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“Where are you?”

“Close.”

Very close
, he thought. The rain that rat-a-tat-tatted off his windows did likewise wherever she was.

“Why don’t you come home?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe.”

“Come home, I can protect you.”

“Terry, you don’t know what I’m up against.”

“I don’t care. Come home. If I can’t help you, I’ll get the police.”

She dismissed his suggestion. “The cops are in no position to help.”

“Come home, Sarah. Please.”

“No. I can’t. I just wanted to say hi and let you know that I’m okay. I’ll call you again when things are safe.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Did she really think she could get away with a quick hello and good-bye? “I want an explanation.”

“I can’t.”

“Jesus, Sarah, stop saying you can’t. From the moment I landed in this bloody country, I’ve been wondering where the hell you are. You owe me an explanation.”

“I know I do.”

He didn’t give her time to answer. He wanted to get it all off his chest. The cork was out and all the fear, and he had to release all his bottled-up anger. He didn’t care about the mess.

“Have you been watching the news at all? Have you?”

She stammered, grappling for a response.

“I’ve been in jail because of your disappearing act. First for breaking and entering, then for murder. People think I offed you, just like Alicia Hyams. And it all could have gone away if you’d made an appearance.”

“I know what I’ve put you through and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t safe. My hiding, my silence, was protecting you.”

“Not good enough. You have no idea to what lengths I’ve gone to find you.”

“I’m sorry, Terry.”

“Why are you calling now? Why break your silence?”

“Guilt, fear, you name it. I’m scared and alone out here and I hate what I’ve put you through. And I miss your voice. I was thinking about all the times we spent on the phone just talking about our lives together and now you’re here, but we’re still not together.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Come home now or tell me where to find you and we’ll go into hiding together, but don’t shut me out.”

“No, no, no. it isn’t safe. I do see this coming to an end. Really I do. I want to let you know I’m close to ending this. Just be patient and don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry, Sarah? I love you.”

He went to say more, but found he was done. There was no more mud left to fling. His heart stopped pounding, and he felt his pulse slow to normal. His grasp on the phone relaxed.

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Terry listened to the stereophonic rain outside the window and on the phone.

“I guess we just had our first fight,” Sarah said.

He smiled. “I suppose we did.”

“I’m sorry, Terry. I’ve treated you badly. But it had nothing to do with you. It’s the story I’m working on. It just landed in my lap, and when it did, I had to go for it. You were just caught in the middle. Bad timing, that’s all.”

“Sarah, is that how it’s going to be every time? A story falls in your lap and you drop everything, including me?”

“You don’t understand.”

“I’ll admit it, I don’t.”

“My work is important to me, Terry. Surely you see that.”

“And I’m not important, is that it?”

“Now you’re just twisting my words.”

Maybe his friends back in England were right. He was too wrapped up in the romance of an international love affair to think straight. A whirlwind marriage with someone he hardly knew was a mistake. They would be hammering the point home if they knew what had been going on. Terry felt as dumb as they
thought he was. He knew his relationship with Sarah might be rough and might not work, but he hated to think they were on the rocks already.

“If you love me, you’ll come home,” he said.

Her reply would either steer them aground or into safe waters.

“Because I love you, I won’t.”

“Sarah.”

“Terry, this story could cost you your life. Five women are dead.”

“I know.”

“How?” She didn’t hide her surprise.

“I found your notes.”

“Then you know that I’m in danger. I’m not trying to be a heartless bitch, just a good wife. This story is big, but at the same time it’s deadly, and I would never forgive myself if you got hurt.”

“Sarah, I’m willing to take that chance. I want to be involved. Dammit, I am involved.”

“No, you’ll come to understand that I’m right.”

“Tell me why these women were killed.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Then tell me why the killer blames you.”

“What?” Her voice trembled.

“You exposed someone. Who was it?”

“How do you know that?”

“Because those dead women exposed people, and you’re a reporter—that’s your job.”

Sarah’s phone picked up the noise of a car roaring past. “I’ve got to go.”

“Give me your number?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Sarah, don’t do this to me. Please give me your number.”

“Speak to you soon.” She was trying to sound as if nothing was wrong, but she failed. Her voice cracked. Tears weren’t far away.

“Sarah, don’t.”

She wasn’t listening. The investigative journalist in her took over. “I’ll call soon.”

“Sarah!” he shouted, but she’d hung up.

“Dude, you’re wet,” Oscar said, closing Terry’s front door.

After Sarah’s call, Terry had been angry with her for hanging up on him. He’d cooled off by standing in the rain, and he hadn’t bothered to towel himself off.

“Sarah called,” he said in a flat tone, all emotion drained from him.

“When?”

Noticing that he was dripping on the floor and a chill was seeping in, Terry tugged his shirt off and pulled out a towel from a closet. “About half an hour ago.”

Oscar followed him to the closet. “Where is she?”

“She wouldn’t say.” Terry toweled off his hair and face.

“Why?”

“Too dangerous.”

Oscar frowned.

“Yeah, well, that’s how I feel about it too,” Terry admitted.

“Did she leave a number?”

Terry shook his head and tossed the towel in the bathroom sink.

“What did she call for, then?” Oscar asked.

“Just to let me know she was okay.” Terry went into the bedroom to put on a dry T-shirt.

“She should have thought of that a few weeks ago. What else did she say?”

“She said she was lying low because of the five murders.”

