"You mean hot as in spicy, right?" her dad asked with a grin.

"No one has the right salsa here. Mom sends me some now and then, but it's not the same when I go out."

Annie's dad went into the kitchen pantry, returning with a glass jar filled with something green and held it out to Sarah. "I'd like you to try this stuff. A friend of mine in New Mexico loves my concoction, and I'd be grateful if you tried it too. Be honest."

Sarah looked around. "Do you folks eat this?" They all laughed as she took a taste, and Annie held her breath. Her dad's salsa made her eyes water.

Sarah laid some on her plate and dipped a piece of chicken into it.

"Oh, this is so good, truly excellent, Mr. Booker."

"Then it's yours," he said, obviously pleased. "Would you like the recipe?"

a 36 a "Me? I can't cook. Don't tell anyone, but I struggle boiling water.

My mother would kill me for admitting this, Lord knows she tried."

Amid the ensuing laughter Annie watched Sarah's dark eyes sparkle and liked her for being careful and warm with her parents. Her dad's salsa didn't make her eyes water, and she was cute. No, she was downright attractive.

They moved to the den for coffee before her dad asked Sarah again about Jaish al-Basca. Sarah looked at Annie, who had settled on the floor, her back resting on the sofa next to her mom.

Annie said, "It's weird for me to be here, in the United States, worrying about something in Iraq. If I were still in Baghdad and knew this, we would have noticed, paid attention, but gone on doing our jobs anyway."

Sarah took a deep breath. "I don't know, Annie. From where I sit, they are everywhere. I've been assigned to you simply because they are here." She looked at Annie who looked away.

"Here? You mean the U.S., or Milwaukee?"

"Both. Milwaukee and the entire United States." Sarah set her cup on the table. "We're coordinating with the other countries on your case, and I have to admit that we're all wondering why we have eight women from different countries on their Web site with such dire threats. You have to have something in common other than just being correspondents. I know you were all living within a two-mile radius of each other in Baghdad and you've all been there the longest of any women reporters, but there has to be something else."

Annie was struck by a quick memory of the children on the ground, dead, and she took a quick breath. "I can't think of a single thing. I swear. I mean, we saw each other, but never in a planned or structured setting. It's all so unstable over there."

Sarah nodded. "We're just not prepared for terrorism in our everyday lives here in America. It's easy to forget that we're at war, and it's not because we don't care. It seems remote to most people in this country. Just to be very clear, there is a terrorism cell active here, in Milwaukee, a branch of the main group in Chicago. The money comes primarily from Chicago, but they funnel illegal Iraqis through this city, figuring, of course, it'll be less apparent. We need something that ties these women together, and then we'll have more information.

a 37 a The other women are equally puzzled. Two of them are still in Iraq, for that matter."

Annie nodded, thinking of Kerry.

Sarah continued. "You're a lot safer in the United States, that is true, but we have discussed moving you to a safe area until we know more about the quality of the threat."

"The quality?" Annie asked in disbelief.

"A safe place?" her mom asked. "A different house, or state?"

"Probably in-state, up north," Sarah said. "This is typical terrorism.

Thriving on the unknown. As I said, we have good intelligence and knowledge of the locals, but I don't know if this Web site is connected to these people. I'm just trying to prepare you. If it looks as if it's becoming more dangerous, we'll get Annie out of here. And, Annie, to answer your question about quality, I mean intent. As I said, our locals are traditionally information gathering centers, disseminating people to other areas."

Her dad spoke up. "Do you mean they wouldn't organize an attack?"

"Oh no, Mr. Booker. They very well might, and, in fact, we believe they will. We just don't know where or when, and believe me when I say they're patient. They certainly have the resources and are capable of carrying out an attack, possibly like the one we've already experienced.

But at this point, they are just funneling Iraqis into the country. What we don't know is if they have any connection to the Web site Annie's name is on."

Sarah looked at her. "Annie, you are at risk. That's why we've installed the sensors around the house and why I'll be there with you, or someone else will, around the clock."

Annie shut her mind down. She was home. This wasn't Iraq. She thought about the two bags she had packed at home. She looked at Sarah's dark hair that curled down to the top of her collar and wondered what it would feel like to run her hands through it. Sarah was looking at her, so she asked, "Am I safe in my house?"

