EXPOSE
by
Saranne dawson

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First published in Great Britain 1996 Silhouette Books, Eton House,
18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey
TW9 1SR

Saranne Dawson 1996

ISBN 0 373 22356 0

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham PLC, Chatham

Prologue.

Curiosity kills the kat.
Frighteningly clear. Infuriatingly vague. The words were composed of
letters cut. from newspaper headlines. The sender hadn't been concerned
with neatness.
"Kat" was her nickname. But she knew that meant little. The,sender
could merely have been playing cute games, using the K because her name
was Kate.
Or he could have heard' it somewhere; thousands of people could know
it--or hundreds anyway.
The postmark on the standard white business envelope said Washington, D.
C.

There was no return address.

All in all, it was a stark message, meant to intimidate' to whisper of
death lurking in every shadow. And in the nation's capital, with the
highest homicide rate in the country, that was no idle threat.

Chapter One.

The man standing on her doorstep, just raising his hand to press the
bell again, was the last person Kate had expected to see there. He was
also the last person she wanted to see there. Or so she quickly told
herself when her body began to suggest otherwise.
"Are you planning to invite me in?" Sam Winters asked, flashing that
killer smile that had once melted her bones.
"That depends," she said, mentally checking herself to see if her bones
showed any signs of incipient meltdown.
"Depends on what?" he asked, now arching one dark brow and slightly
wrinkling his deeply tanned forehead. The ghost of a smile still hovered
about his wide mouth and in his electric blue eyes.

"On why you're here."

"If you invite me in, I'll explain."

"And if I don't?"

He shrugged his wide shoulders. Had they become even broader, or was it
just that he'd lost a few pounds from the rest of his six-foot-one
frame?

"Then you'll lay awake all night wondering why. I came here."

" " Lie' awake, not 'lay' awake. Your grammar hasn't improved."

"Neither has your tendency to nitpick."

She moved aside.

"I'll give you ten minutes. It's late and it's been a long day."

"It's nice to be welcomed back so graciously," he said, smiling,
stepping through the door and closing it behind him.
He paused in the small foyer and glanced briefly around the living room,
then headed straight for the big old rolltop desk where she kept the
liquor supply and some glasses. He slid up the top and reached in the
back for the bottle of single-malt Scotch. Why, she wondered, had she
continued to stock it?
She didn't know anyone who drank it--except for Sam. Could it have been
there for three years?
"The rug is new," he observed as he sipped the Scotch. "Not really. I
bought it over a year ago," she replied, proving his statement about her
tendency to nitpick.

"Why are you here, Sam?"

His gaze had drifted to the stairs and suddenly he grinned.
Kate followed his gaze as he strode across to the stairs where her Manx
cat stood warily, his long hind legs and tailless rump on one step and
his front paws on the next one down, frozen in indecision.
The indecision didn't last long. By the lime Sam had reached the bottom
of the stairs, Reject was headed toward him. He wasn't a particularly
friendly cat, so Kate was forced to the conclusion that he remembered
Sam.
She was remembering, too--remembering when Sam had brought him home that
cold, rainy night in the middle of the winter. The-tiny, tiger-striped
kitten was tucked into the front' of his partially unzipped leather
jacket.
When Sam drew him out, she had gasped and asked what had happened to his
tail. Sam had chuckled and called him a "factory reject."
Now the silence in the house was broken by Reject's loud' purg as Sam
picked him up and began to rub him behind his ears. Was it her
imagination, or was the blasted cat purring louder than he'd ever purred
when she did that?

"He's what--five now?"

"Nearly. Your ten minutes are almost up."

Sam shook his head, addressing himself to the cat.

"Persistent, isn't she?"

"That's what makes me a good journalist."

"A very good one," Sam acknowledged.

"I've read some of your stuff when I could get a copy of the Post."

But not as good as you, she thought bitterly, unable as always to let
herself accept his compliments. I still don't have a Pulitzer.

"Isn't there a war somewhere that you should he covering?" she demanded.

"I've resigned. After a while, the excitement of being shot at loses its
appeal."
"Oh." She couldn't think of anything more to say. Somehow, she'd
pictured him spending the rest of his life running around the world to
cover carnage.
In fact, it was hard to see him now without filling in the background
With scenes of shelling and dead bodies and fleeing civilians. "You've
quit CNN completely?"

He nodded.

"They even made me an offer I. couldn't refuse, but I did.

It's time for a change."

"What sort of' change she asked, already wondering why she'd thought he
would be happy forever as a war correspondent. Safety in distance, she
supposed.
He set Reject on the floor and picked up his glass again. "For now, I'm
going to write a book. After that, I don't know. Maybe a syndicated
column."
"You're giving up TV?" she asked incredulously. He was very good. He had
the right looks, the right kind of voice--the presence.
"Yeah. You were right. It's no place for a serious journalist." She
planted her hands on her hips.
"Are you putting me on, Sam? What about the money? You said that's why
you took the job in the first place."
"I'll do well enough if I go into syndication. There are things more
important than money."
"What? Now I know you're putting me on. I wish I had a tape of what you
said when" -- "Why don't you just say I told you so and get it over
with?"

"Is that why you came here--to inform me of this major life change?

Are you having a mid-life crisis?"
"I haven't reached mid-life quite yet. I'm taking a proactive strike to
avoid the crisis part."

"You're nearly forty."

"Thank you. If it weren't for you, I'd have to check my passport."

She sighed.

"Why does this conversation sound just like every other conversation
we've had?"

He shrugged,

"Obviously, you're still in practice. Who've you been sharpening your
wits on these past three years?"

"Not on blondes, I can tell you that much."

He leaned toward her, grinning.

"Your eyes are getting greener. Is it possible that you're jealous?"

"No, it isn't. Sorry to disappoint you." She wanted to back off, but she
couldn't. Fortunately, he did.

He stared at her silently for a moment.

"Well, that has the ring of truth to it, so you must have found
someone."

Could we rewind this conversation and get back to the original question?

Your time was up at least five minutes ago."

"Do you have the basement apartment rented out?"

"No. I did for a while, but I just didn't like haveg anyone else here."
And as she spoke, she felt a sudden frisson. Surely he couldn't mean
that.
"Good. I thought I'd use it for a while, maybe a month or so until I
decide where I'm going to live."

NOVI'm quiet and neat and I'll even pay you rent."

" No!"

He sighed dramatically.

"I didn't want to have to remind you, but I'm still half owner of this
house."
"No, you're not! I've been making payments every month to your
accountant."
"Okay, so maybe I don't own' half of it anymore, but I must own at least
a basement apartment's worth."
"Why do you want to stay here?" she asked, wondering just what his legal
rights were. "You can certainly afford better than a basement
apartment."
"I said it woold be just for a month or two. I really don't know where I
want to live."

"I want to talk to my. attorney about this."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you here."

His gaze had strayed to the small pile of mail on the table in the
foyer.
Kate was far too slow in realizing what had caught his attention.
Somehow, incredibly, she'd put it completely out of her mind the moment
she'd seen him standing on her doorstep.

"What the bell is this?" he demanded, picking up the letter.

"It's none of your business!" she stated firmly, making a grab for it.

But he held it out of her reach, then picked up the envelope, as well.

"What's going on, Kate?"
"It came in the mail today. And I don't have the vaguest idea what it's
all about."
He stared at it in silence for a long time, then folded it and put it
back into the envelope. She saw the muscles bunch along his square
jawline as be set it down.
"I'm going out to get my bags. If you won't offer me the guest room,
I'll sleep on the sofa."
Kate shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. Her mouth opened to
protest, then dosed again. She raised her hands, running her fingers
through her ash blond curls in an agitated fashion. Sam didn't see any
of this, however, s'nice he'd already gone back outside.
Finally, she glared at the letter. Was there some sort of conspiracy
here?
Could be have sent it himself, so be could show up and play the role of
protective male?
She shook her head. Sam wouldn't do that. It was just an unfortunate
combination of circumstances--a hitherto unknown corollary to Murphy's
Law.
If you're feeling frightened and vulnerable, then your ex-husband is
bound to show up at your doorstep, ready to step right into the role of
protector.
Kate watched from the doorway as Sam took his bags from the trunk of
what must be a rental. He certainly wouldn't own such a nondescript car.
When she'd met him, he'd just bought the first of his Porsches.
As he walked back to the house, Kate studied him, seeing him through the
eyes of someone who had once known him very well--or thought she had.
What was it, apart from his obvious good looks, that had so attracted
her to him from the very beginning?
It was, she thought, a question that desperately needed answering now,
because whatever it was, it was still there. She could feel it in her
body's treacherous response to him, and she'd long since grown used to
the way he looked.
It couldn't be a simple case of absence making the heart grow fonder,
either.
He was on TV nearly every night, it seemed, reporting from the hot spot
of the moment. And once, as she stood in line at the supermarket
checkout, she'd spotted him on the cover of People magazine. She'd
almost bought it--had actually put out her hand to snatch it from the
rack before convincing herself that she didn't want to read about him.
And someone had told her that he even had a fan club.
Does be really have the right to stay here? she wondered. When they'd
split up, she got a haft interest in the pleasant house on the edge of
Georgetown that he'd bought with an inheritance. At the time of the
divorce, he'd just begun his new career with CNN and no longer needed
the house. So the deal they'd worked out was that she would make monthly
payments to buy out his haft.

The problem was that she'd always felt guilty about the whole thing.

She 'hadn't asked for the half interest in the house, but when he made
the offer, she hadn't refused, either, because she really liked it and
knew she couldn't afford a place like it on her salary as a reporter
with the Washington Pbst, where they'd met.
It's only for a month or so, she told herself. I can handle that. I
probably owe him that much.
And a little voice ? whispered that she really didn't mind having a male
person in the house at the moment, either.

"You can use this guest room," she told him.

"The bed's already made up."

He set down his' bags at the bottom of the stairs.

"Tell me about that letter."
"There's nothing to tell. I have no idea who could have sent it. I got
home only a few minutes before you showed up. I haven't even had time to
think about it."

He took her arm and more or less pulled her down onto the sofa.

"So think about it now. Do you want to call the police?"

She grimaced.

"You'e out of touch with Washington these days. They can just barely
manage to respond to ac-tuai murders. Threats are way down on the list."
"You've kept up the service on the alarm syslm, haven't you?" he asked,
his gaze shifting briefly to the closet near the door where the panel was
hidden.

He'd had it installed as what he'd called a "divorce present."

"Yes, it's fine and I always use it" she added, anticipating his next
question.
He settled back into the corner of the sofa, watching her. "So unle
you've got a psychopathic ex-boyfriend lurking around somewhere, the
obvious answer is that it has to do with something you're working on."
She was tempted to tell him that she didn't have any ex-boyfriends, let
alone a sicko. Men just hadn't played much of a role in her life for
these past three years. But since the same couldn't be said for him and
women, she remained silent.
"Well?" he prompted as she unwillingly conjured up that photo she'd seen
of him with his super model blonde.
"There's nothing I'm working on that could threaten anyone," she stated
with more assurance than she was beginning to feel.

"What are you working on?" he persisted.

"Nothing major, except for a series on the legislative process and I've
really just started that."

"What's the thrust of the series?"

"It's something I came up with on my own," she said proudly.
"But I'm not even sure yet that it's going to work. Basically, I see it
as an opportunity to show the general public just how Congress makes
laws.

Most people haven't the foggiest notion of how the process really works.

"I'm hoping to follow one topic from subcommittee hearings all the way
to the floor vote, with lobbyists and all the wheeling and dealing in
the committees and on the floor. And I hope to highlight the roles of
committee and sonal staffs, too, because they really operate outside the
public's awareness."
"Most of them would prefer to keep it that way, too," Sam observed
dyly.

"That's true, but I can't see any of them threatening me over it.

Actually, most of them I've talked to have been cooperative."
"Have you got a good, sexy issue to follow?" Sam asked. "That'll make or
break the series."
"I think I have--the legalization of drugs. There are hearings already
scheduled."

He raised a dark brow in surprise.

"You just might have a winner there, but I doubt it'll ever reach the
floor for a vote."
"It might. The thing is that there are people of all political
persuasions coming out in favor of it. The usual liberal-conservative
coalitions are going to break down over this one, which is why it could
be particularly interesting."
They talked about it for a while, in that special shorthand they'd
always used. She was pleased that he liked the idea. But then, Sam had
always encouraged her.
They were sitting in the pool of light from a single lamp, much as
they'd often sat late into the night, both of them exhausted but still
with too much to say. It felt too good, too right--and that made it
wrong.
She stood quickly. "I'm too exhausted to stay up any longer. I'll find
someone tomorrow to come in and clean the apartment for you.

It's still furnished with the things from my old place."

Much of the furniture in the house had belonged to Sam, including some
family heirlooms he'd left with her when he'd gone overseas. She sighed
inwardly, thinking that he would want them back now and she'd be forced
to replace things she'd grown to love.

He got up, too.

"I'm kind of beat myself. I just got in from London.

The Concorde was full, so I had to take the slow way back."

"My heart bleeds for you," she replied acidly.

"So you still resent that," he said, following her up the stairs.

"Resent what?" She was so tired that she couldn't even remember what
she'd just said.

"My money."

"Hmmpphh!" She supposed there must be even more of it for her to resent
now--and of course, still more to come someday, since his parents had
plenty.
"He grown up in the wealthy Washington suburb of Chevy Chase and had
gone to all the best schools. She, on the other hand, had grown up in a
small, working-class town in Pennsylvania and had made it through far
less prestigious schools on scholarships, loans she was still repaying
and various unpleasant jobs. And yes, she did resent it, even though she
knew she shouldn't.
She reached her bedroom--their former bedroom. The guest room was
farther down the hall, but he stopped and she immediately tensed, caught
in. a seductive web of memories.
"You're still as prickly as ever," he remarked with a smile in his
voice.

She returned his genuine smile with a decidedly saccharine one.

"Thanks. You haven't changed, either."

"Tomorrow, we need to talk about that letter."

"No, we don't. It's my business--not yours."
She stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door quickly. If there was
one good thing she could say about his sudden teen try into her life, it
was that she'd lost any fear over that letter. But she might have taken
on a whole new set of fears "DON'T TRY TO PLAY Woodward and Bernstein."
Kate's mouth set in a grim line as she stared at the words on the
screen--the last of several messages on her E-mail. It had come in this
morning, just before she'd reached the Post newsroom.
She deleted it and sat there thinking, ignoring the computer's nagging
to give it some instructions. Intimidation, pure and simple.
Whoever he was, he was trying to prove to her that he could reach her
easily.
On the way in this morning, she'd been thinking about the letter and how
it had been sent to her home. She had an unlisted phone, so her address
wasn't in the directory, and she knew that the Post would never have
given it out.
And now this. Yes, someone was definitely trying to convince her that
she was' vulnerable--and he was doing a damned good job of it, too.
But he seemed to have made one error, and that was to assume that she
would know what he was talking about. It suggested that he was
unfamiliar with newspaper work. No reporter she knew was ever working on
only one story--not in today's cost-cutting environment. That happened
only in movies and in books.
She propped her feet up on her desk and ran through everything she was
working on at the moment. Not one story sounded as though it could
threaten anyone, which actually rather irritated her, s'nice every
journalist worthy of the name wanted to "get the goods" on someone.
She had just turned her thoughts back to the series she'd discussed with
Sam last night when she became aware of the rising level of noise in the
newsroom. As a morning paper, the Post went to press at night and
therefore mornings tended to be quiet times. Many of the reporters
didn't even show up until early afternoon, and the few who were in were
huddled-in their cubicles corn running with their word processors or
working the phones. But now she could hear excited voices drifting over
the Plexiglas walls.
She started to get up to see what was going on; then sank back down
again as she heard someone zllig Sam's name. Of course. The return of
the prodigal son. He'd still been asleep when she left this morning, but
she should have guessed that this would be his first stop.
Sam Winters had become a legend in his own time even before she'd joined
the Post. He'd won back-to-back Pulitzers and was, by general
acclamation, the best "nose" in the business. There were powerful people
on the Hill and in the White House who were either struck dumb with fear
or became overly talkative when their secretaries announced that Sam
,rlnters was on the line. She'd heard that champagne had flowed freely
in more than one office when Sam left to take the job with CNN.
Doing her best to ignore the enthusiastic greetings 'beyond the walls,
Kale called up her notes on the legislative story. As she'd told Sam,
she hadn't actually done much work on it yet. But what she hadn't told
him was that an image had popped into her mind the moment she'd made the
connection between the threatening letter and this story. She couldn't
begin to imagine the why, bat she could imagine the who.
She reviewed her notes on the meeting with Rick Armi-stead, which had
taken place four days ago. Armistead was chief of staff to Rep. Jack
Newbury, the chair of the subcommittee that would be holding the first
hearings on drug legalization. Newbury was a powerful congressman who
could he a poster boy for those Who supported term limits. He was in his
umpteenth term and was just about everyone's candidate for Number One
Sleazeball--except, apparently, for his eousfituents. The man had
survived God knew how many investigations of wrongdoing.
Jstead, his chief of staff, was a virtual clone of his boss." They even
looked somewhat alike, in the way that dogs and their masters are said
to come to resemble each other.
Kate had no trouble believing either Newbury or Armi-'stead to be
capable of issuing underhanded flu eats but why would they do it?

Armistead had actually been quite p-ant to her in his unctuous way.

He'd given her the information about the upcoming hearing, including the
list of those testifying pro and con, and hedd offered to help herin any
way he could.
The only hint of unpleasantness she now recalled, had come when she'd
asked about the congressman's own position on the issue He'd always
been adamantly opposed to legalization, but she'd heard that he might
change his mind.
Armistead had admitted that possibility, saying that for now, Newbury
was "keeping an open mind."
When Kate had prodded: at that a bit, Armistead had nearly bared his
fangs, but she couldn't see how her question could have brought on a
threat--or two threats now. So what if he changed his-mind? Many others
were apparently doing so, too.
She could hear Sam's voice now, as he and his entourage moved in her
direction. After wiping her notes from the screen, Kate peered
cautiously around the edge of her cubicle, then scooted out and headed
to the ladies' room, She couldn't hope to avoid Sam fox ever but it
wouldn't be for lack of trying.
With the sounds of Sam's adoring crowd ringing in her ears, Kate stared
at herself in the rest room mirror. It was definitely not a
self-esteem-building exercise.
She was attractive, but beautiful she was not. There wasn't any one
feature she could single out as being the culprit. In fact, she had
classic features--that good old wholesome american look. Her
hair--dark blond and not yet sun-streaked--was okay, too. She wore it
shoulder length and slightly curled as she had for years. Her
hairdresser, whom she saw as infrequently as possible, was constantly
trying to get her to go for a new look. But the most Kate ever did to
change her appearance was to put it into a French braid from time to
time--generally when the summer heat and humidity made her' think about
getting a buzz cut.

Her eyes were a warm brown flecked with green and heavily lashed.

They were probably her best feature but she covered them with glasses
most of the time because contacts were too much of a bother.
Her figure wasn't bad, either--but not because she did-much to keep it
that way. She played tennis occasionally, rode her mountain bike
regularly and sometimes went rock climbing out in western Maryland with
friends.
The only thing she really hated about her looks was the tiny cleft in
her chin. Cleft chins were great on men, but she could only see it as
being a flaw. Sam had liked it, though. She touched it lightly as she
remembered him kissing it after they'd. No! That story was definitely
finished and should never have begun in the first place.
When she left the rest room, she saw that Sam and the others had moved
into her editor's office. She detoured around that area and went back to
her workstation, where she called up the file again and scanned her "To
Do" list. The first item read,

"Call Geri." She picked up the phone.

Geri W'mters was her former sister-in-law. She'd been on the staff of
Newbury's subcommittee for a time about five years ago and Kate thought
she might he able to provide some background on how they operated.
Geriwas married to Sam's younger brother and their friendship had
continued even after the divorce.
Kate winced when Geri answered to the accompaniment of two squalling
infants in the background. How could Geri stand it? She had a very good
brain that surely must be turning to mush now.
Geri's part-time nanny was due to arrive any minute and the two women
agreed to meet for lunch out at Tyson's Corner, where Geri had some
shopping to do.
Kate thought that she'd like to do some shopping herself, but she was
pretty sure that her Nordstrom's card was maxed at the moment.

"By the way she said to'geri,

"Sam's in town. If he calls you, please don't tell him we're meeting."
"He is? Did he really quit CNN? He called a couple of weeks ago from
Nairobi and said he was thin Icing about it.
"Yes. He's going to he staying in the basement apartment until he gets
settled."

"Oh. How do you feel about that?"

"Not too great, but I guess I owe him that much, since he was so
generous about the house."

"And I have no doubt that he knew you'd feel that way," Geri said.

"That you owed him, I mean. Beware ulterior motives, Kate. I've told you
before that he's still in love with you. Every time he calls, he manages
to ask--very casual-ly-how you are and what you're doing."
"Right. That's why he's been running all over the world with his private
harem of models and actresses. I've got to go. I'll see you at one."
Kate put down the phone with a sound of disgust. Sam wasn't in love with
her. If anything, he was probably as screwed up in his feelings toward
her as she was toward him.
She made some calls and then turned her attention to another story she
was working on. She was determined to ignore those threats, especially
now that she'd had some more time to think about it. Just about every
reporter on the staff had received hate mail at one time or another. Sam
had actually collected his into a scrapbook that was always good for
laughs at parties.

And if he could ignore it, so could she.

The other story, which really didn't deserve to be called a story yet,
was a follow-up on an article she'd done several months ago about boot
camps for juvenile offenders. They'd become. quite popular in the past
few years.
The costs of incarceration were substantially lower and many people
seemed to believe that what young criminals really needed was some
discipline in their lives. Despite the fact that the latest studies
indicated a recidivism rate equal to that of regular carceration
programs, money, starved states continued to push them.
Kate had been planning to 'write a follow-up detailing those studies,
but in the course of researching it, she'd come across something that
had piqued her interest. There was a privately run camp in the Catoctin
Mountains of western Maryland that was said to be having phenomenal
success. Most of the kids were referred there by the courts, but some
had actually been sent by their parents.
She'd already visited 'the camp and had talked to several "graduates"
and their parents, and while she received glowing reports, she hadn't
been able to p'mpoint any difference between the' program at New Leaf
and the others she knew about..
She read her notes and wondered what to do. Unless she could single out
whatever made' New Leaf so successful, she really couldn't use it in her
story. Maybe she should go back out there one more time.
After calling the camp and setting up an appointment, she peeked around
the edge of her cubicle to see if Sam was still in her editor's office.
He was, along with several other people, so she gathered up her overs'
we bag and hurried out to make a few stops on the Hillbefore driving out
to meet Geri.
She felt kind of foolish for sneaking around to avoid Sam, since she'd
certainly see him anyway, but somehow, she just didn't want it to be
here.
It brought back too many unpleasant memories of what life in the shadow
of Sam Winters had been like.    "You're  Saous, aren't you?" Geri
asked, peering closely at her.
"Somehow, I thought that" -- "That chapter in my life is closed, Geri. I
told you that before. I don't even want to talk about Sam."

But Geri couldn't seem to resist a parting shot.

"Rob agrees with me, you know--and he knows Sam better than anyone. He
says Sam's never gotten over you."
"What Sam has never gotten over is having a woman dump him," Kate stated
in an end-of-discussion tone.
"I need your take on something, Geri--a story I'm working on." She then
proceeded to outline her proposed series. "It's really about how
Congress does its work. I chose drug legalization because it's going to
be a hot topic. And that's. why I thought of you for some background.
You worked for that subcommittee, and it's pretty much the same
membership."
"Right. I think there's only one new member, and of course, good old
Newbury's still running it." Geri grimaced, as most people did when
Newbury's name came up.
"Tell me about him. How he works in the committee and anything else you
can think of. He's always been opposed to legalization in the past, but
rumor has it that he might. be changing his mind."
"If he's changing his mind, then there must be something in it for him,"
G-eri said sourly, then went on to paint a pietgre of the congressman
that fitted with what Kate had already heard from others.

"What about Armistead? What do you know about him?"

"Enough to know that I wouldn't want to cross him. I 'had pretty regular
dealings with him, even though he's on Newbury's staff, not the
committee's.

He tended to forget that at times." She paused for a moment, frowning.

"Someone once described Armistead as a sociopath--no feelings for anyone
and no moral compass. I don't remember who it was, but I agree."
"How do people like that end up in such positions?" Kate asked
disgustedly.
"Because they thrive on manipulating people and because they're often
very good at what they do. When you haven't got a conscience, you can be
pretty darned effective in that kind of job--especially working for
someone like Newbury."

"Do you think he's capable of violence?" Kate asked.

Geri frowned at her.

"I heard something once Why are you asking?"

After swearing her to secrecy, Kate told her about the threats, then
added that she didn't really have any reason to suspect Newbury or
Armistead.

Geri pushed her shrimp salad around 'on her plate.

"I hate passing on unsubstantiated rumors--even about someone like those
two.
It was just one of those elliptical conversations you get into late at
night in a dark bar when everyone's had a few."
"Whatever it is, I'll keep you out of it. And I can't write about it
anyway, if there's no proof."

"Okay.

The story was about one of the college interns in Newbury's office last
summer. What I heard was that he got readly upset about something he'd
learned and he went to the House Ethics Committee to talk to someone
about it. A couple of days later, he was dead--stabbed to death in what
was supposed to have been a robbery."

"Are you saying that someone thought he was deliberately murdered?"

Kate asked in astonishment, nearly choking on her spinach salad.

Geri shrugged.

"I understand that the police are treating it as a murder committed in
the course of a robbery. But it happened in a pretty safe neighborhood
in Falls Church. And what had some people suspicious was that the Ethics
Committee's chief of staff just happens to be a good drinking buddy of
Annistead's. They both came to the Hill at the same time and have been
friends ever since."

"Who gave you this information?"

"I can't tell you that, Kate. Confidentiality was. implied if not
exactly stated. And the person couldn't afford to talk to you about it."

"But it was a good source?"

"I think so, but I can't be sure."

"You don't happen to remember the intern's name, do you?"

Geri shook her head.
"I don't think I even heard it. But I know it happened at the beginning
of the summer and I think he lived in Falls Church. He was killed in his
own neighborhood."

Kate finished her spinach salad, which now tasted like cardboard.


Chapter Two.

"But [ need the information noi,!" Kate gritted her teeth, Wondering
how many times she'd spoken that sentence while attempting to get simple
information from a government bureaucrat. "You could probably get
faster from the congressman's office," said the bureaucrat in question.
The time-honored bureaucratic runaround, Kate thought, then thanked the.
woman and hung up. The woman was un-doubtedly right, but she wasn't
about to call Newbury's office to ask the name of the dead intern. She'd
hoped to obtain it from the more neutral ground of the office that
coordinated summer internships.
In the window of a shop across the mall, she saw a pair of softly
pleated and flowing palazzo pants. She walked over to examine them more
closely. The dusty rose in the print just might match her favorite silk
shirt. She went inside, tried them on and bought them.
Then, as she was leaving, it occurred to her that her sudden interest in
clothes could well have something to do with Sam'. s'reappearance in her
life. She came very close to taking them back.
As she was leaving the giant shopping complex, Kate decided to pay a
visit to the Falls Church police. Even without the name of the intern
and the exact date of his death, she could probably get some
information.
"THIS IS PROBABLY the one you're looking for," the police clerk said,
consulting his computer.
"James Crawford, age twenty-one. He was killed on June 30. Let me pull
the file." A few minutes later, the gray-haired officer informed her,
"The record isn't here. Do you know if there was an arrest?"

"I'm not sure," Kate admitted.

"Does that make a difference?"
"Yeah. If there wasn't an arrest, it's probably still being carried as
an open case. Let me check and see who has it."
Not long after, she was on her way to the homicide division, looking for
a Detective Coldron. The ease of James Crawford, former intern to
Congressman Newbury, was assigned to him.
Unfortunately, the detective was out. Hoping to gain some assistance
from the division's clerk, Kate explained who she was and what she
wanted.

"Crawford? That's a coincidence--or is it?"

"What do you mean?"
"Someone was in to see Detective Coldron concerning that case about an
hour ago--just before he left?" The woman paused and grinned at-her.
"Not just anybody, either. It was that hunk from CNN. You know, the guy
who does their war reporting. And he looks even better in the flesh,
too."
"Sam Winters," Kate said unhappily. Somehow, she wasn't even shocked,
although anyone not familiar with Sam's skills might have wondered how
he'd managed it.

"Right, that's him. Are you two in competition or something?"

" " Or something' is more like it," Kate replied with a grimace.

"The file is probably still on Coldron's desk. I'll get it for you."

Kate was seething inwardly. Not only had Sam managed to find out about
the intern's murder, but he'd beaten her here. How did he do it? He'd
been out of the country for three years! And yet he waltzl back into
town and managed to ferret out information like this. There were times
when she came close to hating him--very close.
And she wasn't even ready to deal with the fact that he was nosing into
her story!
Fighting down her anger and frustration, she read through the police
reports. They didn't tell her much. Like most cops, Coldron stuck to the
facts; Whatever he might think personally about the ease wasn't there.
Crawford's wallet, which was missing, had probably contained no more
than twenty or thirty dollars, based on the discovery of an ATM slip in
his pocket for a withdrawal made only a half hour before his death. Both
the ATM card and the credit cards that had been in his wallet had never
been used, which, at the very least, suggested a carelessness on the
part of the perpetrator.
One of her colic agues had had his wallet stolen not long ago, and the
thief had run up every card he had to the max within an hour.
She flipped through the crime scene photos. She was relieved that they
were in black and white, which somehow lessened the impact of the stain
that covered most of his Univeity of Virginia Tshirt.
Then she closed the file, thinking. Any robber with half a brain could
surely have found a more likely target than a college kid--especially in
that affluent neighborhood. Furthermore, Crawford appeared to have been
rather big and quite fit.
She returned the file to the clerk and learned that the detective wasn't
expected in until the next morning. After dictating a reminder to
herself to call him' then Kate left police hcadquarters and immediately
started. to fume again about Sam's interference, It really scalded her
that he was sticking his nose into this--and it burned her even more
that he was already ahead of her. She picked up her car phone--a luxury
she'd given herself last as--and called Geri: She was pretty sure that
Sam couldn't have gotten his information from her, though. Surely Ger
pounds would have mentioned it: The twins were screaming in the
background again. Geri had said that they were cutting teeth. Kate
decided that she didn't mind one bit that her own biological clock was
ticking away.
Geri assured her that she hadn't spoken to Sam, so he'd apparently
gotten his information about Crawford elsewhere. For all she knew, he
might have simply pulled it out of thin air. More than once, she'd
accused him of being psychic, and for his birthday one year, she'd
gotten him a crystal ball.
Very begrudgingly, she gave him credit for being able to slip fight back
into the Capitol scene. But she wished fervently that he was still
dodging bullet somewhere instead of nosing into her business.
"So what else is new?" she muttered. Sam had always nosed into her
stories one way or another. Helpful suggestions, names of contacts,
critiques of her writing. And worst of all, he was always right.
She'd asked him once if he didn't sometimes find omniscience a bit
tiring.

He'd had to look up the word, which gave her some small satisfaction.

IT WAS JUST AFTER DARK when Kate got home. Sam's rental car wasn't out
front, so she assumed he must be out. But when she unlocked the front
door and then immediately-opened the closet door to disarm the alarm
system, she saw that it was already off. Since she'd left before him
this morning,. she smiled wickedly at the prospect of having something
to justify venting her anger at him, But that pleasant thought lasted no
more than a second or two, as she picked up the welcome aroma of
food--barbecued ribs, a favorite of both of theirs.
She followed her nose back to the kitchen and heard Sam's voice floating
in through the open window.

"Look, Frank, I don't want to hear about how risky it is; dammir!

This is important! You owe me and. I'm collecting. You can think. of a
way to get the information without bringing me into it. Go hustle that
redhead in Tanner's office. I'll even spring for dinner. I'll call you
tomorrow."
Kate had no idea who Frank was, but she certainly knew who Tanner was:
the chairman of the House Ethics Committee. The same committee that
James Crawford had supposedly gone to after finding something
incriminating in Newbury's office. She clenched her teeth in
frustration, thinking about the hour she'd spent trying without success
to find someone with a good line' into that office.
She saw Sam set down the cordless phone and start to get up from the
chaise lounge, so she backed quickly to the front door, where she picked
up the day's mail.

"Hi," he said, coming toward her.

"I thought I heard you pulling in. I've got ribs. cooking."
However did you find the time? she asked silently as she sorted through
the mail.
"No more threats," he said, plucking a Victoria's Secret catalog from
the bottom of the pile of mail.
"What's with this? I.thought you were strictly the
white-cotton-underwear type. Do you think they really make these things
for women, or are they disguised soft-core porn for men?"

She grabbed it back from him as he began to leaf through it.

"My mail--and my underwear--are my business."
"Right. By the way, you had a message on your machine from some veddy
proper Brit named Brian."
Kate planted her fists against her hips and glared at him. "Just because
I'm letting you stay here doesn't give you the right to go through my
mad or my phone messages."

As usual, her, anger made absolutely no impression on him.

"I called to get a phone installed downstairs, but it'll take a couple
of days, I ad to give out your number to some people so they could
reach me."
Wonderful, she thought. Now half of. Washington will think we're back
together--and the other half will be thinking it within a matter of
days.
"I couldn't get anyone to come and clean the apartment before next week,
so I'm going to clean it myself tonight. You could always offer to
help."
"I can't do it tonight. I've already made plans to get together with
some guys tonight. I don't mind waiting until next week."

"But I do," she lied, heading toward the kitchen again.

"Why don't you just go and find yourself a place to live? You know
you're going to stay in Washington."
"No, I don't know that," he protested, following her. "I've lived here
all my life. Maybe it's time for a change."
"How about the West Coast, then?" she asked as she opened the
refrigerator to find that he'd restocked it and had made a salad, as
well. He'd always been more domesticated than she was.
"I don't like the Coast. You know that. Rob and Geri have invited us
over to dinner Saturday night."
She turned to him struggiing to keep her tone semirea-son able "Sam,
there/s no 'us' anymore. And I have plans for Saturday."
"I know, but that's in the afternoon, and you know George never has any
food at those open houses."
She wanted to scream. He'd moved in, all right. Into her house and into
her work--and now into her social life, such as it was.
George was one of the editors at the Post, and for years, he'd been
holding monthly open houses for Post staffers and a changing assortment
of other Washington journalists. Brian, who'd called her, was a
correspondent with the British news magazine The Economist, and she knew
he'd he there, as well.
She'd dated him a few times and she guessed that. he'd probably called
to invite her to dinner afterward.
He was nice enough, but his divorce was too recent and he was too eager
to plunge into the singles scene.
"When did you talk to Rob and Geri?" she asked 'suspi-eiously. If
Brian's message had included a dinner invitation, it wouldn't surprise
her to learn that Sam had set this up as soon as he heard the message.

"I called Geri this morning," he plied.

Liar! she thought, but didn't say. Instead, she left him to get clinne
ready and went to check her machine. But Brian's message was
gone--erased.

She stormed back downstairs. "Why did you erase Brian's message?"

His innocent look was almost good enough to fool her.
"I didn't mean to erase it. I just didn't hit the button fast enough.
Why don't you just relax and let me get dinner ready? I bought some
wine--your favorite."

"Sam, whatever you're flying, it isn't going to work!"

"All I'm doing is repaying your kindness in letting me stay here."
"Like you gave me a choice!" she hulled as she snatched the bottle of
wine from him, then had to give it back again so he could open it.
She'd never mastered the use of the  complicated
corkscrew that he'd bought--a minor detail, since she generally bought
jug wine for herself.
AN HOUR LATER, armed with cleaning supplies, Kate went downstairs to the
apartment. Sam had been picked up by one of the biggest mouths in
Washington, so she'd already revised her schedule of when word would get
around that they were back together, She was rather surprised that Sam
hadn't once mentioned the threat against her. Obviously, he was taking
it seriously, since he'd been doing some sleuthing. Perhaps he hadn't
brought it up because he didn't want to admit to his activities. And she
had said nothing about the E'mail message, either.
' The only indication she'd seen of his concern for her safety was his
reminder that she should be sure to arm the alarm sysin after he left.
She opened the basement windows and set about ridding the apartment of
the accumulated dust of more than a year. She was vaguely--and
irrationally--annoyed at his failure to take the threat more seriously,
In the past, he'd always been very protective of her.
In fact, their final blowup had occurred over his concern about a story
she' was working on at the time about corruption in the D. C.
government. He'd expressed the fear that she could be risking her life,
and she, d accused bra of meddling in her first big story.
S'nice the small apartment had been sealed up all this time, the dust'
wasn't as bad as she'd expected. But just seeing her old things again
brought back unwelcome memories of the deliriously happy woman who'd
moved into this house as a new bride..
Soon after they'd become lovers, Sam had suggested that she move into
the apartment. He'd offered it to her rent free, knowing that she was
struggling to pay off her grad school loans. But she'd refused his
offer.
The truth, however, was that she just hadn't wanted to get herself into
a situation of dependency. It had taken her a long time to find an
affordable apartment in a relatively safe neighborhood, and she'd
feared that if she accepted' his offer and things didn't work out
between them, she'd have been forced to start looking all over again.
She smiled grimly, recalling that she'd held out for nearly a month
before agreeing to marry him Buried somewhere in all that fuzzy-headed
romanticism, there had apparently been at least a hub of caution.
Unfortunately, it was too quickly overwhelmed by a very overwhelming
man.
The phone rang just as she was plugging in the vacuum cleaner. Since
she'd forgotten to bring down the cordless phone, she dashed up the
stairs to the kitchen. But by the time she picked up the phone there,
her machine had clicked on upstairs. Speaking over her voice recording,
she asked the .  to wait, then said hello after the beep.
There was s'fience on the line and she repeated her greeting, adding
this time that it was she and not the machine. But there was no
response, and then she heard only the buzz of the dial tone.
Kate stood there for a moment, frowning. Was it possible that the caller
had been one of her family back in Pennsylvania? Answering machines were
still something of a novelty to some members of her family. But she
experienced a moment's uneasiness as she recalled the threats she'd
rceived. Then she shrugged it off and returned to the base-merit,
taking the cordless with her this time.
She finished her cleaning chores and went back upstairs. The entrance to
the apartment was off a small enclosed back porch. During the time that
she'd had a tenant staying there, she'd kept the inner door to the
kitchen locked.

Now she wondered what she'd done with the key.

A half-hour's search failed to turn it up. But what difference did it
make anyway? Locking him out of her part of the house certainly wouldn't
keep him out of her life.
She had just returned to the kitchen when a noise at the back door froze
her in the act of opening the refrigerator. A moment later, Reject
strolled through the kitchen door she'd left ajar, and she relaxed. The
sound she'd heard was the flap of the pet door, and that reminded her
that she couldn't close that door in any event without trapping him on
the porch.
But it also reminded her that she hadn't been able to
dismiss those threats as easily as she'd been pretending, and she told
herself sternly that she had no reason to be afraid of anything--except,
perhaps, her overly active imagination.
Still, she felt a twinge of fear when the phone rang again a few minutes
later. But this time, it was Brian.
"Did you get my message about dinner after George's affair?" he asked,
confirming her earlier suspicion.
"Yes, but I'm afraid that I already have plans, Brian. Perhaps another
time." And even as she declined the invitation, she was wondering why.
Brian might want more than she was willing to give, but he was still
pleasant company.

"I heard an interesting. rumor that your ex-husband is back in town,"

'he said after they'd chatted for a few minutes.
"He is. He's staying here until he gets set fled--in the basement
apartment." She decided that she'd better start a rumor of her own--a
sort of counter rumor '"This was his house, so I couldn't really refuse
him."
"Very charitable of you," Brian obsented with a chuckle. "I'm afraid I
wouldn't beso generous if it were my ex."
They hung; up after gossiping a while longer, and Kate wondered if she
wouldn't really have preferred Brian's company to a date with Sam.

But then, it wasn't really a date--or so she told herself.

She had just gotten into bed when the phone rang again. But when she
said hello, there was no response. She was sure that someone was there,
however, because she could hear faint sounds in the background--traffic
noises, perhaps.
She said hello again, then slammed down the phone. Maybe it was just
someone calling for Sam and they'd expected to hear his voice.
Or maybe it was someone checking to see if she was home--the same
someone who'd sent the letter and the E-mail message. Her number was
unlisted, but if he'd managed to find her address, he certainly could
have gotten her phone number.
It's a classic intimidation technique, she thought angrily. But still,
she hastened downstairs to' check the alarm system and all the windows
and d0ors even though she'd checked them before she went to bed. She
even swod for a while at the long windows that faced the street, peering
through a crack in the drapes. A man walked by with a golden retriever,
but she recognized him as someone who lived in the neighborhood.
Her mind dredged up a story she'd once read, where one of the characters
who was planning to break into someone's house had borrowed a golden
retriever to make himself appear harmless, on the theory that this
breed's widely known friendliness would dispel any suspicions about him
and his intentions.

"Stop it!" she ordered herself.

"You're playing right into his hands."
But still she stood there, searching the shadows beneath the trees until
she convinced herself that they weren't concealing anyone.
KATE WAS a very sound sleeper, the result, she'd always thought, of
having grown up in a tiny house fdied with four kids. So when she awoke
abruptly at just after 2:00 a. m." her heart. was already pounding and
the metallic taste of fear What had awakened her? She had no
recollection of dreaming.

Such was her state of mind that she didn't immediately think of Sam.

Instead, she crept quietly out of bed and took her .22 revolver from her
nightstand. Her father, a gun collector, had pressed it on her after her
divorce.
She went to her bedroom' doorway and stopped, listening carefully. If it
was Sam, where was he? After deciding that it had probably been nothing
more than a noise in the street, she nonetheless crept quiefiy along the
hallway.
A faint light came from downstairs, but she knew it was the living room
lamp, which was on a timer and would soon turn off.
When she still heard nothing, she headed for the stairs, gun in hand and
already cocked. Halfway down, she could finally see into the living
room--and there was Sam, sitting in his favorite chair, petting Reject,
who was curled on his lap. Even from this distance, she could hear the
cat purring.
Fortunately, Sam hadn't seen her yet, and she knew she should steal back
up the stairs to bed. But something in the scene held her there.
Sam looked. vulnerable. The script ion didn't fit the man, but that's
how it felt to her.
She thought for the first time about the life he'd been living for the
past three years--not about the glamour this time, but about the danger
and the peripatetic nature of his recent existence. She'd never
understood why he'd accepted the job, and for a long while, every time
she'd seen him on TV, he'd worried about him.
Belatedly, she started turning to go back up. But Reject had apparently
heard her and his sudden reaction drew Sam's attention. He rose from his
seat, cradling the cat against his shoulder as he started toward the
stairs.
"Did I wake you?" he asked with surprise as he reached the bottom of the
steps.
She edged closer to the railing, trying to conceal the gun. She didn't
want him to know she'd been frightened. But she was wearing only a
skimpy nightshirt and there wasn't any way to hide it. A frown creased
his brow.

"Do you have a gun?" he asked incredulously.

She gave up her attempt to hide it and pulled back the hammer to prevent
it going off accidentally.

"Yes. Dad gave it to me," she replied with an attempt at nonchalance.

"I do some target shooting at his hunting camp every time I go home,"
she went on, certain he would ask if she even knew how to use it.

Sam started up the stairs, his gaze going from the gun to her.

"Has anything else happened besides that letter?"

She turned and hurried up the steps ahead of him.

"No. I was fit even thioking about that. I live alone--or I did--and
Washington's a dangerous place these days."
She waited a moment for him to admit that he'd talked to the detective
about the intern's death, and when he said nothing, she hurried down the
hall to her bedroom, tossing a quick good-night over her shoulder.
Just as she was about to fall asleep again, her mind still dwelling on
that image of Sam, Reject came in and jumped up on her bed, then curled
up next to. her Apparently, he was doing his best to remain neutral by
dividing his attentions between them.

"WHAT'S YOUR  in the Crawford murder, Ms. Stevens?"

Fortunately, Kate was prepared for the detective's question. "I'm
working on a story about the." summer internship program, and someone
told me about him."

"Must be a hot topic," the detective mused.

"Sam Winters from CNN came by yesterday to see me about it, too--and he
told me the same thing."

So we even tell the same lies, Kate thought with grim amusement.

"I read the file, but I'm curious about your thoughts--things you' might
not have put down. It just seemed to me that Crawford was an unlikely
candidate for a robbery--especially in an affluent neighborhood like
that where there should be better prospects."
"Yeah, you're right' about that. But it wouldn't be the first time
someone got killed for just a few bucks."
"He was interning in Congressman Newbutr's office. Did you talk to
anyone there? I didn't see anything in the report."
' "Winters asked about that, too. Someone from Newbury's office called
me the day after the 'murder--a guy named Armistead, who's Newbury,s
chief of staff. A really obnoxious type. He was trying to throw his
weight around, as though we weren't already doing all we could."
Interesting, she thought. "Were there any other similar incidents around
that time in that neighborhood?"
"No, there weren't--and that's what has always bothered me. Like I told
Winters, that's a pretty safe neighborhood. Besides, the kid wasn't
exactly a ninety-pound weakling, which should have made him a less
likely target for a robbery. Still, I couldn't find a reason to think it
was anything else."
"What about his parents? He was living with th6m, wasn't he? Did they
have any suspicions?"
"He was living with his mother. The parents are divorced. And she wasn't
home when it happened. She'd been away for a few days. But she only said
that he was very pleased with his summer job. I guess they're pretty
hard to get, And she didn't think he could have had any enemies." "Do you
have his mother's number?" Kate asked.
"Sure. I gave it to Winters, too. It's kind of strange that you two are
so interested in this."

Kate smfied, hearing the unspoken question in the detective's voice.

