Thanks to the sheer stupidity and laziness of Elron Burton, it was extremely easy to break into the Growth Industries office on the third floor of the Weston, Connecticut, strip mall.

When the car ferry landed on the other side of the sound, Justin drove toward the mall, taking the most circuitous route possible to make certain that no one was following them. No one was.

When he finally felt comfortable enough to drive along the main road, they immediately hit a stretch of pure Americana: nothing but fast-food restaurants and enormous car lots. At the second lot they came to, Justin turned in. He told Deena and Kendall to feel free to stretch their legs, said he'd be back in a few minutes, then walked over to the white and blue trailer that served as the main sales office. Fifteen minutes later, Justin returned holding a set of car keys. He pointed at a blue-gray 1997 Buick Regal sedan.

"What's this?" Deena asked.

"Our new car," he said. When her eyes widened, he pointed to the shattered window on his battered Civic and said, "This is not what you'd call traveling incognito."

He opened the door to the Buick and as she stepped inside, Deena said, "You can afford to just buy a new car?"

"It's amazing what a cop ID can do," he said. "It not only lowers the price, it gives you good value on a trade-in."

"I'll try it next time I'm in the market," she said.

He pulled back onto the main road, and three blocks away from their final destination he found a perfectly acceptable-looking but non-descript motel, a Hampton Inn. He checked in-into two adjoining rooms-and took the keys. He didn't bother to put their small bags in the rooms. He didn't even bother to look look at the rooms. He just got back in the Buick, where Deena and Kendall were waiting, and drove away. at the rooms. He just got back in the Buick, where Deena and Kendall were waiting, and drove away.

Justin's next stop was the mall, where he hit a men's clothing store and bought himself a long-sleeved dress shirt and a sport jacket. Deena made a face at the tie he picked out for himself, so he let her put it back on the table and make another selection. He had to admit-actually, she made him admit-that she had superior taste in ties. He told her what he had in mind and they decided his jeans and running shoes would suffice.

Two stores down from the clothing store was a place called the Ultimate Wireless Connection. Justin popped in and twenty minutes later popped out carrying two new cell phones. He got another questioning look from Deena and said, "Anything that makes us harder to trace, that's the idea."

The third stop was a liquor store where Justin bought a bottle of scotch.

Then it was on to Growth Industries.

As they stood in the parking lot, twenty feet or so away from the building, Justin hoped desperately that the same dullard of a security guard would be on duty, then he told Deena exactly what he wanted her to do and say. She nodded dubiously. They both looked at Kendall, who nodded solemnly and said to both of them, "Don't worry. It sounds like a good plan."

Then Justin headed off to another part of the mall. Deena and Kendall waited exactly fifteen minutes, as instructed, then Kendall reached out, took her mother's hand, and they started walking.

As Deena and Kendall strode past the security guard, Deena gave him a big smile and said, "Hi, Elron." He smiled familiarly, nodding as if he recognized her. Elron rarely recognized anyone; there were too many people who came in and out. He knew the really fat guy who worked on the second floor and always wore a bright yellow tie. And there was an old guy he remembered because he was always complaining about something, usually Elron. Other than that, he was fairly oblivious. But he always liked it when someone said h.e.l.lo to him, and he always made it a point to respond in kind with a friendly nod or even a "How-de-do." He had no memory of ever seeing this one before, but he'd never let her know that. He was a professional, after all.

"Can you believe it?" Deena said, lingering by Elron's podium. "Mr. Hemmings is making me work tonight. He just called me, told me to meet him here. I was supposed to have the day off. Now I'm supposed to come, just like that, at six o'clock. My guess is he won't even stay. He'll just dump everything on me and head off. I'll probably be here till nine or ten! I mean, what could be so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?" Elron said.

"It's not not fair. I couldn't even get a sitter. Now my daughter's got to spend her evening in the office!" fair. I couldn't even get a sitter. Now my daughter's got to spend her evening in the office!"

"Cute little one," Elron said. "What's her name?"

"Lucy," Kendall piped up. "Nice to meet you."

"Well, try not to work too hard," Elron said, as Deena and Kendall headed toward the elevators. "Either one of you."

As the elevator door closed behind them, Deena looked at her daughter and said, "Lucy?"

"I always wanted to be named Lucy."

"You did?"

"See?" Kendall said with a smirk, just as the elevator door opened and let them out on three. "You don't know everything everything about me." about me."

Five minutes later, they were both back in the lobby, in front of Elron. Deena was looking as miserable as possible.

"Mr. Hemmings is going to kill me," she said. "I'm supposed to open up the office for him and I don't have my key. I can't believe it. This has never happened to me before. He is really really going to be furious." going to be furious."