"You have an excellent alarm system," Sarah said. "I checked it out last night, when we got to your house. In fact, it's pretty sophisticated.

Any special reason for that?"

Annie took a deep breath. "My ex-partner, Mary, was home alone most of the time." She looked at Sarah, trying to gauge her reaction. It a 38 a was the first time she had ever used the word "ex" about Mary, and it felt strange in her mouth. She glanced at her parents. She hadn't said a word to them about Mary leaving. Sarah's eyes never left hers or changed, and Annie realized there was probably very little this woman didn't know about her. "Since I'm gone most of the time, I thought the least I could do was put in the best system available."

"Whatever, it's a good one. It doesn't bother you to be alone?"

Annie shook her head and then remembered this afternoon. Maybe it did bother her.

"By the way, where will you go next, on your job?" Sarah asked after a moment.

"As of now, the only thing they want is for me to get my arm taken care of."

"Okay. By the way, can I use your workout equipment? That's a great setup you have in the basement."

"Anytime. And I may be using it too, depending on what Mom and the doctors at the clinic have to say when they look at my arm."

"Let's do that before you go." Her mom stood. "I'll look at your arm and we'll have another cup of coffee in the kitchen."

Her mom poured more coffee for both of them and sat at the table.

"Tell me about Mary, and to be truthful, she talked to me about Meg.

She knew you were coming home and they took off on vacation."

"What did she say?"

"That she's leaving," her mom said gently.

"Sorry I haven't said anything to you or Dad. The network got me out of here so fast the last time we didn't get a chance to talk about much. Today I noticed her things are gone, clothes, pictures, even books, so I assume she's moving into Meg's. Maybe I get the furniture in the divorce." She reached into her pocket and pulled the ring out, setting it carefully on the table. The gold glowed softly in the kitchen lights. "This was lying on the counter in the bathroom."

Her mother looked at the ring. "Divorce? I have people in my office every day over divorce. It's a big deal. Then the injury, Jack's death, and now this Web site thing. It's a lot, sweetie, and it worries us.

I'm glad the FBI is there." She looked at Annie with a little twinkle in her eyes. "I don't mean to pry, but I'm going to. Anyone...?"

Annie was surprised but teased her mom right back. "You want the gory details, huh? Let's see, just one-nighters or-"

a 39 a "All right. I hear enough of that from my patients. I'm talking to my daughter now."

"There's no one, Mom." Annie sobered. "I am taking this seriously, but it's always so deadly there. You should see Baghdad, all burned, broken up. They didn't love Saddam, but they love Iraq, the ones that are left."

"Your dad and I caught your report on the exodus estimate."

Annie nodded. "The worst part is that the ones who left were the people who could have helped the most now-the leaders, the truly resourceful people who might have held the country together. The people who wouldn't have been afraid to be bold and imaginative."

"I wonder if that's who Sarah is talking about when she says illegal immigrants?"

"I don't know," Annie said, "but you can bet I'll ask."

Her mom sighed. "The arm. Did the doctor in Baghdad say you need to see a specialist? Any problems sleeping? Or nightmares?"

"The surgeon there said I'd probably need rehab. It's on that paper I gave to you. I know they put stitches in and thought my doctor at the clinic would look at it. And, yes, I'm having nightmares, but, Mom, I would have talked to you about them."

Her mom took the paper and then helped Annie take her arm from the sweatshirt. She looked at the wound and stitches, then back down at the paper, reading the military doctor's description of the injury.

"Let's see, tendon and tissue damage from the impact and the cement. Oh, a possible stress fracture? And ligament damage." Hannah read from the paper. "That was, what? Almost two weeks ago? This seems incomplete."

"You of all people know what field hospitals are like, and damn, it was the same place we had taken Jack. I was brought in with several other groups. It was a woman doctor, and she said the arm would have to be looked at again. She was so busy, Mom. There were so many injuries and bodies. It was crazy. They assumed I would just leave Baghdad right away, and I meant to, but I had to finish up. Really, compared to just about everyone else in there, my injury was minor."

