Silence on the other end, but Phillip had expected that.

"Phil. It's late. What do you want?"

"I'm calling in that favor you owe me."

An anguished, exasperated sigh from the other end. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

"I'll bet you thought I was going to forget, didn't you?" Phillip laughed, his breath puffing out in the bitter air like a plume of chimney smoke. "Or I guess a better way to put it is that you were hoping I would, huh?"

"Just spit it out, Phil."

"I need you to admit a patient for me. Tonight."

"Are you crazy? It's almost midnight."

"Oh, like you don't check people in at all hours of the night. Consider it an emergency. Oh, and you're the only one I want handling this. No shoving this off onto one of your lackeys."

"There are protocols, Phil, certain way these things have to be done-"

"I don't care. You'll figure out a way around it. You're good at getting out of things."

"Forget it. You're gonna have to come up with something else."

"Nope. This is it. This is the favor I told you I would want one day." Phillip hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep the blood circulating. He looked at his watch. "I'm about an hour away, which should give you enough time to get out of bed and meet me over there."

An angry sigh this time. "Fine. Fine. I'll meet you there."

Phillip smiled. "See you then."

He hung up, let out a short breath and started walking back to his car. He glanced behind him. She was sedated in the backseat and he estimated she would be coming out just about the time they reached their destination. He'd give her another dose when they got there and instruct Keegan to keep her sedated-among other things. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way. He slid behind the wheel and pulled out of the gas station as he turned up the easy listening station and settled in for the drive.

FORTY.

She knew without a doubt the woman in those photos wasn't her sister.

So who the hell was she?

Sondra was sitting at a coffee shop, scrawling all types of questions, answers and narrative into her notebook, trying to make sense of everything. Truthfully, she didn't know what to think anymore, but she knew that she had to keep going in order to figure out the trail, no matter where it led. Sondra looked at her watch and realized she was late for her appointment with Carl Fisher, Phillip's lawyer. She hailed a cab and within minutes, she was in the lobby of his Loop office and the receptionist was taking her to see him.

The stout silver-haired gentleman rose when he saw Sondra and held out his hand. "Ms. Ellis," he said, his thick Midwestern twang ringing in Sondra's ears as he shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too."

Carl sat down and folded his hands in front of him. "What can I do for you, Ms. Ellis?"

"I'm looking for my brother-in-law, Phillip Pearson."

"I'm afraid I don't know where he is. Haven't spoken to him in about a year."

"Well, where was he then?"

"Back in Michigan from my understanding."

"Hmm. What kind of work were you doing for him?"

"Ms. Ellis, you understand I can't divulge the exact nature of my business with Mr. Pearson. What I can tell you is that I settled your sister's estate."

"Alright, alright, how about this... I ask vague questions and you nod. Will that work?"

Carl raised his scraggly white eyebrows. "Well, we can try that."

"Did my sister have a life insurance policy?"

"Yes."

"Phillip got all the money when she was declared dead?"

"Yes, he was the beneficiary."

"What about the house? He made money on that, even though it was Tracy's house?"

"Ms. Ellis, your sister and her husband sat down with me right after they got married and drafted their wills. They made themselves the executor of each other's estate, which included all life insurance policies, retirement accounts, investments, etc. So, to vaguely answer your questions, yes, Mr. Pearson was left all of your sister's assets. Your sister wasn't wealthy by any means, but she was careful with her money."

Sondra tapped her finger on the edge of the desk. "And you said the last time you talked to him was about six months ago. Do you have his address?"

"Mr. Pearson preferred to conduct all of our business in person. He would come to my office to collect his mail, sign any papers, and pick up any checks. He would call me periodically to see if we needed to meet, and that's what we would do."

Sondra bit her bottom lip. "So you never had a phone number or address for him? Didn't you think that was strange?"

"Oh, people handle these kinds of things all kinds of ways. I had one client who would only meet with me on the third Sunday of each month in the parking lot of the Jewel on Clark and Division. People are strange. Besides, he always paid me in cash, so I didn't much care how he wanted to conduct our business." Carl paused. "Why are you looking for Mr. Pearson?"

Sondra ran her tongue across her teeth. "Just some family business I wanted to discuss with him. Do you think he'll be calling you anytime soon?"

Carl shook his head. "Doubtful. We concluded business rather swiftly since your sister's estate was pretty well in order."

"If by chance, he does call you, could you call me? Don't tell him I was looking for him, though."

Carl frowned. "Why not?"

"I'd prefer to discuss that with him. Confidentiality. You understand."

Carl gave her a tight smile. "I suppose I could do that."

Sondra scribbled her cell phone number on the back of one of Carl Fisher's cards from the holder on his desk. "I really would appreciate it if you let me know." She stood up and handed Carl her phone number.

"Thanks, Mr. Fisher. You've been very helpful."

"Good day, Ms. Ellis."

Sondra gave him a curt nod and left the office.

FORTY-ONE.

He had always hated going out with her. The stares they would get. Women would figure he must be rich and the brothers would wonder how in the hell a guy who looked like him landed a fine sister like her. He sometimes wondered himself. He would never know what made him call her that day. He was so shy around women, no matter what they looked like. Tall, short, beautiful or ugly-his mouth would explode with cotton and his bowels would churn. Girls had made him nervous his whole life. He was a nerd, plain and simple. He was smart, but that didn't count for much with the pretty girls. Or the ugly ones, since they both pined for the handsome jocks. He'd never been the most handsome or most athletic or "most anything." Even if you weren't good looking, if you were at least "Most Anything," you could get the girl.