“So we were right.”

Terry nodded. “I asked her why the killer blamed her.”

“What did she say to that?”

“Not much, but she didn’t tell me I was talking crazy.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Terry exhaled and shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“You should call Holman. He’ll be able to find her.”

“Will he want to?”

“At least it’ll get him off your back. He’ll stop thinking you have something to do with her disappearance.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I can tell him anything.”

“There are phone records he can check to prove someone called.”

Terry shook his head. He couldn’t call Holman. That made him a snitch. Sarah wanted her anonymity. And yet he knew Oscar was right. This was his first big test of their marriage, and he was about to fail it. If Holman took him seriously, maybe he could succeed where Terry had failed so far. What did it matter if she didn’t get her story as long as she was safe and well? He found the cordless phone and dialed.

“Sheriff Holman, please.”

T
he following morning, Pamela Dawson took Terry by surprise when she touched him on the shoulder. He was totally engrossed in his work.

“Could I have a word?” she asked, smiling.

The saccharine tone again. That wasn’t a good sign. “Sure,” Terry said.

“Come with me.”

She led him to a small conference room and held the door open for him. Frosty was there, sitting at one end of the conference table, a ring binder in front of him. He attempted a smile. It was a decent effort, but he didn’t quite pull it off. Pamela closed and locked the door.

Terry stared at her hand on the lock, then at her.

“I don’t want to be disturbed. Have a seat.”

Terry sat down on the opposite side of the table from Frosty. Pamela bridged the gap by sitting at the head of the table. She smiled. She did better than Frosty, but only marginally. Terry didn’t like where this meeting was going.

“Terry,” Pamela began in a frank business tone. “I would like to talk about you, us”—she indicated to herself and Frosty—“and Genavax.”

“My six-month review isn’t for some time.” It was an obtuse thing to say, but he wanted to play dumb.

“That’s right,” Pamela agreed. “But we want to skip past that, if you’re agreeable?”

Terry shrugged.

“We see big things for you, Terry,” Frosty said, giving him the chance to dispense with the smile.

“Good,” Terry managed without the enthusiasm the compliment deserved.

“That’s right, Terry,” Pamela said. “We see you as an integral part of the Genavax operation.” She interlaced her fingers, palms up.

The hand gesture reminded Terry of the “here’s the church, here’s the steeple” nursery rhyme he’d been taught during his first year of school. He’d always found the little party trick fun when he was a kid, but Pamela spoiled his childhood memories.

“Genavax likes to look after its more important employees,” Frosty said.

“Is that right?” Terry asked.

“That’s why we would like to promote you to senior scientist,” Pamela announced proudly.

“Here are the terms and conditions.” Frosty pushed the binder over to Terry.

Terry eyed his gift with suspicion. His name and proposed job title straddled a large Genavax logo on the cover. For a standard job contract the binder was overkill, but unlike a normal employer’s contract, this one was over half an inch thick.

He flipped it open. After a pretty cover page was his new job title, enhanced salary, job description, and bonus scheme. His proposed job required him to do no more than he was doing now. In fact, it required less. It seemed most of his job would be done for him by other people. Ignoring the generous bonus, he was looking at an extra twenty thousand dollars a year. After a brief terms and conditions section came the meat of the contract—a privacy and confidentiality clause. It was twenty pages long. Even scanning the pages briefly, he could tell it wasn’t actually
a privacy and confidentiality clause. It was a secrecy clause, forbidding him from divulging any of Genavax’s operations and promising the full force of the law if he did. They were buying his silence. He closed the binder.

“What is this all about?” he asked.

“It’s a reward,” Pamela said. “A show of appreciation for your hard work, if you will.” She tapped the neatly packaged thirty pieces of silver. “It’s a very good offer.”

“I don’t get it.”

“What is there to get?” Frosty said. “Just take the offer.”

“I’ve been here less than a month.”

“So?” Pamela said.

“Don’t you think the rest of the lab is going to think it’s odd?”

“And that bothers you?” Frosty asked.

“It does a bit.” Terry turned to Pamela. “A week ago, you threatened to sack me.”

“And that would have been a mistake.” She tried to smile the accusation away.

Terry had to be careful here. Pamela was pushing him into a corner. He knew Genavax was dirty and that Pamela and Frosty were just as tainted, but he didn’t have all the answers he required to take action. He needed to buy himself time.

“Well, first off, thank you for this show of faith. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Pamela said.

“Is it okay if I go through this and get back to you?”

“Why?” Frosty asked.

“Ideally, I’d discuss this with my wife first. As you both know, she’s still missing; and I’ll be honest, finding her is my first priority.”

It was a nice bit of verbal gymnastics on Terry’s part that silenced both Pamela and Frosty. It put them to a decision—push and risk forcing Terry’s hand or back down. Terry didn’t think they’d go for the former.

“You might as well sign now,” Frosty said, “and get it out of the way so you can focus on your wife. Sarah, right?”

Terry was impressed with Frosty’s subtle piece of arm twisting, but the suggestion drew a disparaging look from Pamela.

No overstepping your mark, Frosty
, Terry thought. “I’d like to hold off, if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Pamela said. “Totally understandable.”

Terry smiled, grabbed the offer, and stood. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Just one thing,” Pamela said. “There is a time limit on this offer. We need your signature soon. You understand, don’t you?”

Terry did. He guessed he’d reached the point of no return.