What she had done was take two days to rest so she could stand up straight without falling over or move her arm without crying. Then she had gone to find the families of the women and children involved in the blast. She had found the families of the two women immediately a 40 a and talked with them off camera. Annie had left their homes, sat in the car, and cried. The women were university students from established families, and the children had been their little brothers, sisters, and cousins. She had tried to film it, make it a story for the network, but every time she began the tears would start. Nothing worked, and so she had waited in Kerry's room, then in her own hotel, feeling broken and frightened until she thought she could go home in a human form.

"All right. Come to the clinic tomorrow. We'll have some tests run and check it out. Looks like the doctor was right. You'll probably need some rehabilitation. By the way, how are your ears? This doesn't say anything about a concussion."

"She talked about that and was surprised that I just had temporary hearing loss. My ears are fine. I was sitting on sandbags and leaning against a concrete wall. I think that saved me." They worked at getting her arm back in the sleeve. "The advantages of having a doctor in the family." Annie grinned. "I'm going to go home, put some music on, and call Rebecca. Have you heard from her?"

"She called the day after you left the last time. Wanted to talk with you, but you'd already gone."

"I was only here five days. I didn't even feel as if I'd been home,"

Annie said, picking the ring up and putting it in her pocket.

v Hamel had easily swung himself up to the top of the garage after everyone had left the reporter's home. He had watched from the woods as they installed the motion sensors. If I were doing that, I would have hidden them better and installed more of them, he thought, watching them through his binoculars. He powered up the binoculars and tried to read the numbers on the equipment, but he couldn't and decided to wait until after dark. The American sensors weren't as accurate as his, and he was familiar with almost all of them.

Getting into the loft was easy. He simply took a tool from his pack and ran it over the wood and metal until he heard the lock disengage inside. He took a small flashlight and carefully pushed things away from the wall, then slid inside. This was just to familiarize himself with the house. He stood for a while, thinking about the alarm system, wondering why it didn't extend up here, to this room. It was a good system, but a 41 a electronics were simple. Finally, he took latex gloves from his pocket and moved forward, going down the steps and into the house.

He started at the back. He would want to draw this for his sister so she would be as familiar with it as he was. He was certain the reporter had the information Jack Keegan had gotten and he quickly looked through the office but found nothing. There was time. He would be back. He sat down at the laptop on the table in the front room. He laid his pack on the table and began to insert his program into the FBI computer. It was another piece of luck to find their computer here, unattended. When done, he repacked his bag, moving to the kitchen and then walking the perimeter of the room, pausing at the big French doors to the deck. They were the easiest locks he had found so far.

Finally satisfied, he opened the kitchen door, reset the alarm, and left through the garage side door into the woods. He stripped the gloves off, stuffing them in his parka pocket, and walked to the car he had left there much earlier.

a 42 a

ChAPTER Six.

Sarah pulled into a local convenience store on their way home.

"The owner of this store, Sam, is a Pakistani and had just bought the place when Mary and I were moving into the house," Annie said as Sarah parked the car. "We've taught each other a lot of things, from language to culture, and he's one of my favorite people. I had Charlene's Angels, Mom's organization, come in and help him with his legal difficulties, and we've become close over the years. I usually manage to smuggle one of his favorite alcoholic beverages home, and we trade news, but I left in such a hurry I forgot it. Watch his face when I tell him I don't have it." Annie chuckled, getting out of the car. "If you see anything you want, just pick it up, all right?"

Sam came from behind the counter to greet Annie, but when he saw her arm he stopped, making a face. He wouldn't even let her pay as she apologized for not bringing a bottle home for him. They talked until a man came to the counter from the back of the store. Annie moved her items to the side to let him check out, glancing at him and then taking a longer look. He looked familiar. It happened to her often, traveling so frequently, but this felt different, urgent somehow. She noted his expensive boots and heavy coat that looked new. He was tall, and his short black hair curled about his head. Annie asked Sam about him after the man left, but he hadn't seen him before.

Annie was quiet when they got into the car and started for her house. As the garage door rolled up, she finally said, "I can't remember where I've seen that man, but I know him. It's more than just seeing him somewhere. I know that I know him. I've been around him for a 43 a more than just a few minutes at some point." She shook her head and opened the kitchen door. "I give up. I just don't remember where." She pointed at a peg beside the door. "Just hang your coat here, Sarah. I'll put the groceries away."

