“I couldn’t stop loving you overnight. I don’t think I can stop loving you ever.”
“I’ve been afraid, a dozen times today, that I’d lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me,” she whispered. “Unless you want to.”
“I’m going to tonight — when you leave here.”
“I don’t want to leave you.” Her eyes lifted to his. “Oh, why can’t you have faith in me? What must I do to make you trust me?”
No man on earth, Conway thought, could doubt her. Or resist her. He could tell her, prove his faith in her, and she would be a haven where he could put aside his fears, his suspicions, his constant vigilance. He had to tell her: he was starving for this love she offered.
“I do trust you, my dearest,” he said, and at that moment the clangor of the doorbell echoed from the house.
They sprang apart guiltily. “It’s Bauer, damn him,” Conway said. “Stay here. I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can.”
It was not Bauer, but Larkin and another detective whom Conway saw when he opened the door.
“Want you at Headquarters right away,” Larkin said.