But not him. His clumsy attempts at dating were laughable. He'd had a few short-term girlfriends. Nothing of note, really. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, that day, he decided to take a chance and just see if maybe, he might be able to know more about her. His fingers wobbled like Jell-O as he dialed her number under the pretense of seeing if the Vicodin was working for her. He had already rehearsed in his mind how the conversation would go. He would remind her that he had been her pharmacist the other day and he just wanted to see how she was doing. She would sound surprised and say, "yes, thank you for calling" and "wow she didn't think pharmacists made follow-up calls." He would chuckle and say he always liked to give good service. Then he would swallow and suggest going to get an omelet. She would pause and say, "Oh, thank you but no, I've already got a boyfriend," or "I'm not interested," or "I'm really busy, but I'll call you sometime," but never would. She would somehow find a way to gently, but firmly shoot him down.

But to his immense pleasure and utter surprise, she'd said yes.

She'd said yes.

And they hit it off. It wasn't so much that they liked the same things, but more that they had the same outlook on life, thought the same way. He was shocked when she agreed to go out with him again. And when she continued to go out with him. He worked so hard to win her love. He was attentive and sensitive. He masked how oh-so-desperate he was to make sure he wasn't a nice guy who finished last. And it worked. She fell in love with him and told him she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Except, every day, he lived in fear. The constant attention she got from other men. He didn't fit in with her friends. Her sister didn't like him. He even felt distance from her parents. He was terrified they were talking about him, whispering in her ear that he was weird, why was she with him, that she could do better. Another man would come along, better looking, smarter, with more money and she would leave him.

Or her ex, the tall, dark, and handsome, Jack, would sweep back into the picture and take her away from him. He would say all the things she'd wanted to hear when they were together and she would tell Phillip she was leaving. He became frantic. Marriage was the only answer. After they got married, they'd be together forever.

Until death did they part.

FORTY-TWO.

Sondra was walking down Michigan Avenue on her way to Channel Four, a cigarette already scissored between her fingers.

It was early evening in Chicago, and Sondra was struck by how much she liked the city. New York was home, no doubt, but if she had to live somewhere else in America, this would probably be it. Or maybe Boston. It was a hot and sticky summer evening, though the breezes coming off Lake Michigan helped a little. Rush hour traffic whooshed down the Magnificent Mile and throngs of people crowded the sidewalks on their way to dinner or one of Chicago's many tourist-friendly destinations. Sondra took a final drag and dropped the cigarette on the sidewalk in front of her, the orange embers glowing briefly before she stubbed them with the toe of her flip-flop. She breezed through the revolving glass door of Channel Four and right to the front desk.

"Sondra Ellis to see Cicely Anderson."

"Sign in please," the guard said as he motioned to the guest book and called Cicely. Moments later, Cicely came bounding through the gray doors and waved her hand for Sondra to follow her to the back.

"Hey, how was the police station?" Cicely asked.

"I saw the autopsy pictures."

"Oh, God, that must have been awful. I'm so sorry."

Sondra shook her head. "No, no. I mean it was awful, yes, but that's not it. It wasn't Tracy."

Cicely blinked. "Come again?"

"It wasn't Tracy in those photos. It was another woman."

"Are you sure? I mean, people look different in death... "

"Jesus, now you sound like the detective." she muttered, annoyed. "No, I'm telling you, if you saw them, you'd say the same thing."

Cicely shook her head, not sure what to make of this information. "But Phillip IDed the body."

"Right. And he also had the body cremated." Sondra raked her fingers through her hair. "And that's not all. I went to Tracy's house. Turns out, Phillip left a box of things there and the lady who lives there now gave it to me. I know what was going on with her, why Jack said she was 'unhappy'."

"Why, what?"

"Tracy's diary was in there. Apparently, Phillip had turned into some psycho freak, totally possessive, jealous, said he didn't want kids after he had told her he did, all kinds of craziness. That's why she was getting a divorce. She wasn't having an affair, he wasn't having an affair-he was just a crazy fucking psycho."

"Whoa."

"I just... the pieces still don't fit." Sondra's frustration continued to gnaw at her like a termite. "Did he find out she was leaving him and then he killed her? And if so, where the hell is the body? And who was that other woman? Did she and Tracy know each other?"

"You're starting to sound like this is some sort of conspiracy or something."

"I don't know. All I know is that none of this makes any sense. Does it make any to you?"

"Well, no, but, everything you're saying sounds so crazy-"

"Listen, Cicely, with all due respect, don't patronize me."

"Sondra, you know that's not what I was doing."

Sondra took a few deep breaths. "Something happened to Tracy and I have to know what it is." Sondra softened her voice. "Cicely, this is my baby sister I'm talking about. You have to understand that."

Cicely folded her arms across her body and looked down at her shoes for several moments. Finally, she brought her eyes up to Sondra's. "Okay. I told you I would help you any way that I could, and I meant that. But you have got to get a grip."

Sondra's shoulders wilted and she leaned against the wall opposite Cicely in the tiny hallway. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I know I'm really emotional about this and it's making me a little nuts."

"No worries," Cicely said as she straightened up. "I pulled those tapes for you and I've put you in one of our editing bays. Come on." Cicely walked in the direction of the newsroom when Sondra put her hand on Cicely's elbow.