Sarah put the bags on the kitchen counter, asking Annie to wait while she checked the house out. "Did Jim show you the house monitor, the system we installed this afternoon?" she said, walking back into the kitchen. Annie shook her head. "All right, after I get done with my workout, we'll go over it. I want you to be familiar with it too." She left for the basement.

After starting a fire, Annie moved the rocking chair closer to the big fireplace and turned the stereo on to a local jazz station. Her grandfather had built the rocker, and Annie ran her hands over the arms, thinking of their cabin on the lake. It had been sold after they were gone and she missed it. Now that Mary was leaving, maybe she could buy a cabin on a lake. Not that I want to sell this place, she grumbled as a log shifted in the fireplace. She glanced at her watch.

"Damn," she said, jumping up. She went and checked her phone for a message from Rebecca. She grinned, listening to her friend's voice, and then dialed her number.

"Larsen residence, Shelly speaking," her eight-year-old goddaughter answered.

"Shelly, it's Aunt Annie. How're you doing?"

Shelly screamed her name, and Annie held the phone away from her ear. "Annie, are you coming to our house?"

"Well, sweetie, I need to talk to your mother first, and we'll set up a time to get together."

"Don't come tonight. I have to go to bed soon, and I won't get to see you."

"Okay, honey, I promise. Is your mother there?"

Annie could hear Rebecca's voice telling Shelly to go upstairs and get ready for a bath. Rebecca was laughing when she answered the phone.

"Hey, deep throat, bedtime at the Larsen house. Can I call you back?"

"Sure, I'll be up."

"Missed you, glad you're home," Rebecca said.

Annie hung up and took the black and green crow statue with her a 44 a as she eased back into the rocking chair. On the fireplace mantel she could see the photo that Mary had taken at a picnic four years ago- David holding Shelly, Rebecca, and Simon with Annie, arms entwined, laughing. That had been the last good year she could remember.

Annie rubbed the smooth wooden statue thinking about the camp where she had met Rebecca when they were five years old. The thirty- some years since had been theirs together. They had shared secrets, the mysteries of growing up, even clothes until Annie had grown two inches taller. The final year of college they had rented a house together, and a week before graduation, had gone out celebrating, ending up at Annie's favorite gay bar. Drunk and having the time of her life, she had made a flagrant pass at her, and Rebecca had left her standing in the middle of the dance floor, alone. Annie had chased her home, and they had argued in the kitchen until she made one too many rude suggestions.

Rebecca had slapped her. Hard. And then called her boyfriend, David, and disappeared for the weekend. She had come home to Annie with the wooden statue of the crow, apologetic when she didn't have to be, and worse, pregnant. Annie looked back up at the photograph. They weren't punished with their oldest child, Simon; they were rewarded.

No one knew her like Rebecca, and she wondered if David knew his wife as well as she did. She had held her hand and cried with her as Simon had been born while David flew back from California. Annie sipped her beer, thinking of that moment. It still made her feel good.

She had taught Rebecca golf and Rebecca had taught her sailing. So many good times, Annie thought, but not lately. Damn. I haven't had time for the boat or golf or Rebecca.

Annie stood, stretching carefully and feeling off center. It felt like the free fall she'd taken through her life three years ago. She walked to her office and rummaged around in her backpack. She found her sketchbook and flipped through pages as she went back to her chair in front of the fire. The drawing of the food market in Baghdad made her take a quick breath as she recalled the two old people sitting on the bench. Annie remembered the young woman she had traded glances with as the bomb exploded. She remembered the eyes that died seconds later. Annie had lain unconscious until an Army med-tech had put an ice pack on the back of her head and began working on her arm. Annie had seen the dead children around her, something she would never forget. The next coherent moment had been in the military hospital.

a 45 a Kerry, the English photojournalist, and Tom, her field producer, were sitting beside the bed.

Annie bent over the book, examining the smudges and a suspicious brown spot on the paper. Was that blood? And how had she gotten the sketchbook back?