"Uh ..." Elron said. He didn't have much more to contribute, since he didn't have any decent solution to the problem. Then he suddenly thought of something. "Maybe he'll bring his his key." key."

"Oh, right," Deena said. "Like Hemmings has actually got a key. The guy makes me turn on the lights lights for him, for G.o.d's sake." She glanced over toward the front door, as if fearful that her boss would arrive before she'd solved the problem. "No, I just called Mr. Fromm at the management office." She held up her cell phone, as if to verify that she'd made the call. "It was the only thing I could think of. He said I should come back down here, that you had a pa.s.skey and could let me in." for him, for G.o.d's sake." She glanced over toward the front door, as if fearful that her boss would arrive before she'd solved the problem. "No, I just called Mr. Fromm at the management office." She held up her cell phone, as if to verify that she'd made the call. "It was the only thing I could think of. He said I should come back down here, that you had a pa.s.skey and could let me in."

"Well ..." Elron said, and didn't say anything else for a moment because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"You can wait up there with me until Mr. Hemmings comes in. I mean, if that'll make you feel more secure about letting me in."

"I can't really do that. Somebody's got to be down here in the lobby."

"If you give me the key, I can let myself in and then run it right back down to you."

"Maybe I should call Mr. Fromm, just to double-check."

"He was on his way out, so I don't know if you'll get him. But here." She held up her cell phone. She wondered if Justin had gotten to the building manager and managed to keep him away from the phone. She remembered the final detail that Justin had told her to add. It had a fifty-fifty chance of working, he'd said. "Just press Redial," Deena told the security guard. "It's the last number I called."

"No need," Elron said, waving the phone away decisively, then reaching for his key ring and handing it to her. "It's not like you're gonna lie to me, are you? A regular tenant like yourself."

"Not me," Deena said. And looking down at her little girl, she added, "And certainly not Lucy."

Ten minutes later, Justin strode by Elron. It was six-thirty now, time when anyone coming into the building had to sign in. Justin wrote down the time and the name Ward Hemmings. Kendall had come up with the first name. Elron glanced at the signature, then up at the man. This one he recognized, he thought. He had definitely seen this Hemmings guy before, so he took the initiative and said, "Your secretary's already up there, Mr. Hemmings. Nice lady. Very professional."

"Glad you think so," Justin replied. "She can be pretty d.a.m.n forgetful sometimes."

"Not tonight," Elron said. "She's got everything under control. You can count on her."

"That's good to know," Justin said. "That's really good to know."

When Justin walked into room 301, he saw that Deena had an expression on her face as if to say: What the h.e.l.l is this? When he looked around the office, he understood the expression. He had the same one on his his face. face.

The Growth Industries office was one fairly large room, maybe twenty feet by twenty feet. There was one chair in the room, which was set in front of a small desk. The desk had no paperwork on it. There was nothing on it-or in it; Justin immediately opened up all three drawers to check-except a blank yellow legal pad and three ballpoint pens. Other than that the only items in the room were nine small tables. On each table were two telephone/answering-machine combinations. Eighteen phones and each one was connected to a separate jack in the wall. Justin walked slowly to one of the phones, picked it up, and dialed a number. A recording immediately came on and he hung up.

"Can't call out," he said to Deena. "These are for incoming calls only."

"What kind of office is this?" she asked.

Justin shook his head. He went around and checked all the machines. Not one of them showed that any messages were waiting to be picked up. He went to one of the machines, pressed the Menu b.u.t.ton, and followed the instructions until he could play the outgoing message. A man's voice came on and announced, "You've reached Ed Marion. I'm not at home right now. Please leave a message after the tone and I'll return the call as soon as I can. Thank you." He did the same on each machine. Nine of them had the same message from Ed Marion, the man who'd said he was William Miller's nephew. Nine of the phone machines had identical messages but they weren't left by Marion, but by a woman, Helen Roag. Justin looked up, saw the question in Deena's eyes, shook his head again because that was the only answer he had. He took a deep breath, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed. In a few seconds, his call was connected.

"Gary, it's Westwood," he said, and before the cop at the other end of the phone could sputter his name or say anything at all, he added, firmly and loudly, knowing that the tone would stop Gary cold, at least for a few seconds, "Don't say anything. Don't let on who you're talking to. You understand?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Just listen to me. I'm going to ask you to do me a favor. It means you're going to have to trust me. And I'm going to have to trust you. I don't want you to say anything to Rollins or even to Jimmy."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know who's involved in what. Or where there are leaks. And I don't want you to end up like your pal Brian."

There was a long pause after that. Then Gary said, "What makes you trust me me?"

"What you saw and what I think that probably did to you." Justin then breathed out a faint laugh. "And you told me to stop smoking. It was a nice thing to say and you looked like you meant it. It's pretty thin but it's all I've got right now."

