She seemed to consider what he said and set the bottle aside. "I just took a few gut punches, that's all. I've had worse. And given worse."

"I'm not going to leave you like this."

"Sure you are." Her eyes were puffy with pain but she still smiled. "I know what I'm doing-know what I did. It worked, see? Just like I planned-at least for the most part." There was a quick glance toward the closed bedroom door. "Now get out of here and keep your mouth shut. You're not a part of this unless I need-confirmation."

"I am involved-just being here." Dean motioned toward the bedroom. "Is he in there?"

"Just get out."

"Lydia, I want no part of covering up a crime. I know you're hurt but act rationally."

She took short breaths, as if it hurt to talk. "There's only a crime if I say there is. This is my place and my call. Now get lost." Once more she laughed. "Someday, if you're a good boy, I'll let you listen. It's a howl."

"What does that mean? And why is Fitzgerald history?"

Lydia Larkin considered her answer. "I let the bastard beat the shit out of me. I bugged the place, taped the whole damn thing- recorded every word. Fitzgerald is dead meat."




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