"Well, you know how it is, Detective. This is a town full of journalists
and we're always tripping over each other's feet.," Crawford's mother
worked at the Justice Depathaent and Kate called her there, wondering if
Sam had already contacted her, But she discovered that the woman was
onva-eationand not expected back for nearly two weeks.
"Actually, she's on her honeymoon," the secret am con-tided to her,
"She and her former husband got remarried."
Kate thanked the woman and hung up, thinking that this was not the time
to be reopening old wounds for either of the parents. By now, they had
probably come to terms with the loss of their son and it seemed to Kate
that she didn't have a good enough reason to bother them.
Still, she wanted to talk to someone who'd known Craw-fort, if only to
find out what kind of kid he'd been, Was he the kind who would have
pursued any ethical lapses that he discovered--even if it cost him his
precious internship?
She decided to call the University of Virginia where Crawford had been
a student, She did nit really have much hope of learning anything, since
school was out for the summer, but to her pleased surprise, his faculty
adviser was available.

"Yes, of course I remember Jim," the man told her.

"It was a real tragedy. He was a fine young man. He'd planned to go to
law school and then hoped to work for the Justice Department, like his
mother.

He was just the kind we need there, too."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked, although she thought she already knew.
"Jim was an idealistic young man, but unlike so many kids, his ideals
were deeply rooted?"
"Would you say that he was the kind who'd pursue the truth even if it
might cost him a great deal?"
"That'sexactly what I meant," the professor confirmed, "Are you saying
that there could. have been more to his death than just robbery?"

"I'm not sure yet," Kate said cautiously.

"He tried to reach me the night before he Was killed. I was away for a
few days, and when I got home, there was a message on my machine from
him, I called his home and that's how I learned he'd been murdered."

"What did he say in the message?"

"Nothing, really, except that he wanted to talk to me. He left only his
home number and said that it wouldn't be a good idea for me to call him
at work."

"Were those his exact words?" Kate asked.

"Something to that effect. But it didn't really surprise me that he
wouldn't want to be called at work. He was a very conscientious young
man and he probably just didn't want personal calls at work."
Kate thanked him and hung up before he could start asking questions she
didn't want to answer. Too late, she realized that she hadn't asked him
if Sam had contacted him. But surely he would have mentioned it, And
he'd told her that she'd caught him as he'd stopped by his office for a
few minutes, She was sitting there' trying to decide what to do next
when she received a smnons from Damon, her editor. Hoping that he
wasn't going to hand her yet another as, sienment, she hurried off to
his office, "Kate, why didn't you tell me about that threatening
letter?" he demanded the moment she walked in.
"Because there wasn't anything to tell," she replied, visualizing Sam's
very attractive butt with her foot planted squarely on it.

"I have no idea who could have sent it,"

"Don't try to out macho the guys, Kate," he said gruffly. "You know
damned well that we take things like that seriously. Has there been
anything more?"
Kate hesitated for a moment too long. Damon's bushy gray brows shot up
expectantly.
She told him about the E-mail message, but said nothing about the calls
last night.
"Sam doesn't know about it and I don't want him to know, Damon. This is
none of his business."

"He's living with you, isn't he?"

"He's staying in my basement apartment until he gets settled," she
stated firmly.

"Okay, okay, but he's got to know because he's looking into it."

"I know he is, and it's not his" -- "I approved it. You don't have the
time.
We're short staffed as it is, with people on vacation and all these
summer interns to deal with ...  Anyway, he offered to look into that
kid's death and nose around a little about Armistead and Newbury. If
there's anything to find, Sam will find it."

"Thanks for your confidence in me, Damon," she. said acerbically.

"This doesn't have anything to do with my confidence in you. I just
can't spare you right now to spend time on this. Sam and I agreed that
if there's really a story in it, you'll be the one to write it."

"Is Sam coming back to the Post?" she asked.

"No, although I'm trying to persuade him to make us a base for his
syndicated column."
"You're not being fair to me, Damon. I can find the time to pursue that
story. I'll even work overtime without pay."
"Good. Then you can take on these assignments." He handed her three
yellow memo sheets.

Kate glared at him.

"I really wish I couldaecuse you of being sexist, Damon."

He chuckled.

"Sam said you'd probably say that. But it won't wash, and you know it."
Unfortunately, she did. Damon's reason for bringing Sam into it was
exactly what he'd told her.
"What do you think about the possibility that Armi-stead could be behind
the threats?" she asked curiously. Damon had one of the best minds she'd
ever run across, and she always valued his thoughts and advice.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his nearly bald head.

"I don't know, Kate. It seems pretty farfetched.
Armistead and his boss are both dirt bags, but I just don't see how your
story could pose a threat to them. On the other hand, I've gone over
everything else you've been working on and I don't see anything there,
either." He brought his chair back to the floor with a thump.
"You be careful, Kate. I'm glad that Sam is staying with you. And I
don't care if that sounds sexist."
Clutching her new assignments, Kate returned to her cubicle, only to
reali? e that she was going to be late for an appointment. She took the
elevator down to the underground garage, still seething over Sam's
intrusion into her storyl She hadn't told Damon about her conversation
with the dead interifs faculty advisor, and she had half a mind to keep
it from Sam, as well. Let Sam tell her what he was finding out, and then
she could still do some sleuthing on her own. Or she would if she could
find a few extra hours in the day.
' Normally, she waited in the elevator, her finger on the button, while
she surveyed the cavernous space. There was a security guard on duty at
the only entrance and exit, but it still wasn't one of her favorite
places. No one had been attacked here that she knew of, but thefts from
cars weren't uncommon.
Today, however, with her mind on Sam and his meddling-not to mention her
desire to get to her appointment on time--Kate walked out of the
elevator and star across to the far corner where her Toyota was parked.
But halfway across the garage, she suddenly froze as a figure separated
itself from the shadows near her car. ben before she could turn back to
the elevator, be dashed around a corner and out of sight. A few seconds
later, she heard the heavy fire door bang shut.
She hesitated, then continued toward her car. It could have just been
someone who worked in the building, but something in his hurried
movement seemed furtive.
She unlocked her car and' looked around inside. There was no sign that
he'd attempted to break in, and why would anyone do that anyway? Her
six-year-old Toyota wasn't exactly the most enticing vehicle down here.
She looked at the cars parked near hers: a new BMW and a late-model
Audi. A quick glance inside them revealed no sign that they'd been
tampered with.
Then she felt the hoods of both cars. Neither one was warm, so he
couldn't have just driven in. Besides, she was sure that when she first
saw him, he'd been between her car and the wall, and not even near the
other two.
She drove to the exit ramp, then. pulled Over and went into the security
office. The guard told her. that the only traffic in the past half hour
had been two people exiting. No one had come in.

"We're careful down here, mi," he told her.

"But there's not much we can do to prevent people from getting in
through the building. I make rounds, but there's too many places for
them to hide."

"Have there been any problems in the garage lately?"

"Not for a while--not since that rash of phone and CD thefts a couple of
months ago."
Kate drove off to her appointment, deciding that she'd probably
overreacted.
The man she'd seen could have been someone who worked in the building
who'd come down to his car for something. And if he was up to no good,
he was probably nothing more than an ordinary thief she'd surprised in
the act of selecting his target.
She reminded herself that the only threats she could positively confirm
had been the letter and the E-mail message. Those phone calls last night
could have been from anyone.
Now that Sam had taken over, Kate was inc 'lined to shrug off the whole
thing. Let him play Sam Spade while she got on with the more important
work.

Chapter Three.

Kate saw the brand-new charcoal gray Porsche in her driveway the moment
she turned onto her street. The trunk lid was open, and as she pulled in
bchind it, she could see that it contained a case of Sam's favorite
German beer. She got out and started toward the house. He'd het not
think he could have the garage just because his car was worth ten times
what hers was2 "She turned and cast a glance back at the two cars and
then revised her estimate. Fifty times was probably more like it. Then
she nearly collided with Samas he came out the door." Sorry. I was just
unloading. Give me your keys and-I'll put your car in the garage."
"Thank you," she said, feeling deflated but still ready to 'fight over
another bone ofeontention.

"Did you manage to erase: any of my messag today?"

"There weren't any for you," he called' back over his shoulder as he
started toward the Porsche.

She went inside and sorted quickly through the mail. No more threats.

Maybe it was over and Sam Spade would he spinning his wheels, eager to
go out and slay dragons when there were none to he found.
The refrigerator didn't yield anything of interest. He must have taken
the food he'd brought downstairs to the apartment. Even her emergency
supply of frozen dinners was down to a tuna casserole she'd picked up by
mistake on one of her whirlwind tours of the supermarket.
She made a face, remembering endless tuna casseroles during-her days as
a starving grad student. It looked as though dinner would have to be a
peanut butter and jelly sandwich unless she was willing to go shopping.

Sam came back up the stairs.

"Let's go out to dinner. I saw some new restaurants over on M. Any of
them must be better than that," he added, gesturing to the casserole.

"Do you ever plan to become domesticated?"

"Probably about the same time you grow up and stop driving macho kiddie
cars," she replied.

"There's a good Japanese place that opened about sx moaths ago."

His wide mouth twisted wryly.

"First you impugn my manhood, and then you accept my dinner invitation."

"Okay, so I won't accept your dinner invitation."

He narrowed his electric blue eyes at her.

"Do you know how many women would be happy to have dinner with me?"

"Probably only about ten thousand or so.

"This town is full of desperate women. Is it true that you have your own
fan club?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to change first?"
"No, I'm starving. If I behave myself, do you suppose I could have an
autographed picture?"
"DAMON m ME that you're going to be taking over my story," she said
after she'd waited long enough for him to raise the subject.
"I'm not taking over your story. If I find anything, it's yours to
write.

Why didn't you tell me about the E-mail message?"

"I was planning to: So Damon called you after I talked to him?"

He nodded.

"He probably didn't trust you to tell me, since you hadn't,bothered to
tell him about either the letter or the E-mail."
"You know how he is. His ulcer is probably kicking up again because of
it."
"I think he has reason to be concerned when one of his top reporters
receives threats." He leaned across the tiny table until his face was
scant inches from hers.
"So what else haven't you told us? And don't say 'nothing' unless it's
true, because I'll know if you're lying."
"Nothing else has happened," she said, meeting his piercing gaz and
doing what she thought was a very good job of dissembling. She didn't
think of it as lying because the phone calls and the man in the garage
might have nothing to do with it.

He moved away and continued to stare at her.

"Dammit, either you've gotten better at it or I've lost my touch. I
don't know if you're telling the truth or not."
Feeling triumphant made her generous, so she told aim about her
conversation with Crawford's professor. By the time she had finished,
the waitress had come to take their orders.

When she departed, Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I tried to get hold of him, but he wasn't in and they wouldn't give me
his home number. Ialso tried to reach Crawford's mother."

"SO did I. She's on her honeymoon. She remarried her ex."

"Well, I suppose I'd better not contact her when she gets back, then.

It would probably upset her for no reason."

"My thoughts exactly. Besides, the detective said she was away when it
happened. What about Frank? Did he find out anything?"

He looked surprised, then chuckled.

"So you were eavesdropping on my call last night. I thought you might
have been. Kate, we've got-to reach some sort of understanding. We're
not in competition anymore.

I'm only trying to help."

"We never were in competition--that was part of the problem," she
replied, then instantly regretted adding the last part.

"Yeah, I know. But I didn't know what to do about it.

You're damned good, Kate. The only difference was that I had more
experience."

She didn't want to get into a discussion about their past problems.

"So did Frank find out anything?"
"Only that Crawford did go to Tanner's office two days before he was
killed."

"But you didn't find out what he had on Newbury?"

"No. For all I know, it could have been something minor. If the kid was
as idealistic as his professor says, just about anything could have set
him off."
"So you don't think Armistead could have had anything to do with his
death?"
"I didn't say that. I'd like to think that murder is beyond even him,
but if Crawford really d/d have something ..." he shrugged.
"But even if he did, that still doesn't explain why Armistead--or anyone
else--would be after you."
"Maybe it's just some nut who gets off on threatening reporters. For all
I know, he might have sent Out dozens of threats."
"No one else at the Post got any," Sam countered. "So I'm the lucky
one.," Maybe," he said doubtfully as their soup arrived.
Several-people stopped by their table to say hello, their questions
thinly ve'ded attempts to find out if she and Sam were back together.

Sam surprised her by being very circumspect.

Then she told him about her story on the boot camps. She had an
appointment with: the director tomorrow out at New Leaf. It was close to
a two-hour drive and she wondered aloud if she should cancel the meeting
and forget the whole thing.
"It's a big waste of time unless I can figure out what accounts for
their success rate," - she told him.
"Keep the appointment. I'll.drive you out there. It'll he a chance for
me to exercise the new car and also stop by the cabin. Rob added another
bedroom."
"Yes, I know. I went there with them for a weekend last fall." A weekend
she'd regretted about five minutes after they'd arrived. Rob and Sam had
built the cabin themselves and both couples had gone there often. Kate
had felt Sam's ghost hovering about the place the whole time.
The two brothers were in the process of building the cabin when Kate had
met Sam, and they'd gone over there every weekend. Certain scenes from
that time were etched in delipos bly into her brain--Sam in denim
cutoffs and nothing else, his lean, hard body glistening with sweat and
his face filled with boyish pleasure in his Work. That joy had infected
her, as well, even though she would never have expected to enjoy
pounding nails and painting.
And she couldn't forget that first weekend they'd spent there after the
cabin was finished. The drive out had been filled with a deliciously
sensual tension because they'd both known that they would be making love
for the first time. And so they had--endlessly, it seemed to her now.
Kate hauled herself out of those dangerous reminiscences and agreed to
let him drive her to the boot camp, telling herself that it was only
because her car was making ugly noises again.

As they were leaving the restaurant, two couples they knew came in.

As they all stood there talking, Kate felt wrapped in the soft warmth of
nostalgia. She didn't even move away when Sam's arm slipped casually
around her waist--even though later, she would curse herself for that
lapse, For all that had gone wrong in their marriage, there were some
things that had definitely been right. She loved talking to Sam. He was
a good listener and he had a wry way looking at life that stopped just
short of cynicism.
Stop it, she told herself firmly. i Instead of remembering the good,
focus on why you ended the marriage. You had good reasons, even if you
never could explain them.
They were just entering her neighborhood when a police car roared past
them, sirens wailing and lights flashing. It turned onto her street, and
as Sam followed it, she saw with horror that it appeared to have pulled
into her driveway.
By the time they reached the house, two officers, guns drawn, were
returning to their squad car after apparently circling the house. Sam
quickly climbed out of the car." As soon as Kate got over her shock, she
followed him. By now, she could hear the wail of the alarm system.
Sam opened the front door and stepped inside to switch off the system.
The two officers disappeared into the house and Kate joined Sam on the
"Did they see any sign of a break-in?" she asked, trying to stay calm
while she thought about some stranger going through her things.

Sam shook his head.

"They think he probably took off when the alarm was activated."
The two officers returned and informed them that there was no one in the
house. Then they all began to walk around the outside again. At the back
of the house, they found a crushed azalea- bush next to the foundation.
They all stared at it and then up at the roof of the small enclosed back
porch.
One of the cops asked if the second-floor windows were wired and Sam
said they were.

"Looks like he wasn't counting on that," the one officer observed.

"A lot of people don't bother with the second floor."
Kate had gone from fear to anger in the space of a few seconds. She felt
violated, even if no one had gotten in. And that azalea bush was a
particular favorite of hers. She'd planted it herself.
Sam was asking if there'd been other break-ins in the neighborhood and
the officers shook their heads. Then their portable radios began to
squawk and they both left in a hurry, after telling them they were
lucky.
Kate wasn't feeling lucky, however. At the moment, her anger had the
upper hand, but fear was beginning to crawl back into her mind, as well.
She was uneasily aware of the fact that the incidents were piling up,
building into a pattern that could no longer he ignored.
To her mind, at least, it was a very big leap from sending threatening
messages to trying to break into her house.

"It'll probably survive," Sam said, bending to examine the azalea bush.

"But it's not going to look too good for a while."
Kate merely nodded, staring up again at the porch roof and the back
bedroom window above it. She was recalling how she'd thought it an
unnecessary expense to have the upper windows wired.
Then Sam's arms were circling her from behind. His voice fell gently on
her ear.

"Don't let it get to you, Kitty-Kat. We'll get him."

She had to fight back a sob at his use of that term of endearment she
hadn't heard in three years. Sam had started to call her that not long
after they'd met, because he said that she could be soft and sweet, and
then suddenly unsheath some very sharp claws.
Once again fighting her way out of the past, Kate was about to protest
that it could have been an ordinary burglar when several of their
neighbors appeared. She saw the fearful looks on their faces and
wondered if they had reason to worry--or if she alone had been the
target.
The man across the street had just returned from walking his dog, when
he'd heard the alarm go off, but. he'd seen no one and couldn't remember
seeing any strange cars in the neighborhood, either.
Everyone confirmed what the police had said: there'd been no other
break-ins.
They went into the house and began to search for Reject, knowing that
the alarm would have terrified him. He was hiding under her bed, and
finally allowed himself to be coaxed out and mollified with an extra
helping of his favorite food.
"It could have been just your everyday burglar," Kate ventured as they
watehed Reject attack his food.
"Sure, and those threats could have been just some who haes reporters,"
Sam replied with mild mockery.
Kate sighed, knowing he was right. And that meant she had to tellhlrn
about the other incidents.
"A couple of other things have happened," she began, drawing his quick
attention. She told him about the calls and about the man in the parking
garage.
"I suppose the calls were intended to frighten me, but I don't
understand what he could have been doing in the garage."

Sam frowned.

"I don't want you driving your car again until we have someone look it
over."

"

" What do you mean?" she asked " I've driven it since then, and"--" He
could have done something to it that wouldn't be apparent right away.
We'll take it to the garage' tomorrow morning before we drive out to the
camp."
Kate shuddered inwardly. If anything had been done to her car, then that
meant that things were escalating rapidly.
"It did start to make a funny noise today, but I think
that might be the water pump."

"Oh?" Sam looked mildly amused.

"Since when did you acquire this expertise?"

"I had the same problem with my last car, and this sounds the same."

He asked for her keys and went out to check. Kate put on the kettle to
brew some tea. She hated to admit it, but she really was glad that Sam
was here.
She was still musing about how difficult it was to disconnect lives that
had been so intertwined when Sam came back in.
"It's the water pump, all right. You'd never have made it out there
tomorrow. So it'll need to go to the garage anyway, and we can have them
check everything out."
She merely nodded. She might be glad that he was here, but she certainly
wasn't about to tell him that.

"I

DIDN'T GET IN."

"Why not?"

"The place was wired. So I climbed up on the back porch roof to try an
upstairs window, but it was wired, too. I'm damned lucky I got away
before the cops got there."
"Well, we accomplished something even if you didn't get in. She's got to
he forming scared by now."

"

" Maybe, but there's something else."

"What's that?"

"Her ex-husband is back and I think he's staying there. I saw a
brand-new Porsche in the driveway when I went by to check out the place.
I rana make on the plates and it's his."

"Winters is back--permanently ?"

"I checked around and the word I got is that he's left CNN, so yeah,
he's probably. back to stay."

"That's a problem."

"No kidding! Her we could probably scare off, but not him. Maybe we'd
better lay off- for a while. She hasn't found out anything yet, right?"

"No, not yet."

"We'll just have to hope that Winters doesn't get interested."
"CAMPS GWE M TH HYVES," Sam said as they waited at the gate to New
Leaf while the guard checked her appointment. "My folks used to pack me
off to one each summer--a different one every year because none of them
would have me back."

"I doubt that this camp resembles any of them," Kate said dryly.

"If they'd existed back then, I would have been sent to one. Who owns
this place?"
"It's a private, nonprofit group. Some of their money comes through
court referrals and some comes from parents, but a lot of it comes from
foundations."
"They must do pretty well. The facilities are good and they have lots of
expensive equipment. Their director must be very skilled at soliciting
donations."
They were waved through the gate and proceeded up the long, winding
drive, lined on both sides by thick forest. The camp's buildings came
into view at the top of a hill. Kate pointed out the series of long, low
barracks and other buildings housing the administrative, classroom and
recreational facilities. In the distance were two large barns.
"Hup two, three, f0hr," Sam muttered as they passed a group of kids
marching in formation.

"They really mean it when they call them boot camps."

Ted Snyder, the director, was waiting for them when they reached the
administrative building. Kate introduced the two men, explaining that
she'd had last-minute car trouble and Sam had volunteered to drive her.
The director recognized Sam right away 'and the two men chatted for a
time before Kate got down to business.

"I'll be honest with you, Ted," she said.

"I'm going to have a real problem selling this story to my editor unless
I can come up with some reasons why your camp seems to work so much
better than the others." She went on,
"I know you told me when I was here before that it's the staff. But I
interviewed some of them, and although they're certainly bright and
dedicated, so were the staff at the other facility I visited in
Pennsylvania."
"I don't know what else to tell you, Kate. Maybe we're just more
selective when it comes to staff."
"What about the kids? Are you more selective there, as
well? ' He shook his head.
"We take what the courts send us, plus kids who are referred by their
parents. The only kids we've refused are ones who have serious mental
health problems that need more intensive treatment than our staff can
provide." ' They talked some more about the program, and then she asked
if he could give her the names of the kids who hadn't been helped. He'd
mentioned before that there'd been a few.
"Sure. I'll have to call their parents first, of course--to get their
permission. Why don't I have Barbara show you and Sam around while I try
to reach them?"
Barbara was his assistant, a bubbly young woman who was thrilled to meet
Sam and eager to show off the camp. While they waited for her to make a
phone call, Sam stared at the dosed door to Ted's office.

"He's a slick one. Not exactly what I'd expect in a place like this."

Kate nodded her agreement, but she had to admit that he'd been very
helpful.
Of course, he was undoubtedly eager to get publicity for the camp. He'd
told her before that they were trying to raise funds to expand.
Kate saw nothing new on this round of the camp. It did strike her,
however, that just by wtching the kids she could make a guess as to how
long they'd been there. The new ones still had that belligerent ok
that so often hid the pain of their lives, while the ones nearing the
end of their stay displayed the same quiet self-',ontainment that she'd
seen in the "graduates" she'd interviewed.
Then she remembered that one of those boys had told her how most of them
had begun to change after three months. She broke into the conversation
between Sam and their guide and asked if she could speak to one of the
counselors.
"Sure. Let me see who's free?" Barbara picked up a phone in the
classroom building and spoke to someone, then pointed toward a smaller
building across the way.

"Tony Disalvo's free. He said he talked to you before."

Kate remembered him. She'd liked him a lot and had thought that he was
probably very good at his job. So she left Sam and Barbara and went to
see him.
She told Tony about her interview with Duane Jones, the boy who'd told
her how the kids changed after three months.
"Yeah, he's right about that. Our psychiatrist calls it the 'threshold'
because that's the time when the barriers come down and you can really
start to have an impact. I saw it sometimes at the other camp I worked
at, but not like it happens here. There, you could pretty much predict
from day one which kids you'd be able to help."

"Where was this other camp?"

"Down near Richmond. I moved up here because my girffriend's from
Hagerstown. I worked there for two years, and believe me, we didn't have
the success rate we have here."
"What's the difference?" she asked, thinking that if anyone could help
her find it, it would be someone like Tony, who'd worked at another
camp.

gh.

"And I've thought a lot about it, too."
"But there has to he a difference, Tony," she persisted. "Ted Snyder
says it's the staff."

He shrugged.

"I don't' see much difference there. About the only difference I can see
is that they pay more attention to the kids' health. All the camps have
a eonsult'mg M.D. and some nurses, but here they're always checking the
kids.
That might make a difference, I suppose. A lot of the kids haven't
received good medical care and their diets were lousy. Here they get
lots of medical. attention and they all take vitamins."
Kate jotted that information down, although she couldn't really see its
relevance. She knew that the camps were required by law to provide
medical care and to have a licensed dietician on staff. She was about to
ask Tony for the name of the other camp when he spoke again in a musing
tone.
"The other counselors think I'm nuts for questioning why this place
works so well, but I can't help wondering. My work would
be a lot more satisfying if I could come up with a reason for its
success. Sometunes, when I see a kid I'd thought wouldn't have a chance
suddenly start to change, it feels almost eerie."

Kate sat there thinking for a moment.

"You know, I just might look into the medical part of it. Maybe there/s
something to it. There've certainly been studies done showing how
nutrition affects children's ability to learn."
She got the name of the other camp from Tony and then returned to the
administration building to wait for Sam. She was thinking about Tony's
description of the change in the kids as be' rag "almost eerie." That's
how she'd reacted after interviewing the three "graduates." They'd all
struck her as being far too controlled and self-contained, and at least
two of the parents had expressed the same thoughts, though of course
they were grateful for the transformations.
The offices were empty and she realized that it was lunchtime. Hoping
that Ted Snyder might have left the list of kids who hadn't made it,
Kate stepped into his office.
She didn't see any list, but there were three files on his desk. Her
reporter's nosiness got the better of her and she started to flip
through them. But she hadn't yet gotten through the first one when she
heard someone come into the outer office She hurriedly read on.
At the end of the typed discharge form someone had written in red ink:
"Classification One."
Curious, she quickly checked the last page in the other two files, but
found no sunilar statement. Then she left the office and found Sam and
Barbara coming down the hallway.
"It looks like everyone's gone to lunch," she told them. "I was just
checking to see if Ted left me the list he prom" Maybe it's o his
secretary's desk," Barbara suggested, then picked up an envelope with
Kate's name on it. s'we'd he happy to have you join us for lunch."
The invitation presumably included her, as well, but Barbara was looking
at Sam when she issued it. Sam thanked her and said that they were
planning to stop at his cabin while they were in the area, and would
just pick up something in town.
As soon as they were in Sam's ear, Kate opened the envelope Ted Snyder
had left for her. There were two names in it, complete with addresses
and phone numbers and a note from Ted saying that the parents were
willing to talk with her. She saw immediately that the boy whose file
had been marked "Classification One" was not included.
Before her memory could fail her, she wrote down his name and what she
remembered of his address in Baltimore.
While Sam talked about the camp, Kate wondered why that boy hadn't been
included." That red ink notation kept bothering her. It could just be
that Snyder had been unable to reach the family, or perhaps he had
reached them, but they didn't want to talk to a reporter.

"Sam, would you mind stopping at that gas station so I can make a call?"

He pulled into the station and she hurried over to the pay phone,
grateful that his car phone hadn't been activated yet. She hadn't minded
Sam's coming out here with her, but now that she began to smell a
possle story, that had changed, Directory assistance yielded a Mary
Scofield at the street address Kate had recalled. After two rings, a
woman's voice answered. Kate had intended only to see if the woman was
home, but now that she was, she couldn't resist taking it a bit further.
She confirmed that she was speaking to Mrs. Scofield, then said she was
Barbara, from New Leaf, hoping that the woman didn't know Snyder's
assist am well enough to recognize her voice.
"A reporter for the I4shington Post is planning to do a story on the
camp, Mrs. Scofield, and we were wondering if? you'd be willing to talk
to her."
There was a long pause and Kate nearly hung up, that the woman knew she
was lying. Then the woman suddenly spoke in a torrent of angry words.
"I told you people I don't want nothin' to do with you anymore. And I've
had my fill of reporters, too." Then she slammed down the phone before
Kate could get in another -word.
Kate stood there, frowning. It sounded as though Ted
Snyder had in fact contacted her. But what was that business about
having her "fill of reporters" She glanced back at Sam and signalled'
that she had one more call to make, then dug out her address book A
friend from grad school worked for the Baltimore Sun.
Unfortunately, she wasn't in. Kate decided not to leave a message on her
voice mad, since she wasn't sure when she'd be home. Then she returned
to the car, lost in thought. "What's wrong?" Sam-asked as he pulled out.
"Nothing," she said. Then, knowing that wouldn't be enough, she spun a
tale about another story she was working on and her inab'dity to verify
some facts. Apart of her actually wanted Sam's take on this, but a
larger part was determined to keep him out of this story.
KAT WARRED TO LEAVE the moment she saw the cabin nes-fled in the tall
pines.
She glanced over at Sam, then looked away quickly. She couldn't really
accuse him of having any ulterior motives because she knew how much he
loved the place. But if there was one spot she didn't want to be with
him, this was it.
Before going inside, he circled the new addition and pronounced himself
well pleased with his brother's work. Kate knew Rob would be happy to
hear that.
He was the classic younger brother who idolized his older sling, even
though he was a highly successful attorney himself.
They entered the cabin and Sam commented on the changes as he walked
around.
Kate saw again that boyish pleasure she associated so strongly with him
in this place, and for some. reason, she found herself thinking about
the other night when she'd crept down the stairs to find him in the
living room with Reject.
These were the memories of Sam that she'd tried so hard to suppress for
three years--these times when he seemed almost vulnerable. It made her
uneasy to be coming back with him now.
SAM WANTED TO T. L HR how happy he was to be here with her again, but
as they sat on the screened porch eating their sandwiches, he just
couldn't do it. He wasn't certain how she'd take such a statement.
Unfortunately, he wasn't certain about much of anything these
days--except that he had to find a way to win her back.
Through all his travels as a war correspondent for the past three years,
she'd always been with him. Sometimes her presence had been so strong
that he'd found himself talking to her--even supplying her side of the
conversation as well as his own.
Now he was back home and he felt as though he were still in a battle
zone with no one to guide him through treacherous mine fields It was
just his luck to arrive at the worst possle time. She resented his
involvement in her story. Yet he couldn't help becoming involved because
if someone was threatening her, he was threatening both of them.
He slanted a glance at her, and a wave of desire so powerful that it was
far more than sexual hunger swept over him. Kate was a part of him, his
soul mate. Other women might have satisfied his physical cravings from.
time to time, but only she could make. him feel whole.
He thought about that first weekend they'd spent here, just after the
cabin was completed. He thought they had an understanding, but the
closer they came to their destination, the more uncertain' he'd become.
By the time they arrived, he was wondering how he was going to spend a
weekend here without touching her.
It was late and they were both tired. He built a fire, then decided that
the champagne he'd brought had better wait. He'd kept it cold in an ice
chest and had then put it in the refrigerator without mentioning it to
her.
Then, as he sat there in front of the fire, amazed that could be feeling
so tongue-tied and nervous, Kate had walked in, carrying the champagne.
"You forgot the glasses and the caviar," she'd said. "But you don't even
like caviar," he'd protested.
"I know, but there are some occasions that definitely call She'd stood
there, clutching the bottle and smiling at him with her soft mouth and
those big brown-green eyes.
"This just won't work, Sam. You see, I have this fantasy about being
naked before a fire, drinking champ ague and eating caviar."
They'd gotten naked in one big hurry, and afterward they'd drunk the
champ ague right out of the bottle. She hadn't missed the caviar at all.
KATE Ttmmm TO SAM to say that she wanted to go for a walk before they
returned to Washington, but the words died on her lips when she saw the
expression on his face--a faint smile playing. across his wide mouth
and a faraway look in his blue eyes.
She knew instantly what he was thinking--or rather, re-mere bering She
knew because the same thoughts were crowding her mind, almost as though
they had a tangible presence. Memories of love still haunted thi. q
place, stronger here than in the house they'd shared.
Maybe it was because they'd never fought at the cabin. By unspoken
agreement, they'd always left their battles back in Washington along
with the pressures of their work.
He blinked, suddenly aware that she was watching him, and she made her
announcement, then got up and started off the porch. He followed her and
they set out into the woods, climbing the hill behind the cabin to a
spot that afforded a nearly unobstructed view of the valley.
The final part of the climb was very steep and they reached the top
somewhat out of breath, with Sam joking that maybe she'd been right
about approaching middle age.
Kate felt a strange pang of regret that she'd teased him about it. He
was six years older than her, and now, for some reason she couldn't
fathom, the fact that he was nearly forty bothered her--as though she,
too, were approaching some sort of watershed.
They stood there side by side, staring down at the cabin and the valley.
1-70, the road that led back to Washington, was just barely visible in
the distance. Their hands brushed casually, and Sam curved his about
hers warmly. His hand was harder, more callused than she remembered, and
she 'thought again about the life he'd led these past few years. She
wanted to ask him about it, but the subject seemed very dangerous,
though she wasn't sure why.
He commented on the development that had taken place since they were
last here and she turned to him. The breeze seemed to have snatched away
his words--and her breath, as well. His eyes were searching her face
with a fierce intensity, as though he were reading and interpreting the
movements of all the thousand tiny muscles.
And then she was in his- arms and he was in hers, and neither of them
could have said who made the first move. Time sun ply blinked. One
moment, they were standing there uncertainly, and in the next, their
bodies were curved about each other in welcome familiarity.
She felt the wonderful warmth of his lips even before they touched hers.
For a man who could often seem arrogant and hard-driving and all the
other traits one associates with masculinity, Sam was amazingly gentle
in his lovemaking-even when, as now, she could feel the force of his
desire.
A part of Kate responded with a surge of triumph. He still loved her;
she was sure of that now. But another part of her still wanted that
uncertainty because it meant she wouldn't have to confront her own
feelings.
She arched to him, welcoming that powerfully erotic sensation of
stra/geness and familiarity--the strangeness arising from a three-year
separation, the familiarity from knowing just how it would he.
But then, to her astonishment, he backed off, not letting go of her
completely, but putting a small spae between them as he smiled
crookedly at her.

"This is a dangerous place."

She nodded.

"We were always happy here," she replied with a tiny catch in her voice.

She waited for him to aslc the obvious question--why hadn't they been
happy elsewhere? But he didn't ask. Instead, he merely nodded and took
her hand to lead her back down the hill.
On the way back to Washington, her uncertainty
returned.
Had his kiss merely been a nostalgic trip back in time? Maybe she was
wrong. Maybe he didn't love her anymore. It was much better that way,
but.

"His NAM IS Charles Scofield."

"Ohv' " Do you recognize the name?" Kate asked, certain that Carlie did.
She had waited until Sam went out to visit some friends and had reached
her friend from the Sun at home." Sure. The story probably made the
Post, too.

"

"I hate to admit this, but I don't always read it cover to cover.

What happened?"

"He went berserk at school about a month ago and attacked some students
and a couple of teachers with a knife. That sort of thing is hardly news
anymore, but what really made this a big story was that the kid had been
a model student ever since he'd gotten back from one of those boot
camps."

"New Leaf," Kate said, her mind spinning.

"Right. I couldn't remember the name of the place. It's in the western
part of the state somewhere, and it's supposed to have a really great
reputation, from what I've heard.
"Anyway, everyone was shocked. My friend who covered the story said that
his teachers had been amazed at how much he'd changed, and there was
apparently no indication beforehand that something had gone wrong. He
was doing well in school and staying out of trouble. What's your
interest in him?"
"I'm doing a story on boot camps--or rather, I'm following up on an
earlier story. Someone told me about New Leaf and I've been out there a
couple of times. Charles Scofield's name came up, and I got the
impression that he was one of their failures."

"You sure could say that," Carlie responded dryly.

"No one was killed, but one of the teachers suffered some permanent
damage to his arm from the knife wound. A couple of teachers and a
custodian managed to subdue him and hold him for the police. He was sent
to a psychiatric fac'!ity and could still be there. Apparently, he was
so uncontrollably violent that they couldn't put him in the regular
juvenile detention center.
"We did a big story the day it happened and a follow-up in the Sunday
edition. I'll fax them both to. you if you want, and you can talk to Jay
Richards. He's the one who wrote both stories."
Kate thanked her and gave her the Post's fax number. Then they chatted
for a time about other things. Kate told her that Sam was back and
staying with her temporarily.

"Sam the Hunk," Carlie sighed.

"You were crazy to let him go, girl.
Every time I saw him on C1N-N, I wondered how you could be so crazy,"
But after she'd hung up, Kate wasn't thinking about her own craziness.
Instead, she was thinking about Charles: Scofield--an outstanding
graduate of New Leaf who'd really gone crazy--and about that red
notation on his pounds le "Classification One."
Suddenly, the New Leaf story was crowding else from her mind--even those
anonymous threats.

Chapter Four.

"What is that?" Kate asked, staring at the thing Sam dropped beside her
computer.

"It's very interesting is what it is," he replied.

"To you, maybe." She picked it up and handed it back to him.

"I have a deadline. You remember them, don't you?"

"Fine. Then I'll just take it to Damon." He started out of her cubicle.

"Wait a minute!" She knew that annoyingly reasonable tone of voice.

Alarm bells began to go off in her head.
"I'll give you a hint," he said, tossing the small object from one hand
to the other.

"Greg found it when he was checking out your car.

He replaced the water pump, and it also needs a new clutch."
"I already knew that. He can replace it anytime--as long as it doesn't
cost more than fifty dollars."
"In your dreams, sweetheart. Of course, you could just bat those
gorgeous eyes at him. He always did have a thing for you."
"And I always had a secret lech for balding, middle-aged men with grease
under their fingernails. What is that thing, Sam--and why should Damon
be interested in it?"
"Because it's not exactly standard equipment for a car. It's a
transmitter."

"A what? You mean a bug?" She stared at it in growing horror.

"That's right. A good one, too. I stopped to see a guy who knows about
such things. He's former Secret Service."
"The man in the garage," Kate said as her feelings shifted abruptly to
anger.
He hadn't been trying to break into a car. Instead, he'd been bugging
one--hers.

"Give the lady a gold star. What the hell is going on here, Kale?"

"I don't know, but don't tell Damon about it. I want this story,
Sam--whatever it is."
"Right. Maybe you could give a whole new meaning to the term
'ghostwriter." This is serious, Kate. Damon needs to know."

"He'll take me off it."

Sam stared at her.

"Okay, I won't tell him--under one condition."

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.
"That you stop treating me like a competitor and tell me everything you
know."
She smacked her hand against the top of her desk. "You're do' rag it
again, Sam--taking over! Go find yourself a war somewhere--in
Antarctica, maybe."
"That's the condition," he replied smugly. "Then I'll just take my
chances with Damon."
"No, you won't because it won't do you any good, If you persuade him to
let you stay with the story, III persua e him to let me continue, too.
The Post really wants my column."
"I think just maybe that I could learn to really " As opposed to what?"
he asked, arching a brow.
They stared at each other in silence--a silence filled with the memory
of that earlier kiss. And too many other memories as well--memories of
arguments followed by fierce lovemaking. Sometimes it seemed to Kate
that whole marriage had been composed of noisy arguments that hadn't
quite burned themselves out before the two of them landed in bed
together. Except that they often made it to bed.

It's the excitement that I miss, she told herself--and that's sick.

Marriage isn't supposed to be that way. Couples aren't , supposed to
spend half their time fighting and the other half making up.

She abruptly turned back to her computer.

"I have work to do. We'll talk about it at home."
He left her office and Kate stared blankly at the screen, her final
words echoing through her mind. At home. It sounded as though they were
married again, instead of merely sharing a house. She made a sound of
disgust and turned back to her story.
"I  w SHOULD PUT the transmitter back on my car. It's the only way
we're going to find out who's following me--and why."

Sam ran a hand through his thick hair "Yeah, but I don't like it.

And it wouldn't be Newbury or Armistead in any event. You can bet that
they've hired some slug who Can't be traced back to them." He heaved a
sigh.

"On the other hand, if we trash the bug, they could get even nastier."

"Exactly. So we let them follow me." She paused.

"I've been thinking.

If they're following me, then they probably know that you're here, too.
And, although it pains me to have to say it, they're going to see you as
being more of a threat than I am?"

He nodded.

"I already checked the Porsche. There's no bug on it yet."
"But they wouldn't have any problem getting to it, with it parked in the
driveway. I think you'd better keep it in the garage.
"I just don't understand what's going on here, Sam. Dammit, if my life
is in danger, I have the right to know why. At the moment, all we've got
are loose ends. An intern Who might or might not have been killed
because he stumbled onto something, a slime ball congressman and his
equally slimy chief of staff, and upcoming heatings on drug
legalizafion."
"Okay. So it's time to start pulling on those loose ends and see what
happens."
"With Newbury and Armistead, that's easy--at least in theory. We just
apply the first rule of journalism."
"Follow the money," they both said simultaneously." But Newbury's
already been investigated up and down and sideways." She sighed.

"Everyone knows he's crooked, but no one can pin anything on him."

"Except that in this case, we can make the assumption that it has to do
with the drug legalization thing."
"Right. That's why I have an appointment tomorrow at Brookings, to talk
with their drug-policy expert."

"Good thinking," Sam said, nodding.

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."
She hurried upstairs to her home office, leaving Sam to finish up in the
kitchen without a shred of guilt, even though he'd prepared dinner for
them both in her kitchen, claiming that the tiny kitchen downstairs
wasn't adequate for serious cooking. Clearly, she was giving up her
foolish hope that they could share the house for a while and keep their
lives separate.
One month, she told herself. They could work on-this story and then he
could find his own place and they go their separate ways. But that was
already beginning sound just as foolish.
A few minutes later, she was on the phone with the porter from the
Baltimore Sun who'd written the story Charles Scofield, the New Leaf
graduate who'd serk.
"Is there anything you can tell me that wasn't in story? she asked after
she'd explained her interest. you know how he's doing now?"
"I haven't talked to him, but my contact at the described him as being a
total basket case. I mean, the gone completely haywire."

"What's their theory about why it happened?"

"The social worker I know there said that he'd had a tal psychotic
breakdown, and they don't know what gered it. They think it's possible
that it could be the result of trying to stay straight in the
environment that trouble in the first place. She also said that he
hasn't sponded yet to any of the drugs they've tried on him."

"Did he have a history of mental illness?" Kate asked.

"I mean, I know he was getting into trouble before, but that doesn't
necessarily mean that he's mentally ill." She knew enough about such
kids to understand that their delinquent behavior was often a perfectly
normal response to their terrible environments--a way of surviving on
the streets.
"His mother says that he's never had any mental problems, and there's no
history of it in the family, either. She said that he just fell in with
a bad crowd, and as far as I could tell, that's true."

"Do you think his mother would talk to me?"

"I could ask her. We got along pretty well. It was just when all the
others started to show up--especially the TV types--that she clammed
up."
Kate thanked him and asked him to make the call. The New Leaf story
interested her, but it was hard for her to focus on it at the moment,
even though her instincts told her that she might have something here.
She turned her thoughts back to the dead intern. Whoever had put the bug
in her car wasn't likely to know that it was Sam--not her--who was
pursuing that particular story right now: And that still seemed to her
to be the most promising one to follow up on at this point.
Sam's involvement didn't please her at all, since she didn't want him to
get the story, even if she was the one who'd write it.
"I'm going out for a while," Sam said, suddenly appearing in the doorway
and interrupting her thoughts.
"where?" she demanded, immediately suspecting that he'd kep(something
from her.
"Well, there's this gorgeous blonde who's lusting after my body," Sam
said dryly.

"Anyway, I thought I was just a tenant here."

"You are. I just thought maybe it had something to do with the story."
"And maybe your phone call that you couldn't make from the kitchen did,
too."
"My phone call had nothing to do with this story," she stated
firmly--and honestly.

"The Brit?"

"Not him, either. You haven't answered my question, Sam."

"You don't believe me about the blonde?"

"No."

"Why not? You made some remark before about my love life."

"I don't care about your love life. Just don't bring anyone back here."
Sam leaned against the doorframe. That slow smile she loved and hated
slid over his face.

"I could say the same for you."

"It's my house, and I can bring anyone here I want to."
"Not to my bed, you can't." The bedroom furniture longed to him. It was
among the antiques he'd left temporarily with her.
"Then 'take your damned bed," she said hotly, wondering how she'd let
herself get caught up in this absurd discussion. There weren't any
lovers. She'd never brought anyone to the bed she'd once shared with
him.

The smile remained on his face.

"This could get to pretty frustrating, you know. We.used to way of
ending our arguments."

She forced herself to meet his gaze, but her eyes slid quickly.

"If we had such a good way of end inc wouldn't be divorced," she replied
coldly.

"Just alone, Sam."

"That's what I've been doing, but it ain't easy. I wanted you to
knov/that."

She refused to take that bait.

yet to admitting that he still had feelings for her, and best efforts
notwithstanding, that certainty sent of heat through her.
"I am going to meet a woman, but I don't a blonde, gorgeous or
otherwise.
She was a classmate Crawford's at the University of Virginia, and she
tern ship the same time he did.

She said that they met larly to talk about their jobs."

"I'm coming with you," Kate said, you find her?"
"I just checked to see if there was another intern from the university
that summer who might still he in the area. She's working at HUD now.
She's living out in Rockville, and I'm meeting her at a diner there.
Now that I think about it, it really might be a good idea for you to
come with me. You can take your car, and I'll follow.

That way, I can see if anyone is tailing you."