There was another long pause. Justin was certain that the images from Brian's living room were running through Gary's mind.

"What do you want?" the young cop asked. And from the way he lowered his voice Justin knew he was going to go along with him.

"I need more phone information. Similar to what you got for me before." He gave him Growth Industries' address and the names Ed Marion and Helen Roag. "There are eighteen phone lines coming into that office. I want the records of every incoming call on all of those numbers for the last three months. That's one thing. I also want you to find out who gets the bills and where they're sent. And I want you to get me as much information as you can on Marion and Roag. Check the tri-state area and Ma.s.sachusetts, too. I want to get a home address and any phone numbers, including cells. I want anything anything you can get on them. I'm guessing on the spelling of Roag, but if you don't find anything, run through any variation that makes sense." you can get on them. I'm guessing on the spelling of Roag, but if you don't find anything, run through any variation that makes sense."

"Yeah," Gary said. "I got it."

"I meant what I said before, too."

"About what?"

"About keeping this quiet. And about staying alive."

"How do I get the stuff to you?"

"Take down my cell number. When you've got it, call me and we'll figure it out. Don't leave the number lying around, either. Don't let Agent Rollins see it. Or Jimmy either, for that matter. Try to be smart here."

"What's going on, Justin?" Gary said. And suddenly he didn't sound like a cop. He sounded like a scared twenty-four-year-old kid.

"I don't know," Justin told him. "But I appreciate the help. And the first day I can, I'll take you out for a drink as a little thank-you."

"I didn't know about you."

"What?"

"I didn't know all the stuff that's come out, that's been in the news. I mean, I didn't know what had happened to you."

"No," Justin said. "You wouldn't."

"Well, I read all about it. And Jimmy told me some stuff, too. Since it's out in the open now." When Justin didn't respond, Gary said, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago, I guess."

"They're pretty p.i.s.sed off at you here. You watch yourself."

"Ditto," Justin said. "If they know you're doing this, they'll be pretty p.i.s.sed off at you, too." And then he hung up.

"What now?" Deena asked.

Justin looked at Kendall, leaned down so they were eye to eye. "Is there one food your mommy doesn't like you to eat?"

"More than one," Kendall said. "She's a health nut, you know. Right, Mom?"

"That's right, sweetie. I'm definitely a health nut."

"Well, what's the worst?" Justin asked.

"A tie. Chocolate and french fries," the little girl said.

Justin stood up and stretched his arms. "I'm starving," he told his two traveling companions. "What say we go out and get some french fries and chocolate. I think we all deserve it."

15.

The dream came again that night.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Even as he woke up, felt his shortness of breath, Justin knew that this dream wasn't merely a gut-wrenching reminder of the past. It was a warning about the future. About the violence and danger and death that were all around them.

His instincts had dulled but they had not completely disappeared. His nostrils were filled with the scent of fear. What he didn't know- what one never knows, he thought-was whether he would be strong enough to fight off the fear and make sure they all survived.

It's why the dream kept haunting him; he understood that. It wasn't just the losses he'd suffered. Nor was it the exposure to genuine malevolence. It was the despairing feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him he hadn't been strong enough-or quick enough, or smart enough, or tough enough or mean enough or caring enough-to protect the people he had loved.

It had been his fault, everything that had happened. His choices. His decisions. His stubbornness. His life.

Their deaths.

The dream was shorter tonight. It spared him the pleasure and brought him right to the pain. He woke up to the image of himself, lying on the floor, feeling the river of blood spread beneath him. He could feel himself turning and he could see the remarkably vacant eyes staring down at him. It was a new detail, these eyes, and it forced him to remember that they had not been hate-filled or vicious. They were the eyes of a sociopath, calm and unemotional. They were the eyes of someone doing his job. Doing what he had been bred to do.

The image of Lili's body was there, of course. Broken and crumpled. And he could see her eyes, too. Desperate and sad, in so much pain. Confused and pleading with him for help. In real life, there had been no pleading. Things had happened too fast. But in his dream, the sadness in her eyes lingered long after her life had ended.

Alicia's eyes were in the dream too. Large and round and brown. And accusing. Staring and accusing.

Then there was the final bang, the last shot. It filled his head like an explosion, and then he woke up to find himself sweating and afraid of the violence that was sure to come.

Justin heard a door swing open and suddenly the dream didn't matter. He hurled himself toward the bed table, grabbed his gun. His hands were shaking as he pointed it toward the door, toward the figure that was standing in the shadows. He exhaled a long and quivering breath when he heard a woman's voice say, in hushed tones, "Are you all right?"

Justin focused his eyes on Deena, peering at him from behind the door that linked their adjoining rooms. He put the gun down.

"You cried out," she said. "I heard you. I thought-"

"I'm fine," he told her.

"I got frightened."