"What do you need?" she asks, and though she'd dreamed of him coming to her in the darkness she had never imagined feeling so serene, so ready, so capable.
"You."
"You can have me." She is fully aware that the partnering he has in mind is mental, not physical. Which, considering the man himself, makes the moment more potent than her dreams.
"Tomorrow you will perform an autopsy on one of two bodies. If it is me"—she gasps, but nods—"you will go into my right trouser pocket and reclaim the spare key you are about to give me—hopefully it won't have fallen out, but if it has you can claim you dropped it—that's if the subject comes up, although I doubt anybody would suspect me of being in possession of the key to your flat, so likely it won't—and if it is not me, I will see you when you arrive home. Either way, you are to identify the body as mine. Now, listen very carefully to this next part, because if there is to be any chance at all of it not being me…."
He rattles on until her head whirls and she leans back against the door. "You want people to think you're…you're dead?"
His lips tighten. "Yes, Molly, that would sum it up."
The trace of his usual impatience clears her mind, and she rummages in her purse for her spare key. "I'm going to have to lie to lots of people and I don't. I mean, I'm not good at it. It's like you said. Conversation…it's not my area."
"I'll teach you."
"It's not really your area, either, is it?"
"To lie."
"Ah. Well, what about…"
He grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around to face the door. "We'll go over all of this later, if in fact it becomes necessary to do so. In the meantime, go home, go about your business, and keep your mobile handy."
"If it...if it is you, they won't call me to do the autopsy."
"Why not?"
"Because you…I…." She sighs. "I'll stay close."
It isn't worth trying to explain.