"The Porsche isn't exactly unobtrusive," she reminded him.
"Yeah, but if anyone is tailing you, he isn't likely to be paying
attention to someone following him." Just drive the way you usually do,
and that should keep him busy."
SAM FOLLOWED THE TOYOTA onto New Hampshire, then onto Sixteenth and
north past Walter Reed hospital, staying four or five cars behind, but
still noticing that her right rear brake light wasn't working.
Considering Kate's style of driving, that would make it easier to keep
her in sight. They'd agreed on a circuitous route to Rockville, staying
off the beltway, where it would be more difficult to spot a tail.
He was fighting all his instincts, which were screaming at him not to
allow Kate to become involved in this. But those protective urges had
gotten him into this situation to begin with--or so he thought. When she
hadn't been busy resenting his superior position at the Post, Kate had
spent her time rebelling against his perfectly normal male urge to
protect her--sometimes from herself.
It was one of the many ironies of their life together. isam loved her
for her dedication to her work, and for the reckless abandon with which
she pursued a story. And yet the very things for which he loved her were
the things that frightened him--and then got him into trouble.
A half block ahead of him, Kate suddenly braked sharply, causing the van
behind her to do likewise. Then she slipped into the left lane, nearly
crossing the path of a Corvette, and finally made a turn onto a side
street.
He winced, moving over more gradually himself, then turning after her.
Just as he made the turn, he saw a dark van pull into the left lane and
turn at the next intersection. Something was stenciled on its side, but
he couldn't make out what it was. It looked like the kind of van used by
many small businesses, and the turn probably meant nothing, but he would
keep an eye out for it. According to his source, the bug on Kate's car
had good range, so the chase vehicle could have picked her up just about
anywhere, rather than waiting near her house, where it would be more
likely to be spotted.
Ahead of him, Kate spent the next five or six blocks making random
turns, angling over toward Georgia Avenue, heading toward Wheaton.
They were probably going to be late for his appointment, and he hoped
that the woman would wait. Probably she would. His name should be
sufficient to guarantee that.
Then they were on Oeorg'm, in heavy traffic once again. Sam dropped back
several blocks and watched the traffic between them. Suddenly, the van
was there again, pulling out from the curb a few cars behind her. He
couldn't be absolutely certain that it was the same van, but be thought
it Was.
Cursing the fact that his phone wasn't working yet, hit the accelerator.
The Porsche responded with a low He glanced around for cops as the car
picked up They'd agreed that if he spotted a tail, her, and that would
be a signal for her to follow him. should also afford him the
opportunity to get a better at the van that was now about a half block
behind her traffic began to thin out a bit. They passed under the
way--Kate driving about ten miles over the speed limit van following and
Sam trailing a few cars behind.
The refrain from one of their favorite movies mind: "Who are those
guys?"
KATE THOUGHT SHE SAW the Porsche's headlights a blocks back, moving up
fast.
Did that mean that spotted a tail? She wished he could reach her on his
phone. He'd said he would take care of it tomorrow, but a lot of good
that did them now.
Traffic thinned out after they passed under the and Kate eased the Sam's
though he were there beside her. He owned powerful sports cars, but she
was the one who drove fast.
She glanced again in her rearview mirror, but none of the vehicles
behind her looked familiar--except maybe for that dark van. She thought
she'd seen it earlier, but it was too common for her to be sure. There
had to be a gazillion of those things running round the District.
Sam was definitely back there, she saw now--about four cars behind the
van and gaining. She eased off the gas a bit more. Two of the cars
between her and the van began to pull out into the left lane at the same
time. She cried out involuntarily as they collided with a screech of
useless brakes and a crunch of sl. Sam was behind them in the left
lane. The van narrowly avoided being caught up in the crash, skirting
the vehicles just before one of them came to a stop sideways on the
four-lane road.
Kate continued on slowly, the van now directly behind her but
maintaining its distance. Sam was nowhere to be seen as she headed into
Wheaton. She glanced at her watch. They were already late for their
meeting. No doubt the woman would wait for a while because it was Sam
who'd contacted her, but she couldn't count on that.
Determined now to see if the van was in fact following her, Kate bemoan
a series of random turns, keeping to the general diredtion of Rockville.
The residential area was relatively free of traffic, and before long,
Kate passed through an intersection and saw the van, now with its lights
off, parked at a bus stop. It didn't pull out right away, but if it was
tracking on her transmitter, that wouldn't be necessary. Neither, she
realized, were her evasive maneuvers likely to be effective.
For the next fifteen minutes, Kate drove around and around, watching for
the van. Then, when she didn't see it, she took a more direct route to
Rockville. Still no sign of either the van or of Sam, who had obviously
been slowed' down by the accident.
She found the diner, then drove past' it. It wouldn't be very bright to
lead her tail--if he existed--right to the meeting place. Two blocks
away, she saw a large shopping center. The supermarket, a video store
and a multiplex theater were still open. She pulled into a thick
cluster of cars in front of the supermarket and got out, torn between an
urgent need to keep their appointment and a desire to wait and see if
the van showed up.
The video store had big plate-glass windows, most of which were covered
with film posters. She decided to go in there and wait for a few
minutes. The shelves of videos near the front displayed action films,
and she pretended to scan them, not unaware of the irony.

Steven Seagal and Arnold Schwarzenegger had nothing on her.

She was about to give up when a dark van pulled into the lot, moving
fast.
It passed near the store, but she self concealed behind one of the
posters.
When peeked out, it had stopped in a far corner of the squinted, but the
light there wasn't good enough for make out the lettering on the side.
It definitely some sort of bus' mess name, though.
Realizing that she was now trapped in the store, Kate pro ached the
young clerk and inquired if there was door she could use.

"Someone's following me," plained.

"It's an old boyfriend I don't want to see now."
The clerk pointed her toward the rear of the store, an alcove held
X-rated films.

"Right through can call the police if you want."

"No, he'd just deny that he's following me. I'll be fine have a friend
in the neighborhood--someone he know about. But if anyone comes in and
describes please say you haven't seen me." - The clerk assured her that
he would and Kate through the X-rated section, receiving stares and a
few looks from the male patrons there. Pond scum, she with disgust as
she saw the collection of titles every form of perversity known to man.
If she hurry, she'd hang around and really make them nervous Instead,
she let herself out the rear door and self in a smaller parking area,
with that was a strip of open land and then some streets that backed up
against the shopping center.
She unzipped her bag and felt around until she found the
can of MacE, then clutched it in her hand and took off through the
weed-choked lot, wishing that Sam were with her now and then hating
herself for wanting that.
By the time she reached the diner, she was certain that she'd lost her
tail.
She'd been hoping to find Sam there, but the Porsche was nowhere in
evidence.
So she went into the diner and paused, looking around for a single young
woman and then spotting one in a booth toward the rear.
Kate smiled to herself as she recalled Sam's words. The young woman was
blond, and while she couldn't quite be called gorgeous, she was
certainly attractive." And about to be very disappo'mted when CNN's
super stud didn't show up.

"Hi. I'm Kate Stevens. Are you waiting for Sam Winters?"

The woman said that she was, and her blue eyes dartxl around the.

diner hopefully.

"He should be here soon," Kate told her, not waiting for an invitation
before slid' rag into the booth.

"We came in separate cars and he was delayed because of an accident."

An accident that I probably caused, she thought, hoping that no one had
been injured. Still, it wasn't technically her fault.

"He was in an accident?" the blonde echoed, her eyes huge.

"No, he was just behind it. We're working together on a story, and he
suggested I join him for this meeting."
Kate hid her smile at the woman's obvious disappointment. There went the
dream of a romantic encounter in a diner with Sam the Stud. She wondered
if she should tell the woman that she was Sam'sex-wife, and decided
against it.
The waitress came and Kate ordered a coffee and a piece of the
luscious-looking cheese make she'd seen in a case near the door,
dripping with huge strawberries. She wondered where Sam was. Maybe he'd
been forced to wait for the police to arrive, since he was a witness. Or
maybe he just couldn't get past the wreckage.
As they waited, Kate made small talk with the woman, whose name was
Carole Talbott. Then suddenly, Carole's glum expression was transformed,
and Kate didn't have to turn around to see that Sam-had arrived at last.
Women had been attracted to Sam even before his face began to appear on
TV, but she knew it had grown worse since then. Once again, she thought
about telling Carole that she was Sam'sex--if for no other reason than
to let her know that not all women found him irresistible.
Sam slid into the booth beside her without waiting for her to move over,
and in that brief contact her smug thoughts were stripped away.
She shrank into the corner and waited for her body to begin obeying her
brain. Meanwhile, Sam was Joe Cool, introdue'mg himself to Carole as
though she didn't know who he was, and apologize? ing for being late.
Then Sam eyed her cheesecake and commented no wonder her refrigerator
contained nothing but Lean Cuisine frozen dinners. Kate ignored him and
took a bite, but when she saw Carole's glance go from her to Sam she
wondered if his comment had been intended to slxate a relationship
between them--intimacy by tot, as it were. It wouldn't be the first time
Sam such a thing. Before they were married, he'd always aged somehow to
establish their relationship any other woman showed an interest in
him--which was quite often.
The waitress reappeared and Sam ordered coffee, t picked up the fork in
front of him and began to help self to her cheesecake. Kate thought he
was carrying lit a far this time.
"We're divorced," she announced to "Oh!" Carole stared from one to the
other in "We really hate each other, but we put on Sam told her, giving
her his dling TV smile..:: After Sam's coffee arrived, they quickly
bus' mess Carole had told Sam very little over the Kate soon found out
as usual, right on target. She'd met James Crawford work only a few days
before his death.

"Jamey wasn't much of a drinker," she told them.

he got a little buzzed that night. He even asked. me to him home. I knew
something was really bothering every time I asked, he just said he
couldn't tell me--that could for me to know."

"Tell us what he did talk about," Sam urged her.

"Maybe there's a clue in there somewhere."
"All he said was that there was something he was probably going to have
to do, and it could really cause him trouble in his career, so he had to
be careful.
"I asked if there was anyone be could talk it over with, and he said he
was going to see Professor Jacobs, his adviser, as soon as he got back.
He was away at a conference or something. But I know he never talked to
him, because I called Professor Jacobs afterward."
"It sounds to me as if you don't believe that James was killed by a
mugger," Kate commented.

Carole sighed.

"I don't know. It just seemed too coincidental. I mean, Jamey was really
wired that last time I saw him--almost paranoid. He insisted that we
meet at this place in Tacoma Park, instead of where we usually met--a
bar near the Hill. And even then, he kept watching the door as though he
expected to be followed or something."

She frowned.

"I remember that when we left and were walking toward his car, he
suddenly stopped--sort of froze--and swore. Then he relaxed and we went
on. The only other person in the lot was a man walking toward the bar,
and it seemed to me that Jamey must have mistaken him for someone else."

"What did he look like?" Sam and Kate asked simultaneously.

"It was so long ago," it hard to re ember I think he was kind of tall
and sort of wiry--you know, like a runner. That look anyway. And I
remember that he was bald--or nearly bald, I remember that because the
lights from the bar were reflecting off his head."
Kate and Sam exchanged glances. The description fitted Armistead to a
tee.

But neither of them said a thing.

"Do you know what Jamey was doing for Congressman Newbury?" Kate asked.
"Not much, from what he told me. He wasn't very happy about being stuck
with Newbury to begin with, because everyone knows his reputation. But
still, he's important and Jamey thought that would at least mean that
he'd get to work on some interesting stuff. But as it turned out, even
though the guy I worked for wasn't as influential, I was the one who
worked on the interesting projects.
"Jamey said that he spent a lot of his time sitting in On boring
hearings that Newbury didn't want to attend, and taking notes for him.
But according to him, that was better than spending his days at a
computer, which is what they'd have had him do if they'd known how good
he was."
Kate felt Sam's sudden alertness even before he spoke, asking just how
good Jamey was on computers.
"He was a real hacker. He told me that he'd gotten into trouble in high
school when he and a couple of his friends tapped into some networks
illegally. He never did anything wrong, but he just couldn't resist
trying to get into restricted systems. It was a game for him, a
challenge."
"And you're saying that the people in Newbury's office didn't know he
had these skills?" Sam asked.

"No, they didn't."

"Did he ever say that he might have been doing hacking in Newbury's
office?" Kate asked, by now as trigued as Sam was.
"Well, he never actually said that he was, but I impression he might
have been, when no one was " WH]me'S YOUR CAR?" Sam asked the moment
they'd good-night t9 Carole.

Kate eplained.

"Did you see the van?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah, but I never got close enough to{ the license number or see what
it said on the to that accident."

"Was anyone injured?" she asked fearfully.

"No. It looked worse than it actually was. But your was taken in vain a
few times--or your car was He shook his head.

"It's a miracle that you haven't yourself killed."

"Maybe my luck is about to run out," she xeplied, thinking about the
van.
"Not if I can help it," Sam replied, wrapping his hand briefly around
her neck in an old gesture of affection "Come on. Let's go get your
car."
She dimbed into the Porsche, thinking that Sam was too
entirely too blas6 about all this. Was it an act--or had he really
changed?
She'd hated his protectiveness, but she wasn't sure she liked-its
absence, either.
They both agreed that it was looking more than likely that Crawford had
been killed for his knowledge, not his few dollars.

"He must have discovered something in the computer," Kate said.

"But would Newbury and Armistead be dumb enough to leave anything
incriminating in the computer?"
"They might be, if one of them fancied himself a real expert and thought
he could bury it well enough."

"But that would mean that they discovered what Crawford had done."

"Right. They could have caught him in the act--or else he left his
prints all over it."

"What do you mean?"

"If Crawford broke into a restricted file, he might have tripped up and
left evidence of his hacking."
"Oh." Kate was fairly good with computers, but she certainly wasn't a
hacker. Neither was Sam, although she now recalled that he'd done a
series of articles on illegal hacking into sensitive government files.
"The problem with hackers--and what usually gets them into trouble--is
that they tend to think they're smarter than anyone else.
So Armistead, or whoever, could have thought he had set up a file no one
else could access, and then Crawford figured he could get in and out
without leaving any sign that he'd been there."

"Do you think we should take this information to Detective Coldron?"

Sam shook his head.
"Not yet. I think I'll rattle Armi-stead's cage a bit first. I'll start
asking around about his computer skills, and make sure that word gets
back to him. If we're right, he's going to get real scared real fast."
He glanced briefly at her as they pulled into the lot where her car was
parked.
"I'll also make sure that word gets to them that I'm the one nosing into
this. That'll take the heat off you."

"You'll probably have Armistead wetting his pants," she muttered.

"With me, he's likely to be only mildly nervolis."
"Don't sell yourself short. He's obviously taking you seriously enough
to have hired someone to bug your car and follow you."
He pulled up beside her car, then reached into the glove eompahuent and
took out a flashlight.

"What's that for?" she asked as he started toward her car.

"I just wanted to check it before you start it," he replied, then
dropped to the pavement and disappeared beneath the Toyota.

"Check it for what?" she demanded,.

He didn't answer her. After a few moments, back out and told her to
unlock the door and pop She did as he asked and repeated her question as
to explore the engine.

"Sam!" she gasped as the reason for his behavior edly dawned on her.

"Are you looking for a bomb?"

He slammed down the hood and switched off the light.

"Jt being careful. I don't think they'd go that far. but I thought they
might have done something the brake lines."

She stared at the car. Are you sure that they didn't something?"

"Aboutninety-nine percent keys to the Porsche and took her keys.

"You drive Porsche. Follow me--and try to restrain yourself."

"I can't do much else if I'm following you," she bled, thinking that he
was being overly dramatic. of thinking, there was a big difference
between just ing someone to see what they were doing and who they
talking to, and actually trying to hurt or kill that person.
On the other hand, though, if Newbury were responsible for Crawford's
death, then they ready killed to protect their secret--whatever it was.
JAMES WALDF-, Brookings'sexpert on drug policy, tied into his chair
like a man settling down for a discussion on his favorite topic. The
difference betveen people like him, who could examine things at their
leisure, and a reporter with a deadline was a constant aggravation to
Kate--even though she didn't actually have a deadline at this point.
Maybe she didn't even have a story.
"Well," he began, "as you probably know, drug legalization is an
interesting issue because it cuts across party lines and ideologies.

Politicians axe all over the place on this one."

"Why is that, do you think?" Kate asked.

"I think it's because it's the most intractable problem of our time.

Conservatives have generally favored stiffer sentences and actions
designed to cut off the supply at the borders or sooner. But they admit
that it hasn't worked. We've instituted mandatory sentences that have
resulted in overcrowded prisons, which has often meant that the more
violent, non drug-related offenders get out faster. And cutting off the
source hasn't worked, either. Drugs are more plentiful and cheaper than
ever before.
"Liberals place great stock in education and prevention programs in the
schools, and for a time, that appeared to be working. But all it really
did was to prevent some kids from experimenting, while the hard-core
addicted population has remained the same or even increased.
"Liberals also want to spend more money on treatment, but studies have
shown a mixed record of success at best and almost no long-term success
with the hard-core types who cause most of the crime. ' " It's almost a
case of both sides throwing up their hands and saying that if we can't
get rid of illegal drugs, we might as well make them legal to gain some
control over them. One of those rports I gave you has some information
on European countries where they've been either legalized or at least
dccrirninalized."
Kate glanced at the thick stack of material he'd given her. Think tanks
like the Brookings Institution produced reams of material on public
policy issues.
Unlike reporters, they weren't limited to a few carefully worded
paragraphs.

As someone who was forever exceeding her word limit, she envied them.

"Do you think that will ever happen?" she asked. Walden gestured with
one hand.
"There's a fifty-fifty chance, I think. A lot depends on Congressman
Newbury's position, and from what I've heard recently, he's wavering."
"That's what I understand, too. But he was always opposed to
lcgalization in the past."
"Yes, but he's probably thinking just  all the others who've changed
their positions that nothing else has worked, so why not try it?"
Hr mind on the "follow the money" rule, which applied to Newbury more
than to just about anyone ingress Kate asked him wh "That's hard to
say--except for law course. The drug companies, whether or not they
decided to get into production tribution. Most of them have stated
publid} no interest in it, but we could he talking big KAA'e LEFT
BROOKMC, S loaded down with several reports, stashed them in the trunk
of her car and took off't Baltimore. As usual, traffic was heavy on the
Washington Parkway, but she still tried to keep for the dark van. At one
point, she saw one the next time she checked, it was gone.
She was on her way to talk with Mary Scofield, mother of the New Leaf
graduate who'd gone contact at the Baltimore Sun But she was having a
difficult time focusing Leaf story, and wondered if she should give up
on get her--or at least set it aside for the time being. her many other
assignments, something was going to go, and that seemed the most likely.
candidate. wise, the Newbury-Armistead thing was going to pletely to
Sam, who had all the time When she left the house this morning, Sam had
wandering around with a coffee mug in one hand cordless phone in the
other, wearing only an old jeans and looking rumpled and sexy the way he
in the morning. She had only to conjure up the memory to
feel that throbbing heat in her treacherous body.
It was becoming increasingly clear that Sam hadn't just moved into the
basement apariment--he'd moved into the whole house. He needed her
computer because he had only a laptop at the moment. He needed the
cordless because the phone downstairs was stationary. He didn't like his
own kitchen because it was too small, and besides, it didn't have a
microwave. He didn't have a coffeemaker, either.

Kate sighed. The weekend loomed ahead. Open house at George's--with Sam.

Dinner with Geri and Rob--and Sam. And now Sam was talking about driving
out to the cabin on Sunday if the weather was going to be decent.
You could always just say no, she  told herself." But it wasn't
easy.
It was rare for any two couples to get along as well as she and Sam had
gotten along with Rob and Geri. The two brothers were very close, and
Kate had liked Geri from the beginning. She was fond of Rob, as well. In
many ways he was a toned-down version of his more dynamic brother.
What did Sam really have in mind? she wondered. She didn't doubt that he
was still attracted to her, but more than once, she'd detected a
wariness in him--something she'd certainly never seen before. Was it
only because he didn't know how she felt--which was certainly
understandable, because she didn't know herself? Or did he, too, not
fully understand his feelings?
She thought wryly that their divorce was every bit as complicated as
their marriage had been. Geri had once remarked that they couldn't seem
to live with each other, but she doubted that they could live without
each other, either.

Chapter Five.


"I saw it coming, you know--like a storm cloud out over the harbor.

He just wasn't himself."
Kate stared at the small, sad, soft-spoken woman who sat:I across from
her in the tiny living room. Somewhere in her words lingered the lilting
speech of the Caribbean. Mary. Scofield was a widow who worked in a
local nursing home. She got Social Security benefits for Charles and his
eleven-year-old sister, and somehow they managed. An brother had
recently joined the marines.

"Could you describe what bothered you ...  how he was different?"

"Mostly, it was just little things. He was moody a lot of the time. I
know kids that age can he that way, but it seemed different with him."
She sighed and smoothed away a nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt.
"His brother came home on leave and he saw it, too. He said it was like
Charles was fighting with himself."

"Was he see' rag a counselor?" Kate asked.

Mary Scofield shook her head.

"He wouldn't go. He said he'd had enough of that at the camp."

"What did he have to say about his time at the camp?"
"Oh, he mostly liked it--at least after he'd been there for a couple of
months.
Families were allowed to visit weekend a month, and I remember how
different he was from one visit to the next. It just seemed to happen so
sud- "After about three months?" Kate questioned, recalling what Tony
Disalvo, the counselor at New Leaf, had told her.
"Yes, I think that's about when it was. That's when he stopped
complaining about the place and stopped blaming everyone else for what
had happened. It was scary, in a way, to see so much change so fast."

"Why do you think he attacked the people at school?"

"I just don't know. It wasn't like he went after anyone who'd been
giving him a hard time. Heliked the teacher he hurt. And he didn't even
know the kids that well. It seemed like something inside him just
snapped all of a sudden."

"How was he that morning--before he went to school?"

"The same as he had been--kind of quit and ...  I don't know how to
describe it. I think Robert, my oldest, had it right. It was like he was
fighting with himself all the time. Sometimes he seemed scared, too. I
found him crying in his room one evening. He hadn't cried since he was
little. But when I asked him what was wrong, he just said he was scared
and he didn't know why."

"Scared of someone?"

Mary Scofield shook her headl
"No, he 'said it wasn't anyone. He just said that he felt scared all the
time."

"What have the doctors at the hospital told you?"

She made a sound of disgust.
"Not much. They say he hasn't improved and that they have to keep trying
different drugs. I know a little about medicine, so I asked if they'd
done a brain scan. I thought maybe there could be a tumor or something.
They said they had, and it was normal. They just keep asking me if
there's a history of mental trouble in my family, and I keep telling
them that there isn't any.

Most of the time, they act like they don't believe me."

"Could there be a history of problems in your husband's family?"

"No. They all live here in Baltimore. We're dose, and I've asked them."

Kate thanked the woman and was about to leave, when she recalled Mary
Scofield's reaction to her phone call pretending to be from New Leaf.
"Has anyone from New Leaf contacted you since Charles attacked those
people?"

Mary nodded angrily.

"Oh, yes. I don't know how they found out about it, but they started
calling me the very next day. They wanted me to sign papers to have
Charles transferred to another hospital."

"Why?"

"They said that it would be a better hospital. It was in Pennsylvania
somewhere--not far from New Leaf, they said. But I wasn't about to send
him someplace far away where I couldn't get to see him. Then they came
to see me and asked a lot of questions--some of the same questions you
asked. And they still kept after me to have him transferred."

"Do you remember the name of the hospital in Pennsylvania?"

"No. They never said its name, and I wasn't interested."

KATE DROVE BACK to Washington, thinking about their conversation.

Some of what Mary Scofield had told her sounded much like the
descriptions other parents had given of the changes in their New Leaf
graduates, and she'd seen for herself the differences in behavior that
Tony the counselor had described. But something had obviously gone wrong
with Charles Scofield.
New Leafs insistence on transferring Charles to another hospital was
interesting, but only if it meant they were worried about the hospital
beie discovering something. And that apparently hadn't happened.
Besides, Kate couldn't even begin to imagine what that "something" could
be. Still, she thought, she just might try to find that hospital in
Pennsylvania. Mary Scofield had said that it wasn't far from New Leaf,
and Kate knew that the region was very rural, so there couldn't be too
many hospitals there.
She had decided that she wasn't ready yet to give up on the New Leaf
story after all--even though that meant Sam would have more of a free
hand to delve into the murder of the young intern.
Lost in her thoughts, Kate forgot to check the rearview
mirror until she was about to exit the parkway in Washington. And when
she did, she spotted a dark van about a dozen vehicles behind her. She
tried to see if it exited behind her, but the traffic was too heavy.

"So TELL ME, KATE, is it really better the second time around?"

Kate gritted her teeth even as she feigned ignorance. The question had.
been put to her in varying forms at least four times since she and Sam
had walked into George's open house.
She shouldn't have come here with him. She'd known that and yet she'd
done it anyway. She wondered if Sam was being asked the same question,
and what his response was.
"We're a hot item. Have you noticed that?" Sam asked teasingly in a low
voice, so close to her ear that she could feel his breath. His hand
rested lightly on her shoulder, and she moved away quickly, but not
before she felt the beginning of a meltdown. As she turned to face him,
she Saw people smiling knowingly at them.

"You're not doing anything to cool it down," she replied acidly.

He grinned wickedly.
"Would you like to start a fight? That could liven things up even more,
and it would be just like old times."
Kate glared at him. She didn't need to be ninded that the last time
they'd been here together, they'd gotten into a noisy argument that had
resulted in her storming out.
She moved away from him, making her way through the crowd and trying her
best not to think about how that evening had ended with the two of them
in bed together, making love as passionately as they'd argned.
Kate spotted an old acquaintance from the New York Times who'd been
transferred back to Manhattan. The woman told her that she'd come down
to Washington to interview the New York congressman, Malcoim Spotcs,
about the upcoming drug legalization hearings.
Uh-oh, Kate thought, hoping that the Post's chief competitor wasn't
going to run the same series she herself had planned. But as it turned
out, the 2tmes was planning an informational series on the issue
itself, not the legislative process.
"Spotts hasn't changed his mind, has he?" Kate inquired. The colorful
and outspoken congressman was vehemently opposed to legalization.
"Let's just say that he feels toward legalization the same way the
Pentagon feels about downsizing the military," the 2',roes reporter
said dryly.
"But he's worried that Newbury might be changing his mind. He says
somebody is paying Newbury off."

"Really? Does he have any idea who it might be?"

"Unfortunately, no, and he made me promise not to print his accusation.
But I think he really believes it."
Kate decided it might be a good idea to talk to Spotts. Then she
remembered that a college friend of Sam's was Spotts's chief aide.

She hated to admit it, but Sam could be very useful at times.

"I wouldn't put anything past Newbury and his clone, Armistead," the
Times reporter went on.

"And I mean anything."

Kate's attention sharpened.

"Do you have anything specific in mind?"

"My former neighbor used to work for Newbury. She's at the EPA now.
She quit because she just couldn't take it anymore. She told me a lot of
stories, but I couldn't repeat them without her permission."
"How long ago did she quit?" Kate asked, trying to contain her
excitement.
There was nothing like a disgruntled former employee when it came to
information sources.
"Let's see. It must have been about three years ago." Darn! Kate
thought.

She would have been long gone by the time Crawford did his internship.

Still, she might know something.

"Do you think she might talk to me--off the record?"

"Maybe. I could ask her."
Kate drifted through the crowd and found a Washington Times reporter who
she knew was on good terms with Newbury and Armistead, beating Sam to
him by a hairbreadth. Sam moved off after giving her a grin, and Kate
told the reporter that she expected to be working closely with Newbury's
office.
By the time she pleaded the necessity of a trip to the ladies' room,
she'd gleaned what could be an important bit of knowledge about
Armistead. It seemed that he regarded himself as being a computer
expert. What that suggested to Kate was that Armistead could have been
so confident of his abilities that he might well have used the computer
to hide potentially damaging information that was then discovered by
Crawford--another expert.
She found Sam out on the terrace with a very attractive correspondent
for National Public Radio, as well as some other people. Sam's head was
close to hers as they talked, and Kate felt an unexpected and very'
powerful surge of jealousy.
What's wrong with me? she asked herself disgustedly. She was telling
herself that she didn't want Sam, but it seemed that she didn't want
anyone else to have him, either.
Fighting that green-eyed monster, she walked toward them, seemingly
unable to stop herself. And when Sam saw her, she was drawn to those
blue eyes like the proverbial moth to the flame. A moment later, his arm
slipped possessively around her waist, and this time she didn't move
away.

What does he see in me? she wondered silently. Is it only the challenge?

Nothing about their relationship had ever troubled her as much as the
failure of her normal self-confidence where Sam was concerned. She'd
always blamed him for that, but now, for the first time, she wondered if
she was being fair.
"I'D Y PLANNED to meet Jason for a drink after work on Monday," Sam
said later that afternoon when she suggested that he should talk to
Representative Spotts's aide.
Still a step ahead of me, she complained silently. She hadn't told him
about Newbury's former staff member, rationalizing her silence on the
basis that she didn't yet know if the woman would talk to her.
They were on their way to dinner with Rob and Geri, following the open
house. The weather report came on the radio. Hot and humid the next
day--a perfect time to escape to the cabin, which was just what Sam had
suggested.
Kate was about to beg off, pleading too much work to take the day off.
But then she wondered if she might be able to contact Tony Disalvo, the
counselor at New Leaf. He could save her a lot of work if he knew of a
hospital affiliated with the boot camp. And perhaps if she could meet
him away from the camp, he might he more willing to talk.
D'umer was an excursion into nostalgia. Kate watched Sam play with his
twin nephews and thought about the times when they'd discussed having
children.

Sam had wanted them, but she'd been far less eager.

Yet now she felt a deep sadness, a longing for what hadn't come to be.
When the conversation after dinner turned to spending th next day at
the cabin, Kate excused herself to try to reach Tony Disalvo. She
thought it wasn't likely that she'd find-him at home on a Saturday
night, but perhaps she could leave a message and get a return call early
the next morning.
To her surprise, Tony was home. Considering the background noise level,
she assumed he must be having a party. She explained that she would be
in the area the thet day and asked if he would see her. She told him
that she'd spoken to Charles Scofield's mother and had some questions.
That seemed to pique his interest, and he invited her to his place in
the afternoon, explaining that he was adding a deck to his house and
they could talk while he worked. She wrote down the rather complicated
directions and returned to the living room, saying that she would go to
the cabin, but would be using the time to interview someone.
"The boot-camp story?" Sam asked, and when Kate nodded, Geri made a
face.
"Kate, you never change. That newspaper is your life. You were always
working on something whenever we went to the cabin."
"That's not true," Kate protested, but she wondered if it was. Now that
she thought about it, it seemed that she had spent a lot of her time
there on the' or working on the laptop Sam had given her. Still, she
knew that Sam must have understood, s'nice he, too, was in the business.
But Sam always found time for other things, she reminded herself. Of
course, he didn't need to work so hard; his reputation was already
secure.
On the way home, Sam asked if there were any more developments in the
New Leaf story, and she said there weren't. No way was she going to let
Sam stick his nose into this one, too. Besides, she still wasn't certain
that there even was a story in it.
As soon as they were in the house, Kate excused herself, saying that she
was tired and they would have to be up early. But as she turned away
from him, Sam reached out to grasp her arm lightly.

"Thanks for coming along tonight, Kate. I was afraid you'd back out?"

"Why would you think that?" she asked.

"You know I like Rob and Geri."

"Yeah, I know, but I kind of pushed you into it."
"You know me better than that, Sam. I can't be pushed into anything."
Except by you, she amended silently. Then I turn into a bowl of Jell-O.

He chuckled.

"Thanks for reminding me. See you in the morning."

Kate stared at his back as he started toward the basement stairs.

Through her brain crept all the memories of nights when they'd gone
upstairs together, arms wrapped around each other, sometimes stumbling
in their eagerness to get to bed--and to each other. Then she went
upstairs alone and crawled into the bed that had finally begun to feel
okay without him--until he'd reappeared.
TONY DISALVO AND his girlfriend--soon-to-be wife, she learned--lived in
a cedar A-frame perched precipitously at the edge of a cliff, up a
narrow, winding mountain road dotted with other widely scattered homes.
When she arrived, he was, as promised, working on a deck off to one
side, the underside of which, he told her, would serve as a carport.
While he sawed and hammered, she told him about her conversation with
Mary Scofield. Tony said he remembered Charles well, and he knew, of
course, about Charles's attack on the teachers and students.

"We were all really shocked," he said.

"There are some kids we've had whose histories of violence would lead
you to expect that, even if they seemed to have been turned around. But
Charles was never violent to begin with--at least as far as I know. He
was the Kind of kid who could just as easily have turned out okay if he
hadn't been surrounded by bad influences in the neighborhood.
"His more was a good, supportive parent, and even though his father was
dead, he ha dan older brother who was a good influence and some uncles
who were dose to him, too. They all came to see him during family
weekends and participated in the sessions we had for families."
"So you didn't see anything while he was there that would have suggested
he was having emotional problems?"

"Nothing--and I was the one working the closest with him."

"After the incident, someone from New Leaf contacted Mrs. Scofield and
wanted to have Charles transferred to another hospital. She said it was
a hospital in Pennsylvania, not far from New Leal" Tony paused in his
sawing and looked surprised.
"I didn't know about that. I called her, just to tell her how sorry I
was and to ask about Charles." He frowned.
"She was pretty unpleasant over the phone, but I thought it was just
because she was so upset at the time. Now that I think of it, though,
she d/d say something about not wanting us to bother her again."

"So.you didn't know that anyone else from New Leaf had called her?"

Kate asked.

He shook his head.

"It was probably Ted. He's real big on public relations."
Kate thought she detected a subtle hint of dislike in his reply, but
decided to let it go for now. Instead, she asked if Tony knew what
hospital Mary Scofield could have been to.
"There's some place they've sent kids to from time to time. I don't
think I ever knew the name of it, though, since that doesn't happen
often. We screen out kids with serious mental problems because we're
just not equipped to handle that sort of thing. The only time I've heard
it mentioned, people have just called it 'the clinic."

"

" But why would they have tried to persuade her to send Charles there,
when he was already hospitalized?"

"I don't know. Probably they just think it's a better facility."

Tony began to hammer a plank into place and Kate retreated into her
thoughts.
She didn't know how to proceed at this point. Tony seemed very
coop6rative, but that could change in a hurry if he thought she was
criticizing New Leaf.
Then, when he had finished nailing the board into place, he startled her
by asking a question of his own.

"Do you think something screwy's going on at New Leaf?"

Kate chose her words carefully.
"I have no real reason to think that at this point. All I'm trying to do
is to figure' out what makes it work so much better than the others do.
Why do you ask?"
He came over and took a long drink from his beer, then sank down on the
ground beside her.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just projecting. I told you before that I've
been trying to figure out the same thing. And after the episode with
Charles, I began feeymg uneasy.
"I'm no psychologist, but I've got a master's degree in counseling and a
lot of experience besides, and I know that we miss things all the time.
Psychologists and counselors have been known to pronounce someone
perfectly sane and rational and then he or she goes out and kills
someone. I've made some mistakes myself, but there's still no way I can
see Charles as being violent."
"His mother told me that right before the attack, she found him crying
in his room," Kate added.

"He told her he was scared, but he didn't know why."

" " Scared' can cover a pretty broad range of emotions--especially for a
kid.
Since he couldn't pinpoint it, it sounds more like a free-floating
anxiety, maybe the beginnings of paranoia. On the other hand, maybe he
did know what was scaring him, but didn't want to tell her."
They talked for a while about mental illness, specifically about
paranoid schizophrenia. Tony said that Charles was at an age where the
illness can often begin, but the lack of a family history argued against
it. Still, as he pointed 'out again, nothing was certain when it came to
dealing with the intricacies of the human mind.

Finally, Kate decided to take the plunge.

"Tony, is it possible that anything could be going on at New Leaf that
you wouldn't know about?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," he replied warily. "What if there were,
say, some sort of experimental treatments--or even drugs--being used?
Would you know about that?"
"Sure. It would be on the kids' charts, and we all have them. There are
a few kids on small doses of psychoactive drugs, but they're not
experimental.

And as for other types of therapies, I'd know about them.

"Besides, even if what you say is true--which it isn't--it wouldn't
explain Charles's behavior. He'd been gone for a couple of months, and
he was never on any drugs here to begin with. But," Tony went on, "there
are some illegal drugs that can result in the kind of paranoia his
mother de-" His mother said he didn't use drugs, and the reporter for
the Baltimore Sun who covered the story found out that they did a drug
screen and nothing turned up."

Tony nodded.

"We do regular drug testing on the kids because there's always the
chance that someone will manage to sneak something in.

Charles's tests were fine, and I know he hated drugs anyway."

Kate sighed.
"Well, I think I'm going to have to give up on this story--or at least
the New Leaf part of it. I'll probably still do a follow-up on the
success rate of the boot camps. I picked up some information on them at
Brookings Institution."
"There's another research institute you might want to contact," Tony
said.
"I can't remember the name of it, but I heard Ted mention it recently.
He seemed to think highly of its people, and he said they're going to be
studying our program at New Leaf as part of some major research
project."
They got up and Tony walked her back to the car. She thanked him for all
his help and wished him luck, both in his work and in his forthcoming
marriage.

After she had gotten into Sam's Porsche, he leaned down to the window.

"There are a couple of us who get together to try to find an answer--you
know, why we seem to work better than other programs. If we come up with
anything, I'll give you a call. I still have your card."
Kate thanked him and drove off, trying to decide if she should spend the
time to find out the name of the hospital or clinic in Pennsylvania. It
seemed poinfiess, and yet she was still unwilling to let go of this
story--perhaps because it was her story, and not Sam's.
She started down the winding mountain road, wishing that she were going
back to Washington, instead of returning to the cabin. She loved the
place, but it made her feel so vulnerable. For some reason, the memories
were even more powerful there than in the house they'd shared. As Sam
had once said, the cabin was their sanctuary--the one place where they
never let their arguments intrude.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the Porsche imrue-diately began to
pull sharply to one side, just as she approached a sharp curve.
Kate fought the wheel, operating on pure instinct as she gripped it and
pumped the brake pedal. On one side of the curve was a steep bank some
twenty feet high, and on the other was an equally sheer drop of perhaps
a hundred feet--with no protective guardrail. The Porsche slewed across
the road, rocked back and forth a few times and then came to rest scant
inches from the edge of the drop-off.
Kate sat staring in horror at the precipitous slope, at the bottom of
which were several huge trees.
She had known almost instantly that a front tire had blown, but now, as
she scrambled across into the passenger seat and then got the door open,
she wondered how on earth a tire on a brand-new--not to mention darned
expensive--car could have blown like that. : She walked around to the
front of the car and stared at the ragged tatters that had once been a
tire. It didn't make sense. Even if she'd run over something, the steel
bands should have prevented it from penetrating. The only possility was
that the tire itself had been defective.
After checking the cat'sexterior and determining that no damage had been
done, she opened the trunk to get the spare. Now all she had to do was
to figure out how to put the jack together, not to mention move the
car away from the edge.
She heard a sound behind her and turned to see a pickup truck pulling
off the road. Two men got out and asked if she needed any help. If this
had been Washington or its suburbs, Kate would have been terrified, but
since it was rural Maryland, she felt only a welcome relief. She
explained what had happened as they examined the shredded tire.

"Must have been defective,"

" the one man said.
"I'll go set up a couple of flares in case anyone's coming up the
mountain.
You just pull it out onto the road and we'll get the tire changed for
you."
Kate thanked them profusely and did as told then waited as they removed
the ruined tire and put on the spare. As she stood there another pickup
came past, slowed down, then moved on. Kate caught only a brief glimpse
of the driver, but thought for a moment that he looked familiar.
She dismissed that thought, however, as the men tossed the ruined tire
into the Porsche's trunk and told her that she should take it back to
the dealer.

"Seems like they ought to make good on it," the older of the men said.

"It looks brand-new, from what I saw of the tread."
Kate assured them that she would, then offered to pay them for their
assistance. But they waved away her offer and climbed back into thek
truck, which she saw was complete with a rifle rack. Good country
people, she thought--just like the kind I grew up with and then ran away
from.
SAM SAID NOT HUNG for a long time as he stared at the
remains of the tire. Kate began to bristle, haft-expecting that he was
going to blame her for what happened.
"It wasn't my fault, Sam. I wasn't even going fast." Then he surprised
her.

He drew her into his arms and stroked her gently.

"No matter how fast you were going, you couldn't have been responsible
for that. And all I care about is that you weren't hurt. If this had
happened in your car ...  She'd already thought about that herself. Only
the superior handling ability of the Porsche had saved her from ca-tee
ring down that embankment. At the moment, though, she wasn't thinking
about that, or about anything else, except how good it felt to be in his
arms and how she'd wanted that and thought about it the whole way back.
Then Sam let her go, and there was that moment of awkwardness she'd felt
before on several occasions--a sudden surge of tension as they silently
acknowledged their changed situation. It felt like being fast-fowarded
from a better past to a difficult present.
Except that it wasn't a better past, Kate reminded herself. Three years
ago, she'd decided that she couldn't live with' this man.
SAM WAS WAITING FOR HER when she arrived home the next evening after a
long and mostly frustrating day. Her colleague from the Tunes had called
to say that she hadn't been able to reach Newbury's former staff member
because she was on vacation and wouldn't return for two weeks.
She'd also struck out in her attempt to find out the name of the
hospital or clinic that New Leaf was affiliated with. She could have
simply called Ted Snyder, the New Leaf director, but her instincts told
her to proceed Cautiously here, so instead, she'd called the
Pennsylvania Department of Health, the state licensing authority for all
such facilities.
The woman there had been kind enough to fax her a list of all
psychiatric facilities licensed in the state, and Kate had gotten out a
map, certain that she would be able to identify it immediately. But the
only facility listed for that entire region served only the elderly and,
according to thcir reeep-fiouist, had never served any other clientele.
As a result, Kate was left with the equally unpalatable choices of
forgetting the whole thing or calling Ted Snyder. When in doubt, put it
off" was her motto, so she did nothing.
She walked in to find Sam polishing the furniture--h/s furniture. She
bit off an acid comment designed to forestall any comment on his part
about her housekeeping habits when she remembered that Sam had never
criticized her for that in the past. It was another of those strange
moments when she was forced to realize that her perceptions about their
marriage might be faulty.

And that did little to improve her state of mind.

After he'd greeted her, Sam announced that he'd made an appointment at
the vet's for Reject.

"How did you know it was time for him to go?" she asked.

"I saw the postcard on your desk while I was working on the computer."

"Is there anything else I've missed?" she inquired archly.

"Yeah. The dentist says you need to come in to get your teeth cleaned,
but I can't do that for you."

"However have I managed for three years without a secretary?"

Sam stared at her.
"My infallible instincts tell me that you've had a bad day. Let's order
a pizza."
"Large, with everything," she said, thinking about the container of
yogurt she'd swiped from the staff refrigerator for lunch and would now
have to replace.
"Except anchovies," Sam reminded her, and picked up the cordless phone
to place the order.
She changed into a T-shirt and gym shorts with a vague notion of going
running later, then joined Sam in the kitchen when the pizza arrived. He
eyed her attire. "Were you planning to go running?"

She nodded as she bit off a mouthful of pizza.

"I'll go with you."
"Since when do you like to go running?" she asked. He'd always said it
was about as exciting as cutting your toe- nails.

"I don't, but you're not going alone."

"Sam, I'm not going to change my life just because some nut is following
me around."
"I think that things have gotten more serious, Kate," he said in a tone
of voice that brought her up short.
"What did Jason have to say?" she asked, suddenly recalling that he'd
planned to meet Rep. Malcolm Spotts's aide after work today.
"Nothing. He had to cancel. We're getting together tomorrow. I took the
tire back to the dealer."

"So?" she prompted when he said nothing more.

"I really didn't want to go into this now, since it sounds like you had
a bad day."
"I hate it when you do that! You always say just enough to get me upset,
then quit."
"Is that why you divorced me?" he asked with What appeared to her to be
genuine curiosity.
"No, that isn;t why I divorced you, but it's going to be grounds for
assault and battery if you don't tell me what you weren't going to tell
me."
"The dealer sent me over to a tire dealer who sells that brand ...  and
he says that the tire wasn't defective."

"So now you're blaming me?"

Sam shook his head.
"Someone shot out the tire, Kate. He even found the slug. It's a
miracle' that it didn't fall out, considering what was left of the
tire."

Kate choked on her pizza and Sam reached over to pat her on the back.

She swallowed some beer and stared at his grim expression.

"Someone shot at me?"

He nodded.
"Or they shot at the car at any rate. Maybe they thought it was me in
it."

"B-but I didn't see anyone," she protested.

"I told you what that road was like, and there weren't any houses at all
around where it happened. It was all woods."
"Then whoever it was must have followed you when you went to see that
counselor and waited in the trees for you to come back. Did you see any
cars parked anywhere in the area?"

"No. Sam, are you sure about this?"

"I saw the slug, Kate, and once we'd found that, it was pretty easy to
see where it had penetrated the steel band. The guy I talked to said it
must have been a high-powered rifle, and apparently the shooter was a
pretty good marksman, especially if you were going as fast as you
usually do."

"I told you I wasn't going that fast. The road was too bad for that."

She frowned, remembering the men who had stopped to help her. She'd seen
two rifles in their truck. But wouldn't they have found the slug and
taken it, so she couldn't know that they'd shot at her? She told Sam her
thoughts.

Yeah, it seems likely they would have taken it," he agreed.

"And if they'd wanted to kill me, they could have done it then," she
added with a shudder.
"They could have, but it sounds to me like they wanted to make sure it
would be seen as an accident. If you'd gone down that bank, the chances
are that there wouldn't have been enough left of the car for anyone to
question how it happened."
Kate stared at the p'va, then picked up another slice. Her appetite was
gone, but she didn't want Sam to know just how scared she was.

"Are you going to tell Damon?" she asked.

