Free Trace by Patricia Cornwell

him.
         "Part of having respect is allowing each other privacy. And modesty," he says, quietly. "We've talked about boundaries a lot. Violating modesty is a violation of boundaries."
         Her free hand crawls up to her chest and gathers the robe together while she continues to study and manipulate her toes. "I just woke up," she says, as if this explains her exhibitionism.
         "Thank you, Henri." It is important for her to believe that Benton does not want her sexually, not even in his fantasies. "But you didn't just get up. You got up, came in, and we talked, and then you took a shower.'
         "My name isn't Henri," she says.
         "What would you like me to call you?"
         "Nothing."
         "You have two names," he says. "You have the name you were christened at birth and the name you used in your acting career and still use."
         "Well, I'm Henri, then," she says, looking down at her toes.
         "So I'll call you Henri."
         She nods, looking at her toes. "What do you call her?"
         Benton knows who she means but he doesn't answer.
         "You sleep with her. Lucy's told me all about it." She emphasizes the word "all."
         Benton feels a flash of anger but he doesn't show it. Lucy would not have told Henri all about his relationship with Scarpetta. No, he reminds himself. This is Henri goading him again, testing his boundaries again. No, crashing through his boundaries again.
         "How come she's not here with you?" Henri asks. "It's your vacation, isn't it? And she's not here. A lot of people don't have sex after a while. That's one reason I don't want to be with anyone, not for long. No sex. Usually after six months, people stop having sex. She's not here because I am." Henri stares at him.
         "That's correct," he replies. "She's not here because you are, Henri."
         "She must have been mad when you told her she couldn't come."
         "She understands," he says, but now he isn't being entirely honest.
         Scarpetta understood and she didn't. You can't come to Aspen right now, he told her after he got Lucy's panicked phone call. I'm afraid a case has come up and I have to deal with it.
         You're leaving Aspen, then, Scarpetta said.
         I can't talk about the case, he replied, and for all he knows, she thinks he is anywhere but in Aspen right now.
         This really isn't fair, Benton, she said. I set aside these two weeks for us. I have cases too.
         Please bear with me, he replied. I promise I'll explain later.
         Of all times, she said. This is a very bad time. We needed this time.
         They do need this time, and instead he is here with Henri. "Tell me about your dreams last night. Do you remember them?" he is saying to Henri.
         Her nimble fingers fondle her left big toe, as if it is sore. She frowns. Benton gets up. Casually, he picks up the Glock and walks across the living room to the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he places the pistol on a top shelf, and pulls out two cups and pours coffee. He and Henri drink it black.
         "May be a little strong. I can make more," and he sets her cup on an end table and returns to his place on the couch. "Night before last you dreamed about a monster. Actually, you called it 'the beast,' didn't you?" His keen eyes find her unhappy ones. "Did you see the beast again last night?"
         She doesn't answer him, and her mood has dramatically altered from what it was earlier this morning. Something happened in the shower, but he'll get to that later.
         "We don't have to talk about the beast if you don't want to, Henri. But the more you tell me about him, the more likely I am to find him. You want me to find him, don't you?"
         "Who were you talking to?" she asks in the same hushed, childlike voice. But she is not a child. She is anything but innocent. "You were talking about me," she persists as the sash of her robe loosens and more