FIFTY-SEVEN.

"How long do you think before he finds Phillip?"

Sondra sipped her coffee and shrugged. "Depends on if he's drunk or not. He tends to work better smashed from what I've been told."

Sondra and Cicely were having lunch before Sondra left for the airport to head back to New York.

"Sounds like you've found the right guy for the job. And the police haven't tracked him down?"

"Not that I know of. Well, I should say I called the detective on the case and she said they were still trying to find him. Honestly? I don't think they care."

"Oh, trust me, they care. Especially when it gets out."

"I appreciate you keeping this quiet. I know you can't forever, but, I just-"

Cicely broke in. "One of the investigative reporters at the station got a whiff of what's going on."

Sondra looked up at the ceiling and let out a rumbling sigh. "What happened?"

Cicely gulped her iced tea. "He came sniffing around my desk last night. Said he'd heard some whispers about Tracy's disappearance while hanging around a diner that the cops frequent. I played dumb, but he's asking a lot of questions and it won't be long before he starts piecing things together and this whole thing blows wide open."

Sondra started to nibble on her forefinger, breaking the all-too familiar seal, salty blood seeping into her mouth. "Fuck," she mumbled. "Phillip could see it and he could run and then we'll never find him. Or I'll find him and he'll change his story. Whatever the hell it is."

"I'm so sorry. Sorry about all of this."

Sondra smiled, clasped Cicely's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I appreciate everything you've done for me." She leaned back and sighed. "I guess all I do now is wait for the shit to hit the fan."

FIFTY-EIGHT.

Paula slammed the door shut behind her as Cindy's dreadful words replayed themselves in her ears.

"It's not true. It's not true. It's not true." Paula dropped to the floor and rolled into a ball in the corner of her living room, repeating the phrase to herself over and over again. She was drenched in sweat and her heart thumped against her chest like a metronome on high.

Phillip loved her. He'd kept her from going to jail. He'd taken care of her. He was always honest with her. Hadn't he told her she shouldn't trust other people because the world was full of liars? Paula wiped her hand across her face, a trail of snot spreading across her cheek. She would just never talk to that horrible Cindy Cross woman again. She should have listened to Phillip when he told her it wasn't a good idea to allow others into her world. Yes. She should focus solely on her wifely duties and on her husband. Feeling better now that she was refocused, Paula pulled herself up and went to sort some laundry.

FIFTY-NINE.

When the shit hit the fan, no one could escape the splatter. Cicely had called Sondra that morning to let her know that Rick Jones, investigative reporter for Channel Four, was running with the story about Carol and Tracy on that night's ten p.m. news. Carol's family had hired an attorney who would be speaking their behalf in the piece and confirming they would be bringing suit against the police department. The jungle drums said they'd been in contact with the rabble-rousing community activist, Joe Johnson. Cicely warned her it wouldn't be long before the national media picked up the thread and the whole thing would become a powder keg. Sondra thanked Cicely and determined she would lay low for a while and hope Nicky found Phillip first.

It was dusk and she had drawn all of her drapes, shrouding her apartment in darkness. She'd been chain-smoking for hours as she rambled aimlessly from room to room, the low hum of the TV droning in the background. Sondra had just stubbed out what was probably her millionth cigarette of the day and was about to light up another when her cell phone rang.

"This better not be fucking CNN," she mumbled as she looked at the caller id. The number was blocked and she was about to let it keep ringing when it occurred to her it might be Nicky.

"Hello?" she said.

"Yooooo. What's up?"

Sondra wanted to kiss herself for answering the phone. "Nicky." Sondra swallowed then took a deep breath. "So? What'd you find out?"

"He's going by the name of Pierce now. Phillip Pierce. Married to a lady named Paula."

"Are you sure it's him?"

"Oh, yeah. It was a little tricky, but I am fo' sho' baby."

"Where is he?"

"Livin' in St. Louis. He works for a clinic as a pharmacist. Wife stays home. No kids. Shitload of cash in the bank."

"Do you have an address? A phone number?"

"You know it baby. You got a pen?"

Sondra fumbled in the darkened apartment in search of a pen and paper. "Okay, shoot."

Nicky gave Sondra all of Phillip's information, including his unlisted phone number, work and home addresses and work schedule.

"Goddamn, you are good," Sondra said, shaking her head.

"You know how I do."

"Next time you're in New York, let me buy you a drink."

"Yeah, man, I would be down. I'll hit you when I'm in town. Bring G, too."

"Oh, the stories that would come out of that night. Listen, Nicky, I gotta go, but definitely, call me when you're in town."

"You got it baby. Tell G I can't wait 'til Cabooooo!"