"That's up to you."
His response caught her by surprise. So did the calm, matter-of-fact
approach he seemed to be taking to all this. The Sam W'mters she knew
would have been trying to persuade her to disappear for a while and let
him sort things out.
"I don't want to tell him," she stated firmiy.  "Then we won't. The one
thing we have going for us is that they obviously want it to look like
and accident--and that takes some doing. But we can't just be looking
for a dark van anymore. They're apparently using other vehicles. I kept
an eye out the whole way out to the cabin for a dark van and didn't see
one. But they had to have followed us out there." Sam restlessly drummed
his fingers on the table.
"The one thing that really bothers me is why they'd suddenly decide to
try to get rid of you or me--or both of us. Up to now, they've been
content just to follow us around. So what did we find out that could
have scared them?"
They reviewed everything they'd done, seeking an answer. They sat on the
small patio behind the house in the soft darkness and talked until it
became clear that they were getting nowhere. The only decision they
reached was that Sam would go the next day to a car rental agency and
arrange to have something available whenever either one of them had an
appointment out of town. That way, they could decrease the likelihood
that they would be followed.
Kate went off to bed, tired and deeply troubled. She undressed, put on a
nightgown and climbed into bed, thinking about the other time her life
had been threatened. It was just after their marriage and she'd been
assigned to the metropolitan beat. She was working on a series about
corruption in the' D. C. housing authority, and had begun to receive
threatening phone calls and letters. Knowing exactly what Sam's reaction
would be, she'd tried to keep it from him. Then a caller had left a
threatening and obscene message on their answering machine, and Sam had
listened to it before she came home.
The result had been their first serious argument--an argument Sam had
won because he'd gone to her editor and demanded that She be taken off
the story.
Since Sam was the paper's biggest star, the editor had done just that,
despite her protests. And the story, which had been taken over by a
veteran reporter, had been nominated for a Pulitzer.
Had he learned his lesson, or was he merely faking his current attitude
to avoid a scene? She wasn't sure.
She began to drift off to sleep, her mind turning once more to that
near-fatal accident. She'd been wracking her brain, trying to recall how
far away from the scene the nearest house was, and whether she'd seen
any vehicles there. Tony had said that most of the homes along that road
were weekend getaways, as his own home had once been.
And what about the two men who'd stopped to help her? She just couldn't
see them as being killers, despite the presence of rifles in their
truck. City types might find that suspicious in itsejf, but Kate had
grown up in a rural area where half the pickups had rifles or shotguns
in them all the time.
Then suddenly, just as she was about to fall asleep, a memory surfaced.
She sat bolt upright in bed. The other pickup! She'd nearly forgotten
about it.
It'd come by while the men were chang'rag her tire, slowed down and then
driven away, presumably because he saw that his assistance wasn't
required.

Or so she'd thought at the time.

But what she now recalled made her view it differenfiy. She was certain
that there'd been a rack with a gun of some type in his truck, too--and
the driver had looked familiar!
She jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, thinking that Sam might still
be up. But the first floor was dark. Realizing that he must have gone
down to his little-used apartment, Kate ran down the steps, eager to
tell him what she had remembered and get his reading on it.

Chapter Six.

"Sam? she called as she mn down the stalrs to the apartment certain he
couldn't be asleep yet, even though could see that the small living room
was dark.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, had gone on in the
bedroom and Sam was standing there the open doorway. For one brief
moment, got what had brought her down here.
This' was the Sam Winters who had haunted her for three years. His dark
brown hair was slighfiy disheveled and his blue eyes somehow managed to
look both alert at the same time. And he was naked except for of dark
briefs.
"I just remembered something," she announced he wouldn't notice the
slight huskiness in her voice.

think you'd be asleep yet."

"Would it have mattered if I was?" be asked, dark brow as amusement
tugged at the comers of his mouth.

"That never stopped you before."

His teasing words fell into the space between them, ing the past a
powerful presence. She often came 'best ideas when she was balanced on
the edge of sleep, more than once, she'd awakened Sam to tell him them.
Old habits apparently died very hard.
"I think I might have seen the man who shot at me," told him, still
fighting the incipient meltdown of every in her body.
Then she told him about the other pickup and the driver who'd looked
familiar Sam sat down on the sofa and she perched on the arm of an old
overstuffed chair across from him.
"I only got a very brief glimpse of him, but I'm sure I've seen him
before.

You know I never forget a face."

Sam nodded.
"It's only names you have trouble with. I don't suppose you got the
license number of the truck?"
"No. I just assumed that he had slowed down to see if anyone needed
help."
"Do you remember the plate at all, what state it was?" Kate closed her
eyes and tried to visualize the track. It was black and relatively new,
she thought, although she was no expert on pickups.

"It was a Ford, I think, but I can't remember about the plate."

"Try to think where you might have seen him," Sam urged.

"Was he wearing a suit or casual clothes when you saw him before?"

She thought about that for a few moments, then shook her head.

"I just know that I've seen him before."

"Why don't you call your counselor friend in the morning and. run the
description by him? You said that there weren't many houses along that
road, so he might know if it was just a neighbor."
She nodded, wishing that she could call Tony now. But waking up your
ex-husband was one thing and waking up a casual acquaintance was quite
another.

"I really think he must have been the one who shot it me," she said.

"Why else would I recognize someone in a place like that?"

"It's possible that you've just seen him around when we were out there.

That's the down side to your memory for faces."
She nodded. Sam had a point. But she hadn't been out to the cabin much
in the past three years and even her excellent memory had its limits.
Sam stood up, yawned and stretched. She apologizezed for him up and rose
from her met and Kate knew that she wasn't She wondered vaguely if she'd
known that when down here.
The thought had been there from the beginning, course--right from the
moment she opened the door and found him standing there. It wasn't just
a physical hunger for a man. If that had been all there was to it, she
could have satisfied that urge long ago.. Instead it was a hunger for
Sam, a need that had never gone away, no matter how many times she'd
forced herself to recite his flaws.
So now he stood there, saying nothing, his nearly naked body seemingly
relaxed, but his arousal obvious 'even though she kept her eyes locked
on his. Why didn't he say something. anything?
"You aren't exactly making this easy, Sam," she said finally, the
huskiness in her voice too great to hide now.
"What do you want me to say? Go back upstairs?" His tone was casual, but
his eyes were lit by blue flames.

No, she thought. I want you to-say that you still love me.

But she knew that she didn't have the right to demand that.

Sh,e,"d, forfeited that right by ,dv, oreing him, hadn, t she?

It's your decision, Kate, he said when she remained silent.
But I don't want it to be my decision, she screamed silently. I want you
to take that decision out of my hands. It was so dumb, so incredibly
stupid!
She'd fought him every time he tried to make any decision for her. She'd
reminded herself of that every time she missed him. And now she wanted
him to make e decision for them both. She had to say something, but she
certainly couldn't say that.

"I've never stopped wanting you, Sam."

"I know that. You just can't live with me." A sad smile curved his
mouth.
Go! she ordered herself. Leave right n0w! But instead, her feet carried
her to him--and the decision was made. Or rather, it was acted upon. It
had in fact been made when she hadn't fought to keep him from moving in.
Sam's arms slid around her very carefully, making her feel so very
fragile.
But it wasn't her; it was instead the moment. Then, when she had wrapped
her own arms around him, remembering the feel of him and inhaling his
scent, he cupped a hand beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. "I
want you, Kate. That can't change."
In the small space before his lips touched hers, she fastened upon his
choice of words"--can't," rather than "hasn't" --as though he had no
power to change his feelings. Words were her stock-in-trade, and she
knew that she could sometimes overrate their importance, but this time,
she didn't think she had.

He'd spoken the truth for them both.

His kiss was soft, undemanding, and yet all the more irresistible for
that.
She could feel herself opening to him like a bud in the desert, when
torrents of rain end a long dry spell. In this case, a three-year-long
dry spell.
They teased each other with lips and tongues, probing delicately,
building the moment. A hot, sweet fierceness gdrew within her, feeding
on memories that had never ed. Always, there had come a time when Sam
the man and Sam the lover became separate, when she let go her annoyance
or.

anger with him and Surrendered herself to the magic they could make.

It came now, in a soft sigh she wasn't even aware of, but one he'd long
since learned meant a surrender to their love. He picked her up and
carried her to the bed, each step bringing him closer to the moment he'd
been wanting for three years.
She was his--for now, at least. Sam had, no doubts that he'd be feeling
the sharp side of her in the morning, but it was a small price to
pay--and perhaps even part of the complex, sometimes infuriating but
always exciting love they shared. And would always share. He knew that,
too, though he'd doubted it for a brief time. after his return.
Kate reached for him and drew him down on the bed with her. Neither of
them had yet shed their minimal clothing, and it felt to her like all
the times when their sudden, urgent hunger for each other had resulted
in their removing only the bare necessities before joining their eager,
greedy bodies.
Sam's tongue and teeth teased her nipples through the nightgown, making
them hard and achingly sensitive as she arched her body to his, rubbing
against him and wanting him deep inside her.
Passion was on a taut leash, about to snap--and yet they played, making
of their bodies an erotic playground they both knew well. The combined
sense of familiarity and strangeness excited them both, bringing with it
a hint of the forbidden that only added to the pleasure.
She loved it that he knew her so well, that he could accurately read her
every move and her every sigh as though he were no more than an
extension of her. But even as she reveled in that, she was giving,
too--knowing just what he wanted.
He it ripped off her gown and his own briefs, then braced himself above
her, not touching her now, even though her entire body was imprinted
with his kisses. His eyes searched hers, and then he smiled, a very Sam
sort of smile of triumph, a smile that said he'd known from the
beginning that this would happen.
Somewhere inside her, rebellion began to stir, but he knew her too well
to allow it to awaken completely, He slid into her slowly, watching her,
enjoying her reaction, seeing that hint of anger dissipate as the
passion carried them both away, Afterward, when they had held. each
other for a long time and stroked their slowly cooling bodies, Sam
suddenly got out of bed and then extended a hand to her.

"Come on. I want to sleep upstairs--in our bed."

AFtER THE ECSTASY comes the . what? It wasn't guilt that Kate felt as she
lay quietly beside Sam, with the morning light outlining the draperies.
Definitely not guilt, she thought as she turned her face toward him,
moving carefully so she wouldn't awaken him.

Love swelled within her, threatening to burst through her very pores.

She was remembering so many mornings when she'd awakened like this,
nearly unable to believe that she could feel this way.
Then, abruptly, she remembered the tabloid cover--Sam with his super
model girlfriend. She froze, the love still there, but now overlaid with
a dark pain. It wasn't fair! She didn't want to think about that. Sam
had every fight to find himself someone else.

She'd divorced him!

Instead, she focused on the night just past and remembered passion
flowed through her like liquid fire. She in-baled deeply, catching the
scent of him--something she thought must surely be unique to Sam.
And she felt the solid warmth of his body pressed against hers, so very
fight that it seemed incredible that she could have slept alone in this
bed for so long.
But stealing in amid all that was the rest of it. If they hadn't once
been married, they could be just like all new lovers, feeling their way
cautiously toward an uncertain outcome.
Except that it had never been that way for them--or so it seemed to her
now--from that fateful day she'd met him, bursting from the elevator in
a mad rush to meet her very first deadline. She'd run headlong into him,
nearly knocking them both over. She'd already known who he was, having
seen the photos of him accepting his two Pulitzers. But what had shocked
her, once she'd gotten beyond the impact of those blue eyes, was that
he'd known who she was.
She'd known--and later, Sam had said that he had, too--that this man was
her destiny. Of course she'd fought it--and him--but deep down inside,
she'd known that Sam Winters was her future.
Kate carefully got out of bed. Sam was a sound sleeper, and he didn't
move as she put on a robe and left the bedroom, followed by Reject, who
was probably happy that he no longer had to divide his nights between
their separate beds.
After feeding Reject and putting on the coffee, Kate stared at the
clock, wondering if she could catch Tony Disalvo at home before he went
to New Leaf.
The magic of the night was already fading as she remembered what had
brought her to Sara in the first place.
Tony answered, and she realized that she couldn't very well ask her
question without his asking some in return. So she explained to him, as
casually as possible, that someone had been threatening her, as a result
of another story she was working on. Then she went on to tell him what
had happened on the road near his home, and gave him the description of
the man and the truck.
There was a long silence on the line, and then Tony said that he didn't
recogn/ze either the man or the truck, though he did know the two men
who'd stopped to help her.
Kate thanked him and hung up, frowning. She couldn't be sure, and maybe
it was just because he'd been shocked to hear her story, but she thought
that he'd sounded . wary.
Kate poured a cup of coffee and stood at the kitchen window, staring out
into the small backyard, where Reject was stalking a robin. He did a lot
of stalking, but he'd never caught anything as far as she knew. And he
didn't this time, either. The robin flew off and Reject ambled across
the yard, pretending that he'd never had any ulterior motives in the
first place.
The thought bounced around in the back of her mind while she watched the
cat' then sprang at her. Could they have been wrong to believe that the
threats had something to do. with. Newbury and Armistead? Was it
possible that they were instead the result of her story about New Leaf?
Then she jumped, nearly spilling her coffee, as Sam's arms slid around
her and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. Sam had never been
talkative in the morning, and that hadn't changed. He turned her around
to face him, then cupped her bottom as his mouth found hers. He wasn't
talkative, but he made his point very quickly.
Within moments, they were back in the rumpled bed, and Kate had all but
forgotten her revelation.

"I NEED A DAY OFF, Damon. Tomorrow, if possible."

Kate's editor made a face.
"Kate, I know you have some time coming, but" -- "You're fight, I do.
And I want to take it tomorrow. I'll finish up those two assignments
today. Just don't give me anything for tomorrow."

Damon sighed heavily.

"Okay, okay. I'll just have to crack the others a little more."
"If you're trying to lay a guilt trip on me, forget it. Give something
to one of the interns.:' " Yeah, and then I'll have to spend even more
time editing. What are they teaching these kids nowadays?"

"They could start by teaching them grammar," Kate agreed.

"They can't spell, either, but at least the computer can do that for
them."
She was almost out of Damon's office before he asked the 'question she'd
anticipated, and feared.

"You haven't gotten any more threats, have you?"

Without turning to face him, Kate shook her head. It was easier to lie
that way.

"Good. Maybe it was just one of our run-of-the-mill nuts."

Kate breathed a sigh of relief, even though it was tinged with guilt.
She didn't like lying to Damon, but if she told the truth--especially
about the incident with the Porsche--he would pull her off the story.

Then Sam would have it all to himself.

Not that she was doing much about it at the moment in any event, she
thought.
All day long, she'd been thinking about the possibility that they'd been
wrong, that New Leaf was the source of the threats. And that was why she
wanted the day off.
"After reviewing what' she done and learned thus far, Kate had decided
that finding that clinic or hospital was important. She wasn't exactly
sure why, but she trusted her instincts. First of all, Mary Scofield had
been pestered by New Leaf to transfer her son there, and then Tony had
confirmed that the place did indeed exist.

But the Pennsylvania authorities had no record of it.

Driving around looking for it could be a waste of an entire day, but it
was the only thing she could think of to do. If she found it, then she
could confront Ted Snyder, the New Leaf director, and demand the truth,
WHEN KATE ARRIVED HOME that evening, she found Sam carrying his clothes
up to the closet in the master bedroom.
Sarann6 Dawson She was slightly irritated--and more than a bit
uneasy--over his quick resumption of their life together.
She said nothing about it, however, and neither did he. But there was a
distinct air of fragility to the situation--at least from her point of
view.
They were right back where they'd started--or ended. Sam the lover had
no equal, but Sam the man was impossible to live with. Or so she kept
reminding herself, even though the details were getting a bit blurry in
her mind now.
He'd prepared dinner for them--marinated steaks this time. His
repertoire was somewhat limited, but-what he did, he did well. As they
ate, sam told her that his meeting with Spotts's aide had produced no
new information.
Sports had no factual basis for believing that Newbury had changed his
mind about iegal/zation as a result of some payoff.
Kate quickly glossed over her own day. She was still de- termlned to
keep the New Leaf story to herself, though she admitted privately that
it had as much to do with her nervousness about having Sam back with her
as it did with professional jealousy. She needed to keep someth/ng
separate, to keep Sam out of at least part of her life.

After dinner, they watched a video, then disagreed over its merits.

Kate felt as though she'd entered a time warp as she thought about all
the times when she, d watched films alone and then had missed these
arguments with him. She cast him a sidelong glance, wondering how he
could so very easily pick up where they'd left off. It irked her that he
was always so sure of himself--and of them--but she knew that she envied
him that certainty, too.
Afterward, Sam turned off the lights and checked the alarm system while
she went to the back door and called Reject in from the yard.
Sam wrapped an arm loosely around her waist as they started up the
stairs, followed by Reject, who was purring loudly, no doubt expressing
his opinion that all was finally fight with the world.
And despite her misgivings, it felt fight to Kate, as well, when Sam's
long, lean body was pressed against hers. They made love with their
usual combination of tenderness and passion, and for now, at least, Kate
felt Sam's certainty that they were both where they belonged.
KATE DROVE ALONG th back roads of southwestern Pennsylvania, trying to
think how she could narrow down her search for the so-called "clinic."
What had seemed to be a very small area on the map had turned into an
endless expanse of rolling farmland and wilderness.
Even here, she continued to check her rearview mirror regularly. She was
driving the rental car Sam had arranged for. Herown car was back in
Washington, in the Post's garage, where it was presumably sending out
signals that she was busy in her office, but she still worried that she
might have been followed.
She had used a compass to draw a circle around New Leaf in what she
estimated to be a two-hour drive. The clinic had been described as being
not far from the boot camp, and to her that meant' two hours or less.
The area was very rural, with scattered farms, a few small villages and
a lot of empty land in between. Most of the mailboxes had names on them,
and none of them sounded remotely like a clinic. Neither did any of the
big old farmhouses she passed seem to be anything other than that.
Shortly after midday, she found herself entering a town, one of those
ubiquitous Pennsylvania towns that had seen better days. She wished for
one of those old general stores with gossipy folks who would surely know
if such a facility ex/sted in their midst, but all she saw were
convenience stores--more of them than she would have thought necessary
for such a small place.
Her stomach growled, ten finding her that it was past lunchtime, and she
began to search for something other than the usual assortment of
fast-food places. In the middle of the downtown, she found a small
restaurant tucked between two boarded-up stores.
The restaurant had a counter 1/ned with stools whose seats seemed to be
held together with duct tape, a scattering of tables and two booths,
also well taped. Except for one elderly man at the counter, she was the
only customer in the place. A middle-aged woman was cleaning up behind
the counter and a younger woman who looked a lot like her was perched on
one of the stools, wearing a pink polyester uniform with a frilly white
apron. Kate slid into a booth and the young woman hurried over with a
menu.
After ordering the "homemade" vegetable soup and a grilled cheese
sandwich and iced tea, Kate turned her attention back to the matter of
finding the clinic. The man at the counter left and the two women began
to talk about him, saying what a shame it was that he had no children to
look after him and how he was going to end up in a home.
Kate wasn't paying them much attention at first, but when they moved
from that topic to a local woman who'd "run off" with someone she'd met
on a computer network, followed by a discussion about an apparently idle
young man who'd finally gotten a job at a horse farm; she realized that
she might have found something just as good as the proverbial country
store.

The waitress brought her lunch. Kate peered suspiciously at the soup.

Those neat little ubes of vegetables had Campbell's written all over
them, although shredded cabbage and chunks of stringy beef had obviously
been added: She asked for a refill on the iced tea and while the
waitress went to get it, she more or less organized her story.
"I was wondering if you could help me," she said when the waitress
returned,- hoping she could produce a tear or two should that become
necessary.
"I'm looking for Someone and I don't know how to find him, but I think
he's staying somewhere in this area."

"If he's living around here, we probably know him. What's his name?"

The waitress was clearly interested, no doubt sensing some new gossip to
be rehashed later.
"His name's Jamey--Jamey Trent. Or at least I think his last name would
be Trent." Then she launched into her story.
Jamey was the son of an old friend, who was unfortunately a drug
addict, now recovering in a rehab. Jamey had been taken from her and
sent to a place down in Maryland called New Leaf. His mother was worried
about him, but wasn't allowed any contact with him. So' Kate had gone to
New Leaf herself, but they said he'd been sent to a clinic or something,
somewhere in this area.

"His mother just wants to know that he's okay," Kate said.

"It would mean a lot to her."

The women looked at each other.

"I don't know of any clinic around here," the younger one said, shaking
her head.
"Are you sure it's a clinic?" the older woman asked. "Could they have
put him in a foster home?"
Kate's mind spun. Perhaps she'd been wrong to believe the place would be
an institution. After all, Tony had said that only a few kids had been
sent there.

"I guess they could have," she nodded.

"But I think he has some mental problems. Isthere anyone in the vidnity
who takes in emotionally disturbed kids?"
"Well, the reason I asked is that there's this place the old Cameron
farm.
They kind of keep to themselves, but I know there are some kids out
there who are retarded or something."

"Are these local people?" Kate asked, trying not to let her hopes rise.

"Cameron, you said?"
"Cametons were the people who used to own the farm. But he died a while
back and then she sold the farm and went to live with her sister. The
people who bought it aren't from around' here."
"How long ago did they buy it?" Kate asked, thinking that a trip to the
county records office might be in order.
She was told that the farm had been sold about two years ago. When they
gave her directions to it, she realized that she must have passed it
earlier. It was probably no more than an hour from New Leal She paid for
her lunch, thanked the women and took off, nearly certain that it would
be the place she was looking for.
She found the farm without difficulty. There was an old, rusting mailbox
with the name "Cameron" just barely visible on its side. She stopped
opposite the long driveway and stared at the big old white frame
farmhouse. All the buildings on the property, including a big barn, were
dilapidated and in need of painting, and she, saw no evidence of
livestock. The fields on both sides were unplanted, but there was a
large garden just barely visible near the back of the house.
As she sat there, trying to figure out her next move, two figures
emerged from the house and came slowly down the porch steps. At first,
Kate thought they were elderlyc. but as she peered at them more closely,
she became less certain. Both were male, and despite their slow
movements, something suggested they were young.

They walked over to a large tree and sat down in some lawn chairs.

Kate squinted, but still couldn't see them clearly. Nevertheless, she
remained convinced that they were young--probably in their teens.
She thought about faking car trouble and going to the house for help,
but decided instead to go check on the ownership of the property.
Pretending to have car trouble could be risky--especially if someone
offered to check it out for her. i AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, she was
back. The county records office had yielded the information that the
farm had been bought for cash by Franklin and Elizabeth Furman, which
meant nothing at all except for the cash part. Few people bought
property for cash.
She parked just a short distance away from the farm and got out,
carrying a newly purchased hammer and a box of nails. She was hoping
that no Good Samaritan would come along, who might find it suspicious
that she was pounding a nail into a tire.
No one stopped, but driving a nail into the tire proved to be more
difficult than she'd ex:cted. Furthermore, even after she'd gotten it
in, the tire didn't immediately go flat. She tossed the hammer and box
of nails into some weeds and got back in the car, hoping it would go
flat as she drove. She'd already disposed of the jack in a Dumpster
behind the K Mart where she'd bought the hammer and nails.

The tire obligingly went flat just as she saw the mailbox up ahead.

So far, so good, she thought, pulling off the road across from
the/Ariveway.
Just for effect, in case anyone was watching from the house, she got out
and looked at the tire, then opened the trunk. As it swung open, she
heard a sound beh'md her and turned to see an old station wagon pulling
up beside her.
"Looks like you got a flat," the elderly driver said, stating the
obvious.
"I'm afraid so." Kate waved an arm toward the farmhouse. "I already
called a garage. But thanks for stop-ping."
She breathed a sigh of relief when the man left, then hut-ried across
the road and started up the driveway to the farmhouse. By the time she
reached the yard, she had begun rathe. belaedly to worry about her
safety. No one knew where she was, and if this place did have some
connection with New Leaf.
Stop it! she ordered herself. You always do this. Wait until you've
committed yourself to some course of action before considering the
wisdom of it. No wonder Sam thinks you're in need of protection. You
need to be protected from yourself!
But all the while, she kept walking' in long, confident strides toward
the front porch. Then, just as she reached the steps, two teenage boys
came around the side of the house. Kate immediately recognized them as
being the figures she'd seen earlier. She smiled at them, but got only
vacant stares in return. One of the boys had a pronounced facial tic,
and the other kept rubbing his hand against his thigh with a movement
that seemed uncontrollable.

"Hi!" she said brightly.

"I was hoping to use the phone. I've got a flat tire and there's no jack
in the car."
The boys just stared at her. Drugs, she thought uneasily. That could
account for the tic and the repetitive motion. She knew that some of the
more powerful psychoactive medications could cause such involuntary
movements.

"There's a phone," the one boy said finally in a slow, solemn tone.

"But they don't let us use it."

"Who are 'they'?" Kate asked.

"Do you mean your parents?"
Then, just as both boys shook their heads, the front door opened and a
rather severe-looking middle-aged woman appeared.

"Kate greeted her and told her her story.

The interior of the house was a pleasant surprise. It was well furnished
and very clean. Kate followed the woman and the aroma of freshly baked
bread to a big country kitchen, where the woman indicated a phone on the
wall and gave Kate a directory, then turned her attention back to her
baking.

As she called a local garage, Kate surreptitiously studied the kitchen.

Attached to the nearby refrigerator was a chore list. Four boys' names
were on it--unfortunately, first names only. She quickly committed them
to memory.
The garage promised to send someone right away, and Kate hung up,
wondering if she could prolong her stay here." She thanked the woman
profusely, then asked if she might use the bathroom. She hoped it would
be upstairs, which might give her a chance to do some snooping.
"It's the door under the stairs," the woman told her, ending those
hopes.
After using the bathroom, Kate decided that she'd better leave before
she did something to arouse the woman's suspicious. But just as she
started to the kitchen to thank the woman again, she heard a series of
thumpmg noises upstairs, accompanied by muffled cries. The woman
hurried from the kitchen, headed for the stairs "Is something wrong?"
Kate asked' as the woman started up the steps.

"Can I-help?"

The woman shook her head and soon' disappeared from view. Kate waited
near the front door, listening. After a few seconds, she heard the
woman's voice, speaking in low, soothing tones. And then she heard
another voice.

"Scared! They're coming for me!"

Kate drew in a sharp breath at the anguish in that voice, which sounded
both male and young.

"He doesn't like being up there. I don't, either."

Kate whirled around to find one of the boys she'd met outside standing
in the doorway.

"Why is he up there?" she asked.

"He's having a bad spell," the boy replied in his slow voice.

"I had one last week."

"Is he your brother?"

The boy shook his head.

"He just lives here--like Jim and Tony and me."
"Why do you live here?" Kate asked genfiy, keeping her voice low so the
woman upstairs wouldn't hear her. Then, when she got only that vacant
stare, she asked if he'd been at New Leaf. This time, the boy frowned
slightly, as though the name were vaguely familiar. Kate was about to
explain what it was when she heard the woman start down the stairs
behind her.

"I'm sorry," the woman said.

"I guess I should have explained that we run a foster home for disturbed
children. David, the boy upstairs, is having a bad spell. But I just
gave him some more medication and he'll be fine."
"They must keep you very busy," Kate said, for lack of anything else to
say.

The woman sighed.

"They do, but they're good kids." She took the hand that the boy had
been rubbing against his thigh. He didn't protest, but as. soon as she
let it go, he resumed the motion.
"Why don't you go pick some flowers, Stephen? We need some fresh ones
for the table."
Stephen nodded and left. The woman watched him with an expression of
sadness. Kate asked her if he was on medication, too.

"Yes. That's what makes him rub his leg like that," she replied.

"But he has to have it, or he could get violent."
"Will he get better?" Kate asked, horrified to think that someone so
young might have to suffer his entire life like that.

"Maybe." The woman sighed.

"The doctors keep trying different medicines."
A silence fell between them and Kate knew she'd better go. By the time
she reached the car, the tow truck had arrived, and not long after, she
was on her way back to Washington, thinking about what she'd learned--if
anything.
What troubled her most was the woman's remark about the boys becoming
violent, because that immediately brought Charles Scofield to mind.

Chapter Seven.

It was dusk by the time Kate reached the beltway. She automatically
headed for home until she realized that she needed to return the rental
car. Taking it home would mean that Sam would see it, and then she'd
have some explaining to do. Hopefully, by the time he received his
credit card bill, it would all he over.
The agency, which was part. of a car dealership, was closed, but Kate
had been told to leave the keys under the visor and then lock the car.
She did that, then set off on the two-block walk to the Metro station.
By now, it was full dark, and although the street was well lit; it was
deserted at this hour, with most of the businesses having closed for the
day.

Later, she would wonder how she first knew she was being followed.

But she'd gone less than a block before she became aware that someone
was behind her. Tremors of fear crawled along her spine, but she kept
walking until she reached the corner, where she turned with seeming
casual-hess. A shadowy male figure was approaching. Traffic was fairly
heavy, but Kate knew that she couldn't count on any help from drivers
who were no more Y&ely than she to notice a pedestrian in trouble.
The light changed and Kate hurried across the street. One block ahead,
she could see the sign for the Metro. But now she worried that she might
be in even more danger if she went down there. It wasn't likely to be
crowded at this hour of the night, although there might be a cop on duty
on the platform.
She kept walking, her heart thudding noisily and her mouth filled with
the metallic taste of fear. Then, when she was less than a hundred yards
from the station entrance, a car suddenly swerved into the curb just in
front of her!
The passenger door flew open and a man leaped out. Kate whirled and saw
the other man moving fast. There was no time to think. She turned and
ran toward the Metro entrance, praying that a cop would be down
there--or at least someone who could help her.
The escalator was long and steep and moving slowly. Kate stepped onto it
and turned to see both men heading toward her. They were already
starting to run down the moving steps. She ran, too, but she was too
late! About two-thirds of the way down, one of them caught her by the
arm.
The motion of the escalator threw them all off balance, which was
probably the only thing that saved her. With every ounce of strength she
possessed, Kate pushed the man who'd grabbed her against his companion,
who was a few paces behind on the narrow steps. Then she ran headlong
down the remaining stairs, screaming for help.
One of them caught up to her again and this time grabbed at her shoulder
bag.
Kate swiveled to free herself from the strap and lost her footing. The
edges of the metal stairs dug painfully into her body as she tumbled
toward the bottom. And then everything went black as her head struck the
concrete floor.
KATE STUCT. wn to pull free from the hand that held her. She didn't
know why she was frightened; she was operating on pure instinct. But the
other hand merely tightened its grip.

"Kate, it, s Sam! You're safe now."

She blinked a few times, trying to bring him into focus. The voice was
definitely Sam's, but she didn't believe her ears--especially since her
eyes refused to focus. The dark figure bending over her bore a faint
resemblance to Sam, but she didn't understand how he could be there.
But why couldn't he be there? Figuring that out took what seemed to be a
very long time, during which the two Sams more or less merged into
one--a Sam whose blue eyes were filled with concern. Itall flashed
through her mind: the man following her, the car, the struggle on the
escalator, her fall. She groaned and Sam leaned closer. Worry lines
furrowed his dark brows.
"Kate, nothing's broken, but you've got a lot of bad bruises and a
concussion. Dammit, what were you doing there?"
She stared at him, trying to put words together carefully. He separated
and then merged again.
"Water," she croaked. Her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with
cotton.
He picked up a pitcher from the bedside table and poured some water into
a glass. She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but fell
back quickly as pain wracked her body. Everything hurt--even her teeth.
Sam set down the glass and pressed the lever that raised the head of the
bed.

Only then did it dawn on Kate that she was in a hospital.

She hated hospitais. She'd hated them ever since she'd spent a week in
one at the age of eight, when she'd broken a leg and an arm in a bicycle
accident. Her cousin had dared her to ride down the steepest hill in
town, and being Kate, she'd done it.
Sam held the glass to' her lips and she drank. Some water dribbled down
her chin and he wiped it off gently.

"Get me out of here!" she demanded.

Sam grinned.

"Somehow I guessed those would be your first words."

"You have a wonderful bedside manner, Sam. You should have been a doctor
like your mother wanted.,"
"Well, at least we know that a bump on the head hasn't affected your
tongue," he replied, still grinning.

"My tongue and my brain are fine and I want out of here."

"So get up and leave.. I'm sure everyone will enjoy the view of your
charming bare butt while you walk home."
Kate looked down in disgust at her hospital gown. "Where are my
clothes?"
"locked up, along with your purse. Have you had enough time to come up
with a good explanation as to why you left your car at the Post and
rented a car for the day?"

"I don't feel well," she muttered.

Sam got up and pushed back the chair he'd drawn up to the bed: "Fine You
just rest for a while and we'll talk later." He started toward the door.
"Get back here and take me home!" Kate started to tug at the sheets,
ignoring the pain.
"Sam, you're a real" -- She stopped abruptly as a white-coated figure
appeared in the doorway.
"This is Dr. Wakefield, and he'll decide when you can come home," Sam
said with a decidedly smug Smile as he started out once again.

"Don't you dare leave without me!"

"I'm not leaving. I just want to get some coffee."
Kate endured the doctor's questions and poking and prodding and other
indignities, then demanded to be released.
"Well, I suppose you can go if your husband is able to keep an-eye on
you," the doctor said calmly.
"There's r ally nothing we can do for you here. You're going to have
some dizzy spells and some double vision and nausea for a few days, and
I suggest that you soak in a warm tub to help the body aches."

"He's not my husband?" Kate muttered.

"He's my ex-husband."

"I see. Well, uh, if he had anything to do with this ..."

"He didn't."
"If I had, it wouldn't have happened," Sam said as he came back into the
room.

"MacHo man," Kate grumbled as she started to get out of bed.

"She isn't always like this," Sam said, ignoring her as he turned to the
doctor.

"She just hates hospitals."

"I see. Well, I don't like them much myself," the doctor said with a
smile, then repeated to Sam what he'd told her.

Sam nodded.

"I've been through the same symptoms myself. I'll take good care of her?
"When did you ever have a concussion?" Kate asked as she
stood up rather Shakily, awkwardly clutching the open back of her gown.

"In Bosnia--about a year ago. Someone took exception to my presence."

"I didn't know about that," Kate said, frowning at him as she thought
about those lost years. What else had happened to him? He obviously
hadn't spent all his time running around Europe with his super model.
"I'll tell you all my war stories while you recover," , Sam promised,
opening the closet and getting out her clothes. "And you can tell me
yours."
The doctor left and Sam helped her get dressed. Then an orderly appeared
with a wheelchair, and a short time later, Kate was on her way home in
Sam's Porsche, her bruised mind already struggling with the question of
what to tell him.

"KATE, IT'S TIME to end this. No story is worth your life."

"Hah! You wouldn't be saying that if it was your story." Sam'stared at
her in silence for a long time, then slowly shook his head.

"You're right. I wouldn't. But it isn't my story--it's yours."

"That's right. And I'm not quitting!"
Sam sank to the floor beside the bathtub where she was trying to soak
away the torments her body was inflicting upon her. She'd already told
him everything. She still believed that the source of the attacks was
Newbury or Armi-stead, though some nagging doubts remained.
But she knew Sam. was focused like a laser beam on the congressman
and his chief of staff. It was both his strength and his weakness that
he could concentrate like that, and she knew that he'd never considered
that the New Leaf story could be the source of their problems.

Of course, he didn't know that she'd found the so-called "clinic,"

since she'd told him that she'd gone back to New Leaf again. And she
didn't intend to tell him, either--at least not until she had some real
evidence of illegalities there.
"They could have killed me, but they didn't," she said, rather amazed at
how calm she sounded, and not pleased to realize how safe she felt here
with Sam.
"I think that means something. If they'd wanted to kill me, they could
have just shot me from the car and it would have seemed like one more
drive-by shooting."
Sam said nothing and she couldn't see his expression as he stared down
at the coffee mug he was cradling between his hands.

"Well, don't you agree?" she asked impatiently.

"I suppose so," he replied, still not looking up at her. "But that
doesn't mean they won't do it the next time." He got to his feet, shoved
his hands into the pockets of his jeans and began to pace around the
bathroom.

"I'm trying, Kate. You've got to give me some credit for that."

"Trying what?" she asked, although she thought she knew. If she was
fight, this was a discussion she didn't want to have right now.

"I'm trying to be what you want me to be, but it just isn't working.

I. I love you, Kate, and I just can't stand by and watch you risk your
life like this to prove that you're as good as I am."
She had to fight an urge to cover her ears. She didn't want to hear that
he still loved her--not now and maybe not ever. So she chose to focus on
the rest of his statement even as her bruised body reacted to his
declaration of love.
"Wouldn't you be doing just that if our situations were reversed? I
mean, wouldn't you be trying to prove your worth as a journalist?"

"No. Yes. Hell, I don't know. I just got lucky early on, that's all.

A story that seemed minor was given to me and it turned out to be a big
one.

"

"Well, this could be my big one," she declared, hiding her surprise at
this glimpse of uncertainty she'd never before seen in him.

"Doesn't it mean anything that I still love you?" he asked suddenly.

"Of course it does, but I don't have the time to think about it fight
now."
Sam chuckled and shook his head as he sat down on the rim
of the tub; "Thanks for feeding my ego, Kitty-Kat."

"Your ego doesn't need any feeding. It never did."

"You're wrong about that," he said, grinning.
"It's a pretty humbling experience to be told you can't have the only
woman you want."
"It seems to me that you didn't spend a lot of time licking your
Wounds," she stated acerbically.
"It couldn't have been more than three or four months before I saw
pictures of you with your model girlfriend."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I knew that was going to come up at some point."

"So?" .

"So what?"

"Are you going to tell me it was just a platonic relationship?"

"No, we did have an affair Is that what you want to hear? We were
divorced, Kate. I haven't asked about the men in your life since then."
She opened her mouth to tell him that there hadn't been any, but quickly
changed her mind. She just didn't want him to know that she hadn't found
anyone who could wipe him out of her mind. In fact, she wished she had.
"The water's getting cold," she said and started to stand. Sam jumped up
and grabbed a towel, then helped her from the tub and wrapped her in it.
He picked her up and carried her through the door into the adjoining
bedroom, where he deposited her onto the bed and began to dry her.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

' She nodded, unable to even begin to explain all the Conflicting
emotions she was feeling at the moment. She wanted to tell him that she
stall loved him, but she held back the words. To speak them now would be
to plunge them both back into their messy past.
When he had finished rubbing her dry, he tossed away the towel and drew
the bed covers over her, then began to strip off his own clothes.
Every muscle and bone in her body still ached, despite the bath. Her
stomach felt queasy and her head throbbed. Surely, she thought, no
normal person would be thinking about sex at a time like this. There had
to be something wrong with her.
Sam slid in beside her, yawning. He gave her a quick kiss and rolled
over onto his side, turning away from her. Kate was crestfallen--at
least until she realized that she'd paid no attention at all to the
time. She turned her head and checked the clock on the nightstand. It
was just after one o'clock in the afternoon.

"What's wrong?" Sam muttered sleepily.

"Were you at the hospital with me all night?" He rolled over and frowned
at her: "Of course."
Her eyes slid away from his. Of course. There she was, hung up on words
again--words this time that sent a thrill of warmth through her. She
felt cherished, and it was a good feeling, one she hadn't had for three
years. He had rolled over again and she moved closer to him, then kissed
the point of his shoulder.

"Thank you, Sam."

"Why're you thanking me?" ; he murmured.

"Uh, well, you didn't have to do that, you know."

"Your brain must be screwed up after all," he muttered in a voice thick
with sleep.
She thought that he just might be right. Of course he'd come. She knew
that. Sam would always be there for her--whether she wanted it or not.
She drifted toward sleep, wondering if she was taking him for granted
and thinking that was not a very good idea.
"HAVE YOU EVER HEARD of the Organization for Responsible Drug
Policy--ORDP?" Sam asked.

Kate turned to Sam and frowned.

"It doesn't sound familiar. Why?"
"Well, it took some serious digging by The Ferret, but they may be
channeling funds to Newbury through that Political Action Committee of
his."
"The Ferret" was everyone's nickname for the Post's researcher, who was
renowned for his ability to ferret out information, through both his
considerable computer expertise and his impressive network of contacts.
He was always overburdened with requests, but it didn't
surprise Kate that he'd put Sam's request at the top of the list. He'd
always liked Sam, at least in part because Sam had lobbied hard for the
new and more powerful computer The Ferret had wanted.

"But you aren't sure?" she asked.

"No, not at this' point, but we're working on it. What happened is that
I came across some new names on the list of contributors to Newbury's
PAC.
Most of the others were regulars, or else I could tie their
contributions directly to matters before Newbury's committees at the
time. So I asked The Ferret to run them, and it turned out that two of
the three are on the board of ORDP.

"So he checked on the organization, and it turns fiut that they're new.

Their charter says that they do research into drug policy issues. They
seem to have a lot of money to throw around, too. And here's the really
interesting part. A couple of other names on the board caught The
Ferret's attention. It turns out that they've.been associated- for years
with other groups that have been trying to get drugs--es-especially
marijuana--legalized. But the two new contributors to Newbury's PAC have
no history of such activities. The Ferret's trying to get a line on
them, but he's not getting anywhere."
Kate stared into the gathering dusk in the small backyard. They'd both
slept away the day--or at least she had. Sam had gotten up a few hours
ago.
"So this group--ORDP--could be responsible for Newbury's change of
mind?"
"I'd say that's a distinct possibility, but I haven't found any evidence
of illegality."
"Still, it could be embarrassing for him to have it come out that he's
receiving money from such a group."
"No more embarrassing than everything else that's come out about him
over the years. Even if they're advocating legalization they've got lots
of company."

Kate sighed.

"You're right. It doesn't sound like a good enough reason to be
threatening me. Still, maybe I should find this ORDP and talk to them."

"My thoughts exactly Maybe you can get a line on their position.

Their headquarters are in Bethesda."
The phone rang and Sam picked up the cordless. From what she could hear,
Kate assumed it must be The Ferret, and she waited impatiently for Sam
to fill her in. This story and the New Leaf story were raising her
frustration level to an all-time high.

Sam put down the phone with a frown.

"That was The Ferret. He finally got a line on those two new
contributors to Newbury's PAC who are on the ORDP board, but it doesn't
make much sense."

"Who are they?"

"Bqth of them are money men--guys who operate on the legal and ethical
edges of the financial markets. The SEC's investigated them both at one
time or another, but never brought any charges."

"They sound like kindred spirits for Newbury," Kate said with disgust.

"Yeah. I can see them contributing to him. They're probably into
something that he has some control over on one of his committees. But
why would they be on the board of ORDP?"

"Could they have any connection to the pharmaceutical companies?"

Kate asked.
"The man,I talked to at Brookings said that the drug companies could
benefit big time if drugs are legalized and they chose to go into the
business."

Sam picked up the phone again.

"Good thought. Let me get The Ferret working on that."

But before he could punch out The Ferret's number, the phone rang.

Sam answered and then remained s'fient. A chill ran through Kate as she
saw his expression darken. Then he put down the phone without a word.

"What is it?" Kate asked.

"He said I should tell you that they won't make any mistakes next time,"
Sam said grimly.

"I'm not giving up, Sam."

"Kate, whatever this is, it isn't worth your life!"

"So I'll he more careful. I admit that I was pretty dumb to do what !

did last night."
"I still don't understand why you were trying to hide from me the fact
that you went out to New Leaf again."
"I told you. I wasn't trying to hide-it. I just decided to go out there,
and I took the car back so you wouldn't have to pay for an extra day."
"Sometimes you just don't think--and that's what scares me. You zero in
on something and just forget about everything and everyone else."
"We've had this discussion before, Sam--many time. It's just the way I
am." But his words stung, reminding her once again that it was likely
that she, too, bore some of the re-spousibility for their shattered
marriage. '"When I married you, I thought I was marrying someone who
would understand my profession,"

"I do understand it."

"No, you don't. You think it's perfectly okay for you to put yourself at
risk; but it's not okay for me to do the same."

"

" I love you, Kate, and"--" No, you don't love me. What you love is
what you think I should be."

"You're not making any sense."

"I'm making perfect sense. I just promised you that I'll he careful--and
I will!"

Sam heaved a deep sigh.

"Well, I don't have any choice but to accept that, do I?"
"No, you don't.-Sam called The Ferret to ask him to check on a drug
company connection for the two men. Kate yawned and leaned back in her
Chaise lounge, staring out into the darkness, where she could just see
Reject at the back of the yard, prowling about in the eternal hope of
finding something to supplement his already more than adequate diet..
Sam's fears for her were beginning to affect her--or perhaps she was
suffering a belated reaction to her two brushes with death. He would
undoubtedly say it was about time.
In light of what Sam and The Ferret had learned, Kate discounted her
earlier thoughts that the New Leaf story could be responsible for the
threats, and once again began to think about dropping that project for
now. Keeping the two stories straight in her mind was becoming something
of a problem in any event.

"ARE YOU SICK?"

"No, I'm thinking."
"Some people might say it's sick to be thinking at four in the morning,"
Sam observed with a yawn.

"You must be getting old. We used to stay up later than this, arguing."

Sam chuckled and sat up in bed, then rested his chin in the curve of her
shoulder as he pressed against her. It was something he'd often done--a
small, unimportant gesture, but one that had a very powerful effect upon
her now. It was strange, she thought, that such dumb little things could
be so comforting and seem so important.
"What are you thin Icing about?" he asked, his fingers toying with the
hem of her nightshirt, which had ridden high on her thighs.
"That man in the pickup--the one I think might have shot at me. I woke
up thinking about him, and it seemed that in my sleep, I remembered
where I'd seen him before."
Sam grunted, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere at the moment
as he began to stroke her thigh, moving tenatively close to that
part of her that he was awakening.

"Stop it, Sam," she said without any real conviction.

"I can't think when you're doing that."  She felt his smile against her
shot rider "That's the general idea."
"But that man could be important. If I can tie him to Newbury and
Armistead"

"He's not more important than some other things. Us, for example."

"Don't do this to me, Sam. I don't want to talk about us now."

"Okay, but we have to at some point, you know."

"I know," she admitted, thinking that only a short time ago, she'd
stated quite firmly that there was no us.
"Belonging together and living together are two different
things, Sam."
His fingers slid higher and he began to run his tongue along the
sensitive skin near her earlobe. Kate let her thoughts about the man in
the pickup slide away and surrendered herself to the pleasure it seemed
only Sam could give her.

"The doctor said I should rest," she murmured in a husky voice.

