"Are you still there, Evy?"

"Hmm."

It's quiet again and Evy can hear the neighbor's dog barking.

"Marc, I want to thank you for helping me last night. It's important for me to know that you know that I'm grateful to you."

"Thank you, Evy, but I knew that already yesterday."

"I would like to give you something to express my grat.i.tude."

"You don't have to do that, Evy. I'll be OK."

"Hmm."

She watches how the bird takes off and flies away.

"But still. Since you know so many things, you probably also know that I inherited Nathan Wilkins, and I saw how nervous you were about your camera last night."

"But nothing happened."

"No."

She's quiet again.

"Marc, what do you want most of all."

Marc laughs.

"I want to move to Italy, to Tuscany. I want a house. I want to take pictures of happy colors. I want to make art, eat good food, and drink good wine. Sit on a bench and do nothing."

He stops talking.

"I'd like to make sculptures."

Evy scratches her cheek.

"OK. Make an invoice with a returns address. Make it out for a sculpture to be delivered in... let's say 25 years. Send it to my lawyers. They're on stand-by at the moment."

The line goes quiet again.

"Marc, there's a way to make your dreams come true."

"I don't think so, Evy. I can't do that. All my life I've had to work to get the things I want. I can't just change that."

He's quiet again.

"You can't buy me. I've seen it before. When you have accepted it once, you are trapped. No, Evy, I'm not falling for that."

There's a click and Evy realizes that he has hung up on her.

"Marc...?"

She lets her hands fall helplessly into her lap. She looks back at the yellow wood of the house, and she can see flakes of yellow paint lying on the porch.

"It needs a paint job."

She pulls up one leg in the double swing and thinks back on all the dreams she and Linda shared in that swing. "Will any of them ever come true? Yes, I have money now, but what about all the rest?" She pushes off with the other leg and then also pulls that up in the swing. She leans her head against one of the ropes and enjoys the rocking feeling. Her thoughts return to flying carpets, and she sees the most wonderful landscapes flying by below her.

Evy focuses on her breathing and forces it back to normal as she stares at the phone and the last incoming call. "I don't understand how he ever got this number. It's a secret number, so he must have connections."

She presses the screen and holds the phone to her ear.

"Yes."

It's only one word, but suddenly she can't breathe. She struggles to stay conscious and instinctively puts her hand to her scar. She bites her lip and when the pain fills her head she opens her mouth.

"It's Evy Schmidt."

The line is quiet and she can almost feel how the person on the other end suddenly becomes alert.

"Yes."

"James, I know who my mother was."

It's quiet again.

"Yes."

"Marc told me."

"Marc...?"

"Marc Jones, the private investigator."

Some time pa.s.ses and this time Evy can hear this watchfulness.

"Yes."

Evy is surprised by the firmness in his voice.

"I think we should meet."

Silence.

"At ten tonight on the playground. I think you know it already?"

Scared of the answer, Evy listens intensely, but she knows that she needs an answer to the flashes her memory is sending her.

"Yes."

The air leaves Evy's lungs and she has to hold the phone away from her while she tries to regain control.

"How?"

The line is quiet.

"You used to play there."

"You..."

It's quiet again, but she can hear him breathing. She bites her lip.

"Stuart. He... There's a tree on the playground where Stuart once... took me. Have you done that too?"

His breathing becomes heavier.

"No, I haven't. I was interested in you for different reasons."

The connection is gone and only the beeping sounds fill her head. She quickly jumps down from the swing and squats in front of it, searching for something under it. Then she lets herself fall backwards and lands on the gra.s.s with a thump.

"I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't still been there!"

She can feel the cold gra.s.s against her skin when she lets herself fall the rest of the way. She looks at the house. Her stretched out body is filled with a surprising sense of peace and she whispers quietly. "But it's going to take years before it's completely renovated."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned!"

James throws the phone down on the table.

"Where's the driver?!"

His voice fills the room and his secretary comes running. He usually smiles every time he sees her. Her legs seem to go on forever and she has the body of a supermodel, and the best part: no is not in her vocabulary.

"I need him now!"

"I'll call the limo service now. I don't think we have booked him."

"I don't give a d.a.m.n, I need him now! Stuart and I kept that company on its feet because of him."

James swallows.

"He hasn't done his job. I asked him to do two simple things and he hasn't done any of them. I just talked to one of them."

His secretary stops.

"Call now! NOW!"

She runs out of the office again. He is furious and turns to face the window.

"And to make matters worse, they have talked to each other. Evy and Marc. That means that none of the jobs have been done!"

His voice follows her all the way out the door. He can hear her talking on the phone in a very patient and friendly voice.

"I'll be..."

He almost runs over to her and tears the phone from her hands.

"Where is he? I need him here now! NOW! Is that clear?!"

He gives the phone back to the secretary.

"He has left town, James."

She takes the phone and disconnects the call.

"I'll be..."

He called work this morning. He's leaving the country, James.

She looks at him for a while.

The police have been there all day. They're searching the company... and want to look at the books."

He stares at her for a long time.

"As far as I know we have made some rather substantial money transfers to them."

"Stuart was using a private investigator called Marc. I can't remember his last name. Can you get his number for me?"

She looks at him as if she doesn't understand.

"The question wasn't that hard, was it?"

He walks slowly back to his office and then he turns around calmly.

"Now! I need that information now! And close the door behind me!"

The secretary jumps up from her chair and quietly closes the door behind him. James sits down at his desk and pulls out a drawer. From the back of the drawer he takes out a wooden box and then a small cardboard one. He touches the polished wood of the box.

"James."

Her voice is sweet as honey. He looks at her while she quickly walks over to him.

"Here's his number."

James opens the cardboard box and places the card that covers the bullets on the table. Then he takes out the bullets one by one and places them on the table with the pointed ends up. With an almost loving motion he opens the wooden box and takes out the gun. With a dreamy look on his face he lets it rest in the palm of his hand. His empty eyes are on the secretary as he slowly starts loading the gun.

"James. Please don't do that. You scare me."