The phone went dead and Sondra could only laugh at Nicky. She looked down at the piece of paper in her hand, feeling triumphant. She'd come this far; she just had to go a little further.

Sondra shook herself back to the business at hand. "Alright, flight to St. Louis," she said as she pulled up the American Airlines website on her laptop. Her phone rang again and groaning, she answered without looking to see who it was.

"Yeah?" she said, annoyed.

"Sondra? It's Kevin. Henderson."

"Oh, hi. I'm sorry. You caught me at a weird time. I'm on my way to St. Louis."

"St. Louis?"

Sondra put the phone on speaker so she could tap out flight information. "My ex-husband, Gary, is, strangely enough, friends with a bounty hunter. Nicky. Anyway, I asked Nicky to find Phillip and he did and I'm on my way there now."

"Wow. It's really him? I mean, he couldn't have made a mistake?"

"Nicky doesn't make mistakes."

"I want to be there."

"What?"

"I want to know why he did this, why-"

"No, no way. This is between me and him."

"I'm in this too. I can meet you in St. Louis, probably make it there before you."

Sondra snorted. "Considering I'll likely be going out of LaGuardia, you're probably right."

"I'll book the flight now. I could even drive down."

"Kevin, I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to stay out of this."

"I'm just as involved as you are. More."

Sondra kneaded the skin of her forehead like it was pizza dough before she looked up and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kevin. I have to do this alone."

Before he could say another word, Sondra hung up.

SIXTY.

"Bottoms up."

Paula looked at Phillip standing in front of her, brandishing her daily dose of vitamins. She smiled and opened her mouth so that Phillip could place the tiny blue pill and the larger blue one into her tongue. She took a huge swallow of orange juice.

"What's for lunch today?" he asked as she handed him his large lunch bag.

"Oh, dear, you're so funny. The same as every Friday: tuna on whole wheat, tomato soup in a thermos, cheese and crackers and a slice of chocolate cake."

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget. You've been quite forgetful lately."

"Oh, I think I might be coming down with the flu." She put her arms around him. "Have a good day, dear." Phillip walked out the door and she waited until she heard his car pull out of the driveway. She peeked out the front window to make sure he was gone before she walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. She swirled the tip of her tongue behind her bottom teeth and produced the two pills Phillip had given her. She spit them out into her hand and looked at the melting mass of blue in her palm. She put her hand under the faucet until the water carried the powder blue gunk down the drain. She flipped on the garbage disposal as an extra precaution. Clearing her throat, Paula went to grab her yellow mop bucket and fill it up with disinfectant.

SIXTY-ONE.

She was so friendly.

A real chatterbox. But not that it annoyed you, but rather made you want to listen. Drew you in. And always with a smile on her face. Always so full of questions: "hi, how are you today?" or "how's everything going?" "what's new in your world?" And so eager to talk about herself.

So forthcoming.

That's how he knew about the dog. She'd shown him pictures of her trusty chocolate lab, bragged about how nice and friendly he was, that even people who didn't like dogs loved Rusty.

It took him a little over an hour to get out to Hyde Park. All day, the snow had come down in a steady cascade and the roads were a muddle of salt, ice, and slush. He drove behind a salt truck, which helped. Finally, he pulled up in front of her townhouse and waited. She had mentioned in one conversation what time she usually walked the dog. He looked at his watch. Should be any minute now. If not he would have to come back tomorrow and he didn't want to have to do that since his in-laws were scheduled to fly in then and who knew what the weather was going to do. When he saw her door open and her silhouette appear just behind her dog, he'd gotten so excited, he accidentally beeped his horn.

Fumbling to open his car door, he put his boot into the mush below, careful to ease his way out. It was quiet, snow the only force capable of silencing the city. He watched her slip and slide over the icy sidewalk as she tried to keep her dog from darting away from her in his glee at being outside. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he whistled softly as he approached her.

"Carol?"

She whipped around and even in the dim glow of the streetlights and blowing snow, he could see a glimmer of fear in her eyes. "Do I know you?"

He laughed. "It's me, Phillip. Your pharmacist."

Her internal guards slithered away the instant she realized it was a friendly face in front of her. "Oh, my goodness, I didn't realize it was you. How did you know it was me?"

He bent down and began to scratch behind Rusty's ears, who moaned in appreciation. "You know, I've heard so much about this guy, I feel like I know him already." He straightened up and looked at her.

"I recognized your coat. It's very distinctive," he said, gesturing to the sky blue and black houndstooth coat she wore.

She tightened her grip on Rusty's leash. He sensed her apprehension. "Oh. I didn't realize you lived around here."

He smiled. "I don't."