From that experience I learned that a prosecutor could never assume any aspect of a case, especially when it comes to the complicated world of sexual assault. Jurors bring to the courtroom with them their own biases, prejudices, and personal knowledge, which was frequently quite limited.

And the biggest problem is their natural impulse to confuse consensual sexual events, familiar within their own lives, with the very different phenomenon of forced, assaultive acts. Never again have I presented an event to a jury without using my closing argument to explore the distinctions between what I could suppose were their own private habits and the criminal elements of the acts charged.

Jed poured me a drink while I opened a bottle of wine for him. I set out the meal, lit the candles, and tried to bring the conversation around to what he had seen and done in Paris and at which restaurants he had eaten.

But I had put off the obvious topic of conversation for as long as I could and he was determined to be brought up to speed.

"Alexandra, don't you want to tell me what happened?

Do they know who killed Isabella?"

Like anything else, I had answered this question so many times since Wednesday evening that I could respond quite easily at this point. I summarized the details of her death and the investigation.

"No suspects right now. At least none that they're telling me about.

Ex-husband, psycho co-stars, pen-pal psychiatrist, obsessed fan maybe even a secret lover. What's your guess? I think I'm too close to it to see it clearly."

"I didn't know she'd ever been married. And what lover?

Had she told you about him?"

"No. Talk about using me. You know the crap she gave me about being stalked and needing to get away? Well, she neglected to tell me that she was taking someone with her. A guy."

"Maybe it was platonic, a friend-' "Well he left some very un platonic condoms in my garbage. I suppose if I look at it scientifically instead of with my gut, at least when they get a suspect they can always test what's in the condoms for DNA."

"Don't the police know who he is? Didn't anybody see them together?"

"Not many people. That's the beauty of the Vineyard."

Jed had not been to the island with me yet because he had spent most of his free weekends commuting back to the West Coast to spend time with his kids.

"Anyway, they're talking to everyone who Isabella ever crossed in her inimitable fashion, so I think this is going to be a long haul."

"But are they sure the killer was after Isabella and not you? That's what had me tortured when I couldn't get here."

"Now it seems quite obvious, but it was truly frightening before we could reconstruct the timetable. I was pretty distraught when I called you that first time."

I knew Jed had been harassed by a stalker during his brief foray into politics last year, when he lived in California.

"I remember those stories you told me about that woman who had followed you all around during the primary." He had been a candidate in the Senate race, and like most people in prominent positions had attracted a few nuts in his search for legitimate support.

"You know what sitting ducks men and women become when they achieve some kind of celebrity status. Most of the time it's just a nuisance, but quite harmless. Then one of those psychos loses all connection to reality and the result is suddenly lethal."

"I tell you, when you're in the middle of it, there's nothing worse.

Every time I was giving a speech or standing on a reception line, I'd look up and she'd be there. Nothing threatening, mind you. Just the opposite. She attended a single campaign rally in Century City probably because there were supposed to be a lot of movie stars there shook my hand once, and was smitten."

"Hey, she's only human," I teased.

"Yeah, well that's half the problem. Nobody took it seriously because she told everyone we were lovers."

"And?"

"Of course not. She was completely delusional. But nobody my staff, the police, private security nobody thought it was worth worrying about because she was a woman, and because I think most of them really believed we had been having some kind of affair. She was smart, reasonably attractive, knew my travel schedule better than my staffers did. She was everywhere I was supposed to be.

They all knew my marriage was hanging by a string and they just winked at each other whenever I tried to deny that something was going on."

"What did you do about it?"

"Got an order of protection, finally. I sure as hell didn't want to do that in the middle of a campaign prosecute someone for being at my events. Hell, some days she was the only one who showed up. And paid to do it."

We both laughed.

"One of the reasons I was thrilled to move to New York for CommPlex was to put all that behind me. I assume she's still in graduate school in L.A., and that she's attached herself to some other unsuspecting soul.

Anyway, I know how distracting and unsettling that kind of harassment is, even if I didn't know it was so dangerous. Now I've got you to protect me I went right to the top."

Jed got up from the table and came around to my side.

"Alex, I'll never let you down again, I promise," he said, as he leaned over behind me, brushed the damp strands of hair away from my neck, and kissed me softly below my ear until I turned and offered him my mouth.

We left our uneaten dinner on the table, carried the wine bottle and glasses into my bedroom, and stripped down a second time to get under the covers.

"Forgive me, darling, but I don't think I'll be much good to you now," he whispered as he let me cradle his head on my breast.

"I'm really exhausted." He was asleep almost as soon as his eyes closed, and I looked at the clock, noting that it was barely ten as we settled in for the night.

I stared at the dark, silent figure lying beside me, and thought about how my life had changed in the three months since we had started to date. I met Jed through my closest friend from law school, Jordan Goodrich. Jordan had left Skadden, Arps to go into the investment banking business and worked a few deals with Jed on the other side. When Jed's twelve-year marriage broke up and he moved to New York, Susan Goodrich began to invite him to some of her dinner parties. She obeyed my rule about no blind dates, but Susan had grown to like Jed and was convinced that I would, too, so she was intent on coming up with an easy introduction.

In mid-June, Susan rented a movie theater on East Sixty-fourth Street to surprise Jordan for his thirty-fifth birthday. The party was a screening of his favorite movie, Thunder Road, with a fifties theme and everyone in fifties dress, playing pinball and dancing to Coasters music for hours after the film. I saw Jed dancing with Susan, and he was better than anybody on the floor. With my ponytail swinging, my turquoise poodle skirt and matching twin-set ready to move, I asked him to rock 'n' roll when the record changed and we danced about ten cuts before we stopped to exchange introductions.

When the party was over, the four of us hopped in a cab despite our ridiculous clothes and went downtown to the Gotham, where we sat for hours telling stories and trying to catch up on each other's lives. The Gotham then became 'our place' for dinners together or entertaining friends as the romance flourished despite our mutual reluctance my fear of losing someone forever if I dared to love him too much, and Jed's fear of involvement so soon after a disastrous divorce.

I thought, as I studied him in sleep, that perhaps this crisis would be the path for each of us to become more open to the other. I needed him to come to the Vineyard with me I had struggled for too long to keep my lovers away from where I had been happiest with Adam, and with the passage of so many years that division had become too artificial and unnatural. I also wanted Jed to let me understand what had happened to end his marriage, and to let me meet the children who meant so much to him.

Now that Jed had expressed his love for me tonight something I hadn't felt ready to do yet I was confident we were on our way to a more secure relationship, and I eased myself onto my side next to his body. I hugged him tightly against me and finally gave myself to pleasant dreams, unpeopled by the stalkers and rapists and murderers who loomed before me every day.

"Was it good for you?"

"Mike, there aren't words to describe how good it was," I responded when Chapman called the apartment in the middle of Sunday afternoon.

"If you stop playing with yourself and give some girl a chance, maybe you'll find out."

"Am I interrupting something warm and wonderful right now?"

"No, Mike, he's gone. This is fine."

"Gone? Already? Jeez, I figured you two would still be making up for lost time. The guy doesn't have a problem, does he, blondie? Not a long-ball hitter?"

"No problem, Mikey. Now why don't you pretend to be mature and tell me what's on your mind."

Jed and I had awakened at daybreak. I was happy and excited, and we made love again, unmindful of what the rest of the world was worrying about. We had coffee together and read the Sunday paper, but he left early to catch up on the mail and messages that had accumulated in his office while he was out of town, before going to his apartment to unpack and settle in for the work week ahead.