"So rest. I'll do all the work."
But he didn't. She ignored her still-aching body, and after a while
decided that warm baths didn't hold a candle to Sam. But then, nothing
ever had.
IT C. nme TO HER as she was making her way out of the dark depths of
sleep.
Sam was gone, but she could hear him clattering around in the kitchen
downstairs, either talking to Reject or to someone on the phone.
She'd seen the man in the pickup at New Leaf! He'd come in to replace a
fluorescent bulb that had been' buzzing annoyingly while she talked to
Tony. She could visualize it so easily now. Or perhaps she was
visualizing it too easily. Maybe there'd been only a superficial
resemblance. Besides, she'd gotten only a very brief glimpse of the man
in the pickup, and there was nothing all that distinctive about his
looks in any case.
But if she was right. Kate swore soffiy. It seemed that each time she
was about to let the New Leaf story go, some. thing kept her at it. Did
that tell her something?
She. heard Sam's steps on the stairs. Should she tell him? She made a
quick decision not to. She still felt very possessive about the New Leaf
story. Still, she was feeling a twinge of guilt when Sam walked in,
carrying a large breakfast tray with folding legs that they'd found in
an antiques store on Maryland's Eastern Shore one weekend.
Kate had pronounced it the height of decadence and' Sam had promptly
bought it.
"There's a message on the machine from someone named Tony. He's that
counselor from the boot camp, isn't he?"
Sam asked as he set down the tray carefully, then joined her in the big
bed.
She nodded as she reached for the orange juice, glad to be feeling
hungry again. Maybe it was the bath or maybe it was Sam, but she didn't
feel as achy, either.

"What was the message?"

"He said to phone him, but to wait until tonight and call him at home.
He left the number."
Interesting, she thought. He doesn't want me to call him at work. Or
maybe he's just hard to reach there. She knew he spent most of his time
in counseling sessions with the boys.

"Is anything happening with that story?" Sam asked.

She shook her head, wondering if it was less wrong to lie without
speaking.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, his blue ey gleaming with
the memory of last night.

Much better. The bath must have helped."

"Right," he nodded, hh mouth twitehlng with amusement. "I've been
thinking about that idea we had to put in a hot tub downstairs. if
we'd had that, it would have fielped a lot more."
"Maybe so, but since I don't plan to fall down escalators again anytime
soon I think we can forget about it. Besides, I can't aford it."

"I can. I'm going to get some estimates."

She was about to remind him that the house wasn't his any longer, but
the words stuck in her throat, even though she'd had no problem saying
them very forcefully only a short time ago.
"I'm going to try to get an appointment today to talk to the people at
ORDP," she announced, moving the discussion back to business.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

She nodded.
"Besides, I can't just sit around here waiting for them to try something
else."
She hoped that he wouldn't notice the her voice as she thought about the
threats hanging over but of course he did. He reached out to touch her
face, gently brushing away a few strands of hair.
"It's okay to be seared, Kate. I spent the last three
years being scared a lot of the time."
"Then why did you do it, Sam?" She paused and drew in a quavering
breath, knowing she shouldn't be saying what she was about to say.
"Every time I saw you on TV, I wor-fled that it would be the last
time--that I'd hear you'd been killed in some godforsaken place I
couldn't even find on the map."

Sam nodded.

"That's why I got out--and maybe it was why I went into it in the first
place. You can get addicted to danger, and I think that was starting to
happen to me. There was one guy I knew, a Bfit, Ian, who'd been covering
wars for ten years. You'd think he'd get more careful as time went on,
but he didn't. He just kept taking more and more chances--until he took
one too many."
"Sam," she said, taking a deep breath, "did you take that job beeanse of
me?"

"Partly," he admitted.

"But it was mostly because I'd decided that I wanted to do something
different for a while, and the end of the Cold War made foreign affairs
more in Kate said nothing, but she didn't quite believe him. Sam had
never been all that interested in foreign affairs. He was a Washington
native who'd grown up' inside the fabled beltway, where, at least among
journalists, foreign affairs were no more than a minor distraction from
time to time." Were you really in danger?" she asked.
"Not all the time, but the problem was that you never knew when things
could change. After Ian died, I started to think about all the times
we'd sat around complaining because nothing much was happening--meaning
no one was killing anybody. And that's when I knew it was time to get
out."
Kate wondered if there was a parallel there to her own situation--and if
that's why he was bringing it up now. Was she, too, becoming addicted to
danger? It was a very sobering thought.
They finished their breakfast and then Kate got the num bet for ORDP.
When she called them, she was put through to the director of research,
who was very willing to see her later in the day. After that, she
showered and dressed and convinced herself that she was now fully
recovered, though Sam was less certain. When she told him about her
appointment, he insisted upon driving her there.
"The doctor said you could have d'zy spells or double vision at any
time for the next couple of days," he reminded her.
She reluctantly agreed to be chauffeured around, then went into her home
office and spent the next couple of hours updating her notes on both the
Newbury-Armistead story and the New Leaf story. Now that she'd had some
time to think about it, she was far less certain that the man in the
pickup was the maintenance man she'd seca at New Leaf.
Finally, still feeling that strange reluctance to let go of the story,
she called the Pennsylvania Department of Health again, only to learn
that group homes and foster care fell under the jurisdiction of a
separate'depattment.

Fortunately for Kate, she was accustomed to the frustrations of.

dealing with bureaucracies, and the people in Pennsylvania were, on the
whole, a lot more helpful than most of their counterparts in Washington.
But it still took numerous calls to Harrisburg and then to the county
children's services in that region before she could feel reasonably
certain that the farmhouse she'd visited wasn't a licensed facility.
What I need, she thought, is to get another look at Ted Snyder's files,
to see if I can find any more with that "Classification One" notation.
And if those names matched the names of the kids at the farmhouse. But
even if she was willing to try breaking into Snyder's office, it would
probably be impossible. After all, it was a residential facility with
staff present twenty-four hours a day--and good security, as well.
No, it made more sense to see if she could pry any more information out
of Tony Disalvo. She would just have to wait until tonight and return
his call.
She wondered why he'd contacted her, then abruptly recalled that she'd
given him the description of the man in the pickup. Could he have gone
to work and seen the maintenance man, then realized that he could be the
one she was asking about?
Sam went out for a while to renew some old acquaintances and contacts
and to talk some more to the people at the Post about his possible
future as a syndicated columnist. He returned just in time to take her
to Bethesda for her meeting. She didn't tell him that she was grateful
for his offer because she'd had several minor but annoying dizzy spells
and one brief episode of blurred vision.
"AT THE PRF. SENT TIME, we are not taking a position on the subject of
legalizafion. As you know, we're a new organization, so we've just begun
to' study the issue."
"But several of your board members are known to favor legalizafion,"
Kate responded.

"That's true," the executive director said smoothly.

"But some also oppose it, while others are neutral."
"Two of your board members have made substantial contributions to a PAC
run by Congressman Newbury." She gave him the names.
"I wasn't aware of that," he said after the briefest of hesitations,
during which Kate thought he'd seemed surprised.
But was he surprised that they'd made the contributions-or was he
shocked that she'd found out?
"As you probably know, both men have many interests. They may have other
business before Congress." He affected a careless shrug.
Kate did not like this man. Her antennae had been twitching ever since
she'd walked into their elegant headquarters to find that instead of
speaking to the research director, she would be meeting with the head
man.
"I've spoken to a researcher at Brookings and he tells me that if drugs
are legalized, the pharmaceutical companies could stand to benefit--if.
they choose to go into the business." She paused one beat for effect.

"Does ORDP have any connection with any drug companies?"

"Absolutely not! I've already given you our financial statements, which
lists our contributors."
Kate thought he was doing a very good job of appearing to be offended,
but perhaps not quite good enough.

"Do you plan to adopt an advocacy role one way or the other?"

"We may. It depends on the results of our research, which isn't yet
complete."
"My appointment was with your research director," Kate told him, sensing
that it was time to end this interview. "Would it be possible for me to
speak to him before I leave ...  just for background?"
"Of course. My seo, etary will take you to him." He stood up, proving
that he was equally eager to end the interview.
At the office door, Kate turned to thank him again for his time. He was
punching out a number on his phone and looked up at her. For one brief
moment, before he managed to paste a false smile on his face, Kate saw a
very nervous man.
In the outer office, Kate asked the secretary to show her to the
research director's office; The door to the executive director's office
closed behind her, and as the secretary got up, Kate saw a red light
winking on her phone.
Perhaps the hasty call had nothing at all to do with her visit, but that
look on his face suggested otherwise.
Kate followed the woman out into a hallway, where a wave of diriness
engulfed her. She put out a hand to steady herself against the wall and
the woman turned to her questioningly.

"I'm sorry," Kate said.

"I'm just recovering from an  ...  illness. Could you show me to the
rest room first?"

"Of course," the woman said sympathetically. Will you be all right?"

Kate assured her that she would, and the woman pointed down the hall.
"Mr. Samnels's office is the third door on the right after the ladies'
room."
After thanking her, Kate staggered into the ladies' room and sank onto a
love seat to wait for the dizziness to pass. When it did, she used the'
facilities then set off to find the research director.
She walked through the appropriate doorway to find an empty secretary's
desk and an open door beyond. As she reached it, she saw a young man
with longish hair hunched over a computer. She was about to tap on the
doorframe and announce herself when she caught sight of a name on
the computer screen. Her words remained in her throat as
she squinted to see better. Was it New, Leaf? She just couldn't be sure
at this distance, but she thought it was. And then she suddenly recalled
Tony Disalvo's mention of something about a research institute that was
studying the boot camp.
She was wondering if she could move closer without being noticed when a
female voice behind her ended those thoughts.

"May I help you?"

Kate turned and smiled, then quickly turned back to the man at the
computer and introduced herself. Immediately, the screen went blank and
he got up to greet her.
She asked the same questions she'd asked at Brookings and received
substantially the same answers. At one po'mt, he talked about a study
they were doing of drug rehab centers, and, sensing an opening, Kate
inquired if they'd included any of-the boot camps that had recently
become popular.

Peter Samuels was less adept at hiding his shock than his boss was.

He told her that they hadn't mclnded them as yet, which she thought was
a mistake. Such a study would be perfectly in keeping with their
research, and the fact that he denied it suggested strongly to her that
her eyes hadn't betrayed her. They were studying New Leaf.
She left the ORDP offices in a state of confusion, wondering if it was
at all possible that what she'd viewed as ing two separate stories could
in fact be related. It seemed incredible, but she knew she could no
longer d. nrniss the possibility.
Sam was waiting for her in the parking lot, but before she could decide
what to tell him, he launched into the story of his own discoveries--or
rather, the discoveries of The Ferret, to whom he'd just spoken.
"Those two are definitely into something," Sam said, referring to the
two ORDP board members and contributors to Newbury's PAC.
"The Ferret says they've recently set up a lot of dummy
corporations--some of them offshore. He thinks they're trying very hard
to cover their tracks on something."

"Is there anything else he can find out?" Kate asked.

"He's already started-to look for a connection between their dummy
corporations and any of the drug companies, but it's going to take a
while."

"Let's go to the office," she suggested.

"We need to talk to Bob Strasser." Strasser was the Post's chief
business correspondent.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because he might know which of the drug companies would be most likely
to get into the business if drugs are legalized."

Sam gave her a smile.

"Good idea. That could narrow it down for The Ferret. How did your
interview go?"
Kate told him everything--except for the part about New Leaf. She wasn't
sure she'd seen the name, but she was no longer cerlain why she was
keeping this from Sam, either.

"We've had a piece of luck," Sam went on.

"Crawford's parents are back in town. I took the chance that they might
not be gone for the entire two weeks and called her office. Her
secretary said that she's back, but she hasn't come into the office jet.
She expected her to be calling in for messages, though."

Kate sighed. Somewhere in there, the. dead intern had gotten lost.

Now she wondered if they had any right to bother the woman and force her
to relive the tragedy. They discussed it and decided to pat it off for
the time being.

BOB STRASSER BLINKED AT them from behind his thick glasses.

"Are you going to ten me why you want to know?"

"Not now, Bob," Sam said.

"But if there's a story for you in it, we will."

He rubbed his bald head and leaned back precariously in his chair.

"Well, there are a few that I would eliminate--companies that are
already doing well and have a corporate mentality that I think would
prevent them from getting into the business."

He thought for a minute, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"You know, the most likely candidates would be the smaller
companies--especially the ones on the cutting edge of biotechnology.
They haven't been doing too well lately and a couple of
them. are pretty close to Chapter He And the ones I'm thinking of are
closely held, which m that the decision could be made by fewer people."
He gave them three names, which Sam'took to The ret, while Kate went to
check her messages. She was prised to find among them a message from the
Baltir, Sun reporter who'd helped her on the Charles Sco: matter. When
she returned the call, the first words out o reporter's mouth were "He's
gone!"

"What?" Kate was confused.

"Charles Scofield escaped from the hospital last nig " But how could he
have managed to escape? You that he was supposed to be a virtual
vegetable."

" Right. That's why they think he had help."

A cold Imp settled into the pit of her stomach as sh, tened to the
details.
The former New Leaf resident had 1 kept on powerful medications,
according to his conta the hospital. Each time they'd tried to ean him
from drugs, he'd become violent. The psychiatrist in charge convinced
that he couldn't possibly have escaped o] own.
"Have you talked to his mother?" Kate asked. "Yeah. She hasn't heard
from him, and she's really Kate thanked him and hung up, then sat there
thin about the farmhouse she'd visited. She called the rep, back and
asked if he could fax her a picture of Charles he said he'd doit right
away. She promised that she w let him in on anything she learned.
Sam was waiting in her cubicle when she returned wit] faxed photo in
hand.

His gaze went to it, and then to She explained who it was.

"Uh, Sam, there are a few things I haven't told you," why does that not
surprise me?"
"I just wanted to keep the New Leaf story to myself," stated
defensively.
"Besides, I don't really have anything yet. But I think I may need your
help."
Those final words cost her, but not quite as much as: expected. She
wondered what that told her about present relationship--not to mention
their future.
This story is consuming us both, Kate thought. And yet she knew that,
beneath the surface of their working relationship, the turbulent
cm'tcmts of their shared past were still there.

Chapter Eight.

"I still can't believe that you kept all this from me," Sam complained
as they drove west the next morning.

"Stop whining. I told you that I still don't have anything concrete."

"I thought that for once we were working well together."

"We are, but we won't be if you keep this up."

'"It's really a stretch to believe that the two stories could be
connected," Sam said, glancing again in the rearview mirror. He was
driving a rental, but after Kate'sexperience, they knew that didn't
guarantee they wouldn't be followed.

"Coincidences do happen" she pronounced.

"But I agree with you."
"So we don't know if we're pursuing two parts of the same story or two
entirely separate stories. And we also don't know which one of them is
responsible for the threats." He paused for a beat, then added; "But my
money's still on Newbury and Armistead."
"But that could just: be because of Newbury's reputation," she observed,
reaching for the cell phone.

"I'm going to call The Ferret and see if he's found anything else."

Sam put out a hand to stop her.
"Wait until we stop and we'll call him from a pay phone. Cell phones
can't be trusted. If anyone/s following us, they might overhear it."

She replaced the phone.

"I wish I could have gotten hold of Tony Disalvo last night.. He's a
good guy and he's already uneasy about the changes he's seen in the boys
at New Ieal I think he'll help us."
"I wouldn, t count on that," Sam replied. "if he does, he could be
risking his job."

"That's true," she sighed.

"And he did tell me that it was the best job he'd ever had. I hope I can
reach him tonight."

"I wish we had at least a working theory about all this," Sam said.

"With Newbury and Armistead, it's simple enough. Greed. All we need is
for The Ferret to make a connection between those guys ad some drug
company that might benefit' from legalization. But this New Leaf
business ..." He shook his head.

"It makes no sense, Kate. What could they be up to?"

"If they're really responsible for kidnapping Charles Scofield from the
hospital, then it's obvious that there's something they don't want the
doctors there to discover."
"But you said that the hospital had already done all sorts of teats on
him."
"They did and they didn't find anything, at least as far as my source at
the Sun knows."
"T!ien what they might be worried about is that he could snap out of his
psychotic state and tell them something."
"Good point, but you'd think that he would have told his mother before
all this happened." Kate stared at the long gray ribbon of highway
before them and wrapped her arms around herself.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Sam. I feel like any minute we're
going to cross over into the "Twilight Zone."
" NOT OURM THR HOLMS later, they were driving slowly along the narrow,
deserted road that passed by the farmhouse. They rounded a-curve and
Kate' saw the old mailbox.

"That's it--up there on the right."

"Get out the map," Sam said as he put on his turn signal. "If anyone
sees us, they'll think we're just lost."

They pulled over and Kate peered up the long lane to the farmhouse.

"Those are the same two boys I saw before." Even from this distance, she
could tell. They were even sitting in the same place. What
kind of life was this for kids--drugged up all the time? And yet maybe
it was the only way they could exist at all.
Sam reached into the back for the powerful binoculars he'd bought before
they left.
"I don't think anyone from up there can see them if I keep them in the
car," he told her as he brought them into focus and peered up the lane.
"They're good," he said, lowering them after a moment. "If Scofield
comes outside, we'll be able to confirm that it's him."
"But we can't sit here all day without arousing their suspicion," she
cautioned.
Sam studied the area. On both sides of the farmhouse,. open fields
stretched for a half mile or more. Behind it, however, was a thickly
wooded hill. He took the map from Kate and began to study it.

"Are you up for a hike?" he asked.

"I suppose so. I haven't had any more dizzy spells."
"There's a road on the other side of that hill. If we climbed up there,
we could get pretty close to the back of the farmhouse without being
spotted--close enough to use the glasses anyway."

"Then let's do it. We-'re not going to get anywhere by sitting here."

"Uh-oh," Sam said suddenly, "someone's coming." Kate turned around and
saw a pickup approaching them from behind, its turn signal indicating
that it intended to enter the lane.
"Sam, that's" -- "Get your head down," Sam instructed as he unfolded the
map again.

She did as told.

"It looks like the same truck I saw after my tire was shot out! Try to
get a look at the driver."
Sam pretended to stare at the map, then abruptly folded it when the
pickup pulled up to them. Kate was about to risk a peek when Sam rolled
down the window.

"You lost?" a man's voice called.

"No, I've located where we are now," Sam replied. "Thanks."
She waited until Sam had pulled out and straightened up, then turned to
look through the rear window. She saw the man only briefly. But she
couldn't be sure.

"What did he look like?" she asked Sam. "Nondescript," Sam replied.

"Brown hair, kind of lean face. About forty or so."
"I think it was him. Was there a gun rack in the truck?" She hadn't been
able to tell because the sun was reflecting from the truck's rear
window.

"D-h-huh. With a rifle on it. It's a Ford, too."

"At least he didn't see me," she said with a sigh of relief, then stared
at Sam.

"But he might have recognized you."

"Unfortunately," Sam ag.

"So what do we do now?"

"Just what we were going to do before. Even if he recognized me, he
isn't likely to be expecting us o come over that hill."
They stopped at a Burger King in a small town that seemed to consist of
about an equal number of churches and bars, and not much else.
Kate pointed out that if it was indeed the same man, then they at least
knew there was a connection between the farmhouse and New Leaf.

"Yeah, that's if you, re right about having seen him at New Leaf."

"I'm right," she stated firmly, although she hadn't been sure before.
There came a time when one just had to stop hedging and proceed with
certainty. Damn the doubts and full Sixd ahead.
"But you said that Tony didn't recognize him from the description you
gave him," Sam reminded her.
"I know, and that bothers me. I remember thinking at the time that Tony
seemed sort of uneasy. I wonder if he guessed who it might be,-but
didn't want to say for some reason."

"You can't rule out the possibility that Tony is involved in all this."

"He isn't; But you said yourself that the man is nondescript. It's
possible that Tony didn't recognize him from my description--or at least
that he just wasn't su enough to tell me."
"Yeah, but think about this. How did that guy find you? It would have
been easy for him to lie in wait if he already knew that you were going
to be visiting Tony."

"I just can't believe that Tony would be a party to something like that.

That would mean that all the time he was talking to me, he knew I was
likely to be murdered as soon as I left."
"It could also plain why he called you the other night. Maybe he was
trying to' find out if you were going to take it any further."
"In that case, wouldn't he be home when I called him back?" she asked
test

"He told me to call him then."

"Okay, okay. All I'm saying is that we can't trust him right now."
"I do." But did she? Sam had succeeded in planting a tiny kernel of
doubt, and that irritated her because she'd always trusted her instincts
about people.

"I hate it when you do that," she muttered.

"Do what?"

"Question my judgment."

"How caninot question your judgment? After all, you divorced me." He
turned to her with that killer smile. "This is business, Sam."

"Uh-huh. But one of these days, we need to get personal."

"You're pushing again."
"And I'm going to keep on pushing until you admit that. you can't live
without me."
"I've already proved that. I managed for three years just fine, thank
you."

"No, you didn't. All you did was work."

"That's all I ever do, so what's new about that? Have you been going
around asking questions about my private life?"
"I didn't have to ask any questions. You know how it is with me. You
said yourself that people just seem to tell me things."
"Okay, so I didn't find anyone, but I wasn't looking. I was focusing on
my career. And anyway, it's obvious that I'm far more discriminating
than you are."

"I was the wronged party. My male ego was bruised."

"What a crock! Your ego couldn't be bruised by a nuclear missile."

He sighed theatrically.

"Sometimes, Kitty-Kat, I really think you don't know me very well." He
put on the turn signal and pulled off the road.
"Why are you stopping?" Kate's nerves began to jangle. "This isn't the
time to be ..."

Sam took the map she'd been holding.

"I think we're about opposite the farmhouse. If I figured the mileage
right, it should be just over that hill."
"Oh," she said, shifting mental gears with some difficulty. She didn't
know which was worse--these brief discussions or a serious talk. Then,
sneaking a look at Sam as he bent over the map, she wondered if he could
possibly have told the truth. And she continued to think about it as
they got out of the car.
Sam hadn't really protested when she'd said that she wanted a divorce,
other than to suggest that they seek some counseling, which she'd
refused to do.
In fact, she'd felt at the time that he was glad to be rid of her, and
that's why he'd been so generous. Then her thoughts were abruptly cut
off when she saw a gun in Sam's hand.

"What are you doing with that? Where did you get it?"

"I borrowed it," he said calmly as he slipped it into the back of his
waistband.
"It's easier to carry than that gun of yours. Whoever these guys are,
they're playing for keeps now, Kate."

"You told me once that you'd never even fired a gun."

"I have now. I went to a range."
"Sam, maybe we should give up on this and go to the police with what we
have."

He stopped and stared at her.

"You're changing your mind just because I'm carrying a gun?" he asked
incredulously.

"Yes ...  well, maybe. I don't know."

"Look, why don't you just wait in the car and I'll go up there.

You'll be safe enough here. Or you can go back to Burger King and wait."

"No!"

He planted his hands on his hips.

"You're just proving my point, Kate. You jump into things without
thinking them through. But what I don't understand is why it took the
gun to make you see that."
"I just don't want you to risk your life over my story," she said,
knowing even 'as she spoke just how foolish she sounded.

"You're not making any sense, but you don't need me to tell you that."

They climbed' the hill together in silence. But Kate's thoughts were
anything but quiet. Self-examination was the last thing she wanted to
engage in right now, but she knew that the reason the gun had affected
her So strongly was that she was suddenly afraid not for herself, but
for Sam.
I kept a tight lid on those fears for the past three years, she thought.
Now 'it seems that the lid is off and they're all pouring out. The truth
was that she simply couldn't envision a life without Sam--even though
she was the one who'd sent him away.
She recalled all the times she'd seen him on TV in some war zone, and
about the time she'd seen that photo of 'him with the model. Even then,
confronted with indisputable evidence that he'd found someone else,
she'd always known that he belonged to her.
Lost in her murky thoughts, she failed to see an exposed tree root and
stumbled. Sam caught her just as she began to fall.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still holding her close.

She nodded. She wasn't okay--not by a long shot. The heat from his body
merged with hers and threatened to engulf them both. And when she raised
her head and met his gaze, she saw that he felt it, too.
"Pine needles make a nice soft bed," he murmured with a smile and
gestured at the pine trees all around.
She smiled, too, further warmed by the unspoken shared memory. They'd
once made love in the pine forest not far from the cabin. It was their
first weekend there together, the weekend they became lovers.
Pure magic. Making love in the outdoors had seemed so wonderfully
wicked.

"It was magic, Kate. You can't deny that."

Her eyes widened in surprise and he laughed, knowing she must have
thought he was reading her mind.
"That's what you said, remember? You danced around the forest, stark
naked, and told me it was all magic."

She remembered.

"I'd had too much wine--that awful stuff that Rob makes."

It was his turn to widen his eyes in feigned shock.

"Are you suggesting that I took advantage of you?"
"As I recall, it was a bit late for me to be claiming that," she replied
dryly.
"It's still magic, you know," he murmured as his mouth covered hers,
teasing, tormenting, melting her all the way through.
"Yes," she admitted finally, when he backed off a bit, his lips just
barely touching hers.
"It is." But when he looked meaningfully at the needle: strewn ground,
she moved away, then tugged at his hand.

"We're on a mission, remember?"

"Right. Let's get going."
They resumed their climb up the hill and finally reached the top, then
stopped, surprised to discover that the farmhouse was now closer than
they'd expected.

"It's a good thing We're both into drabness today," Sam remarked.

"But we'd better stay low, just in case."
She nodded. Sam was wearing khakis and an off-white shirt, while she
wore pleated pale camel challis trousers--now showing snags from the.

blackberry bushes--and a matching T-shirt.

They began to make their way down the hillside, following a circuitous
path that kept them in the deepest cover. The slope was uneven, at first
dropping sharply and then leveling off at a point midway down.
When t. hey reached the level spot, which was thickly covered by
blackberry bushes, they stopped in unspoken agreement that they had
gotten as close to the farmhouse as they dared.
They crouched low behind a thick clump of bushes. Sam got out the
binoculars while Kate stared at the house. No one was visible, either on
the small rear porch or in the yard.
From this vantage point, she couldn't tell if the two boys were still
out front.

"Stakeouts are the worst part of this business," Sam said disgustedly.

"How many stake outs have you been on?" she asked in surprise.

"None, but that's what they always say in the detective stories I read."

She laughed.

"Isn't there always a diversion to move the action along?"

"Right. Why don't you takeoff your clothes and run down the hill?

That ought to do it."

"And run naked through those blackberry bushes? I never knew you had a
sadistic streak. We should have brought along the cell phone. Then we
could phone in a bomb threat."

Sam handed her the binoculars, then stretched out on the ground.

"Wake me up if anything happens."

"I'm the one who's supposed to be recovering," she reminded him.

"And I'm the one who's pushing forty. Us old guys need our
rest--especially when we're being seduced all the time by younger
women."

"Oh?" she asked, arching a brow.

"Well, okay. Only one younger woman. But she's insatiable. Probably
trying to make up for three lost years."
"You're really getting off on that, aren't you? Did it ever occur to you
that I might have been discreet?"

"Were you?"

"That's really none of your business, is it?"

His eyes searched her face solemnly. Then he shook his head.

"You're right. It's none of my business." ' He closed his eyes and Kate
sat there staring at him and cursing herself for thinking about that
model again.
It was ridiculous. She was treating this like some sort of sick
competition. He had his model, so she had to manufacture a lover for
herself.
Sam slept--or pretended to--and Kate sat there considering their tangled
relationship. She was so lost in thought that she'd been staring at the
figure in the garden for several seconds before it dawned on her that
they finally had something to see down there.
She picked up the glasses and brought them into focus. The boy wasn't
Charles Scofield. But neither was it one of the boys she'd met during
her visit.
She studied him carefully as he moved slowly through the garden in that
same stiff, ungainly walk she'd noted on the other boys. He was
overweight and his skin had an unhealthy pallor as well as a puffiness.
When he bent over one of the plants, he nearly fell, then suddenly sat
down and began to cry.
Kate smothered a cry. Her heart lurched sickeningly. What had happened
to these kids? Surely they didn't have to live like this! She was about
to wake Sam when the middle-aged woman she'd met earlier suddenly
appeared and sat down beside the crying boy. She took his hand and
talked to him, then finally helped him to his feet and led him back to
the house.
A few minutes later, another boy appeared and Kate's senses went on full
alert. His back was to her at first and she waited impatiently for him
to turn her way. But when he did, she could see immediately that it
wasn't Charles.
Then the boy's head jerked up abruptly and he turned to face the house.
From this distance, Kate could hear nothing, but it seemed that
something had drawn his attention. He stood there for a long time,
apparently staring at a second-floor window, one of the ones directly
over the back porch. Then he began to weed the garden, using the same
slow, deliberate movements Kate had seen before--the actions of an old
man in a teenage body.
Instead of awakening Sam, who apparently was asleep, Kate sat there
thinking.
What could have drawn the boy's attention? She thought about the crie
and shouts she'd heard before. But she was sure that they had come from
a front bedroom, while the boy in the garden had seemed drawn to one in
the rear.
The longer she sat there, the more she became convinced that Charles was
here. Now if she could only prove it.
Her gaze Waveled consideringly over the slope between her and the point,
there was a huge old tree with a bifurcated trunk, surrounded by thick
clumps of blackberry and other bushes. With a quick glance at Sam, who
would definitely not approve, she began to make her way carefully down
the hillside, staying low in an uncomfortable crab like crouch.
As she crept dowh the slope, she 'kept her eyes on the house, ready to
flatten herself against the ground if anyone appeared, or if the boy in
the garden turned her way. And then, when she was nearly to the tree
she'd chosen as a hiding place, the boy, who had been kneeling in the
garden as he weeded, began to rise slowly to his feet.
Kate literally dived for the tree, sliding down the remaining few yards
with the blackberry thorns ripping at her clothes and her bare skin. She
barely had time to bud die behind the trunk when she heard the shouts
from inside the farmhouse.
They were muffled and unintelligible, and in the intervals between them,
she could hear a low voice speaking in soothing tones--the woman's
voice. It was a repeat of what she'd heard before. Then suddenly, there
was a loud crash, as though something heavy had fallen over--a piece of
furniture, perhaps.
The woman's voice became very clear to her now' when she shouted, "Joe!
Get up. here!" That was followed by more shouts from the male voice
she'd heard before, and then another male voice could be heard, but one
that was speaking in normal tones.
After a few more shouts and 'ies, all was silent. Kate turned her
attention to the boy in the garden, who was now making his slow way back
to the house, this tune not even glancing up at the windows.
Her gaze was drawn back to them, though, when a man appeared in one of
them, his features indistinct behind the screen. But Kate recogn'l the
plaid shirt. It was the man with the pickup they'd met earlier. She
huddled behind the tree, praying that he hadn't seen her. Then,
remembering Sam, she turned, half-expecting to find him coming down the
hillside after her. But he was nowhere in sight, and when she risked
another peek, the man was no longer in the window.
Kate stayed where she was,. listening for any sound that would indicate
that the man was coming after her. Then, when enough time had passed for
her to feel relatively safe, she began to make her way back up the
hillside.
Recalling that rifle in the truck, she imagined a bullet striking her in
the back at any moment. But nothing happened, and when she at last
reached Sam, he was still sleeping--snoring even.
She shook him awake, angry with him for falling asleep and equally angry
with herself for having taken such a chance. His blue eyes came slowly
into focus. Then he stretched and yawned and asked if he'd missed
anything. She lost no time in telling him exactly what he'd missed.
"Dammit, Kate! Why'd you do that? Can't I even take a nap without your
trying to get yourself killed?"

"Some reporter you are," she replied scornfully.

"Taking a nap in the middle of a story."
"With you as a partner, I'd have to stay awake twenty-four hours a day
just to make sure you didn't do something stupid."
"Well, I did it, and we've learned something. Charles is there, and the
man who tried to kill me is named Joe."

"You don't know either thing," Sam said, getting to his feet.

"It's all pure speculation." Then, when he saw the look on her face, he
spread his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Okay, it's good speculation,
but that's still all it is."
"We need to get into the house. If we wait until after dark, we could
climb up onto the porch roof.

"No! It's too damned risky."

"All right, then, we'll go to the police."
"No, we won't. We don't have any proof, and if we're wrong, the Post is
going to be embarrassed."
"Heaven forbid? She rolled her eyes disgustedly." Kate, you have to
start thinking about things like that. The Post is a powerful paper and
it has powerful enemies who'd like nothing better than to embarrass it.
Remember that Hanlon story?"

"I was new then." She didn't want to rehash that disaster.

"Right, and that's how Damon was able to smooth things over. But it
wouldn't work  this time."
Kate's temper flared, but only briefly. Later, she would see this moment
as representing something of a turning point in her stormy relationship
with Sam. In the past, she'd rebelled against what she saw as being his
patronizing ad-vice-as she'd done in the Hanlon story--but now, however
begrudgingly, she accepted it.

"Okay, but what do we do now?"

"First we get out of here and go to the cabin. Then we can decide.
Even if Charles/s in there, we know he isn't being harmed. You said that
the kids looked well cared for."
If you can call being kept as zombies "cared for," she thought, but
didn't say. If it turned out that New Leaf had something to do with the
present condition of those kids, they were going to pay big time.
"THE FERRET ISN,T GETRL]qo anywhere--at least not yet," Sam said as he
joined her on the screened porch at the cabin. "But he said that those
biotech firms are stretched to the limits and appear to be engaged in
some very creative financing."
'"What does that mean?" Kate asked. The world of business was a mystery
to her, and one in which she had little into rest "It means that they
could be targets for the kind of close to-the-edge deals that Newbury,s
buddies arrange."

"Isn't all this stuff a matter of public record?"

"Technically, yes. But remember that these guys have set up a whole
series of dtlmmy corporations, and some of them are offshore in places
like the Caymans that specialize in shady deals."
"I hope this isn't going to turn into just a financial story," Kate said
with a grimace.
"Then I won't even get to write it. I've been thiniting that maybe we
should try to get into New Leaf instead of the farmhouse. If I can get
to those files in Ted Snyder's office, I can check to see if the names
with that code match the names of the boys at the farmhouse."
"That's too big a risk to take for so little value. They've got to have
good security."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Let's wait and see what Tony has to say."

"You already said that you don't trust him."

"I don't, but that doesn't mean we can't try to get some information
from him. Does he know where this cabin is?"
"No. I told him that some friends had a cab'm out here, but I never said
where it was. I think I should try to meet with him. That way, I can
tell better if he's lying."
"Yeah, and if he is, then you give him and his buddies a second chance
to kill you."
"So I won't meet him at his house. We could meet somewhere in town--you
can come along."

Sam nodded.

"That's a good idea. Why don't we go down to the inn for dinner, and you
can call him from there?"
Kate looked down at her challis pants, then at her arms. She'd
definitely lost the battle with the blackberry bushes. "I need a shower,
and I can't go into town dressed like this--unless it's very dark."
"Geri keeps some clothes out here," he reminded her. "And in the
interests of conservation, I'll join you in the shower."

She rolled her eyes.

"I shouldn't have let you take that nap."
He glanced meaningfully down at his snug-fitting jeans. "We're awake
now."

"So I noticed," she said over her shoulder as she went into the house.

"I think I'm beginning to remember why I divorced you."
"It wasn't for that reason," he replied, coming up behind her and
wrapping his arms around her.

"We're damned near perfect together and you know it."

" " Damned near? " " she repeated archiy.
"Okay, we are perfect." They had stopped in the mid die of the living
room.
He nuzzled the curve of her neck, sending tiny curls of heat all through
her.

"Remember the first time here?"

"Yes, Sam, I remember."

"I was nervous, you know."

"Hah! The super stud of the Washington Post?l was the one Who should
have been worried that you were just looking to carve another notch on
the old bedpost."

"I was," he said, and she could feel his smile against her skin.

She tried to turn in the tight circle of his arms.
"You'd better not be serious, because" -- "I got very serious that
weekend.

I asked you to marry me."

"You did not! You suggested that I move into the apartment."
"Well, it was a first step. I figured that you'd move in and then I,d
work my way up to a proposal. But Katy Kool wasn't having any of that.
You were holding out for a ring?"
"I was not! I didn't even know if I wanted to marry you." But you did
and it's 'til death us do part, Kitty-Kat." This time, she succeeded in
breaking away from him." This is not the time to be 'ding our
relationship, Sam."

He shrugged.

"Okay by me. There's nothing to discuss anyway. We belong together and
that's that."
Belonging together and be' rag able to live together were two entirely
different things as far as she was concerned, but she wasn't about to
get into that now.

They stripped off their clothes and got into the big shower stall.

Kate was immediately swept up m memories of other showers here, some of
them a prelude to lovemaking and some of them resulting in several very
interesffng new positions.
They lathered each other, fingers gliding over wet bodies as they stared
into each other's eyes and saw desire spark and then ignite.
Kate felt that connectedness to him that had always seemed to be far
more than their mutual desire, as though each was an extension of the
other.
The water pouring over them turned cool, but their bodies were
superheated, heavy with wanting. Still wet, they fell onto the bed in a
tangle of arms and legs and she welcomed him and drew him deep into her
as they rode the wave of passion to its crest, then lingered there as
long as possible, wanting more even when they had it all.
Sam propped himself up beside her and stared at her as she lay there
with that satisfied smile she always wore after they'd made love.
That lazy, secret sort of smile reminded him of the Mona Lisa, except
that it looked much better on

"Stop staring at me," she ordered halfheartedly, her voice husky.

"What are you thinking about?"
"If I told you, then I wouldn't be thinking--I'd be talking. And that's
what always gets me into trouble."
It was true. Still, he thought--or maybe just hoped--that things had
changed. She was different--more sure of herself now. A couple of times,
he'd said the kind of things that would have set her off before, but she
hadn't star in on him.
For three years, he'd wondered what it was about her that felt so right,
and why he'd never felt that way with any other woman. He still didn't
know, and he thought maybe he never would. Kate was electric,
quicksilver, always somehow just beyond his grasp. But he knew that he'd
happily spend the rest of his life chasing her.
"I love you," he said simply planting a kiss on her flat belly and
thinking suddenly how much he wanted to have children with her, share
their love with a couple of kids.
But he wasn't about to say that. Not only were things between them too
fragile right now, but that discussion had happened before and had
quickly turned into a full-blown argument over his failings. Or imagined
failings.

It amounted to the same thing.

Her stomach growled and he kissed her again.

"I just had an idea! Why don't we get some dinner?"

She glanced at the clock.

"I think I'll try to reach Tony now. Maybe he could meet us at the inn."

But there was no answer at Tony's. She didn't bother to leave a message,
deciding instead that she'd try later from the inn.
THE CHARMING, pine-paneled dining room at the inn was nearly empty on
this weekday night. Sam and Kate took a table in the corner that
afforded them maximum privacy, even though neither of
them had spoken again about their story--or stories.
As they sipped an excellent wine and then dined on chateaubriand, they
both seemed reluctant to turn their attention back to their work.
Instead, they spent the time catching up on three years--something they
were both surprised to realize they hadn't yet done. Sam told her more
about hisexploits,in Europe and the Middle East and Africa, while she
talked about interesting stories she'd covered.
"It felt strange to Kate to be talking like this. In some weird sort of
way, she resented the fact that she had to tell Sam what had happened in
her life during that time. It seemed that he should somehow have known,
and the fact that he didn't only pointed out to her that gaping hole'in
their relationship. It also reminded her of their unresolved future.
Maybe he's right, she thought over dessert. Maybe there really was
nothing to discuss. Sam did have a knack for cutting through to the crux
of the matter. But still she feared simply picking up where they'd left
off.
After they ordered coffee, Kate went to call Tony again. By now, it was
certainly late enough for him to be home. His fianc6e answered the
phone.
Kate introduced herself and asked if he was there. The silence that
followed her question went on for so long that she thought for a moment
"He's  ...  not here," the woman said in a tremulous voice. Kate felt
the first faint stirrings of alarm, but quelled them with the thought
that she might be interrupting a lovers' quarrel.

"Do you know when or how I can reach him?" she asked.

"No." Then, after a brief silence, the woman said,
"He's gone! ' " I don't understand, Lisa. Do you mean that he's not
living there anymore?"

She heard an inhalation, then,

"He's disappeared!" Her dinner congealed into a large lump of ice in her
stomach.

"Lisa, I'm not far from you. Can we come to talk to you?"

"Who's with you?" Lisa asked suspiciously.
"My ex-husband. He's a journalist, too. Please let us come and talk to
you. I want to help if I can."
Lisa breathed a soft okay, then hung up quickly, but not before Kate
heard her sobs. She dashed back to the table and signaled their waiter
for the check.
"Tony has disappeared! His fianc6e says she'h talk to us, and I told her
we'd be over right away."
"THIS Is WHEM TH Tn was shot out," Kate told Sam as they drove up the
mountain road.

Sam slowed down and looked around, then swore.

"If you'd been driving a piece of junk like this, you wouldn't be "
Thanks a lot, Sam. That's not what I wanted to hear right now."

"Well, it's mae," he persisted.

"A blown front tire on a road like this in anything but the Porsche, and
you'd have gone over the edge."
Kate didn't know if it was just Sam's obsession with Porsches or if he
might be right, but she didn't really care. All that mattered now was
finding out what had happened to Tony. She. was clinging to the hope
that he might sun ply have left after an argument, but that hard lump in
her gut was telling her otherwise.
Lisa greeted them at the door with a brave smile that failed to offset
her reddened eyes and her tearstained cheeks. The only animation she
showed was when Kate introduced herself and Sam, and Lisa said,

"Oh! You're the Sam Winters from CNN."

Sam acknowledged that he was indeed, though he was no longer with them.
Lisa's smile drained away into a haunted look, but she ushered them into
the living room.
Tony had called her from New Leaf the previous evening, saying that he
would be late because of a problem with one of his kids. He feared that
the boy might be suicidal and was reluctant to turn him over to the
night staff. It had happened before; Tony was very dedicated.
Then he called her again several hours later, and when she said that she
hadn't yet eaten, he suggested they meet at a restaurant in town.
"He said that he'd gotten the boy calmed down, and since the counselor
on the night shift was someone the boy related to well, he felt he
could leave. He told me he'd probably get to The Greenhouse--that's the
name of the res-tau tant--before I did.
"But when I got to the place, he wasn't there. I didn't get worried for
a while, because I figured that maybe he'd been wrong about the boy.
Then, when he still didn't come or phone, I called New Leaf, and they
told me that he'd left right when he said he would."
The tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over and she excused herself
to get a tissue. When she returned, she was maintaining a tenuous
control over her emotions. She said that she'd ordered dinner because
she was starving, but by the time it came, she was so worried. about him
that she couldn't eat it. So she came home, hoping that somehow 'they'd
gotten their signals mixed and he would be here.

But he wasn't--and she hadn't heard from him since.

"Have you reported this to the police?" Sam asked. Lisa nodded.
"I called them right away. I was worried that he might have been in an
accident. They told me that I couldn't report him as a missing person
for seventy-two hours. That's three days!"

"And you've checked to see if he showed up for work today?" Kate asked.

Lisa nodded.
"He wasn't there and he didn't call. I checked with his friends in the
area, too."
"Lisa, I have to ask this. Could Tony have chosen to disappear? Was he
having any problems?"

Lisa shook her head vigorously.

"That's what Ted Snyder asked, too.
He even tried to suggest that Tony might be having some second thoughts
about our marriage. Now I know why Tony doesn't like him," she added
indignantly.
Kate recalled having gained that impression herself when Tony had
mentioned the camp's director.

"What do you think might have happened?"

"I don't know," Lisa said with a sob.

"But I think it has something to do with that place--with New Leaf."


Chapter Nine.


"I think she's right," Kate said the moment they returned to their car.

"New Leaf/s'behind Tony's disappearance." Then, when Sam said nothing as
they started back down the mountain, she prodded him.

"Well?"

"I don't know what to think' because I don't know Tony. Ted Snyder could
be right. He could be getting pre wedding jitters."

"Get real, Sam! Even if he was, would he just walk away from his job?

He loved his work--and he had a kid in trouble."

"People don't always behave in theft own best interests," Sam stated.

"But okay, I'll admit that it sounds suspicious."

"Thank you, O Wise One. Now what are we going to do?"

"Well, first of all, i want to have a look at the route Tony would have
taken to get from New Leaf to the restaurant. Then I'd like to do some
checking up on Tony himself."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want to ask her for the names of any of his friends, because
that would have made it sound as though we didn't believe her. But
didn't you say that he'd worked at another boot camp before he came
here?"
"Right. Some place in Virginia--near Richmond, as I recall. I have the
name in my notes because I'd thought about contacting them."
Good.. Tomorrow one of us can call them and pretend to be asking for a
reference,"
"Fine. You do it, because then you'll be heating about him firsthand,
instead of relying on my judgment."

"I'm not questioning your judgment."

"Yes, you are."
"Damreit, Kate, you do the same thing. That's one of the reasons we make
a good team. Each of us questions the other's assumptions."
"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm really worded about Tony. I
like him a lot."
"And you think that something could have happened to him as a result of
your nosing around."
"But you said that he and some others were already questioning what goes
on at New Leaf, and Lisa confirmed that."
She sighed. "! just wish that Tony had confided more in her." . - "A lot
of people keep their professional and personal lives separate--unlike
us."

"Do you think that's our problem, Sam?"

"No, because I don't think we have any problems--at least not anymore."

"But you admit that we did?"

"Yes. Do you want to get into this now?"

"No." But when would they? After he talked her into marrying him again?

She was afraid that might not take much persuasion. just as it hadn't
the last time.

They drove to New Leaf, then began to retrace Tony's route into town.

As they passed by the gate, Kate stared at the handsome sign, then at
the not-so-handsome chain link fence and guarded gate.
"I wonder who told her that Tony had left," she said, wishing that she'd
thought to ask.
"Hmm. Interesting question. Let's call her when we get back to the
cabin.
You're thinking that something could have happened to him in the camp
itself."
"It's a big place. I think Ted Snyder told me it
covers nearly fifty acres. And from what Lisa said, it sounds like there
aren't that many staff on duty at night."
They drove past wide stretches of open field and short spans of wooded
land, then into the town and past the restaurant where Lisa had expected
to meet Tony.
"Well, I didn't see any place where someone could have shot at him," Sam
remarked."

" And no place where a wrecked car could escape notice."

