

"Not from where I'm sitting."

He leaned toward her. "You do love her, Stacy. And therein lies your conflict."

"So fix me, Doc. Make it all better."

"I can only do so much. We're friends. Friends with a lot of history. I have the names of several good

people-"

"No, thanks. I'm not interested in some stranger picking my brain apart."

"You'd rather a friend apply a Band-Aid?"

"Something like that."

"A Band-Aid's not going to do the trick, doll. This isn't going to go away. You have to take a good look

at your life. Change what's not working. Rejoice in what is."

She didn't comment. The waitress brought their food. They dug in, though Stacy derived little pleasure from it.

"Jane's nightmare's back," he said after was.h.i.+ng a bite of his sandwich down. "Did you know?"

She shook her head, food sticking in her throat. Her thoughts spiraled back to that day at the lake, the sun warm on her face, first the sound of a powerboat drawing closer, then of Jane's screams.

Jane's screams every night after.