We'll keep the three of them in separate rooms, keep changing interviewers on them. I'm betting on Young to fall first.' Roarke eased out of the lot, headed for home. 'Why?' 'The bastard loves her. Love messes you up. You make mistakes 'cause you're worried, protective. Stupid.' He smiled a little, brushed her hair back from her face, and she dropped steeply into sleep. 'Tell me about it.