"So they've changed tactics. We already know they're versatile.
Someone could have forced him off the road, then kidnapped him and taken
his car."

That's risky, but there probably wouldn't have been much traffic."

This is about the time it happened, and we passed only two cars."
They returned to the cabin and Kate called Lisa, then asked her who at
New Leaf had said that Tony left.
"I just called the guard at the main gate. All staff are clocked in and
out there."

"Could he have been mistaken?" Kate asked.

"If a lot of people were leaving ..."
"No, Tony left late--member? The guard said he saw him. When Tony didn't
show up at the restaurant, I called again, and he said he was sure it
was Tony."

"Is there any other way in and out?"

"Not that I know of. Do you think the guard lied?"
"That will be for the police to decide. You'll be calling them
tomorrow?"

"Yes, and I'm not going to wait until tomorrow night, either."

"Lisa, it might be best if you don't mention my involvement in this."

"Why not?"

"I'm not really sure," Kate admitted.
"It's just that I don't know anything that could help them at this
point--and if I learn something, I'll be sure to contact them. Look,
Lisa, maybe you can help us. Tony told me that there was a couple of
staff who'd been talking recently about their concerns. Do you happen to
know who they are?"

Lisa choked back a sob.

"N-no. He said something about it, but I don't think he mentioned any
names."

"Were the two of you friendly with anyone at New Leaf?"

"Not really. We hung out with my friends mostly."

"What do you intend to tell the police?"

"I ...  I've been thinking about that. I don't want to get Tony into
trouble at his job."
"I can understand that. But they'll be asking you a lot of questions, so
you'd better be prepared;" Then she gave-Lisa her number at the cabin
and in Washington and promised to keep in touch.
After she had hung up, she turned to Sam, who'd been listening to her
end of the conversation, and told him the rest of it.
"You know, it's possible that the guard just recoguized Tony's car and
assumed he was the driver," Sam said when she had finished.

"I'm sure the police will question him about that."

"If they take it seriously. My guess is that they'll just go through the
motions--especially if Ted Snyder raises the question of pre wedding
jitters or says anything else that easts doubt on Tony:"
"Do you think I should go to the police and make a statement?" she
asked.
"I don't know. It's a tough call. It could make them take it more
seriously, but it will also mean that you can forget about gaining any
more cooperation from New Leaf." , Kate paced around the room, thinking.
"We can probably assume that Ted Snyder knows by now that we've been at
the farmhouse. I'd like to see him again, and find out just how nervous
we're making him?" She thought for a moment. "I could call in the
morning and ask to talk to the psychologist about Charles Scofield. That
would fit in with my 'story."

"

" Have the newspaper articles mentioned that he's a New Leaf graduate?"
"Good point. I'd forgotten that I got his name by snooping. I'll call
the reporter at the Sun and find 'out."
The reporter wasn't in, but Kate did rch her friend who'd introduced
them, and she found the article about Charles's disappearance from the
hospital. New Leaf was mentioned. Kate asked if there were any new
developments, and there weren't.
Next, she called Charles's mother, who said that she'd heard nothing
from her son. She was clearly distraught, and Kate wanted to tell her
that she thought she knew where Charles was and that he was being well
cared for. But she couldn't be certain she was right, so she merely
commiserated with the woman and promised to keep in touch.
"I'm wondering if we should tell the police about the farmhouse," Kate
said as soon as she hung up.
"We don't have tangible proof of anything, Kate--and they couldn't get a
search warrant without probable cause."

Kate sank into a chair with a sigh.

"You're right, but it really bothers me to have two people suffering
like this--Lisa and Charles's mother."
"Avoid emotional entanglements in stories," Sam said, quoting something
that was drummed into all investigative reporters.
"I'm already emotionally involved. Sam, this has got to be settled
soon."

"I agree--and don't forget our other story."

"Newbury and Armistead are the last thing on my mind right now."
"But they shouldn't. be. I'm going to check the machine to see if we've
heard from Crawford's mother yet. If she picked up her messages at work,
she might have gotten back to me."
"I'll do it," Kate said, punching out the numbers on the cordless, then
listening in surprise as Sam's voice came on instead of hers, informing
callers that they'd reached the residence of Kate Stevens and Sam
Winters.
She narrowed her eyes at Sam, but said nothing as she listened to the
messages.
There was nothing 'of importance until the last message, which was from
Renee Crawford, who gave her. home number and said they could reach her
there.

Expos Kate wrote down the number, then hung up and glared at Sam.

"You might at least have told me that you changed the message."
"Don't get on my case about that now. Since we're. working together, it
just seemed simpler."
"You could have gotten a machine for your phone downstairs," she
grumbled, unwilling to let it go even though she knew her objections
were foolish.

"Well,at least I didn't say Kate and Sam Winters," he returned.

"As soon as we know when you can get an appointment at New Leaf, I'll
call her and set up an appointment. Do you want a drink?" ' he asked,
go'me to the small bar in one corner of the living room.

'"No thanks, My head is spinning as it is."

Sam drew her into his arms.

"I have the perfect cure for that."

But he didn,t. He just made her head spin in a different direction as.
she quickly exchanged one confused story for another.
Later, though, as she lay beside him in bed, she thought that there was
at least one thing in her life tight now that was certain: she loved Sam
and he loved her. She clung to that as she snuggled up to him and
dropped off to sleep, "THANK YOU FOR coming on such short notice,
Dr. Sanders," Kate said as she shook hands with the attractive woman,
one of several.
psychologists at New Leaf and the one who'd worked with Charles
Scofield.
The moment Kate saw her, she recalled that at the time of her first
visit to.
New Leaf, she'd seen the woman with Ted Snyder and had been left with a
strong impression that something was going on between them.
Kate explained that she'd seen the report of Charles's disappearance and
had then learned of his outbreak of violence. "My story--if there's
going to be one--is centered on the success rate here at New Leaf. So
I'm wondering if you can tell me what you think happened with Charles."

The woman shrugged.

"Who knows? The human mind is never easy to understand. Psychology is
not an exact science. Charles did well here, but we always had some
doubts about him.
Despite our best efforts, he just. didn't open up to us as much as the
others did. My guess is that there was a preexisting psychosis."
"His mother doubts that. There's no history of mental illness in his
family and Charles had never shown any tendency toward violence."
"That doesn't rule out anything, Ms. Stevens. The psychosis could have
been hidden until something happened to ttigger it."
Kate noted that with every word, the psychologist Seemed to grow' more
defens'nte, although she was making an effort to hide it. She decided to
change gears--a common tactic used by both police and reorters, "What
do you do if you bring a boy here and then find out that he's more than
you can deal with in this setting?"
For one btief moment, something that looked very much like naked fear
gleamed in' the woman's eyes.

"Well, that doesn't happen often," she said.

"But when it does, we transfer them to a more suitable facility."

"And where would that be?" Kate persisted.

The psychologist tried to shrug casually, but didn't quite carry it off.
"That depends. Most of the kids here are on Medicaid and we send them
wherever we can find'a place that will accept them. It isn't easy,
because Medicaid pays so little for psychiatric care."
"I see," said Kate, standing up to end the interview and smiling4nwardly
at the woman's ill-co relief. " " Well thank you for your time." She
started toward the door, then paused as though something had just
occurred to her." There's just one other thing. I interviewed one of
your counselors--Tony Disalvo--and I wanted to see him again. He'd given
me his home number and I called it last night.
His fianc says that he's disappeared She's filing a report with the
police today. Are you aware of that?"
Beneath her summer tan, the woman's face went pale and her eyes shifted
away from Kate's. No, I hadn't known. We have a lot of counselors here.
I knew Tony, of coarse," but ..."
"Well, thank you again." Kate left the office quickly, once again
fixating on a single word. The psychologist had used the past tense.

That lump of ice was in her stomach once again.

She walked back to the main desk in the administrative building, then
asked the receptionist if Ted Snyder could give her a few rainutes.
As she waited for the receptionist to contact him, she moved into a
position where she could see down the hallway. Ted's office was on a
side corridor, and when she glanced there, Kate saw the psychologist
rush that way. A moment later, the receptionist told her that Ted could
see herin a few minutes.
Kate stood at the window and watched a large group of kids marching in
formation across the quadrangle in front of the building. She stared at
the kids and thought about the boys at the farmhouse.
These kids were fit and healthy-looking, but she wondered if any of them
could end up like the pitiful boys at the farmhouse.
The receptionist interrupted her, thoughts to tell her that Ted Snyder
could see her now, and Kate turned just in time to see the psychologist
disappear into her own office near the end of the hall.

How she wished that she could have been privy to that conversation!

' Snyder greeted her warmly, with that perfect mixture of heartiness
and professionalism she'd seen and disliked in him before.

She thanked him for his time and he asked how her story was going.

"Unfortunately, I'm still not certain that there will be a story," Kate
told him.
"I wanted to speak to Tony Disaivo again, but his fianc6e told me that
he's disappeared."
Snyder adopted a properly concerned expression and. nodded. Kate wanted
to smack him, but she sat there quietly, awaiting his response.
"I hadn't realized that you'd been talking with Tony. I don't know who
suggested him, but he probably wasn't a wise choice." .

"Oh? Why not?"

"Well, Tony has recently been something of a problem. His skills are
good, but really not quite up to our standards. And now that he's left
without notifying us, I'm afraid in all likelihood we'll have to
terminate him."
Kate's brain fixated on that word "terminate." She thought sickeningly
that it could cover a multitude of things.
"We demand a high level of stability in the lives of our
counseling staff here, Kate," Snyder stud.
"And I'm afraid that Tony had some problems. He was supposed to he
married soon, but it seems that he was having an affair with another
counselor. My guess is that it just got to he too much for him and he
took off."
"I see," Kate said, her gaze briefly fixed on the wedding band on
Snyder's finger. Of course, perhaps he exempted himself from the rule
because he Was the ctor. "ell, perhaps that's what his fiancee was
referring to when she told me that she blames New Leaf for his
disappearance." Ted Snyder wasn't quite so smooth as he thought he was.
Kate met his gaze and saw something that she thoroughly enjoyed: fear.
"She's rl?rting it to the police today, so hopefully they'll be able
to find him. In the meatime, I'll keep you posted on the progress of my
story."
As Kate left his office, she suddenly had an idea she hadn't thought of
before. She paused at his secretary's desk and told her that Ted ha
promised her a copy of their annual report, which hadn't even been ready at
the time of her last visit.
"Oh, yes, it came in yesterday. Let me get you a copy." The woman handed
her a glossy, expensive-looking report' with the New Leaf insignia on
it.
Kate thanked her and left. Then, when she reached the gate, she' decided
to sow some more trouble. She rolled down the window as the guard
approached--a young man with an open, friendly face and an air of
guilelessness.

She signed herself out on the clipboard he handed her.

"I understand that one of your counselors has disappeared--Tony
Disalvo."

The guard gave her a shocked look.

"Tony? I didn't know about that. !

thought he was just on vacation."

Kate explahied that Tony's fiancee had called the night of his
disappearance to check when he left.
"Is it possible that the guard on duty that night could have been
mistaken? Staff don't actually sign in and out, do they?" She'd noticed
that the clipboard was for visitors only.
"No. We just record the times, since we know all of' " Could it have
been someone else who left in Tony's car that night?"
"Uh, well, I guess it could have been. I wasn't here." Kate thanked him
and drove out through the gate, wondering if he'd report his
conversation with her to anyone. But the police would be asking the same
questions. A few miles later, she grinned wickedly when she passed a
police car. Today was not going to be a good day at New Leaf--or so she
hoped.
But then she hadn't had that good a day so far herself. She'd certainly
succeeded in making some people very uncomfortable, but she hadn't come
away with definite proof of anything. Her hopes of finding the
maintenance man or his truck hadn't panned out, so she still had no
evidence of a connection between New Leaf and the farmhouse: The sad
truth was that they didn't have much at all except for an inereas'mgly
large number of suspicions. She was maxed out with unproved theories,
seemingly unrelated facts and flotsam and jetsam.
Her head ached from the effort to contain it all. She thought she-might
even give her next raise for one "Aha!"
Wen she reached the cabin, she found Sam sitting on the screened porch
with a can of beer. The fact-that he was im-bibingbefore noon told her
that he shared her frustration. She walked up onto the porch and glanced
from him to the beer can.

"Well, at least I didn't pour it over my c0rnflakes," he growled.

"Maybe we should just stay here and get blitzed for the next couple of
days and wait to see what happens," she said, sinking into a chair with
a sigh.
"That's not a half-bad idea. I seem to recall that I did pretty well on
finals a few times after weekend debaucher. Debaucheries?" She stared at
him.
"Did you buy one of those self-improvement vocabulary. courses He
grinned.
"When I'm around you long enough, I start talking in words of more than
two syllables. You're a good influence on me."
"Well, I guess you can tell bymy enthusiasm that I didn't find out
anything," she said with a grimace.

He nodded.

"I hope you managed to stir up some trouble in your own inimitable
fashion."
"Of course, and it was probably just a prelude to the real trouble. I
passed a police car headed toward New Ieaf."
She told him what. had transpired, then remembered the report she'd
left in the car. After retrieving it, she went back to the porch and
began to thumb through it.
"Ahh. Just what I'd hoped for. There's a list of contributors and a list
of board members, Maybe this will provide some fodder fort The Ferret."

"He could use some.

"He sure hasn't gotten anywhere yet, and he's about as frustrated as we
are.

Do you recognize any of the names?"  She shook her head.

"Did you call Mrs Crawford?"
"She's expecting us at three. I suppose we'd better be on our way back to
the Emerald City. We ought to have just enough time to drop off the
report and remind Damon that you're still on the payroll before we go
see her."
WHEN THEY WALKED into the Post's newsroom, Damon's reaction told her
that she should have called in sick. Two of the city reporters were out
with a summer flu and they were already short staffed anse of
vacations. Kate barely had tune to say hello before Damon was pushing
her out the door to cover the mayor's latest effort at crime control.
So Sam went off to meet the mother of the dead intern without her, after
delivering the New Leaf annual report to The Ferret.
Kate grudgingly joined a cynical group of reporters at City Hall, where
the mayor blamed Congress, a lack of money, the loss of family values
and just about everything but the water supply for the continuing crime
wave.
Back at the Post, she wrote that swry,"then assisted one of the summer
interns who was trying to piece together a story from the notes of a
flu-stricken co-worker. Then, thanks to the chaotic conditions in the
newsroom, she was able to escape without facing Damon's questions. At
Sam's request, she took a cab home, then asked the driver to wait until
she was safely in the house As she waved off the cabdriver, Kate
thought about how easily she'd accepted his " request." Of course, she'd
fully inamded to take a cab rather than the Metro, but not so very long
ago, she would have done just that to spite him.
What had changed? she wondered as she filled Reject's dish and listened
to his lengthy tale' of mice that got away. He was quite capable of
talking in entire chapters when the mood struck him, and at the moment,
he was unhappy about their absence last night.
The phone rang and she snagged the receiver fwm its holder on the
kitchen wall. Her hell'owas met by silence, and uneasiness immediately
stirred within her. She said hello again, and when that went unanswered,
she started to press the button to end the call, then stopped. She was
convinced that someone was on the line.
"Why don't you just threaten me with dismemberment and get It over with.
- she. asked m saccharine tones.
"Uh, look, I want to ..." There was a long pause after the f'mal word,
and then the caller hung up.
Kate frowned at the phone. What was going on here? If he was working his
way up to some threat, he sure wasn't very good at it. The voice had
sounded almost. frightened.
She was still trying to make some sense of it when she heard the garage
door roll up. Her car was in it, but Sam was apparently going to switch
them around, as they'd been doing ever since the discovery of the bug. A
few moments later, Sam came through the connecting door from the garage
and slid his arms around her, then looked over her shoulder at the empty
cat-food can on the counter.
"Mmm. Chicken hearts and liver. My favorite dinner. It's great to have a
woman who's a good cook."
"I just had a weird phone call," she told him,
ignoring his words, if not the kiss he planted on her neck just below
her ear--a definite erogenous zone.
Sam had always been affectionate. She had frequenfiy come home with her
mind still on her work and nothing else, but Sam had been able to switch
gears quickly and leave his job behind. After their split, among the
things Kate had missed most were those 'small gestures of affection, and
it occurred to her now that she had given him very little to miss in
that regard.
She told him what had happened. He leaned against the counter, looking
thoughtful.
"You know, I've been half expecting to find a Deep Throat somewhere in
all this."
"You have?" she asked in surprise. Deep Throat was the name given by
Woodward and Bernstein to their highly placed and still anonymous source
on the Watergate story.
Sam nodded. ',A lot of people out there would like to see Newbury and
Armistead tied to the tail of an ICBM aid somewhere in the Pacific.
And if there's a story at New Leaf, I don't doubt that there's s6someone
there who knows or has guessed the truth and is upset, too."
"You're fight," She should have thought about that herself. In every
tangled story, there were people around the subjects who harbored
suspicions they were unwilling or unable to act on.
"I want to.. Y could have meant "I want to talk to you," and then the
caller either lost his nerve or something in . temipted him.
"Did you learn anything from "Mrs. Crawford?" she asked, having nearly
forgotten about his appointment because her own focus remained on the
New Leaf story and Tony's disappearance.
"Only that James was definitely upset about something connected to his
work.

I'll tell you about it over dinner."

"I  Yrh TH CRAWROS," Sam told her as they sipped cock tads while
waiting for their food at one of their favorite old-time haunts.

"They're nice people and their remarriage seems to he working."

He paused only briefly before continuing, but it was long enough for
Kate to get the message. She hadn't 'thought about the Crawfords'
situation as being parallel to their own, and it came as something of a
shock to her to realize that others could be in what she'd regarded as
being their unique predicament.
"She said that about a week or so before his death, Ja-mey seemed to be
moody, which was apparently unusual enough for her to question him. He
told her that the internship wasn't working out as he'd hoped, but he
didn't elaborate, and she assumed that it was what she described as
being the normal reaction to the reality of polities, as opposed to all
the theory he'd been taught.
"Right after that, he started to go in to work in the evenings. She was
rather surprised, because he'd told her that he didn't have enough work
to do, but when she questioned him about it, he said that he was working
on a special project. He didn't say anything more about it, but she
remembered having the impression that it involved the computer. She
confirmed, by the way, that Jamey was a real hacker. They'd given him
his first computer when he was six. When he was fifteen, he got sick
with mono and had to miss two months of school, and that's when he
really got into it."

"Did she tell the police all this?"

"No, she didn't. It didn't seem relevant to her at the time, and
naturally, she was in a state of shock. Besides, the police were all but
convinced that he was simply a mugging victim.
"I told her that we'd uncovered some evidence suggesting possible
illegal activities on Newbury's part, She knows his reputation, of
course, and that didn't surprise her. Then I asked her if she could
recall anything at all that Jamey might have said about either Newbury
or Armistead that could suggest he'd been onto anything'mg.
"She said that Jamey had referred to Newbury more than once about that
time as a 'hypocrite," and that he was terrified of Armistead."

Kate looked thoughtful.

"Well, the term 'hypocrite' could certainly refer to his stance against
legalization while he was taking money from someone who wanted drugs to
be Armistead, he wouldn't have been taking any chances."

Sam nodded.

"I brought that up, and both of them said that might not have stopped
him.
According to them, Ja-mey had a very strong sense of right and wrong,
and with two parents who were career public servants, he also helieved
strongly in public service--not in feeding at the pub-lie trough. Jamey
was a smart kid, though, and he would have been very careful--especially
because the internship meant a lot to him."
"Even very careful people can make mi.takes," she reflected "Or
something totally unforeseen could have happened."
"Like Armistead or Newbury or someone loyal to them catching him in the
act," Sam agreed."

"She should talk to Detective Coldton."

"She's going to. I think he might be interested, because he 'told me
that he was never quite satisfied with the mugger explanation.
But his superiors might not be inclined to let him pursue it--especially
if they get a call from Armi-stead."

"Speaking of calls,.."

"Yeah. I hope it was someone willing to talk. We need a break,
Kitty-Kat."
"There's always The Ferret. I talked to him before I left' the office,
but he hadn had time to start checking on the New Leaf contributors and
board members. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week, but he told me
he was going to stay and begin working on it."
"Sometimes I think he's merged with his computers and doesn't need
sleep.

Plus, this is exactly the sort of thing he really gets off on."

"Does he do any illegal hacking?" Kate asked, knowing that if anyone
would know, it would be Sam.

"Well, he promised me that he wouldn't, but his exact words were,

"I wouldn't do anything that could cause problems for the paper." What I
think is that he does do illegal hacking, but he does it at home.
He's got a setup there that's even more impressive than the hardware at
the office. He lives in this little studio apartment, and the only
furniture in the place is his bed and a dresser. The rest of the space
is taken up by his computers."

Kate frowned.

"I know we need a break, Sam, but I don't want it at that cost."
"Neither do I--though I'll admit that if it comes my way, I won't turn
it down. But I'm hoping that your caller was an informant."
"We'd be no better than the people we're investigating if we get
information illegally," she persisted.

Sam raised his dark brows.

"Weren't you the one who was suggesting that we break into the offices
at New Leaf?"
"That was a momentary lapse. of judgment. I wouldn't have actually done
it." But she knew she would have, and she didn't much like Sam's
pointing out that fact.
"Anyway, there's a difference between doing something not quite kosher
yourself and having someone else do it for you."

"Right," Sam said, chuckling.

"It's kind or' nice to know that your logic hasn't changed much in the
past-three years."
"Are you saying that the rest of me has changed?" she asked, feeling
that slight uneasiness that presaged a personal discussion between them.
Sam looked at her with a serious expression and nodded. "You have
changed in some ways, Kate."
She wanted to ask if he thought the change was for the better, but she
remained silent, even though she thought he was inviting the question.
Our agenda is getting more and more crowded, she thought. When we
finally do have a serious discussion about ourselves, it will take a lot
of time and honesty.
WHEN THEY RETURNED to the house, the machine indicated that three calls
had come in during their absence. Kate' hit the replay button.
The first and third callers had left no message, but both times, the
person had stayed on the phone for a while. Kate noted that the calls
were about a half hour apart, and the last one had been about twenty
minutes ago.
The second one was from Lisa, who asked that they call her. Kate was
eager to hear what she had to say, but she didn't want to be on the
phone if the anonymous caller tried again. After Sam's departure, she'd
discontinued Call Waiting because she had more than enough inlm'tuptious
at work. Then she remembered the phone Sam had installed downstairs.

"I'll call Lisa back from downstairs,"

" she told Sam." That way, you can pick up here if he phones again."
Lisa answered on the first ring, her voice shaky but expectant. Kate
imagined her sitting by the phone, praying for news of Tony, and she
thought again about the psychologist's use of the past tense where Tony
was concerned. She wished fervently that she could rid herself of the
tendency to place so much emphasis on words, since experience had.
taught her that people used them so carelessly.

As L related her story, her voice became both str6nger and angrier.

The police had gone to New Leaf, where they were told that Tony had been
seen leaving. The counselor who'd taken  place told them that Tony had
left through a side exit to the staff parking lot, and the guard had
seen him leave the property.
Ted Snyder, for whom Kate was working up a serious dislike, had repeated
pretty much what he'd told Kate: Tony was having an affair with another
counselor and his work was suffering. According to Lisa, whose voice was
now shaking with anger, the psychologist Kate had met with confirmed
that she'd spoken to Tony about his work and his "personal relationship
problems."

"It isn't true!" Lisa cried.

"Tony wasn't having an affair with anyone. We've known each other for
ten years, and he just wouldn't do something like that."
"I haven't known him long, Lisa, but I agree with you. What did the
police say that they're going to do?"
"They said there isn't much they can do. They'll put out a bulletin on
his car, to see if they can find it. They're also go' rag to talk to his
parents. They live in Roanoke. But I've already talked to them, and they
haven't heard from him. They're really worried, too.
They know Tony wouldn't just run off like that." She paused for a
moment.
"I didn't tell the police anything about you, but I think you should
talk to them."
"I will. I'll call the an tomorrow. I have to figure out what to say to
them. For what it's worth, Lisa, I really do think something's going on
at New Leaf, but I don't have any idea what it could be."
"I feel like I should have known more," Lisa said with tears in her
voice.
"But because I'm a social worker and Tony is a counselor, we decided
long ago it would be best if we kept our professional lives separate.
Otherwise, we'd be talking about nothing but our work--you know? ,Zmd
it's easy to ignore your personal rehtionship if you do that."
Kate said nothing, but once again, she realized that she and Sam were
not alone in having such problems. She wrote down the name and phone
number of the detective han-didg the case, then did her best to
encourage Lisa before hanging up.
She clenched her fists helplessly. If Tony had been killed, she could
easily become a believer in the death pen. airy. And she knew, too, that
she Would never forgiveherelf for her She knew exactly what Sam would
say if she told him that. He would tell her that Tony had cooperated
with her for his own reasons and of his own free will. They'd had that
discussion once before, when a story Kale had worked on had resulted in
some very bad things happening to a person who'd cooperated with her.
And it irritated her then and now to know that Sam could handle it
better than she could She had just started up the stairs when she heard
the phone ring. Sam was in the kitchen with the cordless. He said hello
twice.

"Don't hang up!" he added quickly.

"If you want to talk to Kate, she's here."

He handed her the phone and she said,

"Hello, this is Kate Stevens.

Can I help you?"

Her heart thudded no'dy and her mouth went dry as the line remained
open, but the person said nothing.

"Look, if you have information for me, I'll meet you anywhere you like."

There was another long pause, and then a male voice said, "At the park
in Frederick in one hour." The line went dead.

Kate repeated the message to Sam.

"Can we even get to Frederick in one hour?"
"Sure--at this time of night. And I know where the park is--or at least
where one park is."

Kate nodded.

"The one where they have the antiques and crafts show every year."
They',d gone to it several times. "Are you sure you want to go?" Sam
asked.
"Of course. Look, Sam, this isn't the person who's been threatening us.
He sounded scared himlf."

JAIL right--but I'm taking the gun just in case."

She was about to protest, but stopped herself when she thought about how
dark and deserted the park would be. She wasn't so much worried about
the man they were meeting as she was about anyone who might follow him.
They hurried out to the car, taking Sam's Porsche, since he'd been
checking regularly and knew it wasn't bugged, But Kate could see that
Sam was clearly worried about this late-night rendezvous.

"Why couldn't he just y what he has to say over the phone?" Sam asl&d.

"Who knows? He sounded so scared that I didn't want to say anything that
could make him hang up. And anyway, he didn't give me a chance to get a
word in."
"Which is exactly what I'd do if I wanted someone to meet me in a place
where I could grab them. He knows you're a reporter and that you'd be
almost certain to come."
"But he must also know that you'll be with me. After all, you answered
the phone."
"I think maybe I won't be' with you," Sam said as they drove through the
night.
"What I'm thinking is that I'll get out before we go into the park, and
then I'll follow you on foot."
"Okay." But she realized now that she wouldn't have been so eager to go
out there if Sam wasn't with her.

"It's almost certainly someone from New Leaf," she mused.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Otherwise, they wouldn't have picked
Frederick for a meeting place. Let's hope that it's one of the people
Tony has been talking to."
ALMOST EXACTLY AN HOUR had passed by the time they reached the entrance
to the park. Sam drove past, then pulled over in a dark spot.
"I'll get out here and circle back so that I'm near the parking area,
You go there and wait. Don't get out of the car if anything seems at all
suspicious Just get out of there and I'll meet you back here."
Kate heard the fear in his voice and understood what it was eostiilg him
to stifle those fears and that they were for her, not for himself. She
leaned over and kissed him impulsively.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For trying so hard not to give in to your urge to protect He chuckled.

"I guess I didn't do as good a job of hiding it as I'd thought. But I am
trying, Kitty-Kat., He slipped out of the car and quickly melted away
into the dark.

Chapter Ten.

Kate climbed 'into the driver's seat of the Porsche, then slipped it
into gear and returned to the park entrance. There was a large parking
area just inside, and a quick glance confirmed that it was empty.

She drove slowly into the lot, uncertain just how to proceed.

The park was large, but surely he hadn't intended for her to roam about
in the darkness. Or near darkness. The park was in fact lit," though not
well enough to chase away the shadows.
Now that Sam was gone--though presumably not very far--Kate soon began
to see the danger' of her situation. Was that what Sam wanted?
Was he giving her enough rope to hang herself? In view of the threats
against her, the metaphor was chilling, to say the least.
After hesitating for a few seconds, she drove to the very center of the
deserted lot. She knew that by doing so, she was making herself into a
perfect target, but she was also guaranteeing that no one could sneak up
on her.
She started to turn off the ignition, then decided to let the car idle
in case she needed to make a fast getaway. The low rumble of the engine
could hide some sounds, but she wasn't concerned about that anyway. If
anyone approached her, she would see them.
The seconds ticked slowly away. Kate scanned the shadows at the edge of
the lot, wondering where Sam was. She assumed he would cut through the
wooded picnic area that was off to her left. There were lights on tall
poles among the trees, but no matter how hard she stared, she could see
no movement in there. At one side of the picnic area, not far from the
parking lot, was a small building containing rest rooms. She wondered if
he might be hiding there.
A car appeared on the road that bordered the park, and Kate held her
breath, waiting to see if it would turn in. But it moved past the
entrance without slowing, then disappeared. She let out her breath with
a sound of annoyance.
The problem was that they were too eager for a break--and maybe their
would-be informant knew' that Or may he he'd changed his mind. If he
didn't show up and then called again, what would she do?
Headlights suddenly swept the lot as a car pulled in. Kate couldn't be
sure, but she thought it was the same car that had passed earlier.
She slouched down in the seat, wondering if the Porsche's body was
strong enough to deflect bullets. It seemed that it should he, green its
outrageous price. She held her breath again, her body rigid, fearing
that at any moment there would be a hail of bullets, and wondering if
the committee ever awarded a Pulitzer posthumously.

She could almost envision Sam accepting for her.

With th Porsche's engine running, she couldn't tell if the other car
had stopped, but she could no longer see its headlights. Then she heard
a door slam--very close by. She raised her head cautiously, then
screamed as a face peered in at her.
The young man outside backed off quickly. Kate couldn't hear his words,
but he seemed- as scared as she was--and that told her he was the
caller. She rolled down the window.

"I'm Kate Stevens," she' said

"Are you here to see me?"

He nodded, his eyes darting around the lot.

"Did you come alone?"
She told him she had, even though the lie seemed unnec-essmy now. He was
wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and there didn't appear to he any way he
could be concealing a weapon. She was beginning to think that she'd seen
him before somewhere.

"This isn't your car," he said in a faintly accusing tone.

"No, it belongs to  ...  a friend. I'm having car trouble and I didn't
want to risk a breakdown." She opened the door and got out."

" I've seen you somewhere."

He nodded.

"At New I. eaf. I'm a counselor there "Are you a friend of Tony's?"

"Not really a friend. You know he's disappeared?" Kate nodded, but said
nothing.
"I think they killed him," he stated bluntly, then peered at her
closely.

"You're not taping this, are you?"

"No," Kate assured him.

"Why do you think they killed him?"

"Because he was asking too many questions."
"Tony told me that a group of counselors had talked a couple of times
about the sudden changes in the kids there. Were you part of that
'group?"

"He nodded,

"Something's going on, that's for sure. We all agreed on that. But we
don't know what it is."

He stopped talking and scanned the lot, turning in a complete circle.

She asked if he was sure that no one had followed him here, and he said
he was.
"It bothered Tony even more than the rest of us," he went on, turning
back to her.
"He was the only one who'd worked at another camp and he said they
didn't have near the success rate that we do. So he started asking
questions--you know, ta|king to the psychologists and the medical
people. A couple of days ago--just before he disappeared--he told me
that he thought he might be onto something. I asked him what it was, but
he said that he didn't want to talk about it until he was sure. He said
something about getting some tests done, and then maybe he'd know."

"What kind of tests?"

"He didn't say."

"Could he have meant psychological tests?"

He was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

"I don't think so.

The psychologists run all the usual tests on the kids when they first
get there, and the results are in their files that we all have access
to."
"You said he was talking to medical people. Could he have meant medical
tests of some kind?"
"Maybe, but it's hard to see what they could be. The kids are all tested
regularly for illegal drugs because we can't be one hundred percent sure
that they're not managing to have them brought in."
He seemed increasingly edgy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his
feet.
Because she feared that he might suddenly take off, Kate switched gears
and asked him if he knew where they sent the kids they couldn't handle
at New Leaf.
"That doesn't happen often, but when it does, they send them to whatever
hospital will take them." He paused, frowning.
"I had a kid last year who had to be Sent away. It was weird. He was
referred by the courts after he was con-vie ted of car theft. He wasn't
the one who stole the car, though. He was just with the kid who did, and
he was stoned out of his mind at the time. Anyway, he was actually a
pretty together kid. No history of mental prob rems and no real drug
history, either. Pretty bright, too.
"Things went really well for him--right up to the day he flipped out and
tried to strangle a counselor. I wasn't there at the time, but they told
me. that he just went berserk. One of his friends told me later that
he'd said he was feeling kind of funny. He didn't elaborate beyond that.
It happened over a weekend when I was off, and they shipped him out
immediately."

"What was his name?" Kate asked.

"Stephen Walters. Why?"

"Could you describe him for me?" Kate tried not to let her shock show.

Stephea was the name of one of the boys at the farmhouse. He was the one
she'd talked to.
"He was about my height, kind of skinny. A white kid. Thin face and a
big nose and big blue eyes. Medium brown hair. He had some acne scars on
his cheeks."

The description fitted perfectly--just as she'd thought it would.

Kate's stomach churned. She wanted to tell the counselor that she'd seen
him, and that he wasn't in a hospital and that things were no longer
going so well for him. But she managed to keep her silence.

She needed time to figure it all out first.

"Look, I've got to go. I don't know whyi came here anyway. I don't
really know anything. It's just that I'm worded about Tony."
"The police were at New Leaf about Tony," she told him. "Did you talk to
them?"

He shook his head.

"There wasn't anything I could tell them. I can't afford to lose this
job.
The pay is really good, and I'm still paying off loans from grad
school."

"Did any of the others in your group talk to the police?"

"No. We all decided that we couldn't tell them anything that would help,
and it could have gotten us fired ...  or worse."

"I really appreciate your telling me all this she told him sincerely.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, but I promise you that I'll do my
best to find Tony. If you see or hear anything else, will you call me?"

He nodded.

"You woa't tell anyone that I've talked to you?
"I promise that I'll keep tou out of it," she assured him. "All I ask
is that you keep your eyes and ears open."
"I will, but if something's going on, they're going to be even more
careful now. Besides, there's this research group coming in."

Kate recalled that Tony had mentioned that.

"Do you know their name?"
"It's called the Organization for Responsible Drug Policy. I understand
that they're a new group, and they're stip-posed to be studying boot.
camps.
They,relg0ing to be interviewing all the counselors about our work with
the kids."
Kate could just barely resist the impulse to shout "Aha!" The connection
had been made. But what did it mean? She thanked' her informantagain and
reminded him to call her if he saw or heard anything, and he returned to
his car. As soon as he'd pulled out, Kate called Sam's name, and
immediately saw movement in the shadows near the rest rooms.

"Was he from New Leaf?" Sam asked as he jogged across the lot to her.

"Yes, and wait till you hear what he had to say!"

Sam reached around and pulled a gun from the back of his waistband.

After putting it into the car, he leaned against the hood and listened
as Kate repeated her conversation with the counselor.
"We've got a connection now, Sam--the ORDPV' " A possible connection,"
Sam replied.

"They could be there for exactly the reasons they state."

"But there must be dozens of these boot camps they Could have studied.
So why this one?"
"The same reason you were drawn to them in the f'n'st phce--their
success rate."

"It's too much of a co'mcidence."

"Is it any more of a coinddence than a coon between two seemingly
unrelated stories?," Sam challenged, ,
"I'm beginning to wish that you'd stuck with your wars," she muttered,
but she knew he was right.
"On the other hand, if The Ferret,comes up with a con-necfion between
New Leaf and Newbury, then we've got something,"
"I'd hate to think that one nerdy guy with an apartment full of
computers is going to replace good old-fashioned in-vesfigafive
journalism:"
"He won't. A computer can only look for what it's told to look for," Sam
pronounced.

"I wonder what sort of test Tony was planning to do."

They were both silent for a moment, thinking, Then Kate offered
tentatively,
"What if those kids at New Leaf are being used as human guinea pigs to
test some new type of drug?"
"You said that they tested the Scofield boy for drugs at the hospital
after he went nuts;" Sam reminded her.
"Yes, but for What kind of drugs? I did an article about illegal-drug
testing a couple of years ago. Before I looked into it, I'd always
assumed that they just took urine or blood and then found everything
that doesn't belong there. But it isn't that simple."

"It isn't?"

She shook her head "You have to run a whole lot of different tests, and
what ones you run depend on what you're Dawson looking for. Besides,
they're not perfect, although they've improved in recent years.
"For example, at fast, the test for marijuana could come back positive
if you'd taken ibuprofen--you know, Nuprin or Advil? That caused a lot
of problems for people before they got it straighlmxi out. And all
thoe tests cost money-- big money."
"So you're saying that there could have been something in Charles's
blood or urine that the tests just didn't pick up? But he'd been gone
from New Leag for quite a while:' "Right. And his mother said that he
wasn't taking any medication,"

Kate admitted reluctantly,

"But why did New Leaf kidnap him ...  unless they were worried that at
some point, something would be found?"

"We don't know for a fact that they d/d kidnap him:" Sam reminded her.

"There are two things we need to do right now," Kate went on. First is
to make certa/n that Charles Scofield is at the farmhouse. And second,
we need to talk to a psycho pharmacologist "A what?"

"Psychopharmacologists deal with mlnd-allm'ing substances.

There must be someone at NIH we could talk to." N1H, or the National
Institutes of Health, was a government research facility in Bethesda.
"Okay. That should be easy enough. But the farmhouse is another matter
entirely. Going back there wo,u. ld be too risky. Besides, if Scofield
was there, I'll bet they've moved him. I'm sure that your friend with
the pickup recognized me."
"They wouldn't move him unless they had another place to take him to,"
Kate responded.
"I want to go back there at night, when we could sneak up on the place
more easily."

"And then what? Do a bed check?" Sam scoffed.

"Something like that," she replied, undaunted by his skepticism.
"Let's wait and see if The Ferret comes up with any connection between
New Leaf and ORDP and Newbury's contributors."

"Okay. But tomorrow, we go talk to someone at NIH." Sam stared at her.

"You're giving in too easily. I can hear those wheels mining.

You're not going out there alone, Kate."

"For someone who just spent three years dodging bullets, you're being
very concerned about my body."

"Well, someone should be--and you're not."

A silence fell between them in the still night air. The Porsebe's engine
continued to idle smoothly. Kate thought about Lisa's remark that she
and Tony had never discussed business. If only life were that simple for
Sam and her. "I don't need a caretaker, Sam."

"I think you do, but I'm trying hard not to be one."

"This was my story until you butted in."
"It's still your stop. You're the one who will write it  ...  if you
don't get yourself killed first." He grinned at her.

"Of course, if you do manage to get yourself killed, then I'// write it.

That should be enough trmake you careful."
She laughed, though a bit uneasily as she xmemberedher vision of Sam
accepting a Pulitzer for her.
"I:m going to write this story even if I have to do it from-beyond the
grave."
"And then what, Kate?" he asked, his voice turning serious. "If this
turns out to be the big story we both think it could be, then will you
be satisfied?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," she said uneasily, though she thought she
did.
"Let me put it this way. No one wants to see you get a Pulitzer more
than I do, because that should end the competition between us."
She thought about that and finally nodded "You're right, except that
you'd still be one up on me."

He rolled his eyes and at the same time hauled her into his arms.

"Would you consider at least admitting that you still love me and can't
imagine living without me?"
"I do love you and I can't imagine life without you," she said, tilting
her head back to stare up at him.

"But that doesn't mean it will work for us."

"But it's a start. When you told me you wanted a divorce, you said that
you loved me but couldn't live with me."
" " I still don't know if I can live with you. I just said that I
couldn't imagine life without you. There's a difference."
"You're playing word games again,. Kitty-Kat," he said as his mouth
covered hers softly.
"Now let's get home before I'm tempted to find out if we can turn the
Potsthe into a bed."
KAT LAY C against Sam, listening to his breathing slow as he drifted
Off to sleep. She felt like purring herself. She'd told him that once,
not long after they'd become lovers, and that's when he'd started
calling her Kitty-Kat. She wondered idly if even the thrill of winning a
Pulitzer could compare to the satisfied, voluptuous feeling she had now,
as her body still registered his imprint, still felt him inside her.
Tiny tremors rippled through her, reminding her pleasantly of Sam's
unique ability to satisfy her.
We have to make it work, she resolved. And then a moment later, she
realized that she hadn't thought that way before. Then, she'd told
herself that it wasn't working and it was time to cut her losses and get
out. Now she wondered how she could have been so willing to give him up.
Her mother, who thought Sam walked on water, had said that she wouldn't
come to realize what she'd lost until she lost it. Of course, Kate had
ignored her; her mother was big on trite cliches. But now it seemed that
just maybe her mother had been right.
Sleep hovered just out of reach as her mind sp/m from her problems with
Sam to her story. Sam was sound asleep, his arm heavy against the curve
of her waist2 She both envied him and was irrital by him in about equal
parts. Sam was always so sure of himself, so. . For once, she couldn't
find the proper word: To Sam, the fact that they loved each other was
all that mattered. Anything else was no more than a minor nuisance. He
never agonized over anything; instead, he just pushed on, supremely
confident that it would all come out well in the end.
Kate drifted closer to the edges of sleep, then pulled back as her mind
continued to work on the New Leaf story. It 'troubled her to think how
close she'd come to giving up on it several times to focus on Newbury
and Armistead. Sam would dismi that with a shrug, saying that he'd
probably dropped stories that could have been big, but so what? There
were always other stories.
Kate, however, couldn't see it that way. Instead, she saw it as a
failure of her reporter's instincts--or a near failure, which to her was
much the same.
The certainty that Sam wouldn't understand made her want to get away
from him. He stirred slightly and muttered what could have been a
question, but ins lead of answering, she slipped out of bed. He rolled
over and went back to sleep. That was Sam--passion one moment and sleep
the next. No lying in bed with his brain whirring over a story.

No uncertainty about their future together.

Sometimes, she thought as she stood there for a moment staring down at
him, I really think I hate him. Maybe there really was some truth to
that old saying about love and hate being two sides of the same coin.
Kate went downstairs and made herself a soothing cup of herbal tea, then
curled up in her favorite chair in the living room and stared into the
dead fireplace. It seemed to her that they should have enough
information by now to figure out what was going on. Leaving aside for
the time being the question of the slimy congressman and his equally
noxious chief of staff, she concentrated. on New Leaf.
No one disputed that they had a much higher-than-average success rate
with their kids--high enough to have aroused Tony Disalvo's suspicions.
and perhaps to have gotten him killed.
But it sounded as though they'd had some rather spectacular failures as
well; Charles Scofield and the boy, Stephen, whom she'd seen at the
farmhouse, being just two examples. Furthermore, both had suddenly and
inexplicably become homicidal, though acts of aggression hadn't been
part of their pasts.
And both boys had said they were feeling weird before the outbursts of
violence happened.
She continued to believe that drugs of some sort were involved, even
though Charles had not been on any drags. Or at least he hadn't been on
them since he left New Leaf. And yet, the people at New Leaf had almost
certainly kidnapped him from the hospital to prevent some discovery that
could threaten them.
It all sounded like the basis for some made-for-TV movie--that is,
completely unrealistic.
With a sigh, Kate settled deeper into the chair. They needed some expert
help at this point. There just wasn't enough evidence of wrongdoing to
go to the police. Somewhere in her voluminous files was the article
she'd done on drug Waiting and the name of the. expert on mind-altering
substances she, d consulted at NIH. She c r. membered him as being very
forthcoming. unlike so many government bureaucrats.
KAA"S FS were threatening to glaze over. She glanced at Sam, who had
adopted  TV persona and appeared to be hanging on to the
psychopharmacologst's every word. Or maybe he actually was, Sam had a
d like a sponge. He could suck up the most incredible amount of detail
on the most arcane of subjects.
At the moment--and for the past half hour--they were listening to a
lecture On what was known about how various mind-altering substances
actually worked.
To Kate, it sounded much as it had three or four years ago--all
guesswork, couched in incomprehensle language.
"So," Sam said into a pause, "what you're saying is that you understand
the' area of the brain that can trigger uncontrollable violence, and you
know what substances can trigger it, but you don't know exactly how they
work."

Kate smiled. Trust Sam to bo'd down a lengthy lecture to one sentence.

"Right. Known substances, that is. But especially in the illegal drug
trade, they're always coming up with new combinations-analogs mostly.
Those are drugs that are similar to, but not quite the same as, drugs we
already know about."
"But if someone without a history of violent behavior suddenly becomes
very violent, those treating him would know what substances to test
for--right?"

"I'm sure they would. There aren't that many of them, really."

"Could any of them be long-acting enough to cause a first episode of
violence six months or more after they were taken?" Kate asked, thinking
about Charles Scofield.
"That's not likely." He paused, frowning in thought. "There's been some
research done in the past to see if the brain could be permanenfiy
alfred as a way of curbing violent tendeneles. But it was only animal
research and the results weren't promising enough to continue."

Kate exchanged a glance with Sam.

"Are you talking about surgery of some kind?"

The researcher shook his head.

"No.. The hope was that a drug or combination of drugs could be found
that would act on that part of the brain and curb antisocial
tendencies.," Kate couldn't quite suppress a shiver, and the researcher
saw it and nodded.
"That's why it was stopped. We were funding it, but we quit because of
the ethical questions involved."
"Is it possible that some company could have continued the research on
its own?" Sam asked. His voice was casual, but Kate knew that the
question was anything but.

