Linda Fairstein - Killer Heat

"Then come spend the weekend with Jim and me. We're driving out to the beach. You can rest there and I'll wait on you hand and foot."

"I'm happiest in my own cocoon right now, about to get into a steaming hot bath, with scented bubbles up to my nose."

"Alex, it's ninety-five degrees outside. Haven't you had enough heat?"

"I've got the air-conditioning going full blast, and I'm going to try to soak all the aches out of me." I felt safe inside my home, after all the turmoil of recent days. I didn't want to leave for any reason.

"You'll starve to death if you're alone all weekend."

"I think takeout was invented for me, Joan."

She paused. "You need this time by yourself, don't you?"

"I wasn't able to sleep for a couple of nights," I said. "Nightmares, flashbacks-I didn't even want to close my eyes. About four this morning, I gave in to it. I almost feel human again today. I didn't wake up until eleven. I still haven't gotten dressed. It feels wonderfully decadent."

"Did you dream, Alex?"

With my left hand I unbuttoned the old shirt I was wearing. "A very pleasant dream, actually, for the first time in several weeks."

"In English or French?"

"Nothing that needed translation, Joan. A delightful foreign intrigue, but my lousy accent never got in the way of any action."

"Then turn your phone back on. I've been running interference for you all day. You're driving your friends crazy with worry. And Luc can't get through. He called me to ask if you received the package he overnighted to you from his home."

"I wasn't expecting any deliveries today. I asked Vinny not to call up."

"Luc instructed the valet to leave it right in front of your door. Check while I'm on the line with you."

I walked through the foyer and unlocked the dead bolt. I peeked out to make sure no one was in the hallway to see me, tousled and barely clothed, and swept up the newspapers and the light cardboard carton on top of them.

"Yes, Joan. There's something here." I left the papers in the living room-there was no news I wanted to read about-and carried the box with me.

"Good. Take your bath. I'm so happy you're beginning to relax. Then open the gift later. And call Luc, will you?"

"I haven't forgotten all my manners, madame. I'll speak to you tonight, before I go to sleep."

The bathtub was full. I closed the door and slipped out of my shirt.

"And Mike," Joan said.

"What about him?"

"He's pretty anxious to talk to you, too. Like right now."

"Somehow, being naked in a bubble bath doesn't seem like the most appropriate way for me to carry on an investigation, not even with my favorite detective. We had dinner last night with Mercer and Vickee," I said. "I'm entirely up to speed on everything I need to know."

"Well, he sounds pretty desperate going through me just to get to you."

I dipped my toe in the water but it was too hot to step in. "Mike's riding high and deserves to be. He flipped Clarita Munoz yesterday. You know, the girl who was trying to get in to see me the day Kerry Hastings and I got rammed in the cab."

"What did he do?" Joan asked.

"Mike helped with her interrogation. Got her to admit that it was her boyfriend-well, her ex-boyfriend now-Ernesto Abreu, who took the shots at me at Rodman's Neck a week ago. Part of Pablo Posano's posse."

"But why did Abreu try it there?"

"Just what Mercer thought. The stuff of instant legends in the twisted world of the Latin Princes. What could be more macho than trying to take out the prosecutor Posano hates most at a police shooting range, with scores of cops around? Prove yourself to the man in the black hole. Maybe step up a rank in the organization."

"Well, I think Mike's worried about you. About letting Rasheed get so close. About what almost happened to you. He was giving me that stuff about getting you right back in the saddle with another case so you don't get too frightened to try again."

"I'll tell you something I didn't tell the shrink, Joannie. I couldn't even think of doing my work without the relationships I have that keep me grounded-Mike and Mercer, you and Nina, my friends in the office, and now Luc. I think of what Troy Rasheed did to the women whose paths he crossed and I know how blessed I am to be alive, to be unscathed.

"But now I need a few days alone, some time to see if I can ride the horse again without the help of anyone else. I need to test my own fortitude, my own resilience."

Joan's tone changed. "I understand, of course. I'm sure Mike will, too."

"We've spent so much time together since these killings started that Mike's just having separation anxiety," I said. "He'll get over it."

"Sure he will. And you know Jim and I are here for anything you need, Alex."

"Some of my best thinking happens underwater, Joannie. I'll be fine. Speak to you later tonight."

I put the portable phone on the sink, tested the temperature again, and lowered myself into the tub. I slid down, rested my neck against one end, and lifted my toes above the bubbles at the other. My thoughts drifted from the horrors of the last ten days to plans I had made for a September weekend on the Vineyard. I soaked for almost an hour, until my fears had lost their edge and the water had cooled enough to remind me to get out and dry off.

I draped a bath sheet around me and went into my bedroom. Luc's package was addressed with stickers that repeated the words priority and urgent on every side.

The tab stripped open easily and I removed a thin box, wrapped in white satin ribbon, from the carton.

I untied the bow and opened it. Inside was a short silk robe, the same aqua shade as the dress I had worn the last time Luc and I were together. It was trimmed with a delicate strip of ecru lace. As I picked it up, my towel slipped off onto the floor, and I wrapped the soft, sexy dressing gown around me, tying it with the aqua silk belt.

There was a card nestled in the tissue paper on the bottom of the box. I climbed onto my bed and lifted the flap.

Another key, this time a shiny new one, not a flea market antique like the first one he sent me. The end of it was tied by a ribbon to an airline ticket, one way, first class, to Paris.

"Dearest Alex. Come soon. Stay as long as you like. Meet you at the Plaza Athénée on my side of the ocean. Room 888-the most beautiful view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. Bonne nuit, ma princesse . Luc."

Those were the words he spoke when he kissed me good night for the first time, after Joan's wedding, at my Vineyard home. Every time I thought of him, called up his voice saying them to me, I smiled.

I was determined not to waste time worrying about the bad memories that were competing for space against so many strong, vibrant ones. I settled back against my pillow and dialed Luc's number.

It seems that every day the city of New York reveals to those who love her some of the secrets that she has harbored for centuries. Whether it's her mean streets, ghost islands, or historic landmarks, I never tire of exploring her mysterious past.

I am grateful to the National Park Service and the Governors Island Preservation and Education Corporation for the introduction to their magnificent citadel, a hidden jewel for more than two centuries. As always, the New York Times archives have been an invaluable resource, as has Seitz and Miller's The Other Islands of New York City.

The New York City Police Foundation has done extraordinary work to make possible so many innovative programs for the NYPD. I thank them for the tour of Rodman's Neck and for instruction from the great men and women of the Firearms and Tactics Section, especially Joseph Agosto and Elizabeth Mayer-Feinberg.