Night’s chill at 52˚F barely touched Celeste, Ben, or the two men J. C. Rife sent to the South Runnymede garage where Yashew’s truck was impounded. Dressed in black like the others, Fairy stood against the building side along the entrance to the alleyway, a small bird whistle on the lanyard around her neck.

First, the four would-be bootleggers rolled all the barrels off Yashew’s truck, then moved the ramp back to the Rife truck, where they rolled off the molasses barrels, then rolled on the scotch. As the rumble of the barrels couldn’t be muffled, they worked as fast as they could, with the rears of the two trucks facing one another.

“Go on!” Ben told the Rife men. “We’ll lock up.”

The two needed little encouragement since a good bonus awaited their efforts, plus the scotch would certainly be more profitable than molasses.

Ben closed the truck doors. Celeste put the old lock on the back of the truck, leaving the key in the new lock. Then they hurried out to Fairy.

Using back alleys, they walked Fairy to her home.

Celeste kissed her cheek. “You’re a brick.”

“It’s all so exciting,” Fairy replied, turning to slip into her back door.

Keeping to the cobbled alleyways, Celeste and Ben reached her long lawn and gardens in twenty minutes.

Once inside, Celeste removed the lad’s cap, shaking out her hair. “Luckily for me I could wear Spotts’s black pants and sweater. We can both wear his pants, although I have to roll them up.”

Ben heard a meow. “We aren’t undetected.”

Glue, blinking from sleep, padded out to the hallway.

“Come on, squirt.” She picked her up, carried her upstairs to the bedroom, and placed the kitten on a plush chair by the fireplace, where Glue fell back to sleep.

Ben sat on the edge of the bed to untie his shoes. “I do think Fairy had a wonderful time.”

“Beats being an upper-class housewife.” Celeste smiled. “And thank you for coming out tonight. You’re strong, the work flew along, and you already knew about the scotch. The fewer that know, the better.”

“How long do you think it will take before the police find out it’s not scotch back there?”

“Well, I don’t know that they do know. Chief Cadwalder didn’t mention the contents, only that yes, there were barrels. It’s going to be an interesting moment. Lottie can’t prove Yashew was hauling liquor.”

“Guess not.” He stepped out of his trousers then pulled his sweater over his head.

“And Lottie can’t press charges.”

“Why not?”

“She’s nineteen. Still not a legal adult.” Feeling the chill, Celeste slid into bed, pulling the covers up. “I expect if she hasn’t considered that, her mother has.”

Crawling in next to her, Ben touched her feet with his. “Cold.” Then he touched her shoulder. “You are cold.”

“I wasn’t when we were rolling out those barrels but the walk home let the night air reach my bones. It’s funny how sometimes night air, even when the temperature is warm, can chill you.”

“Lie on top of me. I’ll rub your back. I’m actually pretty warm.”

She did and he rubbed her back to create a little friction.

“Feels good.”

“Celeste, since I’ve met you I’ve had”—he thought—“unusual adventures.”

She laughed. “So have I. It’s hard to believe how petty people can be, isn’t it? Especially women. I should amend that—especially the Rhodes women.”

Warmer now, she moved off him to prop herself up on her elbow.

“There were some petty fellows in my unit, always the ones looking for a promotion. I used to think, ‘Why want a promotion in Hell?’ ” He ran his forefinger over her lips.

Touching his hand, kissing his fingertips, she answered, “To feel important. To think you’re one up on the next guy. But you’re right, who cares in Hell? I sometimes understand people and sometimes I don’t, but I do know most are weak, abysmally weak.”

“I think that’s how we wound up in France.” He continued, “The kaiser couldn’t stand having the English look down on him, or I guess he thought they did, Victoria being his grandmother and all. I used to think when I was over there that none of this had to happen. No one needed to die other than the archduke. That all could have been negotiated but I believe the kaiser really wanted a war. Wouldn’t back down. Stood by his ally. That kind of stuff. He didn’t want to look weak so he wound up being weak. Maybe we all are.”

“I don’t think so. Hannibal wasn’t weak. Edward the Third wasn’t weak. Before him, Eleanor of Aquitaine wasn’t weak. Maybe the problem is when a weak person winds up as a king or queen or czar.”

“Here we elect them. They aren’t born to it.” Ben smiled.

“It’s all rather frightening. No matter how awful a man is once he’s president, we’re stuck for four years.”

“We can assassinate him.”

“Ben.” She was surprised.

“Well, we can, and we can shoot the vice president, wipe out the Senate, bomb the House of Representatives, and just mow down the Supreme Court. We don’t have to put up with anyone if we’re willing to kill.” He added, “The war taught me that. You kill and kill and kill and it doesn’t matter. Human life doesn’t matter at all. I think your life matters and I think my life matters but when you see thousands and thousands killed, learn at war’s end that it was millions, how can I pretend anyone truly thinks human life is valuable unless they personally know that human life?”

She thought a long time, glad for his warmth. “Put that way, I can understand. I’ve known brutal people. The man who sent the truck tonight, J. C. Rife, his father was brutal and so was his grandfather. It’s how they built their business empire.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Did you ever look at a dead German and think someone loved him? A mother is weeping somewhere, a wife?”

“You bet I did.”

“Well, we can’t go back, can we?”

“No. And I don’t know the way forward.”

“Ben—” She kissed him again. “No one does. No one walks into the future. We back into it.”