'"Oh, I suppose it's possible in theory, but it isn't very likely.

There wouldn't be any point to continuing the research with animals
beyond where it had already been done, and the FDA wouldn't approve
tests on humans.

"

The shiver Kate had felt earlier now became a bone-deep chill. She
didn't look at Sam, because she was sure his thoughts would mirror hers.
"KATE," SAM SAW in a warning tone as soon as they'd escaped from the
loquacious researcher.

"This is not a Michael Crichton novel."

"But maybe a Robin Cook," she countered.

"Sam, it makes sense!

They're using those kids at New Leaf as human guinea pigs and the kids
at the farmhouse are the fail" Until you can define 'they' more
precisely, I'm not going to discuss it."
"Fine, then don't discuss it! I'm going to have the very great pleasure
of saying I told you so. I can feel it, Sam. I know I'm right." She
picked up the car phone that was finally activated.

"Who are you calling?"

"The Ferret. Maybe he's found something by now that he cgn connect New
Leaf to one of the drug companies," Sam took the phone away from her and
put it back in its holder.
"How many times do I have to remind you that these calls aren,t
private?,"

"Is someone following us?"

"How would I know in this traffic? We'll go to the office."

"You're really bugging me' you know that? I think you're jealous."

',I think I'm cautious, which is what makes us a good team," he replied
smoothly.

"I don't see how you managed to win one Pulitzer, let alone two."

He ignored that.

"Have you forgotten Completely about Newbury and Annistead?"

"Of course not! But New Leaf is the story, Sam." She was silent for a
moment, then folded her arms. determinedly. "I'm going back out to the
farmhouse wnight--with or without you. If Charles Scofield is there,
then we can bring in the police."

"Wanna bet that if he was there, they've already moved him?"

"That's certainly possible, but we won't know until we check. Are you
coming with me?"
"No, I'm going to let the crazy woman I love walk into danger by
herself.
Why didn't I fall in love with some sweet, simpering little thing who'd
be content to live in roy reflected glory and cook for me?"
"That's a very good question, Sam. Do you have an answer He sighed
theatrically.
"Unfortunately, no. Some character defect, no doubt. A fatal flaw that
makes me want nights of passion, followed by days of arguing."

"Actually, that sounds rather interesting to me."

"Yeah?"

" He shot her a quick glance.

"Then please explain why you wanted a divorce."

"This isn't the time to talk about that."

"There won't ever be a time to talk about it, because there's nothing to
talk about. You made a mistake, that's "

"Oh? And what about you? You agreed to the divorce."

"What was I supposed to do? Beg you to let me stay? Promise to be
someone I'm not?"
Kate said nothing, but his words struck home. She'd never before
admitted it, but that was exactly what she'd wanted: She'd wanted him to
reaffirm his love and commitment even when she told him it was over.
Face it, Kate, she told herself. The real reason you don't want to
discuss your relationship is that you come off looking like a real twit.
And even worse, he knows it. "Well?"
"Well what? I don't know if I made a mistake or not and this isn't the
time to talk about it."
Sam shot her a sidelong glance as she turned away from him to stare out
the side window. Progress, he thought, hiding a smile. She's be inning
to put her very sharp mind to the task of' sorting out her own feelings
and actions.
She'd definitely made a mistake, but he knew that he wasn't exactly
blameless, either. What he still didn't know--and would probably never
know--was how they'd let things get so far out of hand. They loved each
other and enjoyed each other. and yet somehow, they'd let it go.
Had it been easier for them to let it go because they knew they'd pick
it up again sooner or later? Sam didn't like that thought much and he
knew she wouldn't either, but there it was. They were both crazy and
they lived in a crazy world.
He wondered if she could possibly be right in her suspi-dons about New
Leaf.
If she was, it was going to be one be all hers. He wanted that for her
far more than he'd ever wanted anything for himself. Except, of course,
for wanting her to he his wife again.
WHEN THEY HAD PAMA in the garage beneath the Post's offices and gotten
into the elevator, Sam pressed the button, and Kate reached over to
press the one for the floor below.

"What are you domg?" he asked.

"Sneaking in-through the fire stairs in the hope that Da-. mon won't see
me," she replied.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You have Damon wrapped around your little finger and always have had."
"Hah! You've been away for three years, member? You haven't heard his
tirades."

"I don'tl have to hear them. I can remember them well enough."

Damon yelled at you?" she asked in surprise.

Sam nodded.

"Long before you came. He didn't stop until I won my Pulilzer. Then he
told me he knew I had it in me. So consider yourself blessed if he's
yelling at you."
Kate considered thati "I can count on the fingers of one hand--with
several to spare--the times he's praised me."

Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, but it felt real good when he did, didn't it?"
She smiled and nodded. It had felt very good. 'He gave me hell about
dating you, you know."

" He did? ".

"Uh-huh. He said that he didn't want me derailing your career because
the really good ones didn't come along all that often."

She stared at him.

"I don't believe that!"

Sam shrugged.

"It's'true. He didn't know you very well then."

"what did you say?"

"I told him to mind his own business in somewhat more colorful language,
as I recall. I also told h'h-n that nobody was going to sidetrack you.
Then I said that he'd better get used to it because I intended to marry
you."

"when was this?"

"Right after we started datings" Sam drew her into his arms and gave her
a hard, demanding kiss.
"I always knew what I wanted, Kate--or at least I knew the moment I met
you.
So did you. The only difference between us was that I accepted the
inevitable a lot quicker." The elevator doors opened on a group of
somber-looking businessmen. Sam glanced at them and gave her another
kiss before releasing her. Then he grinned at them."

" Newlyweds," he pronounced.

Kate said nothing as they walked down the hall and to the fire stairs,
then began the climb up one flight to the Post's offices.
The truth was that, at first, she hadn't trusted Sam Winters any further
than she could have thrown him--which is to say, not at all.
"His reputation had preceded him. Sam had been known to pick up and
discard women so fast that she wondered how he'd ever kept their names
straight.
She'd been attracted to him from-the beginning, of course--who wouldn't
be?
He was handsome and charming and already an established star at the Post
and elsewhere.
She, on the other hand, was a nobody with surprisingly little dating
experience. Not that men hadn't asked her out; that had never been . a
problem. But she'd beenetoo busy, working several jobs and going to
school, then forced to continue holding down two jobs even after she
landed her first reporting job because the pay was so low.
His comments about Damon surprised her, as well. During her first few
years at the Post, she had lived in Constant fear that he would decide
she wasn't up to the job of working at. a major paper. It annoyed her
that Sam hadn't told her this before, but a little voice inside
whispered that she wouldn't have believed him if he had.
Kate hated to think of herself as being insecure, even though she was
increasingly certain that she had been. Sometimes, it was downright
embarrassing to have to confront your former self.
She pushed open the fire door just as Damon was leaving the men's room.
He stopped and stared at them, then laughed.
Saratitle Oawsot "I suppose you think I don't know about the tricks my
reporters play to avoid me. gee ping that door propped open is a
violation of fire regulations."
"I guess it won't work to tell you that the elevator got stuck," Kate
grinned unabashedly.

Damon pointed.

"Into my office--both of you."
So they told him everything, except for Kate's plan to go back out to
the farmhouse. Damon sat there toying with the worry beads the staff had
given him for his birthday last year.

"You're onto Something," he said at last.

"And unfortunately, you aren't yet at the point where we could call in
the police or the FBI.
But I don't like my people putting themselves at risk and I probably
wouldn't like whatever you're not Wiling me."

He frowned in s'dence for a moment.

"We need proof, and all we've got so far is speculation. It's good
speculation, but the folks on the floor above won't let it see print
without proof."
Kate nodded. He was referring to the legal department that was always on
guard again at possible lawsuits.
"Even if The Ferret comes up with a connection between a drug company
and the boot camp, or a connection between Newbury and the drug
companies, it probably isn't enough. Your best hope might be if the
police f'md that counselor--dead or alive."
Kate winced at the mention of Tony. Somehow, over the past day or so,
she'd subconsciously accepted the likelihood that Tony was dead.

"Okay," Damon said.

"Stay with it. Barnett and 3ack-son are back from vacation, so I can cut
you some slack for a wwhile." He turned to Sam.
"Holcroft's been waiting to hear from you about joining the Writers'
Group.

Have you made up your mind yet?"

Sam shook his head.

"I need some more time to think about it, Damon."

Kate watched him, surprised to realize that she hadn't given any thought
to Sam's future. It felt like he was back at his old job.
Considering how decisive he usually was, she wondered why he hadn't
decided about joining the syndicated group.

They left Damon's office, nodding at his admonition to be careful.

Kate suspected that if Sam weren't also involved in this story, Damon
might have pulled her off it. But he trusted Sam to rein in her
impulsive hess and keep her from taking risks.
Maybe, she thought, we really do make a good team. But she was still
determined to go out to the farmhouse again--Sam or no Sam.

Chapter Eleven.

"I don't  this," Sam growled as he pulled the Porsche off fiae road
"You've said that already--numerous times."

"That doesn't make it any less true."

"Well, I'm going--that's it." She opened the door. "You know damned well
that you're not going without me and I'd like to think that if I weren't
here, you'd have the sense to call it off."

"Sam, the proof we need is in that farmhouse--Charles . Scofield.

And you were obviously wrong about their moving the kids, because
someone's there."
They'd already driven by the farmhouse on the other mad and had
discovered that it was too well lit with outside floods for them to
sneak up that way.
So now they were planning to approach from the woods at the rear as they
had before.
Sam said nothing as he took the gun from the glove compartment, then
wondered aloud how many laws he was breaking by' carrying a concealed
weapon that wasn't even registered to him.
"So don't conceal it. Carry it in your hand." Shepicked up the
flashlight and started into the woods. With any luck, they wouldn't need
it. The moon was nearly full, but it was periodically obscured by
clouds.

Sam stuffed the gun into the back of his waistband and followed her.

A few moments later, the 'moon disappeared behind some clouds and Kate
switched on the flashlight.

Sam grumbled that it was so bright it would attract aircraft.

"I have a little one to use when we get to the house," she told him.
Then, as they started up the hill that lay between them and the
farmhouse, she turned to him.
"Do you really think my theory that New Leaf is being used as some sort
of laboratory is off the wall?"

"No, I don't," he replied thoughtfully.

"But don't you see, Kate? If you're right, they've got to be really
desperate to keep it a secret."

She nodded her agreement, then sighed.

"I just wish that The Ferret would come up with something for us."

"He could be onto' something

"What?" she said, coming to a halt.

"You didn't tell me that."

"Because that's all he told me."
"But why didn't you" -- "Kate, allow him his little pleasures. That's
the. way he likes to operate. He won't tell us anything until he's
sure."

"In other words, I'm being too pushy."

"Uh-huh. There's-a time for that and a time for patience."

Kate wiled her eyes, even though he couldn't see her in the darkness.

"Next, you're going to be saying go wit] the flow of some other sixties
nonsense. Sometimes you drive me nuts, Sam."
"I know, and you can drive me to distraction." He squeezed her shoulder,
then trailed a hand lightly down her back.

"But eousider the alternative."

" What alternative?"

"Not seeing each other at all."

She was silent after that as they continued to make their slow way up
the hillside. The moon came out again, but by now they were deep in the
forest, so it didn't help much.
"I don't want that," she said finally, her tone far too casual for the
import of. the words.
"Is that why you haven't agreed to join the syndication yet? Are you
still thinking about leaving Washington?"

"The town's not big enough for both of us," he replied evenly.

"And I can write anywhere."
Sarantle Dawson "You wouldn't be happy living outside the beltway" , she
stated firmly, just before she tripped over an exposed root.

Sam grabbed her quickly, then seemed disinclined to let her go.

"I won't be happy anywhere if it's not with you," he said softly.

"And you feel the same way."

Caught securely in the strong circle of his arms, Kate couldn't deny
that.

She loved him, but why wasn't that enough?

He let her go and they set off again.
"One way or another," he sad, "this is going to be over soon and then
you have to' decide."
Decide what? she asked silently. Choose between being miserable without
him--or being mi. rable with him? Then, just as they reached the crest
of the hill and saw the farmhouse below them, she realized that she
wasn't miserable with him, If that. revelation had come at any other
time, she would certainly have pondered it, but Sam was already making
one last attempt to dissuade her.

"I'm not even a very good shot. I didn't hit the bull's-eye once."

"So what? We aren't going to shoot anyone." You just need to look as
though you could shoot if someone threatens us."

"It's not always that simple." He stared down at the farmhouse.

"Well, at least they don't have any outside lights in the back."
It was true. The entire rear of the house, both inside and outside, was
dark. A faint glow could be seen through one downstairs window that was
probably from the light that was on in the front part of the house.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Just past eleven. Pretty early for everyone to be in bed."
"Not out here. These people tend to go to bed earlier ...  like my
folks." She smiled, remembering Sam's first visit to her parents.
"He couldn't get used to dinner being called " supper" and to the "
early to bed, early to rise" mentality of rural folk--not to mention
having total strangers speak to him on the street.
She also recalled Sam's utter amazement at how they could spend ten
minutes discussing nothing more than the weather. Rural America was more
foreign to him than Africa or the Middle East.
But everyone had liked him. People always liked Sam--which, of course,
had made her feel even gull tier about ending their marriage.
And the result of all that guilt was that she had found even more to
dislike about him.
She shot him a quick glance as he stood there staring down at the
farmhouse.
Why was she having all these insights now, when there were far more
immediate concerns--like finding out if Charles Scofield was actually
down there? ' "Having second thoughts?" Sam asked hopefully, turning to
her suddenly and catching her staring at him.
She shook her head. She was having second thoughts, all right, but not
the kind he meant.
"You wouldn't admit it if you were," he said with a nmile. Because that
would mean admitting that I'm right."

There was definitely some truth in his words, so she ignored them.

"Eet's go. They must be asleep. That light is probably on all night."
"I want you to know that I wouldn't he doing this for just anybody," Sam
said as they started down the hill aide moving carefully in the
darkness.

"I appreciate that," she replied dryly.

"Now shut up, because sounds carry in a quiet place like this."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered.

They were halfway down the hill when the moon emerged from behind the
clouds.
Kate felt suddenly vulnerable--not to mention foolish. Sam was right.
This was a chance they shouldn't be taking. But it was too late now--or
so she told herself.
They moved quickly down the remainder of the slope. She didn't know what
Sam was thinking, but she could almost feel a bullet ripping into her.
It wasn, t a pleasant feeling.
And then they reached the small yard behind the house. The moon vanished
again, and the only light was the faint glow from inside the house. Sam
took her arm. She started nervously, immediately hating herself for
letting him see how frightened she was.

"Stay here," he whispered.

"I'm going to skirt around the house to see if anyone's downstairs."
At the moment, her legs were shaking so badly that she doubted she could
have moved in any event, so she merely nodded. Sam moved off into the
darkness, and as soon as he was gone, she became even more terrified.
Damn him anyway.
Why was he so calm and cool, when he was the one who'd fought against
her
Half her life time went by before Sam uddeuly reappeared on the far
side of the house, once again startling her.
She decided that it was a good thing that he was the one with the gun--a
fact that didn't escape his attention, either.
It's a go,? thing you're not packing any heat, lady--or I d he dead, he
whi. pered,
"I could see in all the downstairs windows and no one's there. I'm
beginning to wonder if the place could he empty. All those lights could
be on a timer.
Even out here, you'd think that people would draw their drapes or put
down the shades at night," For just a second, Kate found herself hoping
that was indeed the case, But then she minded herself that an empty
house wouldn't offer the proof she needed.

Sam was staring at the back porch.

"Look, why don't you stay here and let me go up there?"
She shook her head vigorously, even though she'd have liked to do just
that.

He shrugged.

"Okay. I had to try. I'll go first, and then I can help you up."
He climbed the steps to the porch, found a foothold on the railing and
began to shinny up the post to the roof. The gutter protested with a
loud squeak as he elambered onto the sloping surface. Kate held her
breath as she balanced on the railing, ready to ascend behind him. But
there was no sound from inside. No lights came on. No faces appeared at
windows.
She struggled up the post until Sam clasped her hand and began to pull
her up after him. The gutter squeaked even more loudly, this time
sounding as though it was about to give way. They both crouched on the
roof, waiting.
Sam had drawn his gun, and she thought that he looked like he did this
every night. Those lost years in distant war zones came back to her, and
she cursed herself s'nfiy for having dragged him into this.
He gestured silently to the two windows that were accessible from the
roof.

Both were open. They hadn't been able to tell from down on the ground.

Sam walked crabwise across the sloping roof to the nearer of the windows
and peered in. She moved cautiously behind him. The screen, she thou
glut How are we going to get in? Why didn't I think about that?
But Sam obviously had thought about it. First, he tried to raise the
screen, and when that failed, he produced a small pair of-wire curers and
set to work
"It must be all that Boy Scout training" she muttered. He Rm to her
briefly, holding a finger to his lips, then went on cutting out the
screen.
Still no sounds from inside. She was more and more convinced that Sam
had been right in the first place--the kids had been moved.

She wavered between frustration and relief.

He cut around three sides of the screen, then folded back the top part
and climbed into the room. She followed, peering into the darkness.
The room was empty. The bed was: neatly made, but there was no
indication that anyone occupied the room. Sam peered into the closets
while she opened the dresser. drawers. Nothing, The other bedrooms were
just as empty.
There were towels in the two bathrooms, together with various
toilelxies, but all the closets and dressers had been emptied.
"Looks like they flew the coop, as your granny says," Sam stated when
they'd searched the entire second floor.
"Let's go downstairs. Maybe we'll find something there." Now that she
knew the place was empty, Kate's bravery surged once more.
"What are you expecg to find  ...  a forwarding ado dress, may he "No,
but they could have left something behind--some-thing incriminating."
"I doubt it," Sam replied as {hey star led down the stairs. "I have a
feeling that these people are very careful." -" And as
they searched the first floor, it appeared that he was right.
There was food in the cupboards, but not in the refrigerator or the big
matching freezer. And not a single personal item could be found
anywhere.
When they'd finished their search, Sam stood in the living room, which
was lit by a lamp that was indeed on a timer.
"If it's any consolation, I think you're right about this place. Why
would they leave and take everything with them? Even the wastebaskets
have been emptied."
"The big question," she said disgustedly, "is where did they go? You
can't just pack up kids like that and move into a motel' or something,"
 sudden thought struck her and she shivered involuntarily. Sam do you
think they could have killed those kids?"
Sam qcldy shook his head, but Kate could see that the same thight had
crossed his' mind "They've tried to kill me and they may have killed
Tony," she persisted.
"And if I'm right about this all being some sort of experiment, these
kids were their failures."
"Yeah, but from their point of view, that could make them even more
valuable.

They'll want to know why they failed."

"This is sick Sam! I think I'm changing my mind about capital
punishment."

"We don't know that that's what's happened," Sam countered.

"Let's get out of here:" Kate shook her head. Now that she'd raised the
awful specter of the kids having been killed, she couldn't get it out of
her mind.

"I want to check the barn before. we leave."

Sam stared at her.
"If they d/d kill the kids, they wouldn't have been stupid enough to
leave their bodies around."

"! still want to check it," Kate insisted.

"Maybe they left something that can be tied to New Leaf or to one of the
boys."
Sam'sexpression told her that he considered that to be highly unlikely,
but he shrugged and followed her as they left the house.
The big old barn sat several hundred yards from the house--a dark,
weathered wooden structure that hadn't seen paint in years, if ever.
With the moon now totally oh scured by clouds, it loomed menacingly in
the shadows beyond the reach of the outside floodlights.

As they approached it, Kate could see that its wide door was closed.

A padlock caught the beam of her flashlight, but before Kate could work
up a sense of frustration, she saw that it wasn't locked. Sam slipped it
from the hasp and slid the door open.
They both stood in the doorway as Kate shone the flashlight around the
cavernous space, sneezing as the mingled scents of hay and manure
tickled her nose and reminded her of childhood excursions to her uncle's
dairy farm.
The barn appeared to be completely empty--except for one thing. Just
inside the door sat a black Ford pickup!
Sam drew the gun from his waistband and began to circle the truck while
Kate stood there trying to contain her excitement as she wondered why it
would be here now. Clearly, it belonged to the man they'd seen
earner--the man she believed was her would-be assassin.
"My guess is that he left it here when they took the kids," Sam said
after he had circled the truck.

"Make a note of the license plate so we can check it out."

Annoyed with herself for not having thought of that immediately, Kate
took out her mini cassette recorder and read off the numbers and
letters. Then they moved deeper into the barn and began to check the'
sus. Kate's pleasant memories of her uncle's farm fought with her fear
of. what they might find.
But in the end, they found nothing. Then, just as they were about to
leave, the open doorway was suddenly illuminated! A moment later, they
heard the sound of an approaching car.
Kate froze--at least until Sam grabbed her arm urgently and pointed
toward the wooden ladder like steps that led up to the hayloft. As they
scrambled up the rungs, she could hear two doors slam outside.

They crawled into the back of the hayloft, behind p'ded-up bales of hay.

"They've probably come back for the truck," Sam whispered ixito her ear.

"Our ca isn't in sight, so they'll think we've gone."

She was about to ask how they would know someone had even been here when
she realized that the open barn door would give them away. Dumb, she
thought--really dumb. But how could she and Sam have anticipated that
anyone would be coming now?
Sam motioned for her to stay where she was and then began to move
carefully toward the edge of the loft. She ignored his instructions and
followed him, wanting to get a look at the men, whose low voices could
now be heard as they came into the barn.
"You pr0bably left it open yourself," said a male voice, sounding
unconcerned.
"I told you I closed it. I didn't lock it because I didn't want to go
back to the house to look for the key?"

"You telling me you think she came out here?"

"the first man asked in a jeering tone.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here. It's late and I'm beat."

"She could have come out here with him--the guy I told you about. I
think she was with him when I saw him out on the road. He's some
big-shot TV guy." In the s'lence that followed, Kate gritted her teeth
in helpless anger SO they thought that she--a mere woman--wouldn,t come
here alone? She was tempted to tell them a thing or three, but instead,
she was forced to conceotrate on not sneezing. The hay was getting to
her.
"Well, maybe we'd better look around the house, then," the first man
said.
"If they did come out here, they must have tried to get in there." He
paused. "! don't like this and I don't mind saying so. I didn't sign on
for this kind of trouble."

"

" Well, trouble is what we've got, so you'd better get used to it. The
boss says that we can ride it out, but I ain't so sure about that."
More followed, but-by this time, they had left the barn and Kate
couldn't hear it. She turned to Sam.
"The one man must be the owner of the pickup--the one who tried to kill
me.

I wonder who the other one is."

"Didn't you say that this place was owned by a couple?" Kate nodded.
"Right. I never met the husband--only the wife. That's probably him and
he doesn't sound happy."

She started to rise to her feet.

"Let's get out of here. They're going to find the screen you cut."

Sam reached up and drew her back down again.

"They're assuming that we've gone. We're safest up here, where we've got
the advantage."
She dropped down beside him, not at all certain that he was right, but
unwilling to argue at the moment. Sam drew her close to him with one
arm, while he held the gun in the other. He kissed her.

"Thanks, Kitty-Kat. I've really missed living dangerously?"

"I'm sorry."

"

" You are?" He arched a brow in surprise.

"Yes, I am," she replied tightly.

"But you're not going to promise not to doit again, are you?"
She was trying to think of a reply to that when they heard the two men's
voices again, and then their footsteps as they returned to the barn.
" ...  find anything bocause there was nothing to find. We made sure of
that.

But the boss had better figure out a way to get rid of them--and fast."

"I don't want any part of that."
"Nobody's saying you have to. But you sure' didn object to taking the
money."

"We were just taking care of the kids."

"Sure. But you knew why you were taking care of them." A brief pause
followed, and then the man Kate was sure was the pickup owner spoke
again.
This time, it sounded as though he were directly beneath them, dose to
the ladder. She felt Sam tense before he released her and gripped the
gun with both hands.

"What's wrong?" the other man said.

"You think they could be up there? There's no car around anywhere."

"Someone's been on those steps. See the prints?"

"The kids go up there--or they did, until I started to lock the barn.
The condition they're in, they could've fallen off the
Kate held her breath. Sam lay totally still, the gun aimed at the
ladder.
She was shaking, but his hands were perfectly steady. The gun didn't
waver.

"Yeah, okay. Let's get out of here."

Kate rolled over onto her back and flexed her taut muscles as the
pickup's engine filled the barn with noise and exhaust fumes. Sam didn't
move until they heard the big barn door slide shut. Then he set down the
gun and bent over her.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied.
"I would have gotten him first. He had a rifle and that-would have taken
longer to aim." ' She sat up and stared at him.

"How can you be so calm about this?

Could you really have shot him?
"You'd better helieve'i could have," Sam plied, getting to his feet and
reaching down to help her up. Then he bent to pick up the gun and stared
at it.
"That's the really scary thing about guns; They're too damned easy to
use."
Kate didn't want to think about it. She looked down over the edge of the
loft into the darkness.

"What if they locked the door?"

"They probably did," Sam said, picking up her flashlight and starting
down the ladder.

"Now what?" Kate asked in exasperation as Sam tried the door.

"Maybe there's another door." He began to search the barn with the
flashlight, finally spotting a smaller door on one side, Unfortunately,
that door, too, appeared to he padlocked from the outside. While Kate
sneezed, he played the light over the rest of the barn, then started
back up the ladder.

"What are you doing?" she asked between sneezes.

"Seeing if we can get out from up here," he called back to her.
Kate scrambled up the ladder and followed him over to the far side of
the big loft where he was already pushing open a large portion of the
wall.
"We're in luck," Sam stated as he trained the flashlight outside on
something below them.

"A nice, soft landing."

"Not as soft as you think," Kate said, peering shoulder at the bales of
hay piled on the ground. jumped once at her uncle's farm and had
sprained kle.

"Okay, I'll go first, and if I don't break m know it's safe."

Then, before she could say anything else, Sam from the loft and landed
with a soft thud, scattering bales. He climbed out of them and shoved
them place, then gestured for her to follow.

Kate hesitated, remembering that sprained ankle the other bruises.

"Keep Darernit, she thought, if he can do it, fore she could consider
the lack of logic to that, she Sam climbed over the bales to help her
up. don't have. time right now for a roll in the hay," 1 grinning.

Kate sneezed--which, given her was probably for the best.

KATE PUT DOWN THE PHONE.
"There was a Lisa. They found Tony's car in long-term Dulles." She sank
down in the old-fashioned screened porch and stared out into the
darkness ing the cabin.

"He's dead, Sam. I know it.

Lisa's voice, too." i Sam nodded.

"You're probably right.

else that's been going on, I forgot to tell the people at the camp in
Virginia where he gave him a great reference. I pushed them tional
stability--things like that--and they good things to say about him."
"Lisa said that the police are acting that his car was there proves that
he decided to take going to talk to them tomorrow morning."
"How much do you intend to tell " I don't know yet; Whatever is
necessary find him."
Well, think it over carefully because they're going to be asking a lot
of questions." He wrapped an arm around her and drew her close.

"Let's go to bed and 'forget about this for a while."

"I can't forget about it."

Sam got up, then bent down to kiss her softly.

"Okay. I know you can't."

"How do you doit?" she asked rather plaintively.

Sam shrugged.
"I can't answer that any more than you can tell me why you can't let go
of your work. We're different, that's all. But that doesn't mean we
aren't right for each other."
He kissed her again and went into the cabin. Kate pressed her fingers to
her lips. Could it really be this easy after all? Hour by hour, day by
day, she was beginning to think that it could--that when this was over,
they could just pick up and go on as though the past three years had
theer bali There a danger in that kind of thlnicino% she told herself.
But at the moment, she couldn't quite decide what it was.
"TONY DISALVO WAS I-mlpG me with a story I'm doing on boot camps. I
chose New Leaf because of its success rate, and I was trying to figure
out what they're doing differ-enfiy. Tony was curious about it, too.
He'd worked at another camp before he came here, and they didn't have
the success that New Leaf does.
"He called me the ight before he disappeared and left a message asking
me to call him back. But by the time I did, he was gone."

The detective'sexpression gave nothing away.

"Are you suggesting that something's going on up there and Disalvo found
out about it?"
"I think you have to consider that possibility," Kate stated firmly,
then hurried on.
"I got to know Tony well enough to know that he wasn't the type to just
take off."
"People at the camp said he was in trouble at work and was also having
an affair with another counselor."

"I don't believe that. Have you talked to this other counselor?"

"She left a few weeks ago--moved back to Massachusetts as far as the
people at the camp know. They didn't have a forwarding address."

"Don't you think that's a little too convenient?"

"Maybe. But I also think it's possible that he followed her."
"Then why would his car be at Dulles? If he flew to Massachusetts, he'd
fly. out of National, not Dulles."

The detective stared at her.

"Ms. Slovens, what aren't, telling me?"

d",S.o,ething is going on at New Leaf," Kate asserted.

on't k. ow. what it is or I would wrong. . e. I true. t my instincts.
" She paused for a moment. You must have to trust your instincts when
you're investigating something."

Their eyes met and heid for a few seconds before his gaze slid away.

"Y, you're right. But my instincts aren't telling'in,e anything.

at this point."

Then I'd suggest that you interview some of Tony's coworkers again.

He told me that he wasn't the only one who suspected something. ,"

"The camp has never caused us any trouble, and it provides work for a
lot of local people."
"Does that mean you're prepared to overlook a possible murder?" Kate
challenged.

He met her gaze steadily.

"No, it doesn't. But it means that I have to be careful."

"Talk to the other counselors," she urged again.

Once more, ttieir eyes locked, and Kate felt something unspoken pass
between them. She couldn't divulge her conversation with the other
counselor, and he woum know that. But she sensed. that he knew what she
was telling him, and she also guessed that the counselor she'd met in
Frederick would break down pretty easily under questioning.

"I will," he said after a moment.

"And you'll let me know if you find out anything."
Kate nodded, even though the chances of her learning anything before he
did seemed minimal at best.

SAM PUT DOWN THE PHONE and swore.

"The Ferret did it! He found a connection?
"Between what?" At this point, Kate's brain was on overload, trying to
keep up with their increasingly crazy story.
"Between New Leaf and Newbury." Sam shook his head. "You did it, Kate.
You managed to take on two different stories that are merging into one
big scandal."

"What's the connection?" Kate asked excitedly.

"The president of the board of New Leaf is a regular partner of one of
the contributors to Newbury's PAC. They've worked together on a number
of business deals over the years and their current deal is a financing
package fora small pharmaceutical company that's in trouble. They're
working it through an offshore corporation they set up two years ago."
Kate sank onto the sofa, her mind the spinning. It was connection they'd
been looking for and The Ferret was the one who'd found il That
rankled--at least until she re-" them. l. e. red what Sam. had said.
Computers can only find somemmg. wnen mey-re pointed in the right
direction.

inc quiet of' the house was broken by a sound upstairs.

"He's faxing the information to us," Sam explained.

"I don't have a fax," she said, frowning. She'd been hoping to get one.

"I bought one yesterday, and I called the phone company to have another
line put in. That'll take a couple of days."
Kate thought that maybe she should protest and opened her mouth to do
just that. Then she closed it again. It was far too late for her to be
protesting Sam's teen try into her life--and besides, she didn't want to
anyway. If it hadn't been for his startling announcement, she would have
wondered at her sudden acceptance. Or maybe it wasn't so sudden after
all, Maybe she just hadn't noticed, preoccupied as she was with the
story.
Instead, she sat there, thinking, while at the same time wondering
vaguely why Sam hadn't already suggested a course of action. That wasn't
like him.

He'd always been overly helpful in the past.

"I think we should go talk to the New Leaf board president. It's time to
take some risks?

Sam smiled.

"IJKE we haven't already taken some risks?" She laughed.

"I meant professional risks." Then she quickly grew serious again.

"I'm worried about those kids, Sam--the ones from the farmhouse. If I'm
right and those kids represent the failure of whatever they're doing,
they might decide to get rid of them--especially if they think the
police axe onto them."

"Or that we're onto them," Sam added, nodding.

"The police are only looking at Tony's disappearance at this point."
She didn't want to hear that she could be indirectly responsible for
something happening to those' kids Or something more happening to them.
She was convinced that they were the victims of some sort of
experimentation.
"Perhaps the best thing we can do to save them is to let this New Leaf
president know that we're aware of them. What do you think?"

Kate asked.

"If he's in on this, then he already knows. Yodr friend with the pickup
knows we were at the farmhouse. But you're right. In cases like this,
the best pro:ction a victim can have is that a couple of nosy
journalists are aware of the wrongdoers."
Sam went upstairs and got the material The Ferret had faxed and they sat
poring over it until Kate's head began to ache "I hate this stuff," she
muttered.
"This 'stuff' could be the basis ior the biggest story you've ever
had," Sam reminded her genfiy.

She stared balefully at the papers.

"The world has just gotten too complicated."
"They've covered their tracks well," Sam observed. "Look at the crazy
st of circumstances it took for you to close in on them."
He was right. Gossip about the death of a congressional intern,
curiosity about New Leaf's success rate and a chance meeting with a
counselor who shared her curiosity, and Charles Scofield, whose name
she'd come across purely by, while She sighed.
"What really bothers me is that it all happened by sheer luck, not
through serious investigative reporting."

Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"That's what it's all about, Kate. Talk to any reporter who gets a great
story and that'sexactly what you'll hear. It was mosfiy blind, stumbling
luck. If they're honest about it, that is. What's important is that you
made the connections, that you kept after it."

She kissed him.

"Thanks, Sam. I'm sorry that I tried to keep you out of this."
"Then I've won half the battle," Sam replied, pulling her to him and
deepening the kiss until they both were tempted to forget how close they
might be to resolving the mystery. They drew apart reluctanfiy.
"Do you want to call the board president first, or just drive out to
Middleburg?" Sam asked.
"Let's not give him any advance warning. Besides we could have dinner
at that inn on the way."
Sam nodded, pleased at the suggfion. They'd eaten there the night Sam
had proposed to her, on the way back from a weekend at his grandfather's
horse farm. He won-deredif it might be the scene of a second proposal,
then decided not to push his luck. Things were going his way. He could
wait.

Chapter Twelve.

Expressions seemed to chase each other across her face in the soft
light. Sam could never understand why she thought she wasu't beautiful.
When he tried to be objective about it, he knew she wasn't a drop-dead
beauty. But she had something that intrigued him, and part of it was the
way everything she thought or felt showed on her face--especially in her
eyes and around her eminently kissable mouth, At the moment, her mood
was alternately serious and lighthearted, romantic and coolly
professional--and nervous.
They'd already talked about how to handle this interview. He'd suggested
that he wait here while she went to see the New Leaf president, but to
his surprise, she'd said she wanted him to come along.
It's the confidence that's so different, he thought. During the past
three years, she'd gotten out from under his shadow. For perhaps the
thousandth time, he hoped that this story would prove to be all they
both thought it was. Then he could make his proposals--both of them.
"Earth to Sam," she said teasingly, drawing him out of his thoughts of
the future. He grinned at her, drawing a somewhat tremulous smile in
return that told him she might be having second thoughts about making
this visit.
"I was just wondering what we should do if he's not home. He could have
a place in the District, or he might be away on business."
"Then you leave your card and a note saying that you need to speak to
him as soon as possible about New Leaf."

"Rather than trying to reach him elsewhere?"

Sam nodded.

"It'll be interesting to see how fast he gets back to you."

"I'm still worried about those kids, Sam--and how what we're doing might
affect them."

"We're doing the best we can for them."

"I know, but ..." She sighed.

"Let's go."

They left the inn and drove the short distance to the horse farm
belonging to David Melrose, the New Leaf president. Mel,Wyn Farms was
one of many in this wealthy enclave, not far, in fact, from the farm
owned by Sam's grandfather and now run by his uncle. Sam wondered aloud
if his uncle might know the man.

"He probably does," he continued.

"I thinki'll stop and call Tad before we go to see Melrose."
He pulled off and picked up the phone. Kate waited impatiently while
Sam's uncle apparently did most of the talking. She didn't much care for
Uncle Tad, even -though he'd always treated her kindly. He was Sam's
mother's brother. The family were old VLRGINIA aristocracy, and wh/le
Sam's mother was a pleasant, down, to-earth woman, Tad's air of
superiority made it harder to like him.

Sam hung up and pulled onto the road aain.

"Tad knows, him. He doesn't think too much of him. Too much flash, is
how he put it.
Melrose's wife is FFOV, a Wyndover. Ap-parenfiy, it was her money that
got him started. Tad says it wouldn't surprise him a bit to learn that
Melrose is into something shady--that it wouldn't be the first time."

Kate's mind slipped back to the first time she'd heard that term, FFOV.

She'd had to ask Sam what it meant after Tad had used it. What it meant
was "First Families of Virginia" --referring to the original plantation
owners who'd settled the state. She remembered, too, how inadequate
she'd felt after learning that Sam's mother's family were also included
in that august group. It was the same weekend that Sam had first asked
her to marry him, having no idea how she felt.
As they approached the white-fenced farm, Kate's gaze fell on the
handsome sign announcing Mel-Wyn Farms and she realized that the "Wyn"
part came from the name of David Melrose's wife. Something nagged at
her--a certainty that she'd heard the name Wyndover before. But she
forgot about it as they drove up the long gravel driveway between
freshly painted fences that marched across the rolling green land. Sleek
horses grazed in the lush pastures, some with foals m7. . ling at
them.
The driveway ended in a circle in front of an impressive brick house
with white columns. A car she'd thought was a Rolls was parked in the
circle, but Sam said it was a Bentley.

'"That's his car. Tad doesn't approve of people who drive foreign cars.

He's a Cadillac man himself."
Kate rolled her eyes and hurried out, prepared to do bat-fie with New
Leaf's'president. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was already
ringing the bell beside the black lacquered double doors before Sam had
even gott.  out of the Porsche.
She'd expected the door to be answered by a liveried servant, but when
it opened, she knew immediately that the man who stood there must be
Melrose himself. He wore a silk dress shirt, open at the neck, and gray
pin-striped trousers, whose superb tailoring did its best to hide a
serious case of middle-age spread. His pale gaze swept over her warily,
then set fled on Sam. Kate saw a dawning recognition, followed very
briefly by a spurt of fear before he inquired politely if he could help
them.

"Are you Mr. Melrose?" Kate inquired in the same polite tone.

"David Melrose?" When he confirmed that he was, Kate introduced herself
and Sam.
"I'm a reporter with the Washington Post, Mr. Melrose. I've'been working
on a story about boot camps, and I have a few questions to ask you about
New Leaf."

"Come in," he said with false heartiness.

"I'll be glad to help if I can. But I'm only the board president. It's
purely a volunteer position and I don't have anything to do with the
day-to-day operations. The board is mostly engaged in fund-raising."
He ushered them past a large and overly decorated living room, down a
thickly carpeted hallway and into a mahogany-paneled study, complete
with cordovan leather furniture and a huge mahogany desk. The walls were
covered with large photos of horses and a glass case held numerous
racing trophies.
He gestured for them to take seats and they Sat down on the leather sofa
while he dropped into the big matching leather desk chair, putting the
impressive desk between them. A wicked-looking dagger that was
apparently a letter opener lay on the desk. Kate imagined an even more
wicked-looking gun in one of the desk drawers and was glad that Sam was
with her.

Melrose frowned at Sam.

"Aren't you with CNN?"

"Not anymore," Sam told him.

"I'm working with Kate on this story."

His gaze traveled back and forth between them.

"I see. How can I help you?"

Here goes, Kate thought.

"I've been very curious about New Leaf. In fact, I first became
interested in the place because its success rate is so much higher than
other camps.
Then I found out that a counselor at the camp was also curious about the
success rate and unable to explain it, He's since disappeared,"
"Disalvo was a troubled man--or so I understand," Melrose said, adding
the last after a brief pause that told her he regretted admitting that
he knew about Tony.
"So I've been told. But I've gotten to know him fairly well and we even
checked with his former employer, who gave him a glowing report.
Just before he disappeared, he told someone that he thought he might
have figured it out. He said he planned to have some tests done."
"What sort of tests? I don't understand." --Melrose was doing a fairly
good job of dissembling, but not good enough, in Kate's opinion.
"I don't know--yet. Are you aware of the fact that New Leaf has sent
some very troubled boys to a farmhouse in Pennsylvania, not far from the
camp?
The staff at New Leaf refer to it as the 'clinic," but it isn't
registered with the authorities in Pennsylvania. The boys there appear
to be heavily drugged.
"Another boy, who was a graduate of New Leaf went berserk recently and
was committed to a psychiatric facility in Baltimore. He's no longer
there, and the staff say that he couldn't possibly have escaped on his
own.
I have reason to believe that he's with the other boys I mentioned, but
they're no longer at the farmhouse. The place is deserted."
During her monologue, Melrose'sexpression had gone from one of' polite
interest to something far more belligerent. "Exactly what are you
suggesting, Ms. Stevens?"
"I'm suggesting that something illegal is going on at New Leaf--that
those kids may be being used as human guinea pigs to test some new drug.
I know that you have a business partner with whom you've arranged
financing for a pharmaceutical company called Glasser Biotech, and very
soon I expect to know just what they've been working on.
"Furthermore, I find it interesting that your parmer sits on the board
of something called the Organization for Responsible Drug Policy, which
is doing some sort of study of New Leaf. He's also a major contributor
to a PAC run by Congressman Newbury, who chairs a committee that will
soon be holding hearings on drug legalization."
Feeling very pleased with the effect she was having on him, Kate set
fled back on the sofa and smiled at him.
"So that's what I know at this point--except for one thing I forgot to
mention. Someone has been threatening my life and I have good reason to
believe that a New Leaf employee attempted to kill me."
"This is outrageouo !" Melrose stormed, getting up from his chair and
glaring at her.

"I agree," Kate replied calmly, nodding.

"You can'tprint accusations Ftke that!"

"Not yet," she admitted.

"But I'm very close to having enough facts tot print something. Let me
tell you what my next step is going to be.
I plan to go to the licensing authorities in Maryland and tell them what
I suspect. My guess is that as government bureaucrats wanting to cover
their butts, they'll agree to have tests run on the kids at New
Leaf--and they'll certainly demand an accounting for the boys I saw at
that farmhouse, who are probably listed as still being residents of New
Leaf."

Melrose continued to glare at her for a moment, then turned to Sam.

"You haven't said anything."

Sam shrugged.

"I'm just helping Kate with her story. But I agree with her. And there's
one thing Kate forgot to mention. An intern who was working in Newbury's
office died under suspicious circumstances after telling several people
that he'd discovered something that twubled him."
"This is outrageous! You can't" --  "You said that before, Mr.
Melrose," Kate interrupted. "But it seems that you and I have different
views of what's outrageous. What I consider to be outrageous is that
you're using those kids as guinea pigs and that, in all likelihood, two
people have been murdered to cover up your illegal ac" They aren't my
illegal activities! I told you before that my position as board
president is purely a voluntary one, mainly to raise funds."
"In that case, you must be as eager to get at the truth as we are," Kate
challenged.
"I'd suggest that you call an emergency board meeting and insist on
having all those kids tested." She paused a beat.
"Or perhaps I should contact the other board members and tell them
myself."
"We're all busy people. I can't just call a meeting because of some
harebrained accusations."
"Fine. I'll call them myself and see if they agree with' you." She stood
up.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Melrose. We can find our own way out."

Sam got up, too, and they both started for the door. "Wait! I'll call
the board and set up a meeting as quickly as possible. And in the
meantime, I'1I talk to Ted Snyder myself."

Kate turned.

"I have no doubt that you'll be talking to him the moment we leave. You
have my card."
Neither of them said anything until they were back in Sam's car. Then
Sam put the key into the ignition and began to chuckle.
"That was quite a performance. I especially liked that " You have my
card' at the end."

Kate laughed.

"I enjoyed it. It helped to get rid of some of my frustrations." Then
she grew sober very quickly. "Surely they won't dare to do anything to
those kids now."

Sam nodded his agreement.

"But the question is what they will do--or what they can do."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked as they started back down the driveway.

"Well, it occurred to me that if you're right about the kids getting
some drug, they could discontinue it--and we don't know how long it
would stay in their systems."
"Oh." Kate hadn't given any thought to that. She was silent for a few
moments as she stared at the Mel-Wyn Farms sign. Wyndover. Why did that
name ring a bell? But once again, her mind turned to more immediate
concerns. "Whatever the drug is, it must have long-lasting effects," she
told Sam.

"Charles Scofield wasn't taking anything!n g af-terhe left New Leaf."

"Yeah, but you said that the hospital ran ests on him and found nothing
abnormal."
"That's what the Sun's reporter said his contact there told him. But we
don't know what tests they ran." She sighed. "If only we could find
those kids who were at the farmhouse. Then we'd have some real
evidence."
"Are you going to make good on your threat to go to the Maryland
licensing authorities?" Sam asked.

Kate nodded.

"But I don't xpect them to move as quickly as I told him. We have to
find those kids, Sam."
WYDOVI. IT CAM TO HE just as she walked into the Post's newsroom the
next morning. Kate stopped dead in her tracks, stunned by the sudden
flash of memory. It actually gave her the creeps. She hadn't given any
more thought to why Melrose's wife's name had seemed familiar. But
obviously her brain had been working on it at some level. Now she knew
where she'd heard the name before and she thought she might also know
where to find the youths from the farmhouse.

"Kate!" Damon stepped out of his office and beckoned to her.

Kate shook her head and meed for the fire stairs. Sam had gone upstairs
to talk to someone about his syndicated column. They were pressuring him
for an answer, probably fearing that he was considering other offers.
As she ran up the stairs, it occurred to Kate that her hunch had better
pay off. If it didn't, Damon was likely to come down on her hard. She'd
f'md herself back on the Style page, covering charity auctions and
Georgetown salons. And the truth was that it was nothing more than a
hunch, but she was determined to run with it.
Unlike the newsroom below, all was quiet and calm and pin-striped suits
up here in the realm of the money men and the lawyers. More than a few
brows were raised as Kate dashed down the hall in her jeans and T-shirt,
which bore the slogan News Nose. When she reached the suite. for the
Writers' Group, a young secretary looked up inquiringly. She was dressed
in an impeccably tailored suit, causing Kate to wonder once again if the
Post paid its. secretarial staff better than it paid its reporters.

