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To Abby； the house was a prison； though she could e and go at will。 She worked longer hours at school； spent more time walking the malls and made at least one trip each day to the grocery store。 She watched everyone； especially men in dark suits who looked at her。 She wore black sunglasses so they could not see her eyes。 She wore them when it was raining。 Late at night； after supper alone while she waited for him； she stared at the walls and resisted the temptation to investigate。 The phones could be examined with a magnifying glass。 The wires and mikes could not be invisible； she told herself。 More than once she thought of finding a book on such devices so she could identify them。 But Mitch said no。 They were in the house； he assured her； and any attempt to find them could be disastrous。
So she moved silently around her own house； feeling violated and knowing it could not last much longer。 They both knew the importance of appearing normal； of sounding normal。 They tried to engage in normal talk about how the day went； about the office and her students； about the weather； about this and that。 But the conversations were flat； often forced and strained。 When Mitch was in law school the lovemaking had been frequent and rowdy； now it was practically nonexistent。 Someone was listening。
Midnight walks around the block became a habit。 After a quick sandwich each night； they would deliver the rehearsed lines about needing exercise and head for the street。 They held hands and walked in the cold； talking about and the FBI； and which way to turn； always the same conclusion： there was no way out。 None。 Seventeen days and seventeen nights。
The eighteenth day brought a new twist。 Mitch was exhausted by 9 P。M。 and decided to go home。 He had worked nonstop for fifteen and a half hours。 At two hundred per。 As usual； he walked the halls of the second floor； then took the stairs to the third floor。 He casually checked each office to see who was still working。 No one on the third floor。 He followed the stairs to the fourth floor and walked the wide rectangular hallway as if in search of something。 All lights except one were off。 Royce McKnight was working late。 Mitch eased by his office without being seen。 Avery's door was closed； and Mitch grabbed the doorknob。 It was locked。 He walked to the library down the hall； looking for a book he did not need。 After two weeks of the casual late…night inspections； he had found no closed…circuit cameras above the halls or offices。 They just listen； he decided。 They do not see。
He said goodbye to Dutch Hendrix at the front gate and drove home。 Abby was not expecting him at such an early hour。 He quietly unlocked the door from the carport and eased into the kitchen。 He flipped on a light switch。 She was in the bedroom。 Between the kitchen and the den was a small foyer with a rolltop desk where Abby left each day's mail。 He laid his briefcase softly on the desk； then saw it。 A large brown envelope addressed with a black felt marker to Abby McDeere。 No return address。 Scrawled in heavy black letters were the words PHOTOGRAPHS…DO NOT BEND。 His heart stopped first； then his breathing。 He grabbed the envelope。 It had been opened。
A heavy layer of sweat broke across his forehead。 His mouth was dry and he could not swallow。 His heart returned with the fury of a jackhammer。 The breathing was heavy and painful。 He was nauseous。 Slowly； he backed away from the desk； holding the envelope。 She's in the bed； he thought。 Hurt； sick； devastated and mad as hell。 He wiped his forehead and tried to collect himself。 Face it like a man； he said。
She was in the bed； reading a book with the television on。 The dog was in the backyard。 Mitch opened the bedroom door； and Abby bolted upright in horror。 She almost screamed at the intruder； until she recognized him。
〃You scared me； Mitch！〃
Her eyes glowed with fear； then fun。 They had not been crying。 They looked fine； normal。 No pain。 No anger。 He could not speak。
〃Why are you home？〃 she demanded； sitting up in bed； smiling now。
Smiling？ 〃I live here；〃 he said weakly。
〃Why didn't you call？〃
〃Do I have to call before I can e home？〃 His breathing was now almost normal。 She was fine！
〃It would be nice。 e here and kiss me。〃
He leaned across the bed and kissed her。 He handed her the envelope。 〃What's this？〃 he asked nonchalantly。
〃You tell me。 It's addressed to me； but there was nothing inside。 Not a thing。〃 She closed her book and laid it on the night table。
Not a thing！ He smiled at her and kissed her again。 〃Are you expecting photographs from anyone？〃 he asked in plete ignorance。
〃Not that I know of。 Must be a mistake。〃
He could almost hear DeVasher laughing at this very moment on the fifth floor。 The fat bastard was standing up there somewhere in some dark room full of wires and machines with a headset stretched around his massive bowling ball of a head； laughing uncontrollably。
〃That's strange；〃 Mitch said。 Abby pulled on a pair of jeans and pointed to the backyard。 Mitch nodded。 The signal was simple； just a quick point or a nod of the head in the direction of the patio。
Mitch laid the envelope on the rolltop desk and for a second touched the scrawled markings on it。 Probably DeVasher's handwriting。 He could almost hear him laughing。 He could see his fat face and nasty smile。 The photographs had probably been passed around during lunch in the partners' dining room。 He could see Lambert and Mc…Knight and even Avery gawking admiringly over coffee and dessert。
They'd better enjoy the pictures； dammit。 They'd better enjoy the remaining few months of their bright and rich and happy legal careers。
Abby walked by and he grabbed her hand。 〃What's for dinner？〃 he asked for the benefit of those listening。
〃Why don't we go out。 We should celebrate since you're home at a decent hour。〃
They walked through the den。 〃Good idea；〃 said Mitch。 They eased through the rear door； across the patio and into the darkness。
〃What is it？〃 Mitch asked。
〃You got a letter today from Doris。 She said she's in Nashville； but will return to Memphis on the twenty…seventh of February。 She says she needs to see you。 It's important。 It was a very short letter。〃
〃The twenty…seventh！ That was yesterday。〃
〃I know。 I presume she's already in town。 I wonder what she wants。〃
〃Yeah； and I wonder where she is。〃
〃She said her husband had an engagement here in town。〃
〃Good。 She'll find us；〃 Mitch said。
Nathan Locke closed his office door and pointed DeVasher in the direction of the small conference table near the window。 The two men hated each other and made no attempt to be cordial。 But business was business； and they took orders from the same man。
〃Lazarov wanted me to talk to you； alone；〃 DeVasher said。 〃I've spent the past two days with him in Vegas； and he's very anxious。 They're all anxious； Locke； and he trusts you more than anyone else around here。 He likes you more than he likes me。〃
〃That's understandable；〃 Locke said with no smile。 The ripples of black around his eyes narrowed and focused intently on DeVasher。
〃Anyway； there are a few things he wan