"Is Sam Winters here?"

The woman nodded.
"Yes, he's in a meeting with ..." Kate didn't wait any 'longer. She
brushed past the star-fled secretary and burst into the adjoining
conference room, where Sam sat at a big polished table with four suits,
all of whom looked far more shocked than Sam did at-thin intrusion.

"I know where the kids are. Let's go!"

Sam got up quickly, adding to the consternation of the three men and one
woman.

"You'll have to excuse me," he told them.

"I'll be in touch." He flashed them a smile, took Kate's arm and
propelled her into the hallway.

"Where?"

She explained as they hurried down the hallway to the elevator. "I just
realized where I'd heard the name Wyn-dover before. Remember the day I
drove around looking for the so-called clinic and found the kids at the
farm? I told you that I found them by feeding some story to these two
waitresses in a little restaurant?"

When he nodded, she hurried on.

"I overheard the women talking about different local people and realized
that I'd lucked into the town gossips. I wasn't paying much attention at
the time because I was trying to figure out how I was going to find
this clinic. But one of them said something about someone--her cousin, I
think--just getting a job at Wyndover Farm, taking care of the horses."
"But the farm is called Mel-Wyn," Sam protested. "That's the farm in
raginia. She wouldn't have meant that, or she would have said where it
was.

She had to have been referring to a farm in the area. Don't you see?

That's where they took the kids. I know it."
They got into the elevator. Sam pushed the button for the garage and
leaned back against the wall, chuckling.
"Okay, okay! Knock it off, Sam. If you don't want to come along, I'll go
by myself."

"Of course I'm coming with you," he said in a mollifying tone.

"But this is pretty farfetched, Kitty-Kat."
"It's no more farfetched than everything else about this crazy story!
They had to put those kids someplace And after our visit to Melrose,
they might try to move them again. Wyndover isn't exactly a common name,
Sam--and I'm sure she said something about horses."

They reached the basement garage and got into the Potache.

"So exactly what do you plan to do--march in there and take the kids?"

"Something like that. We can work on a plan while we drive out there."

"Damn the details! Full's peed ahead!" Sam chuckled again.

"You won't be laughing at me when I get my Pulitzer!"

"No," he agreed.

"I won't. But then you'll just want a second one."

"So?"
Sam didn't reply for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone had
become very serious.
"This probably isn't the time to he bringing this up, Kate, but I just
want you to think about it. The reason I've been putting off a decision
about a syndicated column is that I'd like it to be a ioint column ...
with you."
"You would?" Kate was so stunned that for a moment she completely forgot
why they were rushing off to Pennsylvania.

"But it wouldn't work unless we're really partners."

"What do you mean? I haven,t kept anything from you:' " That's not what
I meant."
The car phone rang and Sam picked it up. Kate paid no attention to Sam's
end of the conversation. Was he angling for a joint byline for this
story? She couldn't believe that. Sam was as competitive as the next
reporter, but.
"That was Carl Levine. I asked him to look into Glasser Biolech and find
out what they've been working on the past few years. He says they've put
megabucks into research on' the brain--specifically into finding ways to
alter the way the brain works. But supposedly they backed off when NIH
withdrew its approval."

Carl Levine was the Post's science writer. Kate shivered.

"I know I should be happy that I'm right, but this really scares me,
Sam. It sounds like Brave New World."
"It/s, and unfortunately; something like this has to happen before
people realize just what science is capable of."
"The worst part," Kate added sadly, "is that there will be people who'll
think it's okay, as long as the experiments are done on criminals. Look
at it this way. People are so worried about crime that if something came
along that could prevent people from becoming violent, they?d buy it
without realizing the wider implications.

That's what Glasser is counting on."

Sam smacked the steering wheel in frustrfion.
"Dam-reit, I know that Newbury and Armistead are in this up to their
ears, but the only way we're going to be able to implicate them is if
someone talks."

Kate wasn't that interested in Newbury and Armistead at the moment.

All she could think about was the damage that had been done to Charles
Scofield and the other kids. But she had to admit that bringing down the
Slimy congressman and his obnoxious chief of staff would be a real coup.

"About our parmership," Sam said suddenly after a brief silence.

"What I meant when I said that we should be real partners was that we
should get married again."
Kate was still thinking about the kids, and it took a few seconds for
her to recall their earlier conversation. She laughed and shook her
head.

"Your timing is as good as it was last time, Sam."

"What are you talking about?"
"When you proposed to me before, it was after I'd spent a weekend being
intimidated by your family."

He gave her a blank stare.

"I thought they'd been really nice to you."
"Oh, they were." She shrugged and was silent for a moment. "Maybe the
problem was me. I felt intimidated,"
"I should have realized that. I'm sorry, Kitty-Kat." He reached over to
take her hand and press it to his lips."

" And I'm sorry I brought it up now. We'll talk about it later."

He released her hand and Kate held it curved in her lap, the imprint of
his lips still warm and tingly. She was tempted to tell him that she'd
marry him, but she remained quiet without quite knowing why. It suddenly
occurred to her, however, that she was really afraid of remarryiug Sam.
What if it didn't work? It seemed to her that that would be even worse
than it had been the first time around. Hadn't she always known then,
deep down inside, that they'd have a second chance?
"I HO" E THE SAME two women are here," Kate said as they pulled up in
front of the small coffee shop nearly two hours later. She was also
wondering how cooperative they would be when they found out that she'd
lied to them on her first visit.
They walked in to find the small restaurant completely empty except for
the women. Both turned in their direction, and while Kate thought they
recognized her, it was Sam who dw their attention. Kate restrained a
smile as she realized that Sam's presence would undoubtedly make them
more Willing to forgive her--if they even noticed her, that is.

Sam ushered Kate toward a booth. She resisted.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered. She wanted only to get the information
and go find the boys.

"They can use the business," he replied in a low voice. "Just eat fast."

The younger woman bustled over with menus and a nervous smile.
Sam turned his own smile up to maximum wattage. "Hi. We'd like some
lunch--and some information."
Kate thought that the word sun per had never been more effectively
demonstrated than now, as the young woman asked how she could help them.

"Aren't you Sam Winters from CNN?" she added breathlessly.

Sam nodded.
"And this is Kate Stevens from the Washington Post. We're working
together on a story, and I think you might be able to help us."
"Sure. Anything." The woman's gaze briefly slid to Kate, then flicked
back to Sam.

"Do you happen to know of a place around here called Wyndover Farms?"

Sam asked.
"Sure. My cousin works there. They have horses. Charlie says they're
retired racehorses."
"Do you know anything about the people who own it?" She frowned,
"They're not from around here. They bought the place about a year or so
ago. I think they're from Vkginia. I seem to remember Charlie said they
have their big racing stable there."
Sam exchauged a triumphant glance with Kate, then turned back to the
waitress.
"Great. That's the place we're looking for. If you could just give us
directions, we'll have some lunch and be on our way. Is Charlie out
there now?"

"Yeah, he must be. He's a sort of handyman on the place."

Kate spoke up for the f:u, st time.
"Has he mentioned anything about some boys arriving there recently--in
the past couple of days?"

The woman shook her head.

"But I haven't talked to him for a while.

Is this still about that boy you were trying to find?"

Kate nodded, rather surprised that she even remembered, given that she
was definitely star-struck at the moment.
"I could check with my aunt, though--Charlie's mother. He still lives at
home."

"We'd appreciate that," Sam assured her.

"Now how about some of your homemade vegetable soup?"
Kate decided that this was not the time to inform Sam that "homemade"
didn't mean quite the same thing anymore. They ordered and the waitress
departed, promising to call her aunt and write out the directions.

"So far so good," Sam pronounced.

But it got better--much better. A few minutes later, the waitre
returned with their soup and the information Kate had been hoping for.
"Aunt Dora says that there are some kids there. Charlie told her they
all came a couple of nights ago, and they're really weird--retarded or
something.
He's kind of worried about them because he heard one of them yelling and
stuff. They're in a separate honse--a place he'd been fixing up so it
could be rented."
Sam and Kate ate their lunch in record time and Sam didn't seem to
notice that the soup didn't live up to its billing. Kate rolled her eyes
at the huge tip he left and they go back into the Porsche, with Kate
studying the directions.
Forty-five minutes later, they stopped across the road from the entrance
to the farm. There was no sign, but the directions had been good so far,
and through the trees that lined the property, she could see some horses
grazing in a field.
They could both see a big white frame house at the end of the long
driveway and some low buildings that were obviously stables. But there
was no other house in sight. Sam studied the scene, then pulled out
again.
"Let's see if we can find the house where the kids are. If we're lucky,
maybe it's got a separate entrance."
And once again, their luck held. The white wooden fence went on for
nearly half a mile, then ended at. another road. At the end of it sat a
smaller house with peeling paint, just barely visible from the highway.

"That must be it," Sam said, reaching into the back for his binoculars.

Kate squ'mted while Sam trained the binoculars on the' house: She could
see some figures on the porch, but couldn't begin to make them out. Sam
grunted with satisfaction, then handed her the binoculars.

"That's Charles!" she cried as soon as she'd focused them.

"And the other boy is the one I talked to--Stephen "I think we ought to
get the police," Sam said.

"They can pick him up."

"We can't be sure of that," Kate reminded him. They'd had this
discussion before and she was convinced that it wouldn't be that easy.
There was the matter of a warrant and that could take time.
"So you still want to go up there and just talk him into coming with
us," Sam said in a resigned tone. "Yes. It's worth a try anyway."

"He could be violent."

"They've got him on drugs. Let's see if we can take him with us, and if
we can't, we'll call the police and wait right here to make sure no one
escapes."
Sam nodded and turned into the driveway. Kate saw that there weren't any
ears around the place, but she was sure that at least the woman must be
there. They weren't likely to be leaving the kids alone. She recalled
that the man she believed to be the woman's husband had sounded upset
with the situation when they'd overheard him in the barn, so perhaps
there was some hope of cooperation--or at least the hope that she
wouldn't try to prevent them from tang Charles.
They pulled up in front of the house. The two boys watched them from the
porch, but made no effort to leave their chairs. They got out and Kate
walked toward Charles, smiling.

"Hi. You're Charles Scofield, aren't you? I've met your more."

Charles regarded her silently, his expression neutral. "More?" he said
in a strange; dreamy tone.
"Wouldn't you like to go back to the hospital, where she can visit you?"
Kate asked.

But before he could answer, the woman Kate had met before appeared.

She frowned at Kate, then stared at Sam.

"We're taking Charles back to the hospital in Baltimore, Kate announced.

"What hospital?" the woman asked, still frowning.

"He came here from New Leaf."

'"No, he didn't. Charles was in a psychiatric hospital in Baltimore.
He was sent there after he attacked some students and teachers in
school."

The woman's gaze went briefly to Charles, then back to them.

"Who are you?"
Kate told her, and watched as the color drained from the woman's face.
She thought the woman'sexpression demonstrated that Kate had just
confirmed her own worst fears, aid her words confirmed that impression.
"I knew there was something going on. Kenny wouldn't tell me, but I just
knew it."

"Your husband, you mean?" Kate asked.

She nodded.
"It seemed just too good to be true--right from the start, when New Leaf
bought that farm for us. We lost our farm, you see, and they said they'd
buy another one for us if we took care of some boys who needed to be
away from the other kids.
"Then, when they made us leave the farm and come here,-I knew something
must be really wrong. But I couldn't leave th boys. They need help all
the time."
Recalling how kindly the woman had treated the boys, Kate began to feel
some sympathy for her.
"Look, this whole thing is going to blow up soon. The best thing you can
do is to cooperate, and maybe you can keep the farm after all. But right
now, we need to take Charles with us and return him to Baltimore.
Where's your husband now?"

"He went back to the farm to water the garden."

"What about the other man--the one with the black pickup?"

"You mean Joe?" The woman made a face.

"He was here earlier. He went into town to get me some groceries."
"Look," Sam said, "we've got to get out of here. If he comes back and
finds out that Charles is missing, just tell him the truth, and then
call us on our car phone." He took out a notepad and wrote down the
number.

"Will Charles come with us?" Kate asked her.

The woman cast him a pitying glance.
"He's so doped up he'd walk off a cliff if you asked him to, the poor
kid.

I'll get his medicine for you."

She disappeared inside as Kate waited anxiously, hoping that she
wouldn't see the black pickup coming up the driveway. Sam went over to
Charles and tried to talk to him, but the boy simply stared at him
blankly, nodding from time to time.

The woman returned with a bottle of pills and gave them instructions.

Kate handed her a cared.
"I'll be in touch with you. Just do what Sam said. Cooperate with the
police when they get here. It might take some time. This is pretty
complicated."

Th6 woman nodded.

"It, s Joe who worries me. He's awful mean."

And he might well be worse than mean, Kate thought but didn't say.

"Can you reach your husband at the farm?" The woman looked at her watch.
"He should be back any Sam led Charles to the car and Kate thought she
saw a flicker of interest in his eyes as he stared at it. She climbed
into the small back seat so he could sit up front with Sam.
"Nice car," Charles said in that same otherworldly tone as Sam buckled
his, seat belt for him.
They roared off down the driveway and out onto the highway, with Kate
watching the rearview mirror for the pickup. She just couldn't believe
they were going to get away with this. It was too easy.
Within minutes, Charles appeared to have fallen asleep, perhaps lulled
by the motion of the car. Kate and Sam remained silent in order not to
d'rsturb him. Kate tried not to think about the other boys. It would
have been impossible to take them in any event, because the Porsche
wouldn't have held them. And besides that, they weren't kidnap victims
like Charles. Still, she hated leaving them behind.
A half hour later, as they were nearing the Pennsylvania-Maryland
border, the car phone rang. Sam grabbed it quickly and after a minute
thanked the caller and hung up.

"It looks like Joe is after us," he muttered to Kate in a low voice.

"She said he used the phone before he left and she thinks he was calling
New Leaf for some help." He was silent for a moment, then dug out the
road map and handed it to her over the seat.
"See if you can find a back road to get us to the cab'm. If we stay on
this one, they'll find us. They already know where we're headed."

Kate studied the map.

"Okay, I've got it. We can stay with back roads all the way."

Just over an hour later, they were on the road that led to the cabin.

Charles was still sound asleep, and there'd been no sign of anyone
follow wing them.
"Let's just leave him in the car for the time being," Sam said as they
both got out.

Kate nodded.

"I'm going to call the hospital and have them contact the police. That
might get things moving faster."
After being switched to various offices at the hospital, Kate finally
reached the psychiatrist who'd been in charge of Charles's case. She
explained who she was, then told him that they'd just taken Charles from
a home where he'd been 'held by the people who had kidnapped him.

"They're after us," she went on.

"Can you call the po-rice and get us some help?"
Instead of agreeing, the psychiatrist started to ask questions. Kate
sympathi? ed with his desire for information, but still cut him off.
"Look, these people would rather kill Charles than let you get him back.
I can't expla'm it all now. Please just do what I say."
Maybe it was something in her voice, or maybe the psychiatrist decided
that she was clearly insane herself, but he finally agreed to contact
the Baltimore police and have them get in touch with the police out at
her end.

Kate gave him the address of the cabin and urged him to hurry.

"Charles is still sleeping," Sam said, turning away the window where
he'd been watching the boy.

"But I think we'd better try to get him in here."

"Is there any way we can hide your car?" Kate asked nervously.

"Why? They can't find us here."

"I'm not so sure about that," she answered reluctantly. "I think I might
have mentioned it to Ted Snyder when I first met him. I seem to recall
having said something."

"Okay, let's get Charles inside and then I'll drive it around back."

It took both of them to get the groggy boy out of the car and into the
cabin and then into a bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed, mumbling
to himself. Katestood there for a moment, staring at him in helpless
anger and wondering if what had been done to him could ever be undone.
And he was just one of many.
She left him there and joined Sam on the screened porch just as thunder
began rumblingin the distance. She'd noticed that it had been getting
darker, but now it appeared that a storm was on its way.

"It could be hours before the police get here," she told him.

"I just hope that Ted'snyder forgot about my mentioning this place.
Still, they'd have to check every cabin on this road."
"And they won't even start to look here until they're sure that we're
not on our way to Baltimore," Sam added.
"I should call Damon and let him know what's' happened," Kate said,
picking up the cordless phone.
By the time she'd made the call and answered all of Damon's questions,
the storm had descended upon them, forcing them both back inside. Sam
commented that he should probably get the gun locked in the glove
compartment, but Kate said that surely they couldn't find them that fast
and he should wait until the storm had passed.
They settled down in the living room as the storm began to vent its fury
on the cabin. They talked for a time about what was likely to happen
next, and about whether or not Newbury and Armistead were likely to be
implicated in any of it.

"It'll all depend on who talks," Sam concluded.

"And that depends on how the police handle it."

"I want to find out what happened to Tony," Kate said sadly.

"I'm sure he must be dead."
"They could just be holding him somewhere," Sam suggested,. though
without much conviction.

"Why would they do that? They've killed him. I'm sure of it."

"I've been thinking about the Newbury-Armistead part of this," Sam said.
"Maybe there really are two separate stories here. The attempt to
persuade him to come out for legal/zation could be a whole separate
issue. Anyway, Idon't see a connection."
That had been bothering Kate, too, but she hadn't had time to think
seriously about it, and she didn't feel like doing so now. There would
be plenty of time later. She leaned over and gave Sam a kiss.

"So when are we going to get remarried?"

He stared at her in surprise.

"Is that a yes I hear?"

"I guess so.

But I'm scared, Sam. We blew it once."

"That's why we won't do it again," he replied, pulling her over so that
she was half on his lap.
And that's where they wer when the front door suddenly flew open and
two wet but very determined men burst in . ' g guns.

Chapter Thirteen.

Icy fear oursed through Kate's veins, combined with an almost equally
frightening sense of vulnerability. She started to move off Sam's lap,
but he merely tightened his grip. late ally she realized that he was
trying to prevent her from making the kind of sudden move that would
bring on a burst of gunfire.
The storm had made it dark in the cabin, and for that reason, Kate
didn't at first recognize one of the gunmen as being Ted Snyder.
Having previously seen him only in his elegant pin-striped suits, she
felt a sense of unreality at seeing him now, clad in jeans and a dark
windbreaker.

"Where's the' kid?" Snyder demanded, looking around the cabin.

"He's in the bedroom, asleep," Kate responded, since they could easily
determine that for themselves. Cautiously, she moved off Sam's lap and
stood to face' Ted Snyder.
"It's over, Ted. I've called the hospital in Baltimore and they're
sending the police here to get Charles. And our editor knows we're here
with him, along with everything else."
The gun he held didn't waver, but Kate saw the uncertainty in his eyes
and found herself wondering how he'd gotten himself into this.
She didn't like him, but the role he was attempting to play now wasn't
really him. Unfortunately, she wasn't so sure about the man with him.
She'd expected it to be the man with the black pickup, but it wasn't.
This man had the hard, cold look of a professional killer.
"We can salvage this," the other man said to Snyder. "Everyone knows the
kid is violent. We can make it look like he killed them."

Kate was appalled at his matter-of-fact hess She turned to Ted.

"No one will believe that. You'll only make things worse for yourself,
Ted."
Ted seemed frozen with indecision, his gaze flicking from Kate to the
man beside him. The other man stepped toward her, Shifting his weapon to
his left hand, then raising his right hand to strike her. She'd been
aware of Sam's having gotten up from the sofa, but she was totally
unprepared for what happened next.
Kate backed up to avoid the imminent blow only to be roughly shooed
aside from behind by Sam. She stumbled into a chair and fell just as the
sound of gunfire reverberated through the room. She picked herself up
and turned around to see Sam and the man on the floor, wrestling for
control of the gun.
The image was burned forever into her brain. Sam, who hated guns and had
only begrndgingly acquired one to. protect her, was now fighting with
this killer.
Sam briefly got the upper hand in what seemed to be an even match, and
forced the man to drop the gun. Kate grabbed it, then tore her eyes away
from their struggle to see Ted Snyder aiming at her, his eyes wide with
horror.
"Give me that gun, Ted, or so help me, I'll kill you." Her words echoed
through her head with an authority that she certainly didn't feel.
Whether or not he would have fired, Kate would never know, because at
that moment, the other two men rolled against him and knocked him off
his feet.

Circling around them, Kate grabbed the gun that Snyder had dropped.

there were three men flailing on the floor, amidst broken lamps and
overturned tables and chairs. And as she circled around the melee,
trying to decide how she could help Sam, Charles Scofield suddenly
appeared in the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
The boy stood there dazedly, his mouth agape as he stared at the men,
and then at her. She could well imagine how she must look to him,
wielding a gun in each hand. Wanting to reassure him and steer him away
from the shocking sight before it could trigger some sort of violent
reaction on his part, Kate edged carefully around the men.
Ted Snyder had managed to extricate himself from the battle, and he
staggered to his feet just as Kate tried to edge past him. He grabbed
for her and she lost her balance as she tripped over a table. And then
she was wrestling with him as he tried to get one of the guns away from
her.
Sam and the other man were now also on their feet, arms locked around
each other as they staggered toward the big stone fireplace. Kate was no
match for Snyder, but she fought with every ounce of strength she
possessed. When she realized that he would soon have the guns, she flung
them both to the far side of the room toward Charles, who continued to
stand in the entry to the hallway, watching. At the same time, she
managed to roll away from Snyder, and then, when he lunged at her, she
lifted a foot and planted it squarely in his groin.
His scream of pain. sounded even louder than' the gunshot, and he
collapsed onto the floor, clutching himself and groaning. Kate scrambled
up and started toward Charles, who was bending slowly to pick up the
guns. For one horrifying moment, Kate was certain that it would end in
just' the way the man had suggested: Charles would kill them both.
Out of the comer of her eye as she made her way toward Charles, she saw
Sam pick up the fireplace poker in a last desperate attempt to defend
himself.
"Give me the guns, Charles," she said in a voice that she willed to be
calm.

"They're dangerous."

The boy stared at her, then looked around at the others-Sam and the man
still struggling, Ted Snyder. rolling on the floor and crying 'in pain.
She repeated her request, moving ever closer to him.

"You'll be safe, Charles. You can see your mother again."

Behind her, she heard a crash, followed by a thud and a cry of pain.
She could only pray that it wasn't Sam who'd cried out, because she
didn't dare turn around at this point.
The boy stared dully at her, then down at the weapons he held. Then he
suddenly curved himself into a tight ball, sliding slowly to the floor,
still clutching both guns to him Kate sank to the floor beside him,
wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Then she heard movement behind her
and turned, expecting to look into the eyes of the killer. But it was
Sam who stood there.
Their eyes locked in silent thanks that neither one was harmed, and then
Sam knelt down on the floor beside her. Together, they managed to pry
the guns from the boy's hands, and then Kate got a blanket from the
bedroom to cover him as he lay curled in a fetal position, making low,
unintelligible sounds.

"He needs his medication," Kate said.

"Stay with him until I get the pills and some water."
Sam sat there, an arm around the boy and the other holding one of the
guns aimed at Snyder, who was now trying to sit up and groaning soffiy.
Kate got the bottle of pills from her. purse then fumbled the top open
with sbaldng hands. Her legs felt leaden as she staggered to the kitchen
for a glass of water. Sam told her to call the police and she did,
explaining the situation in a voice she barely recognized as being her
own.

"They're on their way," she told Sam as she returned to the living room.

"They'd just gotten the call from the Balsam moved away from Charles so
she could try to persuade him to take his pill. It took a while, but he
finally accepted it, then tugged the blanket around him and closed his
eyes.
Kate's eyes had grown accustomed' to the semidarkness, and she had to
squint as sunlight suddenly poured through the windows. The storm had
passed--outside as well as inside.
Sam was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, keeping an eye
on their two captives. Kate sank down beside him. Every piece of
furniture in the large living room was either broken or overturned and
several of the large framed photos of the cabin's construction had been
knocked from the walls.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, turning briefly to her while he kept the gun
aimed at the two men.
She nodded, even though she was anything but okay. Even now, minutes
after the confrontation, her mind was rebelling at the images of the
violence that remained a palpable presence in the room.

"What about you?" she asked in turn.

"I don't think anything's broken, but a few things are probably bent,"
he replied with a crooked grin.
"I haven't been in a fight since I got into a fraternity-party brawl in
college."
Kate looked at the inert body of his opponent. -"Is he dead?" She was
shocked to realize that she didn't much care.

Sam shook his head.

"He just hit his head on the mantel. If he hadn't, I might be dead."

Kate wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Sam pressed his mouth to her hair and she could feel him smile.
"Isn't thin about where we were when it all started?" She
laughed--perhaps more than the remark deserved. But even she could tell
that her laughter had an edge to it, . as though it was on the verge of
hyslerla. Sam must have guessed that as well, because he tightened his
grip on her and kissed her again.
Then their attention was drawn to Ted Snyder, who had stopped his
groaning and struggled into a sitting position, his back against the
overturned sofa.
"Do you want to talk about it, Snyder?" Sam challenged. "The police are
on their way, so you have nothing to lose. We've got it all pretty well
figured out, except for a few minor details--like what you did with Tony
Disalvo's body and exactly what the drug you were feeding the kids was
doing to them.

And, oh, yeah, is Congressman Newbury involved in this?"

Throughout Sam's speech, Snyder had just glared at them, but when Sam
mentioned the congressman's name, something flickered in his eyes. It
vanished quickly, but it looked to Kate as though he'd been surprised to
hear the name.

Unfortunately, Snyder's only reply was a string of obscenities.

"Well," Sam said with a theatrical sigh,

"I guess we'll just have to do some more digging there."

"Don't move!"
Kate and Sam both turned to see the other man getting slowly to his feet
and brandishing a small but deadly-looking handgun. They hadn't been
paying any attention to him and Sam had set down his own gun.
Ted Snyder looked at him hopefully and "Opened his mouth. But before he
could do more than that, the other man cut him off.

"I'm getting out of here. I did what I was paid for. The job's, over."

"You haven't finished it," Snyder cried.

"Get rid of them and" -- The man shook his head.

"I didn't get paid for that."

"You'll get paid. I told you that."

"Sure," the man said sarcastically as he moved toward the door
unsteadily.

"Who paid you?" Sam asked.

The man stopped and regarded him for a moment in si-lcuce. Kate froze.
This man had every reason to want to kill Sam, who'd just beaten him
badly.
"You'r not bad," the man said conversationally, as though he were
discussing a golf swing.

"But you'd be dead if I hadn't tripped."

"You're fight," Sam agreed.

"So who paid you--Sny-der here?"

"No, he was just the hired help like me." He hesitated, seeming to
consider his words.
"Melrose paid me. His buddy recommended me because I took care of
something for him last year."
"You mean his business partner?" Sam looked at Kate for help with the
name, but she couldn't recall it, either.

But the man said nothing, and a moment later, he was gone.

"The intern  ...  Crawford," Kate said when she could find her voice.

"He means that he killed Crawford."

"Maybe," Sam acknowledged. Then he turned to Ted Snyder, who was staring
after the man as though his last hope had vanished with him.

"Who is he?" Sam asked, Snyder turned to him and shook his head.

"A hired gun. That's what Melrose called him. I think he's ex-military."
Sam tried to elicit more information from Snyder, but the New leaf
director just sat there in stony silence. A few minutes later, they
heard the sound of approaching vehicles. Sam went to the door.

"The cops are here."

SORTING IT ALL OUT took hours. Fortunately, a mental health worker had
accompanied the police, and she left quickly in one of the squad cars
with Charles Scofield, who neither protested nor acknowledged their
presence.
At the police station, Kate and Sam were questioned separately by
various officers, but their own questions. went unanswered. By the time
it was over and the police were ap-parenfiy satisfied with their
stories, Kate felt like Charles had looked. Reality was in danger of
slipping from her grasp. When they were finally brought together again,
Sam took one look at her and demanded that they be released immediately.
That brought Kate around enough that she began to make some demands of
her own.

"What about New Leaf and those kids at Wyndover Farm?" she asked.

"We already have people at New Leaf and the state police in Pennsylvania
will take care of their end."
Sam started to lead her from the tiny room where she'd been questioned,
but she resisted.

"I want my story, Sam."

"You'll get your story," he said gently.
"They've promised to call when they're ready to make a public
statement."
An officer drove them back to the cabin. when they got out of the police
car, Sam took her arm and led her toward his Porsche.

"We'll stay at the inn in town," he told her.

"It's too late to make the trip back to Washington."

Kate nodded. She had no idea what time it was, but it was dark.

Everything was a bit blurry around the edges right now, but she still
had the presence of mind to ask if the police knew where to reach them.
"DD OU KOW they had hot tubs?" Kate asked as she sank into the steamy,
swirling waters.

"Yeah. I saw it in their brochure when we were here for dinner."

"You're very observant."
"I'm also very stupid. Not only didn't I think to lock the cabin and
take the gun in with me, but then I didn't check their hired gun for a
spare. He must have had that little gun strapped to his ankle."
"I'm surprised that he did nit kill us," Kate remarked as she reached
for her wineglass.

"He's a pro. You heard him. He did?" t think he'd get paid."

Kate shivered even in the warmth of the tub.
"It's over, Kitty-Kat," Sam said, tickling the soles of her feet with
his toes.
"No, it isn't. We still need to prove that what's-his-name--Melrose's
partner--hired him to kill Crawford."

Sam yawned.

"I have a feeling that Newbury is going to slither through this just as
he has everything else."

"There must be some way to nail him, Sam."

"Maybe there is, but I'm not up to thinking about it tonight." He began
to slide his foot up along the inside of her' leg.

"However, there/s something else I may be up to."

"Only if you're into necrophilia," Kate said with a major yawn.
"WHAT? AND YOU to this?" Kate was incredulous and on her way
to serious anger.
"They're only asking for a few days to he sure they have their 'ducks in
a row," the chief it."
"No way! I'm not going to sit on a story like this, and then have them
give it to some local reporter."

"Thechief gave me his personal word that we'd get an exclusive."

"Sure he did," she scoffs.
"HIS brother or cousin probably runs the local paper. If this were your
story, you wouldn't wait."
"Yes, I would ...  and I have. It's called responsible jour" Don start
lecturing me, Sam."
"It seems to me that you need a lecture. Look at it this way. It'll give
us a couple of days to fie Newbury and Armisread into it, and if we do,
it'll be even better."

"I don't care about Newbury at this point."

"Well, you should. As it stands, you've got a very good story--but if
they can be included in it, then you've deft, nitely got Pulitzer-grade
material."
Kate opened her mouth to protest, then dosed it again. He did have a
point.
Tying the well-known congressman to this case virtually guaranteed a
Pulitzer. As it was, she was sitting on a story that still had a lot of
loose ends--a great human interest story, to be sure, but not one with
famous n allies.

Sam pressed on, apparently sensing his advantage.

"The chief said that the place is swarming with high-powered attorneys,
and because there are other jurisdictions involved, sorting it out will
take some time. He also says that he has the word of the other police
involved that they'll let him handle the public announcement.
"One more thing. He wants us to come in and see if we can identify the
guy that got away. They contacted the FBI, and they've already sent an
agent here with some photos. Snyder has refused to talk on advice of
counsel, but the chief says that the FBI think they may know who he is
from the description we gave them."

"What about Tony?" she asked plaintively.

Sam shrugged.
"L'fice I said, nobody's talking at this point. My guess is that the
D.A. is going to start offering some deals and then someone will talk."

"

" Great," she muttered.
"What that probably means is that they'll all get off despite the fact
that they've destroyed who knows how many kids' lives."
"That's the way the sysln works. Equal injustice for all. And what it
probably means is that the ones with the best hwyers will get off."
They drove to police headquarters, where they were shown into the
chief's office. With him was an FBI agent. Instead of a thick folder of
photographs, he had only one, which he laid on the chief's desk in front
of them.  "That's him!" Kate and Sam said simultaneously. Kate thought
he looked even more threatening in the picture than he had in real life,
though she wouldn't have thought that possible.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"His real name is Taylor Wright, but he uses a lot of aliases. He's a
hired killer. We can tie him toat least a dozen killings for hire, but
we've never been able to track him down."
Kate shivered. "what I don't understand is why he didn't " Probably for
the reason he gave you. He hadn't been paid for it. He operates strictly
on a cash basis."
Kate was certainly glad to be alive, but she couldn't help thinking that
somehow that fact made him even worse. "Can you give me some information
on him for my story?"
"I've already given some background to the chief. He said that you've
agreed to hold your story for a few days." Kate nodded, although not at
all happily. The agent gave her his card.

"If you have any questions about him then, call me."

"what's happening at the camp?" Kate asked as soon as the agent had
gone.
"The state has sent in some people to supervise the place for the time
being," the chief told her, handing her a piece of paper.
"This is the name of the person authorized to speak for them. She'll
make herself available to you when the time comes."

"This had better not get out to some other reporter, Chief."

"It won't. I understand your concern and I really
appreciate your help. I can't promise you that Some other reporter won't
get word of it through some New Leaf employees even though they've been
warned not to talk.
But I promise that you'll get the story first. The most anyone else will
get is speculation." He smiled at Kate.
"If it weren't for you two, this would never have come to light, so we
owe you that much--especially s'nice you came close to getting
yourselves killed for it."
Kate thanked him, feeling far more reassured " now," What about Tony
Disalvo? ".
"Well, off the record for now, we think we might know where he's been
buried.
One of my men knows the New Leaf handyman we picked up--the one with the
black Ford pickup--and he says the guy's got a little shack of a hunting
camp off Hill Road. It's possible that's where he's buried. Or maybe, if
we're lucky, he's still alive and being held there. My men should be at
the place by now."

"But you don't think he's alive, do you?"

The chief shook his head.

"It seems to me that they'd have no reason to keep him alive."

Kate was silent for a moment, trying to assuage the guilt she continued
to feel. over Tony. Sam asked about the kids at Wyndover Farm.
"The Pennsylvania authorities have taken charge there. They've been
questioning the couple hired to look after them, too."

"Have you talked to the hospital about Charles Scofield?" Kate asked.

The chief nodded.
"Just before you got here. I don't know much about this stuff, but they
said that they're going to be doing a complete brain scan on the boy.
And the state police lab is rushing analysis on the pills we found at
New Leaf. The labels on the bottles say they're vitamins."

He rubbed his grizzled face wearily.

"This case is about as complicated as it gets. I don't know how you
caught on to them in the first place. You'll have to tell me the whole
story sometime."
Kate promised that she would, although she admitted that a lot of it was
nothing more than luck.

He nodded.

"A lot of Our work's like that, too--but don't quote me on it."
They left the chief's office and started back to Washington, turning
their attention to the matter of Congressman Newbury.
"The way I see it," Sam said, "our only hope is to find someone close to
Newbury who knows something and is willing to talk."
"That isn't very likely, given the fact that Armistead has them all
terrorized," Kate said glumly.

"Then how about a full court press?"

"Stop with the sports metaphors. You know I hate football."
"It's basketball, and what I mean is that we start bugging Newbury's
office and the committee staff and his PAC and ORDP--hinting that we
know something's' not kosher."

Kate grinned, then leaned over to kiss him.

"Sometimes I really am glad that you're back, Sam."

"I certainly hope so, since you agreed to marry me again."

"I did?"

"Right before all hell broke loose at the cabin."

"Are you sure?"
"Damn straight I'm sure, and don't try to get out of it." She
wasn't--exactly. But she was thinking that she might have been a bit
hasty.

However, before she could tell him that, they heard the wail of a siren.

Kate turned to see a police cruiser bearing down on them.

Sam swore.

"Did you see any radar? I'm doing seventy-five."
"They sometimes use helicopters out here," she reminded him as he turned
off the road. The siren wound down as the cruiser pulled in behind him.
Sam ran the window down as the officer approached. "Are you Sam
Winters?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah," Sam replied, putting away the license he'd been about to
hand over.

"Chief Pollard of Catoctin Valley wants to talk to you. I can car."

"Tony," Kate said as they both got out.

"They've found him."

She waited impatiently as Sam talked to the chief. The conversation was
brief, but one look at Sam's face told her what she already knew but
didn't want to hear.
"They found him in a shallow grave at the hunting camp," Sam confirmed a
few moments later.
"One bullet to the back of the head, but it looked like he'd been
slapped around some, too, according to the chief."
"So Now vie wart TO Sm if we shook the tree enough for something to
fall out," Sam pronounced as they sat in the gathering twilight of their
backyard, where Reject was once again on the prowl.
It had been a very long day, beginning with a lengthy meeting with Damon
and the legal depaxuaent. Damon had called Chief Pollard to hear for
him. if the promise that the Post would get the story first.
Other reporters, sensing that something big was about to happen, had
crowded around them, pressing for details.
Then she and Sam had gone their separate ways to begin putting the heat
on anyone who might have some knowledge of what Newbury was up to. Sam
had met with Armi-stead and with the head of Newbury's PAC, while she
had talked to the committee staff and to the director at ORDP.
Mentally reviewing her interviews as she sipped some wine, Kate said
that her money was on Tom Levander, the head of ORDP.
"I could be wrong, but when I told him I suspected that something
illegal was going on--that some payoffs might be involved--he looked
like I'd just confirmed his worst fears. He got really defensive, but
his heart wasn't in it."

"I hope you're right," Sam said.

"Armistead nearly blew his cool, but we both know that he isn't going to
help us. And the head of Newbury's PACIS an Armistead clone. I'm sure
that Armistead must have called him before I got there."

Kate sighed.

"I should call Lisa, Tony's fiance, and offer my condolences. And I
need to find out when and where the funeral will be."

Sam reached for her hand.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Kitty-Kat.
Tony's death isn't your fault. He was already nosing into things that
were bound to cause him trouble even before you came on the scene."
She nodded, knowing at an intellectual level that Sam was right, but
still unable to accept it at an emotional level.
For the first time, she was glad this ordeal was over. Frustrating and
scary as it had all been though, she knew that she'd been at her
journalistic sharpest and was going to find it difficult to go back to
mundane reporting.
"Were you serious about our doing a syndicated column together?" she
asked.

Sam arched a dark brow.

"So now you remember that conversation?"

"Was that just a bribe to get me to marry you again?"

"I'm taking the Fifth on that one."
"What you're going to take is a smack on the head if you don't tell me
the truth."
"Everything sort of fell together in my head, that's all. I really would
like to try my hand at fiction writing, but I don't want to give up
journalism, either, and a regular column is a lot of work.
But if we share it, then we'll both have some more time. That was one of
our problems, Kate. There was never any time for us. Working for the
same paper doesn't count. In fact, it only made things worse."
She supposed that he was right, but she was sure that their biggest
problem had been the unevenness in tlfeir relationship. Sam was the
star, while she was a struggling novice. He was still a much bigger name
than she was, but she knew that she was catching up fast.

"Okay," she said.

"I'll do the column with you. But will they agree to that?"
"They already have. I'd gotten their agreement before you came busting
in to end the meeting the other day."

She narrowed her at him.

"You're too darned sure of ourself, Sam Winters."

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"What I'm sure of is ' The phone rang before Kate could launch into
another round of comparisons between Sam's supreme serf-confidence and
her constant questioning of her own. She reached over and picked it up.

"This is Kate Stevens."

"lvls. Stevens, this is Tom Lcvander. I need to talk to you."
Kate glanced over at Sam, grinning and barely able to keep the note of
triumph from her voice.

"Just name the time and place," she told the head of ORDP.

A moment later, she put down the phone and jumped up from the chaise to
dance gleefully around the patio.
"I'm meeting him at a bar in Falls Church," she told the patiently
waiting Sam after explaining who the caller was. "Am I going with you?"

"I didn't think to mention you, so I'd better go alone."

Sam looked as though he was about to protest, then stopped.

"Just be careful."

"So LET ME JUST BE SURE that I've got this all straight," Kate said to
the nervous man across from her, who was now on his third straight
Scotch.
"ORDP was set up.by several. groups who want to see drugs legalized as a
matter of principle. Then along came Wilson with an offer of money you
badly needed, claiming that his interest was in the efficient use of
government resources. The War on Drugs wasn't working and was eating up
too much of the taxpayers' money."

"Right. He seemed legitimate."

"But then one of your board. members told you that he'd been involved in
some shady financial deals in the past, and you started checking up on
him because you were worried that it could cause trouble for ORDP."
"Yeah. Legalization's a touchy subject. I really do think it's the only
solution, and I know this is the time to get it done, so I didn't want
to take any chances."
"So you met with him and expressed your concerns And fight after that,
you had a phone call from Armistead."

He nodded.

"I'd never met him before. Newbury's committee had given us a contract
to study boot camps, and he threatened to pull the contract and see to
it that we didn't get any more unless I laid off Wilson." He heaved a
self-pity. g sigh.

"And that's when I knew that something was going on."

"So that's when you met again with Wilson and told him that you had to
know what was going on so that you could protect ORDP?"
"Right. He brushed me off at first, but I kept after him, telling him
that my only concern was for ORDP and I would go along for the
organization's sake."
"And he finally told you that he and his parmer were putting big money
into a drug company that was ready and willing to market mind-altering
drugs if they became legal?"
"Yeah. I didn't like the idea of taking money under those
circumqtances, but I couldn't see that there was anything really wrong
about it. It's kind of like drug-prevention programs taking money from
the liquor companies and the brewers."

Kate consulted her notes again.

"So after he told you that, you asked why Armistead was involved and
that;s when he told you that he and his parmer were making big
contributions to Newbury's PAC in exchange for his help in getting the
legislation through.

Right?"

"Right. He didn't say how much money was involved, but I think it was a
lot, and he sort of hinted that some of it was going directly to Newbury
himself."

Kate thought for a moment.

"But he never mentioned anything about New Leaf--or any experimentation
going on there?"
"No. I told you that we chose New Leaf ourselves, as one of the boot
camps we were going to study. He wouldn't have even known about it--or
if he did, he never said anything to me."
"Did he ever say anything about experimental drugs that Glasser Biotech
was working on?"

Levander frowned into his nearly empty glass.

"Ycah, come to think about it, he did. I didn't pay much attention at
the time because I was busy worrying about ORDP. He said something about
their working on some revolutionary drug that could really put an end to
the crime problem, and how legalizing mind-altering drugs would make it
easier to get approval for that, too."
Kate saw it all now. If the public could be made to believe that
mind-altering drugs were acceptable, then it was probably only a small
step to getting them to accept an experimental drug that might well
permanently alter the brain. And the same argument could be made for
both: it would reduce crime.
She explained her thinking to Levander. He isn't all bad, she thought.
The fact that he'd come to her proved that he had a conscience. In fact,
he was like the couple who'd been hired to take care of the kids--and
probably like some oth-erswho'd gotten caught up in this mess. When
people were desperate enough for something, they often failed to listen
to their consciences.

After she'd finished, Levander nodded.

"That makes sense to me. In fact, I remember now that he said they were
thinking long-term." He shook his head sadly.

"It's enough to make me rethink my own views on legalization."

"So what will happen now--to you, i mean?" Kate asked.
"I've already written my letter of resignation, so I can at least say I
resigned before they fire me."
"Maybe you shouldn't be so hasty," Kate said thoughtfully. "The truth is
that I'm not at all sure you did anything criminal, and your board--or
the rest of them--should be glad that you exposed this."

"Maybe," he said doubtfully.

"I do think there are a few of them who would support me."
They parted outside the bar, and the moment Kate was in the Porsche, she
picked up the phone and called Sam.

"Hot damn!" he said when she was through.

"If this doesn't get Newbury and Armistead, then nothing will. And I've
got a piece of good news, too. Chief Pollard called and said that the
FBI picked up that gun-for-hire and they think he's going to talk."
"We should tell them about Crawford," Kate replied, thinking that the
poor intern had somehow got tea lost in all this.

"It's possible that he killed him, too."

"Already done," Sam said.
"I called the FBI agent and gave him the information and Detective
Coldron's number. If he was responsible for Crawford and he fingers
Armi-stead or someone who can be traced to Armistead, that would be the
icing on the cake."

"Do we have any more loose threads to tie up?"

"None that I can think of. All we do now is wait for the results of the
brain scan on Charles Scofield and the analysis of the phis they found
at New Leaf." He paused briefly. "And, oh, yeah, we might consider
finding some time to get a marriage license."

"I'll pencil it into my Schedule," Kate said dryly.

"In the meantime, I've got a bottle of champagne on ice and I even got
caviar this time ..."
"HAVE I MERIION] THAT I really do love you--and that I was nuts to
divorce you?"
Sam trailed his tongue down across her throat, between her breasts and
down still farther.

"You have. You were. And I forg/ve you."

Kate didn't answer--or rather, her answer was a deep moan of pure
delight.

Epilogue From the Washington Post, eight months later FOm COGRMSUN

SENTMCa Former Rep. Jack Newbury was sentenced to five years in
'prison for his role in the murder of a congressional intern who had
uncovered illegal contributions to the congressman from two financiers
who were seeking his assistance in the battle over drug legalization.
The complicated scheme, which has come to be known as "Paxgate" , after
the name given by Glasser Biotech to the brain-altering drug they had
developed, has resulted in numerous criminal convictions.
The story was first unearthed by former Post reporter, Kate Stevens,
after she began to receive threats from Newbury and his chief of staff.
Ms. Stevens was recently awarded a Pulitzer prize for her story.
The drug was being tested illegally on juvenile offenders at a
now-closed boot camp in Maryland called New Leaf. Researchers at the
National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) said that the damage to the
brains of the subjects is irreversible, though all will be able to lead
relatively normal lives.
The revelation cast a pall over last fall's hearings on drug
legalization, and Congress has yet to act on the matter.